Executed for Espionage (Monthly ticket! Tips appreciated!)

After a day of thin mist and morning light, the deep night of Dawn City descended.

After the bustle came wanton release, the streets filled with staggering figures.

In the fine rain, the hazy lights seemed drunk themselves, blurring into oval white halos from near to far, and in the distance, a tangled cluster of people could faintly be seen.

"You... hic! Can you walk on your own?"

"Da—damn it! Don't underestimate me! I can drink however much more and not get drunk! hic!"

Beneath the streetlamp, several workers supported each other, but none of them could stand steady, clutching wine bottles as they swayed and stumbled along the roadside, looking from afar like they were dancing some strange dance.

In the end, the one swaying the most even wrapped his arms and legs around the lamppost, rubbing his face against it while muttering drunkenly.

"Give me wine! I... hic! I'm happy today! I'm getting a wife soon... hic!"

"Hahaha! This guy was so cocky winning that drinking contest, and now he's showing his true colors, hahaha!" The others leaned against the lamppost too, pointing at his embarrassing state and laughing heartily.

The dim light flickered on their flushed, drunken cheeks, their hot breath merging into a visible wave of heat rising into the sky, even the cold of the rainy night scattered by that unrestrained surge of desire.

But just as they were laughing and messing around—

"Mmph!" The man hugging the lamppost froze mid-mumble and suddenly vomited.

One of them couldn't dodge in time and got splattered with the mess, lowering his head to curse: "This old bastard..."

"Shh!" Another quickly covered his mouth, pointing at the black building in the distance, and whispered in warning, "We've wandered in front of the Administrative Department without realizing it. Lord Yun Chuan might still be working."

Gah!

The laughing and cursing crowd went dead silent, their drunkenness jolted awake a few degrees, and they all looked up at the distance.

But seeing the top floor of the building already dark, their faces darkened in frustration as they turned to glare at the one who'd laughed.

"Daring to joke about Lord Yun Chuan! Get him!"

"Wait! Hold on, what about this old drunk?"

At that, they turned around to find him already snoring, mumbling unintelligible nonsense.

"Wife... kiss..."

Seeing this, black lines appeared on their faces. One of them sighed and volunteered: "You guys go ahead. I drank the least today, I'll take him back."

"Fine, fine. Should've let him drink less."

"Can we blame ourselves? Who knows what's wrong with him, drinking himself to death."

After a moment, two figures staggered into a small wooden house.

"Phew! You old bastard's as heavy as a pig!"

The man laid him on the bed, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and couldn't help muttering a complaint.

Standing by the bed, he was silent for a long time, then asked in a low voice: "Was it worth it?"

But the man looked dead drunk, as if he hadn't heard a word, instead mumbling someone's name, his slightly trembling eyelids glistening with tears.

Creak...

As the door slowly closed, the light from outside was blocked, and the room gradually fell into darkness.

In the small room, only soft snoring could be heard, but after a while, even the snoring vanished, until finally, it sank into complete darkness and silence.

Only the noisy wind gently tapped the window, covering everything.

In that dim room, a faint shadow rose, silently slipping through the darkness.

"Hoo... hoo..."

At the highest point of all Dawn City, atop the copper bell on the Administrative Building.

Several white doves pecked raindrops from their feathers with their beaks, their dark red pupils reflecting the uninvited guest below.

Inside the Administrative Building, the two men on duty chatted idly, but gradually, their voices softened, and their exchanges slowed.

Soon, only vague, indistinct responses remained, like the perfunctory replies of extreme fatigue.

From the air intake of the ventilation system, a colorless, odorless mist evaporated, and an irresistible drowsiness eroded, replacing their weak consciousness.

Click.

The Administrative Building was very quiet late at night. The door opened silently, just a crack.

Dust on the floor was stirred up by the breeze from the door, and then a thick, dark shadow entered like a ghost, hanging upside down from the ceiling of the duty room like an owl, its form flickering in and out of sight without making a sound.

The man wore a half-face mask covering his mouth and ears, evoking the image of a red-faced, fanged bat at first glance.

He glanced down at the two below, confirming they were completely dead asleep, then formed hand seals and moved his lips silently, as if talking to himself:

"I've infiltrated. How's it on your end? Ready to back me up?"

After a moment, he heard a vague response.

"Lord Yun Chuan... Tsukimiri Yun Chuan hasn't stirred. At this hour, he should be in evening training..."

Here, the voice suddenly paused, making the man's expression tense as he feared something had gone wrong. He quickly asked: "Saburo! What's wrong?"

"...Nothing. And don't call me by my name, Bat."

The secret technique maintaining their faint connection hadn't broken, and soon the man heard his companion's voice in his ear: "That brat who came today went looking for Tsukimiri Yun Chuan. You haven't been discovered yet—hurry up and make your move."

Hearing this, the man let out a quiet sigh of relief, his heartbeat and breathing gradually slowing.

He had absolute confidence in his ability to impersonate and infiltrate, because he had used this method to sneak into countless dangerous and secretive places—even the Daimyo Estate where the Land of Fire's Daimyo resided, which he had successfully infiltrated.

That time, he had stolen Konoha's military strategic deployment and sold it on the black market for a hefty gambling fund.

Unfortunately, the money was soon gambled away, and the Daimyo's men found him.

But that Daimyo had also taken a liking to this skill of his, wanting him to infiltrate various countries to gather intelligence.

And his first test was this newborn regime—the City of Daybreak.

Normally, this mission should have been as easy as before, even safer than the places he'd infiltrated in the past.

Yet he felt a vague unease.

Tsukimiri Yun Chuan gave him a feeling of warmth, but also of capability—his conduct in both personal and professional matters was nearly flawless, definitely not a simple man.

And this infiltration of his had been far too smooth.

Even if it was supposed to be this way...

"Owl."

With this thought, the man subconsciously called out, as he always did when he lost his sense of security, hoping to hear a "I'm here."

But no one answered him. Only silence replied.

Drip...

In the deathly quiet duty room, the faint sound was especially heavy, even though it was as light as raindrops.

Without a moment's hesitation, the man pressed his hand to the hilt of the blade at his thigh, turning around sharply with alarm and suspicion, his eyes scanning for any possible enemy.

The next moment, a flash of cold light appeared, making his body tremble.

Almost instinctively, he jerked his head to the side with a look of terror.

He heard a sharp whistle of wind past his ear, and then warm, wet blood dripped from his cheek down to his jaw.

"Cough!" The man's face became asymmetrical as he covered his ear, barely suppressing a scream, but the searing pain twisted his features.

He glared fiercely ahead, only to see a small, thin figure step out as if from the shadows.

"Are you looking for him?"

A childish yet icy voice reached the man's ears. Under his horrified gaze, a round object was tossed over by that person.

It was unmistakably a man's head, pierced through the temple by a black kunai.

Because it was a penetrating brain wound, the entry was tightly sealed, and blood didn't gush freely—it only dripped slowly, drop by drop, pooling into a puddle on the floor.

The raindrop sound he had heard earlier was exactly the sound of blood falling.

And the owner of that head...

"Saburo..."

The man suddenly felt a moment of daze, a chill crawling from his spine to his nape.

Then, he saw that brat raise a hand toward him, gripping a short blade with a clear, cold edge.

"Bat..."

He spoke the man's code name, but then shook his head, saying coldly, "No, I should call you, Mist Capital."

"Now, on the charge of espionage, I sentence you to death."

Nagato's blade reflected Mist Capital's travel-worn face.

But on that familiar face, fear and shock were now written all over it.