Night quietly fell.
The aroma of liquor and the lively atmosphere inside the tavern showed no sign of fading.
Sebas sat on a chair before the counter. The light above his head shone on his back, and the shadow it cast covered the wheat ale before him.
"My lady and I are merchants, not nobles."
Facing Kialé's quiet inquiry, Sebas remained expressionless and gently shook his head in a calm tone. "We came to the Royal Capital to conduct business, and purchasing grain is one of those businesses."
He did not think Kialé was deliberately probing for information. That method was far too foolish. However, just in case, he still responded according to the cover story they had prepared beforehand.
"That lady isn't a noble?"
Kialé seemed somewhat incredulous, her eyes widening slightly. She likely felt that Solution's beauty and bearing were not something a merchant possessed.
Of course.
The polite butler before her did not seem like a merchant either.
"Speaking of which, why does Miss Kialé know about this?" Sebas raised his head, looking curious.
"Y-Yes, it's like this."
Kialé lowered her head a little, feeling somewhat ashamed. After all, trying to learn about someone's background could easily make them wary.
"Although I already thanked Mr. Sebas for helping us before."
"There is something Mr. Sebas may not know. The people who intercepted the carriage that night and clashed with us were actually from an underground organization called Eight Fingers."
When she said the words Eight Fingers.
Kialé unconsciously lowered her voice to the barest whisper. Her shoulders trembled instinctively, and a trace of fear appeared in her eyes.
"Eight Fingers?"
A sharp glint flashed through Sebas's eyes, though he deliberately showed surprise on his face.
"Yes!"
Kialé nodded forcefully. After cautiously glancing around once more and seeing