The Mysterious Old Man

Ian watched the enforcement squad leave, deep in thought. Security here appeared to be quite strict, and highly efficient as well. That made him a little more cautious about his plan to "visit" the Ministry of Magic tonight. After all, judging from the quality of those enforcers, the African Ministry of Magic was likely not to be underestimated.

Of course, their strength was nothing much to Ian, but one still had to be sufficiently cautious—after all, a true master always retained the heart of an apprentice.

Ian rather liked using that saying to describe himself now.

It served as a warning.

And perhaps as a bit of humblebragging, too.

After the enforcers swiftly hauled away the two inept wizards who had caused the disturbance, the market was like a lake into which a small stone had been tossed. The ripples quickly settled, and it returned to its previous bustling clamor. The onlookers dispersed amid animated discussion, many wearing expressions of schadenfreude or utter indifference.

Things like this were clearly not uncommon here.

"Makuru and Kafu are really in for it this time. They won't get out without being skinned alive," a wizard in a snakeskin cloak murmured to his companion, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Those Ministry people love their 'interrogation tax'—if you don't hand over enough gold, don't even think about getting out alive."

"Gold? That's hardly all," the other man sneered. "I heard someone caused trouble last month and had thirty percent of his lifespan drained away. He became a living corpse and is still sweeping floors at Silent Speech Tower."

"Serves them right. They provoked Red-Eyed Baruka and still thought they could walk away unscathed?"

"Exactly. Doesn't Baruka smuggle rocket launchers himself? Yet he's still thriving in the Ministry."

"Anyway, I think they'll be fined at