Ghost

"Forgive my presumptuous visit, but the news from the Sunset Temple... if that news is true..." The middle-aged noble with gray-white hair trembled slightly in his right hand. Pressing a hand to his left chest, he bowed deeply.

"Please allow me to go in person and settle this matter for you."

"You're certainly well-informed, Old Friend." Beside the roaring fire, a sturdy figure lowered his right hand from beneath his chin and spoke heavily. "The latest report is that it hasn't been confirmed yet, but the lamp in the Sunset Temple has indeed been lit. It seems to be nearby."

"I've already sent Yordel. He is better suited than Eda for covert operations."

The gray-white-haired noble froze slightly.

"Yordel?"

"That's right," the sturdy figure said flatly.

"You know how important this news is. Licia even sealed off the inner sanctuary in the name of an oracle immediately, so we cannot risk needless exposure. Only when it is finally confirmed will I secretly send you."

"Of course, of course." The gray-white-haired middle-aged noble could barely conceal his excitement. "When that time comes, I will serve you with all my heart."

"Ah." The sturdy figure sighed. "I should be more excited than you."

"But for some reason, I am so calm."

Rick did not know how he had made his way back to the Brotherhood headquarters.

The chill at the back of his neck had never gone away.

But when he saw the Brotherhood's Black Street Headquarters, saw the two elite thugs at the entrance playing a knife-and-fingers game, saw the obvious and hidden sentries outside...

When he entered the main building and saw Boss Morris carefully checking the accounts behind an iron table...

But when he saw Belicia's disdainful gaze as she leaned against a corridor pillar—her proposal to increase the brothel budget had probably been rejected again tonight...

Rick truly felt relieved.

At that moment, even Layok, the assassin who had always been at odds with him, looked warm and friendly beneath the dining table's candlelight.

Before he knew it, the chill at the back of his neck had vanished without a trace, as though it had never existed.

Even Rick himself wondered whether he had simply been too tense.

When he told Boss Morris, who oversaw the people trade, that he suspected someone had been following him, Layok burst out laughing and sprayed a mouthful of ale directly onto the candle, extinguishing it. Belicia yawned, tightened her enormous breasts in her clothes, and looked at him with even greater contempt.

Boss Morris wore an odd expression when he saw the cold sweat covering Rick's face. He patted Rick's shoulder and told him not to work himself too "hard" lately, to watch fewer Midnight Temple plays, and to have Weird Doctor Ramon prescribe something calming when he returned from his trip.

Damn it!

Rick knew that even his Psychic abilities were difficult for others to believe.

Let alone a lunatic who had followed him all the way from the Ruined House to Black Street for an entire kilometer—unseen, shapeless, with unclear intentions and no apparent action. Yet Rick instinctively believed that that guy was real!

But when he returned to his room, lay down, and carefully recalled every detail of being followed that night, even Rick, who had always been suspicious by nature, could not help wondering if he had truly been overly tense.

Rick calmed himself and tested his Psychic ability again. Everything was normal, and his neck rested comfortably against the velvet pillow.

All right, maybe I was overthinking it.

But the next moment, that bone-chilling sensation struck again!

Fuck!

There was no way he could sleep now!

Rick abruptly rolled out of bed.

He dragged out a box from beneath the bed and dug out a Siegel Type-6 Mana Gun so heavy it took both hands to carry. Pressing himself nervously against the solid wall, he crept into the corridor and listened carefully.

The corridor was lined with Eternal Lamps burning Eternal Oil, making it brilliantly bright, yet there was still no one there. In the distance, a Brotherhood sentry returned from the toilet. He seemed to be scratching an itch as he tugged at the black-and-red leather armor around his crotch while walking past Rick.

From the room at the end of the corridor came Layok and Belicia's usual wanton, frantic cries.

"Damn shameless pair," Rick cursed loudly.

"Hope you go too hard and snap it right off!"

The sentry who had just passed him turned around in wholehearted agreement and nodded at Rick.

Their eyes met, and they instantly felt like kindred spirits.

Then Rick saw the other man painfully scratching at the crotch of his armor, while the other man saw Rick struggling to hold a Mana Gun while pressed against the wall.

Both awkwardly turned away. One returned to his post, the other returned to his room.

Rick touched the back of his neck.

Damn it, this cursed Psychic ability must be malfunctioning.

Besides, if someone could sneak into the Brotherhood headquarters, packed with experts, without anyone noticing, then holding a Mana Gun would surely be useless.

