Chapter 59

Clang.

Mikhail watched the pickpocket stagger backward.

The man stared at the dagger lying on the ground, dismay written plain across his face.

But the expression shifted fast. His jaw set and his hand balled into a fist.

"Dammit. If that's how it's gonna be—!"

The pickpocket let out a shout and charged straight at Mikhail. A heavy fist hurtled toward him head-on.

THWACK!

A crisp impact rang through the air.

Mikhail stared, expression blank, at the fist that had frozen right in front of his face.

The pickpocket's arm never finished extending. He stood locked in place mid-swing.

Then a long, strangled groan leaked from his lips, his eyes rolled back, and he crumpled where he stood.

THUD.

Mikhail shifted his gaze to the space behind the fallen man.

Bant had appeared at just the right moment. He pulled back the fist he'd driven forward and spoke, surprise plain on his face.

"Son, are you all right? You're not hurt?"

Mikhail answered with a smile.

"Thank you. You kept your word."

"Of course I did! I'm a man of my word. But more importantly—this one's the windmill house's second son…."

Bant clicked his tongue as his eyes traveled between the unconscious pickpocket's head and the dagger on the ground.

In the meantime, Mikhail moved forward and crouched beside the pickpocket's upper body.

He reached into the man's inner pocket and pulled out the brass key.

Clink.

Mikhail turned his head toward Bant.

Bant paid no mind to the guards closing in around them. He was staring straight at Mikhail.

His face all but asked the question outright: What are you up to?

Mikhail offered Bant a small smile. Then he gave an easy shrug and spoke.

"We should return them. The stolen goods."

"…Hm?"

Mikhail straightened from his crouch and walked over to the tree beside them—the same one where the pickpocket had activated his concealment spell.

He scanned the trunk from top to bottom, then held out the brass key.

Whrrrrm.

The trunk vibrated faintly. A blue magic formula bloomed across its surface, and the hidden cavity revealed itself.

Dozens of fat wallets sat packed inside the hollow.

"Good… good lord."

Stunned murmurs rippled through the guards.

Mikhail turned his back on the wallets and walked over to Bant, holding out the brass key.

"The pickpocket used this magic tool to hide the wallets, so it's only right that you take it into evidence, Captain."

Instead of accepting the key right away, Bant studied Mikhail's face for a long, quiet moment.

Then, slowly, he reached out, took what was offered, and gazed at the soft glow rippling across the metal surface.

A clear smile spread across Bant's face.

He tucked the key into his pocket and spoke to Mikhail, his voice noticeably brighter than before.

"Come to think of it, I did say I'd repay you if things worked out."

Mikhail dipped his head in a nod. The smile on his own face was every bit as clear as Bant's.

Bant turned away for a moment.

He gestured for the surrounding guards to haul the pickpocket away, then continued in a generous tone.

"If there's something you want, name it. If it's within my power, consider it done."

---

Tavern: Leisure Under the Guardian Tree

A pale night sky had settled over the village. Julien stepped back into the tavern he'd left earlier, feeling more than a little sheepish.

The hall that had been fairly empty in the afternoon was now packed with people enjoying their evening leisure.

Where's Edwin?

Julien glanced around and headed for the table they'd been sitting at before. It was empty. Nothing remained but three bags tied firmly to the chairs.

"……."

Julien blinked at the surprisingly thorough knots, then turned his head toward the loudest commotion in the hall.

A crowd had gathered thick around one table, chattering back and forth—and wedged among them was a familiar head of hair.

"Yes! Eight! I rolled an eight!"

"Ha ha, at this rate it's going to be impossible to catch up… Hey, Kapol. Hang in there, would you?"

Julien let out a short, hollow breath. He set down the pack he'd been carrying and made his way toward the raucous table.

Through the gaps in the crowd, dice and a board game came into view. Julien gave them a passing glance, then positioned himself behind Edwin.

Edwin's eyes were glued to the board—covered in colorful chips and pieces—and he was deep in the heat of things.

"—Oh, come on! You're terrible at this! Who gives up a control point there? That's why I keep telling you to buy tokens ahead of ti—mmph!"

"Ahaha, sorry about him. Let me just grab my friend here."

Disgruntled stares had been zeroing in on the side of Edwin's face.

Julien clamped a hand over Edwin's mouth, hauled him out of his seat, and half-dragged him back to their original table.

"Mmph… bffmph! …Pfhah!"

The moment Julien released his arm, Edwin rolled his olive-green eyes and glared at him.

"Hey. What do you think you're doing! That round was just getting good!"

"Giving unsolicited advice during someone else's game is rude."

