While Glenn was busy tending to his stall, two men watched him from a distance.

  “Is that him, Zamat?” asked a burly, bald man beside his wiry companion.

  “I think so,” the lean one replied, his deep-set eyes gleaming like a cunning monkey’s. “I remember Fang had a run-in with him yesterday… maybe—”

  They were both members of the Hunter Mercenary Group, and they had been tailing Glenn ever since he entered town.

  Catching his meaning, the bald man frowned. “He doesn’t look that strong. And if he really was the one, would he dare show his face here again?”

  “Maybe he just doesn’t take us seriously,” the lean one sneered. “Anyone who can kidnap someone like Fang from under our noses without a sound has to be dangerous.”

  “So… should we test him?”

  “Are you stupid? We report back first! You can be cannon fodder if you want, but I’m not dying for this.”

  The bald man gritted his teeth, irritated but unable to argue. “Fine! You’re the clever one, happy now?”

  Bickering quietly, the two finally slipped away.

  In the midst of his busy trade, Glenn’s gaze flicked briefly toward the spot where the mercenaries had stood. A faint smile curved his lips.

  With his keen sense of awareness, he had already noticed the tail long ago—he simply didn’t care to acknowledge it.

  Time passed, and dusk approached. Since Glenn had started his stall later than usual, closing time would also come later.

  Fortunately, business was brisk; though he could have wrapped up before sunset, he stayed for one last customer.

  At last, a familiar figure came trotting down the street.

  Glenn was listening to Tia recount her little adventures from her stroll around the market when a familiar scent reached his nose. He immediately interrupted her chatter.

  “Is that the person you were waiting for, Mr. Glenn?” Tia asked, glancing at the newcomer.

  Glenn nodded.

  “Huff… Mr. Glenn… soon as I heard you were selling meat here, I ran straight over! You still got any left?”

  The old tomcat panted heavily, wiping sweat from his brow.

  “Don’t worry, I saved you a share. See if this will do.” Glenn gestured toward the neatly arranged cuts with a smile.

  It was, after all, at Old Cat’s request that Glenn had come to sell today—naturally, he had set aside the best portions.

  Old Cat’s eyes lit up when he saw the thick, rich slabs of “Sha Paozi” meat—mostly the fine leg cuts.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Perfect! No more paying that bastard Im for overpriced scraps. How much for all of it? I’ll take the lot!”

  “Fifteen bellas total—sixty copper coins. But for you, fifty-five will do.”

  “Splendid! Wrap it up for me, would you? Much appreciated.”

  Old Cat paid without hesitation. As he accepted the heavy bundle of meat, his gaze fell on the young maid standing beside Glenn.

  “And this young lady is…?”

  “She’s a maid from a noble friend’s household,” Glenn explained, glancing briefly at Tia.

  Old Cat’s brows shot up. He leaned closer and whispered, “You? A noble friend? How in the blazes did that happen?”

  “Long story—complicated. Not something I can sum up in a few words,” Glenn said casually.

  “I see.” Old Cat nodded thoughtfully, then lowered his voice even further. “Be careful. Some nobles are genuine friends… others have hidden motives.”

  He spoke almost directly into Glenn’s ear to keep Tia from hearing.

  “Don’t worry,” Glenn murmured back. “We’re not that close.”

  Satisfied, Old Cat clapped Glenn on the shoulder, then turned to Tia with a warm smile.

  “Good evening, my lovely lady. A pleasure to meet you. I’m Des Rodman—but everyone calls me Old Cat.”

  Tia rose with a polite smile and curtsied gracefully. “The pleasure’s mine, Mr. Des Rodman. Please, call me Tia.”

  “Miss Tia, then. I hope we get a chance to talk properly next time. For now, I must be off.”

  He turned back to Glenn. “See you later, my friend.”

  “Until next time.”

  Watching the old man disappear down the road, Glenn chuckled inwardly at his refined manner. So the old cat’s seen his share of the world—every gesture and word is perfectly polished.

  After packing up the stall, Glenn and Tia began their journey home.

  …

  In the dimly lit tavern that served as the Hunter Mercenary Group’s base, the scar-faced leader sat silently in a shadowed corner, his fingers steepled against his brow.

  He had held this position for some time, giving only brief replies as his men came to report.

  The loss of their “cargo” weighed heavily on him—he needed a way to face the wrath of young Lord Punk.

  Though the mercenary band worked for the entire Punk family, the young master was known for his temper. The leader’s life might be spared, but the consequences would still be dire.

  After all, they had lost three second-tier magi and a mercenary with the strength of a second-tier knight. Even old Lord Punk would be furious over such a disaster.

  “The only way to soften their anger,” he muttered darkly, “is to find the one responsible.”

  At that moment, the tavern door creaked open—again. It was the third time today, each heralding another report.

  “Boss, we found—”

  “Enough.” The scarred man cut him off sharply. “If it’s a clue, follow it. If it’s a suspect, keep watching. Don’t act until you’re sure—and then come to me.”

  The bald mercenary and his wiry partner swallowed their words and turned to leave. But before they reached the door, the lean one hesitated, then spun back.

  “Boss, what if that guy’s from outside town? He’ll have to leave eventually, right? If we wait till he’s alone, we could… interrogate him properly.”

  The scarred man stroked his chin, considering briefly before nodding. “Fine. Take a few men and test him.”

  The wiry mercenary’s face fell. “Boss, if he’s the one who attacked us last night, aren’t we walking to our deaths?”

  The leader’s face twisted with fury. “Then figure it out yourself! Am I feeding a pack of useless cowards?!”

  The two flinched at the roar, nearly falling over, and fled the tavern without another word.

  When silence returned, the scarred man ran a hand through his hair and muttered under his breath, “Maybe it’s time to cut ties with the Punk family. Their pay’s lousy anyway…”

  …

  At Glenn’s house.

  The elven girl stirred from her slumber, long lashes fluttering as she blinked into the dim room. Bit by bit, memories of the previous night resurfaced.

  Realizing where she was, she sat up and stretched languidly, her lithe, graceful form outlined by the faint light.

  When she opened the door, she found the house empty.

  Her brows furrowed slightly. “Where have they gone?” she murmured.

  After confirming she was alone, Gotaya decided to step outside for a look.

  But as soon as she opened the front door, she froze—standing there was a strange man, his attire odd, his aura dark and foreboding.

  He was watching her in utter silence.