Even Boss Morris would have no solution.

Sleep. Sleep.

Tales's back injury looked terrible, but it did not seem too serious. By the third day, he could already stand and walk.

Maybe people with worthless lives are naturally tough, Tales thought as he stood in line and sighed.

He looked at the Ruined Houses and Broken Walls around him, accepted the Black Bread and wild vegetables handed over by the thug Pearson, and bit into them.

This damned place.

"You were next to the sharp branches. You must have secretly cut my hand!"

"It wasn't me! My hand was cut last night too. I couldn't even 'work'!"

"Everyone in our house got their hands cut! It must have been the people from Eighth House! They're jealous of what we got yesterday!"

"So it was them! The people from our Fourteenth House were cut in the night too! They don't want us going out to 'pick sheep'!"

Tales yawned and lazily listened as beggar children from several other houses went from arguing to fighting. The nearby beggar children even cheered them on until the thugs came to stop them.

He sighed, swallowed the last mouthful of the awful breakfast, clapped his hands, and called over the beggar children of Sixth House.

Time to work.

It was Tuesday, and Sixth House's begging went relatively smoothly. Seeking more business, they went directly to the area near the checkpoint at West Gate. The past week seemed to have been the Sunset God's festival, but word was that an oracle had descended and the Sunset Temple had sealed its inner sanctuary. Many believers who had traveled from afar had no choice but to turn back at West Gate. At most, they could climb the city wall and pray toward the sunset, making up for their regret at being unable to pray in person at the Sunset Goddess's foremost temple in the mortal world.

Before the guards could shift from glaring at them to driving them away, Tales successfully lifted a Blackwood Carving of a Crescent Moon Idol from a fat fruit-and-vegetable vendor with Lane and Colia's help.

The vendor paid too much attention to the wallet clutched in his arms—"Stay away, you little bastards!"—so while Lane and Colia bargained with him over a clover, Tales reached for the bundle behind him.

Faith in the Goddess of Bright Moon was uncommon in the Starfall Kingdom, especially in Everstar City, where the Sunset Goddess's foremost temple stood. That made this Crescent Moon Idol all the more unusual. Of course, stolen goods like this could not be sold openly and could only be moved through Brotherhood channels. The Brotherhood veterans knew they were only beggar children and thieves, so they would squeeze the price mercilessly. If something was valuable, they might even seize it outright. Getting five copper coins for it would already be good.

Still, even a mosquito had meat on it.

When Tales and the others returned to the Ruined House, they ran into Rick, who was making his usual inspection rounds. But Rick lacked his usual gentleness and calmness. He hurriedly gave the thugs a few instructions, then vanished from sight.

"Did something happen to Mr. Rick?"

Colia, starving with hunger, asked as she bit her finger.

They had gone far and returned late. Luckily, Tales was on good terms with Pearson, the thug responsible for delivering food. Tales often bribed him with little gifts, and Pearson had agreed to save them meals.

"Maybe it's Quade. That guy is always causing trouble," Kellit said, his stomach growling as well.

At that name, Nide and Lane both shuddered.

"Kids, there's no dinner tonight." When the six children entered the now-empty meal courtyard, Pearson, who was in charge of serving food, waved them off.

"Don't look at me. I can't do anything about it." Faced with the six children's angry yet somewhat unconvincing demands, Pearson merely shook his head indifferently. "Rick gave the order. Everyone has to rest earlier tonight, so the schedule has been moved up."

Tales frowned, rubbed his empty stomach, and began considering whether to sneak into the thugs' guardroom that night to look for food.

But after glancing around at the other five, all staring eagerly in anticipation of food, he sighed and took the Crescent Moon Idol from his pocket.

In the end, after much pleading and persuasion, Tales traded the Crescent Moon Idol to Pearson for four and a half pieces of Black Bread and half a bowl of Black Pine Vegetable. Pearson had originally planned to skim them off and save them for his own two hounds.

"Rick and Quade have both been a little jumpy lately."

As the other five children began eating, Pearson revealed a piece of news to Tales before leaving.

"Quade's temper has been getting worse and worse. He curses about that 'Dead Bald' all day—though he has always been like that—but Rick has become really strange. Especially over the last two days, people from headquarters have been saying..."

At that, Pearson looked around and whispered into Tales's ear.

"He's been haunted by a Ghost."

A Ghost?