"Unsolicited advice? Believe me, I didn't want to butt in either! But they were just so unbelievably ba—"

"Never mind that. Where's Mikhail?"

Julien cut him off and changed the subject. He had no energy left to waste on a pointless tug-of-war.

Edwin stared at him with his lips pursed, but answered without further protest.

"No idea. He said he was going to catch the pickpocket and hasn't come back yet."

"The pickpocket? What are you talking about?"

Julien flinched in surprise and pressed Edwin for more, but Edwin looked baffled in return.

His brow twitched up and down. Then he folded his arms and spoke.

"Why are you asking me? I figured you and Mikhail were working together on that."

"What are you talking about? That never happened."

Julien's denial did nothing to smooth the skepticism from Edwin's face. His eyes only narrowed further.

Then he fixed Julien with a long stare, clicked his tongue once, and pointed a finger at him.

"Yeah, right. Mikhail even knew you'd come storming out of here. You're telling me you two didn't exchange so much as a word?"

"…What?"

Julien's eyes went wide and a hollow breath slipped free.

He knew everything… about what was happening to me?

A small crack split through his hearing. The wall he'd so carefully bricked into place fractured down the middle.

[…….]

The image of Mikhail gazing down at him from that alley window layered itself over his vision.

Those dark blue eyes, rippling like the surface of a fathomless sea.

The sensation of being seen through—every secret, every step—sent ice flooding through Julien's veins.

Scrrrch.

Julien shoved back his chair and stood.

Edwin flinched at the sight of his face, registering at the edge of his vision, but this wasn't the time to worry about that.

He needed to find Mikhail. He needed to hear those predictable, dismissive answers fall from his lips.

That he'd simply taken a rough guess based on the circumstances. That Julien had looked unwell, so he'd kept a casual eye on him. Nothing more.

Only then would the twisting knot in his chest start to loosen.

"Huh? Hey! Where are you—!"

"Going to find Mikhail. I'll be right back."

Julien answered in clipped words and turned toward the tavern entrance. His feet left the floorboards and carried him forward.

Creeeak.

That was when it happened. The door groaned open and a woman in guard's uniform stepped inside.

"…Oh, hey, isn't that Nelia?"

"Dude, dude! Hide the money! Remember, we got off with a warning last time for promising no more betting while drinking."

The hall, which had gone briefly quiet at the stranger's entrance, quickly turned restless again—though for an entirely different reason than before.

Meanwhile, the woman surveyed the interior of the tavern with an impassive face.

"……."

Then, in an instant, her eyes found the table where Julien and Edwin sat. Her gaze locked on.

She looked them over in turn—stiff and appraising—then started walking.

Thud.

Julien pressed his lips together and watched the guard approach.

For one fleeting moment, the thought crossed his mind that she might be here about the incident in the alley—that she'd come looking for him.

"……."

The woman stopped in front of Julien.

"…Can I help you?"

Julien asked with a slight furrow in his brow, questioning both her business and her identity.

His voice came out sharper than intended, colored by the unease churning beneath the surface.

But the woman showed no sign of caring.

"You two. Julien and Edwin, correct?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

Edwin thrust his head forward and answered. The woman glanced at him, then gave a small nod.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Nelia Hindel, Deputy Captain of Colton Winery's guard force."

"The guard's… Deputy Captain? What would someone like that want with us…."

Julien left Edwin's slack-jawed question behind him and clamped his mouth shut.

The pieces the last few moments had given him—he lined them up one by one, forming hypotheses as his hand tightened at his side.

"You're Mikhail's companions, I take it."

The name surfaced without warning and stopped every thought in its tracks. Julien stood rooted in place, a thin breath escaping his lips.

All the while, Nelia continued in the same composed voice.

"I've been asked to escort the companions of the man who helped us so greatly to the guardhouse. Please follow me."

---

Click.

They were inside the guardhouse on the village outskirts.

Mikhail glanced at the teacup set before him, then turned his head toward the view beyond the window.

Atop a particularly tall hill, fragments of teal light flickered briefly before dissolving into the night sky.

Trickle-trickle.

The sound of tea being poured rang out clearly. Mikhail pulled his gaze from the window and settled it forward.

Steam curled up from the cup in front of him.

Across the broad desk, Bant sat rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish expression.

"I have to say… offering nothing but a cup of tea feels rather shameful on my part. Are you sure I can't get you anything else?"

Mikhail answered without hesitation.

"I'm fine."

"Ha ha. Are you the modest type by nature? Or did the academy tell you not to accept anything beyond a certain point…."

Mikhail let the corner of his mouth lift just slightly, then took a sip of the tea in front of him.

He set the cup down and continued in an unhurried tone.

"The real favor I'd like to ask is something else entirely."