December 16th, night, Backlund, dock district.
The night breeze, carrying a faintly pungent smell, drifted slowly through the tranquil darkness, while moored ships gave off dim lights.
A man carrying property worth at least fifty thousand pounds walked calmly along the end of a plank bridge. He had high cheekbones, blue-gray eyes, and neatly slicked-back hair, giving him the air of a distinguished figure with a fine education and access to high society.
Yet he wore a flat cap and a gray overcoat, utterly lacking the dignity that such bearing ought to possess.
Seeing the scheduled riverboat come into view, he let out a slight sigh of relief, pulled out his ticket, and headed toward the vessel.
But just then, a tall young man suddenly blocked his path.
The man had bronze skin and bulging muscles. He wore light clothing entirely unsuited to winter, and what should have been a white undershirt had long been dyed an earthy gray by dust.
He was rather handsome, with clear brows and refined features, yet broad shoulders and a powerful build suited him perfectly. A dusty burlap sack rested on his shoulder, as though he had merely grown tired upon reaching this spot and had stopped to rest for the moment.
Jason Belia, carrying the suitcase, revealed a cold look. He stared at the apparent dockworker before him, and a glimmer flashed through his blue-gray eyes.
"Not a Beyonder?" Seeing that the strong man's Aether Body aura was not unified, the man seemed to relax slightly. Still, he shot him a look like a highborn gentleman encountering a beggar blocking the road, as if even speaking to him would bring bad luck.
"Sir, I think I've seen you somewhere before."
The burly youth carrying the sack did not retreat because of the man's