Tales watched Pearson walk away, took a bite of Black Bread—which was usually awful but tasted especially good when he was hungry—and silently considered it.

He wondered what Rick had encountered to make him run into a Ghost.

But as for whatever was making Quade's temper worse and worse...

Tales swallowed a mouthful of bread.

It seemed he needed to keep a lower profile lately.

Rick became nervous again.

For the previous two days, he had thought his Psychic ability was malfunctioning.

But only this morning, when he was preparing supplies for the next group of beggar children and opened the roster, did he finally confirm it.

His Psychic ability had not been wrong.

Rick was an ambitious man, and he believed that ambitions had to be achieved through small details. For example, he never wrote his itinerary or plans on paper. He tucked strands of hair into inconspicuous places in drawers, trunks, and important documents to guard against theft and prying eyes. He never hid money in only one place, either.

He had always taken pride in his carefulness and believed that one day, such caution would earn him the rewards he deserved.

Like now.

Rick opened the roster of beggar children.

The hairs tucked into every page of the roster were all in their original places.

That should have been good news. It meant no one had opened the roster.

But Rick was the son of a clerk-copyist.

His father had taught him that any skilled thief, if they put their mind to it, could easily bypass this sort of hair-trap security and inspect whatever documents they wanted without anyone knowing.

So Rick had learned an even more cautious method from his father.

When a hair was tucked between pages, the quickest way to browse through a document without disturbing it was to hold the hair down in its original position, then turn the pages while pinching the upper and lower sheets together, keeping the hair in place.

How could one counter that method?

Sealing it with wax like a noble would certainly be the fastest and safest option.

But Rick possessed a Light Dry Gel made from Green Dolphin Oil, something his father used exclusively.

It was a gel used by poor people living by the river. Its characteristic—its flaw, perhaps—was that its adhesive power was weak. As long as a book was not too heavy, even if the gel was applied to the pages and the book was closed, the glued sections would not stick together. The two sides had to be pressed tightly with outside force for a short while before the pages would adhere.

When Rick opened the roster, he found that the hairs were all still in their original places, except for one thing.

Every hair was firmly stuck to the pages.

Without outside force, his inferior gel could never have done that.

Someone had read through his roster of beggar children. They had discovered his hair traps and turned the pages by holding the hairs in place between their fingers.

Rick's heart turned cold.

The intruder had definitely been an expert. Only an expert could leave four different, inconspicuous hairs in their exact original positions without the slightest error.

Fortunately, Rick had the secret his father had taught him, or he would never have noticed.

More than ten days ago, after seeing Tales's performance while begging, Rick had checked the roster to find which house the boy Tales belonged to.

Everything had been normal then.

But during the more than ten days since then, someone had entered his room and read through the roster of beggar children?

Rick's scalp went cold.

He suddenly realized that this was not the most important thing.

Rick scrambled to open the hidden compartment in his drawer.

He pulled out his most important ledger for people transactions, as well as his secret Royal Bank deposit book.

Both the ledger and the deposit book were safe, with no signs of having been opened. The hairs in their pages had fallen naturally into place as well.

Rick sighed in relief.

Thank goodness. The things in this hidden compartment had not been—wait.

If the intruder was an expert, how could they have missed the hidden compartment?

Rick tremblingly pulled out the entire compartment, dismantled it, and reached toward the place where hairs should have been tucked.

Then he collapsed into his chair.

The hairs.

They were firmly glued into the seam of the hidden compartment by the Light Dry Gel unique to Rick's household—the kind that did nothing unless pressed hard.

When Rick wandered into the dining room in a daze and ignored Layok and Belicia, who were flirting and teasing each other, it was Layok, the man who had always been at odds with him, who gleefully called out to him.

"Accountant, I heard you've run into a Ghost lately?"

Rick ignored him and merely sat down without expression.

In a daze, he pulled over a bottle of ink used for accounting and poured it over his steak as though it were sauce.

"Leave him alone." Belicia sat in Layok's lap with a smile at her lips. She shot the assassin a seductive look and fed him a cup of red wine. "Coming to my room again tonight?"

"O-of course, of course," Layok answered hurriedly before he had even swallowed the wine. "I only found out today that Boss moved all the sentries outside a week ago. So tonight, we might as well... hehe... get a little crazier."

"Oh, you're so bad..."

The sentries had been moved outside a week ago...

Clang! The ink bottle slipped from Rick's hand and crashed onto the table. Ink spread across the tabletop and flowed toward the couple on the other side.

