A scraping sound of shoe soles against the wall came from behind the drainage pipe.
A thin figure squeezed out from between the pipe and the wall, hunched over as he sprinted toward the alley entrance. His worn-out coat was two sizes too large, its hem dragging past his knees. His hair clung together in greasy strands, and his cheeks were sunken.
Morel stood where he was, a cigar between his fingers.
The smoke spread across the ground churned and curled around the figure's legs. Several streams of smoke twisted into ropes and looped around his waist.
The young man had only taken three steps before he was lifted off the ground.
"Let me go!"
He kicked wildly in midair. One shoe flew off and struck the wall. A thin blade hidden in his sleeve slipped out as well, falling into the gutter with two light clangs.
Morel had originally been waiting for either the black market gangs to show themselves or for some Kakin spy who had been tailing him without his notice to reveal himself. When he saw that his follower was just some petty thief, half his interest vanished on the spot.
"You?"
The boy grabbed the Smoke Rope with both hands and tried to turn himself upward. The rope tightened with his movements, binding both arms to his sides.
"What is this?"
"Nothing."
Morel exhaled a puff of smoke.
"It's just that someone who followed me through half the black market and knew how to use crowds to hide himself made me think I might hook something valuable. Turns out I reeled in a bean sprout with no meat on its bones."
"Quit talking. If you're going to kill me, then kill me."
"You're not old, but your mouth's pretty tough."
The Smoke Rope dragged the