If hearing the name "Mr. A" did not make Angel think of the Aurora Order, then her two months as a Nighthawk in Tingen City would have been for nothing.
This was clearly the same naming style as Mr. C and Ms. D, undoubtedly declaring the other party's identity as an Oracle of the Aurora Order.
She just did not know whether this Mr. A was connected to the two Oracles who had fought Angel, or whether he knew of a Nighthawk who had repeatedly ruined the Aurora Order's plans.
She was now immensely grateful that she wore a kitten mask. Otherwise, if Mr. A saw her and the Aurora Order captured her, she would probably end up rotting in some filthy Backlund gutter, just as Dominic had said.
Unaware of Angel's inner drama, Dominic's eyes, hidden beneath his clown mask, scanned the gathering place, lingering on every member who did not wear a mask, as though searching for someone.
After the final two members entered—a tall and a short woman, both with their faces uncovered—and several more minutes passed without anyone else arriving, Mr. A, seated on the sofa, said in a low voice:
"The gathering begins. State your requests, or apply for a private transaction."
Just as Angel was wondering how she was supposed to "state a request," Dominic took a stack of slips from the tea table beside him. He kept one for himself and handed the rest to her.
"If you want to sell or purchase something, or have your request displayed on the blackboard, write it on a slip. A waiter will come collect it."
He pointed at the two blackboards standing against the wall, which already bore quite a few trade listings.
"Human Face Rose, one flower, 280 pounds."
"Selling the Sequence 8 'Sheriff'