Rick raised his pale face and looked at Layok and Belicia, both displeased.

"A week ago? A week ago, there were no sentries guarding the main building at headquarters?"

"Obviously." Layok brushed the ink that had splashed onto him away, then irritably threw a piece of bread at Rick's face.

"Because of the Great Operation against the Blood Bottle Gang, Boss said everything had to be kept secret and fewer people meant better secrecy, so all the sentries were moved outside. But don't worry. Don't you have that inseparable Ghost protecting you?"

"Then... then the corridor..." Rick did not realize that his voice was trembling uncontrollably. "There wouldn't be sentries in the corridor either?"

But Layok and Belicia had already forgotten him completely and were kissing as though no one else were present.

Rick took a deep breath.

The inexplicable tailing at the Ruined House two days ago. The sentry in the headquarters corridor who should not have existed that night. The roster of beggar children that had been carefully searched in his room.

Good. Everything fit together.

Now, Nal Rick told himself as he trembled with tension.

You've been targeted.

Your opponent may be very powerful.

Powerful enough to come and go freely through the heavily guarded Black Street Headquarters. Powerful enough that even a terrifying assassin like Layok had noticed nothing, and a seasoned Psychic Warrior like Boss Morris knew nothing at all.

Only I had the luck to discover this, thanks to my late father.

He might be right behind me.

I had to save myself—save myself!

I had to find out what he wanted!

Rick's mind raced frantically.

Over the past two days, the other party must have turned his room upside down, yet he had only carefully examined that beggar children registry.

He had treated the far more important account books like worthless trash.

A thought struck Rick: what he was looking for was in the beggar children registry!

Right, he'd been targeted near the Ruined House, which happened to be where the beggar children lived!

He was looking for one particular Beggar Child!

But Rick thought with a headache, he had dozens of beggar children under his hand!

Next month, Beth would send over another batch. They were all children of unknown origin or children whose disappearance would cause no trouble. Important, valuable children—such as descendants of powerful figures or children of wealthy merchants—had long since been either ransomed or killed. Which Beggar Child did the other party want?

With such impressive skills and such terrifying strength, why didn't he openly make a request of the Brotherhood?

We'd give him whatever he wanted!

Rick would rather cooperate with him item by item—even drag out all hundred-plus beggar children one by one, strip them naked, search them, or even kill and dissect every last one of them—than live in daily terror, watched from afar by a "Ghost"!

Wait.

He seemed to have thought of the key.

Why didn't he openly make a request of the Brotherhood?

Rick blinked.

Of course—it was because no one could know about this, not even the Black Street Brotherhood!

Was it a rival of the Brotherhood?

No. If the Blood Bottle Gang had that kind of strength, the Black Street Brotherhood would have been wiped out dozens of times over already.

That meant the other party either couldn't use official channels, or simply disdained dealing with the Black Street Brotherhood of the Lower City District!

A figure this terrifying naturally stood too high to deal with a gang that had risen from the slums.

Then why was he interested in these orphans who had long since been forgotten by the world?

If he was looking for a missing child, couldn't he just file a report with the Vigilant Hall?

And if someone or some force of that level was involved, the Vigilant Hall wouldn't dare neglect the matter. Before the authorities, even the seemingly arrogant Brotherhood could only bow its head.

Wait!

A flash went off in Rick's mind. He felt that he had seized the crucial point.

Skilled and powerful, coming and going without a trace, acting in secret, interested in a certain child's background, unwilling to deal with the Black Street Brotherhood.

Strength was built with money and resources. He acted in secret because making this public would harm him. He wouldn't deal with the Brotherhood because his standing was simply too high.

As for why he was interested in children the Brotherhood had gathered from all sorts of channels, from all kinds of backgrounds...

Wait.

Behind him had to be someone high up, someone who controlled power and wealth. Yet he avoided the eyes and ears of everyone from the Brotherhood to the Vigilant Hall, secretly searching for an important child—a child?

Fuck!

Rick slapped his thigh hard. In an instant, a string in his mind connected.

He had gotten caught up in some great family's—succession struggle!

Rick glared viciously at Layok and Belicia across from him, who were already getting handsy as though no one else existed.

Yet his thoughts had long since left the man and woman before him.

Perhaps none of the Starfall Kingdom's fifteen million people knew that, one day, a secret truth capable of shaking the entire kingdom and sending shockwaves across the Eastern and Western Continents had once come so close to such an insignificant gang lieutenant.