Hundreds of bare winter cedars jutted skyward like the legs of a dead centipede, rigid and lifeless. Sparse streetlights barely illuminated the brownish-yellow ground, and the air was thick with a sweet, metallic tang mixed with the scent of damp earth.

"What is this place?"

Iger glanced down at his boots, which were already caked with mud and decay. The soles were effectively ruined on their very first day of use.

It's not just the fraudster. Everyone had changed into a new set of clothes because Annan had insisted on it. Clad in thick leather jackets and full-coverage filtration masks, they walked silently through the empty forest. The scene looked less like a casual stroll and more like a covert operation. Anyone who happened to witness them would surely suspect they were up to something illegal.

"A forest park," Annan replied.

"Miss,...