In the Kingdom of Corvanis—no, across the entire mainland known as Geostral—the Grad served as the primary currency for every kingdom, empire, and other ruling entity. Naturally, the Grad was divided into gold, silver, copper, and bronze coins.

A hundred bronze Grads equaled one copper Grad; fifty copper equaled one silver; thirty silver equaled one gold Grad.

Grads were used for nearly all exchanges, trades, public auctions, and even the secret ones. Of course, bartering goods of equal value still existed, but coin was always superior—its value never diminished, unified across the entire mainland.

Cyn had over two hundred gold Grads on hand, free to spend however he wished. He was planning to head out to the streets and waste them on something pointless.

As he went downstairs, he heard a commotion. Gilbert was arguing with someone, the others gathered around him.

A man lay clinging to Gilbert's leg, pleading desperately.

"Please—just lend me some! I'll pay you back, you know who I am! I'm Chevalier de Abodus! I'm very famous, don't worry!"

Gilbert struggled to free his left leg from the madman.

"Argh—get off me! I'm not lending you anything! Someone get him off! Now!"

The others only awaited Gilbert's command to pounce, but a voice echoed from the top of the spiral staircase. They looked up and immediately cleared a path.

"What's going on here? And who is that?" Cyn asked, staring at the man clinging to Gilbert's leg—everything seemed to hinge on this moment.

The man lit up with a smile.

"Finally! I'm Chevalier d'abaddon—very well-known! I'm stranded here and no one will lend me a single coin. Everyone acts like they don't know me!"

Cyn muttered, "Chevalier d'abaddon, hmm…"

Hope flooded the man's eyes.

Finally, someone remembers me!

Only for Cyn to crush that hope a second later.

"Who is this? I've never heard of him."

The others moved to drag the man away, but Cyn ordered,

"Leave him."

He approached Gilbert.

"I'm heading out. I'll take him with me."

Chevalier shot up instantly, seizing the chance with a flourish of his hands as he gestured to the main doors.

"After you!"

Cyn glanced at Gilbert. Gilbert's expression seemed to ask what he was trying to do. Cyn simply smiled as if to say don't worry.

Cyn studied the man—same height, a bit similar in build, striking and wearing a pair of earrings. His hair was white—not aged, but naturally so—with glowing blue eyes like a falling star.

Cyn grabbed the pouch of gold coins and shook it—clink!

Chevalier's eyes sparkled, and he hurried toward the door.

"Why are you walking like that? Are you trying to embarrass me?" Cyn asked. The man walked oddly—hunched, his upper body leaning forward as if afraid to bump his head into something.

Chevalier grinned.

"Just follow my lead. Everyone's watching me—this walk is special. People think I'm some important figure. And honestly… it's comfortable."

Cyn returned a faint smile.

Inside a tavern, Chevalier devoured his food like a starving beast. Cyn asked,

"So—you said you're famous?"

Chevalier looked up, cheeks stuffed, and swallowed.

"Of course. I fought in the Third, Fourth, and Fifth of the Scars–Sacred Halo Wars."

Cyn didn't understand what he meant, but if he knew about Scars and the Sacred Halo, then he had to be someone knowledgeable… unless he was just a con artist taking advantage of Cyn's ignorance.

Cyn murmured, "Hmm, sounds like you have quite the history."

Chevalier nodded proudly.

"They even named the fourth cemetery after me."

Cyn had no idea what this man was rambling about, but he found him amusing—an entertaining companion for the morning.

The capital was enormous. The northern district alone—where they were now—was so vast that Cyn had only seen a quarter of it.

"So people no longer remember you? Did something happen?" Cyn asked.

"They don't need me anymore. They don't like me. Or maybe… it's because of my name."

"Your name?" Cyn questioned.

"Yes! Maybe they remember me under another name."

"Another name? Are you the type who hides behind aliases?"

Chevalier frowned, struggling to recall something. Cyn thought he was making things up again—until the man said bluntly,

"I don't remember! My name… I don't remember it. All I am is Chevalier d'abaddon."

There was a strange peace in his expression—as if he was content with that. So Cyn didn't push further into his identity. Instead, he changed the subject.

"You mentioned the Sacred Halo and Scars. Does that mean you were a Scar bearer?"

Chevalier's eyes widened.

"You can tell?"

Cyn smirked.

"You look like one."

Chevalier sighed.

"Unfortunately… I used to wield a Sacred Halo instead."

"Used to?" Cyn asked.

The man didn't respond. Instead, he looked toward the tavern door as two figures entered. He nodded toward them with a regretful tone.

"No one ever believes me… even though I'm telling the truth."

Cyn turned—an old man in the prime of his youth walked in. The description made no logical sense, yet it somehow fit him. A second man stood beside him. Both wore suits and long black coats.

It was Valgean and Tristian.

Cyn wasn't sure what Chevalier meant, but the two men sat at the table beside them, placing a bag on it.

Cyn glanced briefly at them, then returned to Chevalier.

"Right… where were we? What did you mean by 'you're not like that anymore'? No—wait, what did you mean by no one believes you?"

Chevalier was focused on his meal.

"You must be someone important. Your bodyguards look strong!"

"My—bodyguards? They're not—"

Chevalier suddenly leaned forward in shock.

"Whoa! Look—they finished the job! They brought your enemy's head!"

Cyn had no idea what he was talking about—but he was irritated by the constant coughing from the men beside him.

He glanced toward them—only for the tavern to erupt in screams as people fled.

A white sack sat on their table… dripping blood.

And beside it—a severed head.

Cyn recognized it instantly, despite the mangled features.

The old man from the farm.

A coat landed on Cyn's back. A fist shot toward him—

BAAANG!

A violent crash tore through the tavern. The owner and workers fled too—they had come to take orders from the men, only to see a human head displayed on the table.

Cyn reacted instantly, leaping back.

The entire table exploded into splinters.

Damn it… these aren't my bodyguards!

Chevalier, still clutching his food, scooted back lazily. As if responding to Cyn's inner thoughts, he said,

"They've been following you since we left the branch. I thought they were yours."

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