Dust vanished beneath their boots, replaced by polished wooden floors that reflected the dim lantern light. The further they walked inside, the more immaculate everything became, as if the filth of the outer city had been peeled away layer by layer.
Amelia slowed her steps, eyes roaming with open fascination.
"…This is the architectural style of the East," she said at last.
Julies glanced at her. "You're sure?"
She nodded, crouching slightly to tap the floor with her knuckle. The sound was solid, expensive.
"See the grain? The layout? Even the way the corridors curve instead of forming straight lines. It's meant to guide the flow of people—and information." She whistled softly. "And these floorboards alone could buy a small estate."
Julies frowned. "You're saying they literally laid the floor with money."
"Pretty much."
Emma snorted.
"Ridiculous," she muttered. "All this excess, just to hide in plain sight."
Her eyes flicked upward.
"…Wait. Is the ceiling also made of wood?"
Amelia followed her gaze—and froze.
"…Oh."
I looked up as well.
Smooth, pale panels stretched overhead, perfectly fitted, faintly glossy. No cracks. No seams. The lantern light slid across the surface like water.
And then there was the scent.
Sweet. Subtle.
"…Peach wood," i murmured.
Both women turned to me.
"You recognize it?" Amelia asked.
"I've seen it in tooltips," I replied absently, still staring upward. "Rare wood furniture. Resistant to rot, enhances mana flow, and—yeah—that smell is exactly like this."
Amelia laughed quietly, half in disbelief.
"To see something like this in a place so small… and hidden? That's not just wealth. That's intent."
Emma's expression darkened.
"Well," she said flatly, "considering this is the territory of a district leader from a thieves' guild—one that trades in information—maybe this level of luxury isn't surprising."
She shot a sharp glance toward the inner corridor.
"Isn't that right?"
No answer came.
Only silence.
The kind that felt deliberate.
"…All I need," Emma continued, her jaw tightening, "is to uncover their identity."
Her eyes narrowed, sharp enough to feel like they could peel secrets straight off the walls. After a brief pause, she clicked her tongue and turned away, clearly done with surveying the area.
I watched her back for a second, then shifted my attention to someone far more likely to give me an actual response.
"…Huh? I'm not sure what you mean,"
The man I addressed stiffened.
Vice district leader of the thieves' guild—or at least, that was what the rumors called him. A middle-aged man with weathered skin and old scars crossing his face like poorly erased ink. He turned toward me slowly, eyes wary.
I smiled.
Then—
Thump!
Something heavy rolled across the floor and stopped right at his feet.
A wooden post. Tied with wire. Scuffed with fresh marks.
He froze, staring down at it.
"True to a thieves' guild," I said calmly, "there are traps everywhere."
"…Ho—hoh?"
His mouth fell open, eyes widening so much he looked like a badly drawn caricature of surprise. For a moment, he honestly looked offended—as if reality itself had betrayed him.
It was… kind of amusing.
"How did you—?" he started.
"Western habits," I replied with a shrug. "I tend to notice things like that."
Behind my eyes, notifications flickered past one after another.
[Wire Trap — Disarmed]
[Ankle Snare — Disarmed]
[Sleep Gas Device — Neutralized]
The system was doing most of the heavy lifting, sure—but even without it, the sheer density of hidden mechanisms was ridiculous. Wires near the floor. Pressure seams between tiles. Tiny vents hidden behind decorative carvings.
If I'd chosen a frontal assault, we would've been trussed up and unconscious before taking five steps.
"This is the place," the man said finally, forcing his expression back under control. He pointed toward an elegant sliding door at the far end of the corridor, its polished wood completely out of place in the grimy underbelly of the district.
"Then I'll speak with the district leader privately," I said. "If you don't mind stepping aside."
His smile tightened.
"…That's difficult."
I tilted my head. "Is it?"
He hesitated, eyes flicking briefly toward the door—then back to me.
"You're asking me to leave you alone with my leader," he said carefully. "After disarming half the guild's defenses on the way in."
Ah. There it is.
He wasn't wrong. From his perspective, I was either insanely competent or absurdly dangerous.
Or both.
"I don't plan to hurt your leader," I said evenly.
Emma snorted from behind me. "You say that."
I shot her a look. She didn't even try to look innocent.
The vice leader rubbed his chin, unease written plainly across his face.
"Even so… if something happens to the leader, my head rolls next."
"That won't be necessary," I said evenly. "If anything goes wrong, you can put the blame on me. I'm quite experienced at taking responsibility."
"…That's somehow even less reassuring."
I let out a quiet sigh and took a step forward.
Immediately, the man stiffened, hand drifting toward his weapon.
"Hydal, it's fine. Step back."
The voice came from beyond the door—calm, composed, carrying the kind of authority that didn't need to be raised to be obeyed.
"District leader!"
Hydal froze, then lowered his head slightly.
The door opened fully.
A woman stepped into view, her presence subtle yet unmistakable. She wasn't tall, nor particularly imposing, but her gaze was sharp—keen enough to weigh a person in a single glance and find all their weak points.
Her eyes moved over us one by one.
"The champion of the Northern martial tournament," she said, looking at me.
"The young lady who faced her coming-of-age trial alone," her gaze shifted to Amelia.
"And the rising star from the West," she finished, resting her eyes on Emma.
I raised an eyebrow.
'Thorough,' I thought.
As expected of a district leader of the thieves' guild—she had done her homework. Judging by how smoothly we'd arrived, she must have already ordered the traps and hidden mechanisms disarmed.
"Even with you standing guard," she continued coolly, glancing at Hydal, "you wouldn't be able to stop them."
Hydal clenched his jaw.
"And more importantly," she added, her eyes flicking briefly toward the presence behind us, "there is a high demon among them. If these guests had come with hostile intent, I would already be at their mercy."
The room fell silent.
After a long moment, Hydal exhaled through his teeth and stepped aside, fists clenched but obedient.
"…Understood."
The district leader inclined her head slightly toward us.
"Welcome, esteemed guests. Please, come in."
I nodded. "Much appreciated."
Then I glanced back over my shoulder.
"Well? What are you two waiting for? Planning to hold the doorway all day?"
Amelia blinked, then hurried after me. Emma followed with an amused smile, hands clasped behind her back as if this were a social visit rather than a meeting with the underworld.
The moment we crossed the threshold, I felt it.
The atmosphere changed.
The interior was far more opulent than I'd expected.
Peachwood furniture—polished to a soft sheen—lined the room, their craftsmanship unmistakably high-grade. Every surface was inlaid with delicate gold leaf, not garish but tasteful, catching the light just enough to remind you how much money flowed through this place.
A low table sat at the center, already prepared with refreshments. Fine porcelain cups, fragrant tea, neatly arranged sweets—everything set as though our arrival had been anticipated.