I took a shared carriage from Count Cardinal’s Territory back to the Royal Capital. As I was jostled about in the crude passenger cabin—essentially nothing more than a wagon bed with a canvas hood—I turned my future conduct over in my mind.

The Empire's interest in Count Cardinal’s Territory likely boiled down to one thing: the [Fragments of the Evil God].

They managed the shrines that sealed the fragments, waiting for the seals to weaken before swooping in to collect them. Their ultimate goal was to gather every last one into the [Vessel of the Evil God].

The Empire hungered for the power of an Evil God. No doubt they were plotting something terrible with it.

Now, the problem was how to report this to Sasha.

If I wanted to give my report any credibility, simply showing her the [Vessel of the Evil God] would be the fastest way. However, it was dangerous for anyone to know I had it in my possession. If word got out, I’d have the Empire’s crosshairs on my back.

I was already at odds with the [Shield of the Sky]; adding more enemies to the list was a losing move, no matter how I looked at it.

But could I really handle something as volatile as the [Vessel of the Evil God] on my own?

What was I supposed to do?

"Young man, you’ve got quite the grim look on your face. Looking at you makes me feel like I’m about to piss myself."

The sudden voice snapped me out of the maze of my thoughts. It belonged to an Old Man sitting across from me in the carriage. His tanned skin made his white teeth look strangely vivid, and the scent of soil drifted from his rough hemp clothes. He was likely a Farmer.

"Was I really looking that scary?" I asked.

"Yeah. Look here. See? It’s already a bit damp."

The Old Man pointed at his crotch. There was indeed a bit of moisture, but wasn't that just the sort of urinary incontinence you’d expect from someone his age?

"I don't think that has anything to do with my face..."

"No, it's definitely your face, lad. You got something weighing on you?"

Setting aside the matter of his own plumbing, the Old Man shifted into advice mode. For some reason, I felt like I could actually talk to him.

"I’m debating whether or not to tell someone a secret. It’s a heavy one—too heavy for me to carry alone. But if I talk, there’s a chance my life will be in danger."

The Old Man's wrinkles deepened as he began to speak with sudden gravity.

"Trusting people is a terrifying thing. But becoming unable to trust anyone is even worse. Humans weren't meant to live alone, and we can’t survive without trust. If you’re betrayed, you just have to find someone else to trust. Someday, you’ll find someone where the feeling is mutual."

I fell silent, pondering the words that seemed to seep out from the very cracks in his skin.

"Bah, you’re young! You’ll figure it out. Even if you get betrayed, just take the plunge and tell 'em! You’ve got someone to tell, don't you?"

"...I suppose I do."

The carriage hit a large bump, and the light filtering through the gaps in the hood flared for a moment. I clenched my fists, a firm resolve taking root in the depths of my heart.

I would tell Sasha everything. There, beneath the swaying canvas, my mind was made up.

"So, you made it back in one piece."

I was in the Royal Capital's slums. I’d barely opened the rusted door of the old brick building when the voice greeted me. The speaker was a rugged man with a shaved head and an eyepatch—the owner of the [Lizard’s Tail], an inn that doubled as a brokerage for illicit work.

I walked up to the reception counter and gave him a bold response. "Of course I did." Being overly polite to people in the underworld usually backfired; a blunt attitude was just about right.

"Go here tomorrow night."

As if he’d been waiting for me, the Lizard Old Man pulled a small slip of paper from the counter drawer and handed it over. It contained a simple map and a "password."

"Understood."

"Make sure you go," the Lizard Old Man added, his sharp gaze emphasizing the point. He clearly understood the weight of this particular job.

"Whoa, Walt?! You’re back?!"

The Apprentice Boy—the owner's son—bolted out from the dining hall, his voice rising in surprise. Since I’d been gone from Count Cardinal’s Territory for so long, he probably thought I’d kicked the bucket.

"Yeah, just got in."

"Drop your bags and get to the kitchen! Everyone’s been dying for some of Walt’s cooking!"

The boy vanished back into the dining hall as quickly as he’d appeared. A restless kid, but I didn't mind the enthusiasm.

After dropping my pack in my room, I headed to the dining hall just as lunch prep was starting. Carla, the [Head Cook] and Female Martial Artist, shot a sharp look my way from the stove.

"Look who it is. Still breathing, are you?"

Carla spoke while slamming a heavy cleaver into a piece of meat attached to a bone of questionable origin.

"Yeah, thanks to you."

"Hmph. Stop standing around and tighten your sash. Get in the kitchen."

"It’s an apron, Carla. We're in a kitchen."

"Just hurry up!"

"Alright, alright!"

Feeling a strange sense of nostalgia, I took my place at the counter and began prepping lunch, all while my mind drifted toward my plans for the following night.

Deep in a backstreet of the Royal Capital, there was an area where merchant warehouses stood in silence and the night held few shadows. I found myself on the first basement floor of the building indicated on the map from the Lizard Old Man.

There was no sign, only a heavy black door. I reached for the brass doorknob, which was polished to a shine despite its age, and stepped inside.

"Welcome."

It was a bar with nothing but a single counter. There were no other customers. A white-haired man who looked to be the Master greeted me with a calm, professional tone. Beneath his gentle smile, however, I sensed a formidable, unidentifiable presence.

"Are you meeting someone?"

"Yes. The [One Who Weaves Black Threads]."

The Master’s lips curled into a slight smile. "This way, please."

He gestured with a pale hand toward the end of the counter, pointing at a solid black wall. I stared at him, confused, but he said nothing more. His expression remained perfectly neutral.

With no other choice, I walked up to the wall. When I looked back, the Master gave a small, encouraging nod.

I reached out and touched the black surface. The wall slid back smoothly, revealing a hidden room.

Inside was a single small round table flanked by two leather sofas. Sitting on one of them was a familiar black-haired woman. Sasha.

"Sit."

"..."

I sat down across from her, feeling a strange tension—perhaps because it had been a while, or perhaps because of the clandestine atmosphere. Behind me, the black wall slid shut with a soft click.

"I take it you've returned with something useful?"

"Yeah. Exactly as requested."

I placed the brief report I’d prepared on the table. Sasha nodded with a satisfied air and reached for the papers. As she read, her expression gradually turned grim.

"To think such a nightmare was slumbering in Count Cardinal’s Territory..."

"The locals treated the place as cursed. It’s been passed down that way for generations."

"But will anyone actually believe this?" Sasha asked, frowning at the report. Even to her, the details seemed far-fetched.

"I have proof."

I reached into the backpack at my feet, pulling the source of the entire incident out of my [Storage Space] and setting it on the table.

"This is the [Vessel of the Evil God]."

A purple haze swirled around the artifact, appearing for the first time in weeks. Sasha’s eyes went wide.

"...I believe you. Now please, put that thing away."

Her voice trembled. Even without specialized skills, she was clearly being suppressed by the massive [Malice] radiating from the vessel.

"Report this to the client."

"I will."

I returned the [Vessel of the Evil God] to my [Storage Space]. The oppressive air in the hidden room vanished instantly.

"How do you stay sane while carrying a thing like that?" she asked, letting out an exasperated sigh as she crossed her legs.

"I've trained for it."

"I don't think that's the point..."

Once she regained her composure, we talked briefly about the more mundane events in Count Cardinal’s Territory. We mostly spoke of food; when I mentioned [Marcus's Garden], the tavern Balan had recommended, Sasha looked genuinely interested.

"Do you plan on going to Count Cardinal’s Territory?" I asked.

"I might have to... eventually. Don't you think?"

She had a point. I didn't think this was the end of the matter.

After a bit more small talk, I stood up and left the hidden room behind the black wall.