"A few days ago," the district leader continued calmly, fingers steepled on the table, "I received a request from the Phantom Thief himself. He asked me to investigate the true identity of the so-called Faceless Imposter."
My heart skipped.
Outwardly, I kept my expression neutral.
Inwardly, alarms were screaming.
"After weighing several circumstances," she went on, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, "I reached a tentative conclusion. That you might be the Faceless Imposter."
From my left—
A sharp, cutting gaze stabbed into me.
Amelia.
She didn’t say a word, but I felt it all the same. Suspicion. Appraisal. A hint of so that’s how it is.
—She’s sharp. Too sharp.
Amelia had met the Phantom Thief personally. She knew his mannerisms, his way of speaking, his odd sense of humor. She also knew far more about my movements and connections than she ever openly admitted.
Realizing this, her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression tightening just a fraction.
The district leader paused.
"However," she said, shifting her gaze back to me, "after receiving direct contact from the leader of the Northern Thieves’ Guild, I realized my conclusion was incorrect."
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
"Never would I have imagined," she continued, "that the thief’s true identity would be... a demon."
This time, the pressure came from the right.
No words.
No overt hostility.
Just raw disbelief.
The kind that quietly reassesses everything it thought it knew.
"And then," the district leader added, "when I visited our guild branch and that vampire revealed herself... things finally fell into place."
From behind me—from my own shadow—I could almost feel Velra shaking with suppressed laughter.
"I had already heard from the Northern leader that a demon had surrendered herself to the Draken Ducal family," the district leader said, shaking her head faintly. "But witnessing it firsthand was... astonishing."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Velra.
"To think that such a being would become an ally—despite being an enemy of the Faceless Imposter. In that moment, I understood."
She folded her hands.
"My assumption was completely off."
I discreetly wiped a bead of sweat from my palm against my sleeve, careful not to draw attention.
’...Indeed. I can’t ignore that intuition.’
If Emma had uncovered truths through careful analysis and evidence, then this woman—
She relied on instinct.
And terrifyingly, it worked.
Among all the prominent figures I’d encountered so far, she possessed a peculiar talent: the ability to sense where the center of a situation truly lay. Not the loudest voice. Not the most powerful presence. But the one quietly pulling the strings.
It explained a lot.
Her rise to district leader at such a young age.
Her uncanny ability to pick subordinates who never betrayed her.
Her reputation for "always being on the right side of history."
She leaned forward slightly.
"But," she said, voice thoughtful rather than accusatory, "something still doesn’t sit right with me."
Here it comes.
"If the Faceless Imposter were truly a demon," she continued, "then his actions make no sense. He’s sabotaged demon operations, aided human forces, and even undermined the Demon King’s influence."
Amelia’s eyes flicked toward her.
"That doesn’t sound like demon behavior," Amelia said flatly.
"Exactly," the district leader replied. "Which leads me to a new hypothesis."
Her gaze returned to me.
"Julies," she said gently, "you’re not the Faceless Imposter."
I nodded, forcing myself to remain calm.
"But," she added, eyes gleaming with quiet certainty, "you are close to him."
My pulse spiked.
"Close enough," she continued, "to be trusted with secrets. Close enough to act in his stead. And close enough to be at the center of every incident he touches."
Velra’s amusement finally leaked through.
"Oh my," she murmured softly behind me. "That intuition really is troublesome."
I coughed lightly, breaking the awkward silence before it could deepen any further.
"That’s... a flattering assumption," I said carefully. "But I’m not sure I deserve that level of trust."
The district leader’s lips curved into a knowing smile—one that suggested she’d already weighed my words and found them lacking.
Before she could press further, I moved quickly.
"My request ends here. Do you two have anything else to ask?"
I deliberately shifted my gaze, signaling an end to her interest in me.
"I’m good. Nothing urgent on my end,"Amelia added. "Lady Voss, you should proceed with your business."
The atmosphere shifted.
Emma Voss, who had been sitting quietly until now, stiffened. Her hands clenched at her sides, fingers trembling as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will.
She took a breath.
"...Eighteen years ago," Emma said, her voice steady despite the strain behind it, "the assassin responsible for Duchess Voss’s death was never apprehended."
The smile on the district leader’s face faded—just slightly.
"I was told you know where he is," Emma continued, eyes fixed forward. "So tell me."
A brief pause followed.
The district leader—tilted her head, tapping a finger against the armrest of her chair.
"Hm. Straight to the point. I respect that."
She rose from her seat, robes whispering softly as she turned toward the tall windows overlooking the city.
"I will be dispatching someone to the West in the near future," she said calmly.
Emma’s eyes narrowed.
"...On what grounds am I supposed to trust that?" she demanded. "If you know, then say it now."
The air grew tense.
Even the shadows lining the walls seemed to still.
She turned back slowly, her gaze sharp—not offended, but resolute.
"I stake the name of the Central Thieves’ Guild leader, Wolbaek," she said, her voice thin yet unyielding.
"This is not a scrap of gossip or a single rumor. The information requires verification, cross-referencing, and consolidation. Rushing it would only poison the truth."
She met Emma’s eyes squarely.
"If you desire accuracy rather than comfort, you will wait."
For a moment, Emma looked like she might argue again.
Her jaw tightened. Her shoulders shook once.
Then she exhaled.
"...How long?"
"Two weeks," Wolbaek replied without hesitation. "Three at most."
Silence stretched.
Finally, Emma gave a stiff nod.
"...Very well."
At that moment, a presence shifted behind Wolbaek.
A shadow detached itself from the wall and stepped forward—silent, smooth, almost unreal. The figure straightened, then bowed deeply at the waist.
Its left hand came to rest over its heart.
A noble gesture.
One that discreetly conveyed identity, allegiance, and origin without a single word spoken.
I raised an eyebrow slightly.
’So that’s her messenger...’
Wolbaek noticed my glance and smiled faintly.
"Now, will you inform me about the cure for Hanhyul syndrome?"
This time, she boldly made her request of me.
Through the thick veil, the intensity of her gaze felt sharp against my skin.