The door closed behind them.

Thalen bent down and picked up the book from the floor. There was a palpable tension in the air, which Astrida quickly eased.

"Let's return to our main topic. Pay no attention to what just happened…!"

Xyrene walked to her desk and sat down. A sheet of paper lay atop it. She read it with a single glance—there were two lines written on it.

"You owe me an explanation – Mausoleum Corridor's Entrance."

Xyrene smiled as she read the second line. She understood its meaning perfectly—and that was precisely why she smiled.

A knock echoed from the door.

Knock.

"My lady, I brought what you requested!"

---

Cyn stepped toward one of the windows and opened it. He looked down at one of the nearby maids and feigned a smile.

"Shhh."

Then he jumped.

Below was a neatly paved path, smooth stone underfoot, flanked by dense grass and lush trees whose trunks were hidden from sight. It was clear the gardeners maintained the grounds meticulously.

Cyn thrust his hand into the thick grass and foliage, as though pulling something out.

The moment he got hold of it, he yanked it free.

It was Tristan.

He hadn't managed to open the secret door in time—so Cyn had simply thrown him out the window.

A voice from behind remarked dryly,

"I didn't expect it to start raining people from windows these days."

Cyn smiled.

"And why the silence, then?"

He turned toward the speaker.

It was Miguel—his friend.

Miguel stepped closer as he spoke.

"I kept an eye on him so he wouldn't escape. He stayed silent inside that pile of trees. I knew this was your doing the moment I saw that group of knights enter the wing."

Miguel shook Cyn's hand, then looked at the embalmed-looking man with visible disgust.

"So this is him—Tristan? What the hell happened to him? I mean… how did he survive that? I heard things from Kassal—"

Miguel reached out toward the white bandages wrapped around Tristan's arm and loosened a few, just to see what lay beneath.

He froze.

Soft, ruined flesh clung to exposed bone.

He hastily wrapped the bandages back, feeling nauseous if he stared any longer.

"Ugh… damn it. What did you do to him?"

Cyn replied calmly,

"Nothing. Our man here is in perfect condition. So—shall we get to work?"

Miguel stared at Cyn, completely lost.

"What work?"

Cyn merely smiled.

---

"So—you're telling us this was all orchestrated beforehand? That someone inside the palace knows everything about us and is plotting against us? And that it might even be one of our own?"

Kassal was beginning to piece things together. Cyn, meanwhile, had already briefed them on the current situation and the latest information extracted from Tristan.

Cyn corrected him,

"I mean—he doesn't know everything about us. Maybe he knows some things. But he won't know our next move—especially once we start the attack…"

Kassal didn't quite understand what Cyn meant, but his gaze drifted toward the unconscious Tristan.

---

The night was dark and cold. Clouds swayed on the horizon, fog nearly brushing against the royal capital itself. The sound of wheels and hooves echoed through the eastern corridors of the city.

A wooden carriage drawn by two horses rolled onward. It was nothing luxurious—hardly eye-catching at all.

The eastern district of the capital, however, was alive despite the late hour. Streets pulsed with activity.

Mostly taverns and brothels—simply put, the red district—alongside blacksmith stalls and cheap inns. If the northern district was known for wealth and splendor, the eastern district was known for simplicity, pleasure, and fierce competition in service quality relative to price.

Inside the carriage were seven people.

Three were familiar—Cyn, Miguel, and Kassal.

The remaining four were their men—those responsible for the other branches across the capital.

Miguel mocked Kassal,

"Care to guess who's about to lose his title as a knight? Hah!"

Kassal stared out the carriage window.

"Care to guess who's willing to sacrifice everything we've built for a pointless revenge? We could crush them faster and more efficiently if we had more time to plan and gather forces…"

"But here we are—being told to attack on the very night we finally got our hands on their locations."

Cyn spoke calmly, eyes closed.

"I told you—we don't have time. Any delay will only let them fortify their positions further. I mean, they know we captured one of their leaders—unless they're absolutely certain he won't tell us anything."

Miguel interjected,

"Either way, them establishing branches in the capital without us knowing a thing—were you asleep on duty, Mainz? This is your territory. You should've devoured every guild that dared open its doors."

The large man, Mainz, felt the pressure. The eastern district was his domain. While the Ravenline guild didn't fully control it, they were well-known there—strong, with established methods. Few could truly challenge them.

Mainz defended himself,

"Believe me, Lord Miguel, it all happened fast. It's like waking up one morning to find a tavern opened next to yours—with customers already inside, and nothing you can do to stop it. And the name they used wasn't the one you gave us in the intel. They called themselves the Blue Roses."

Cyn already knew that name from Tristan's information.

But still—

Blue Roses?

They certainly knew how to catch his attention.

Kassal voiced his concern.

"So here we are—attacking their new branches, erasing them, with no plan and no preparation. Just a surprise assault, hoping they won't expect us to strike tonight."

Miguel reassured him.

"You're a knight, Kassal—are you really afraid of them? They have no equipment, no powerful individuals. And with Cyn on our side, plus over fifty undercover agents already in the streets, everything will be fine—as long as the knights and the Church stay out of it."

Cyn spoke calmly, as though unconcerned with what was about to happen.

"Everything depends on how we do this. The faster we move—and the more force we display—the quicker their resistance will collapse. Despair will set in. That's why you unleash everything from the start."

The thin man, Javrot, spoke confidently.

"This is our territory—the capital is ours. We'll feed on them before they can dine on us. We'll devour them easily."

Kassal mocked his grand words.

"Clearly, you know how to devour things."

Javrot replied without anger.

"Come on, Lord Kassal—I was born like this. I had no choice but to be thin."

Kassal countered,

"If I didn't know your family, I'd pity you. They all look like wine barrels. Clearly they cheated you out of your share at the table—and now those fools from the Raging Flokds are cheating us in our own backyard."

Javrot replied sadly,

"Come on, Lord Kassal… don't bully me too."

Most of them laughed. Even Cyn smiled.

The carriage was parked in a dark corner. They remained inside, waiting for the scouts to bring news. The streets weren't crowded—but there was no sign they'd empty anytime soon.

Kassal praised himself,

"Thankfully, I disabled the knight patrols in this area tonight. I'll be in serious trouble once they find out something major happened on the same day—but still."

Cyn stared through the window at a large building. It was three stories tall, made of brick, decorated—and bearing a massive sign.

Blue Roses Salon.

Cyn noticed a man in a formal suit and hat glancing around before knocking and entering. The ground floor façade was made of glass—behind it stood several naked women of various shapes, colors, and ages.

The Scar of Pride whispered,

"They really need to reconsider their service prices. Judging by the competing brothels, they don't seem to be making much profit."

Cyn doubted it as well. They weren't attracting many customers compared to nearby establishments. It was odd—especially since the other brothels were larger and far more lively.

He could understand them wanting to avoid excessive attention.

Cyn cast a brief sideways glance at the man sitting beside Kassal—then noticed something outside.

Miguel chuckled softly while looking at a nearby brothel. Prostitutes stood outside, smiling at passersby, inviting them in to taste forbidden pleasure.

"See that, Kassal? They're inviting you. Go relax a little before we begin."

Kassal scowled.

"Huh? You keep fucking royal asses and now you want to throw me to cheap whores?"

Cyn said calmly,

"They're doing it—they're signaling us."

Kassal looked at Cyn strangely and snapped,

"I told you I'm not fucking a cheap whore! Don't you understand? If you want to do that, that's your choice—"

Cyn cut him off.

"I meant our agents, you idiot. What did you think I meant? Get ready—we're attacking."

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