In the deep of night, outside the mansion’s imposing marble walls, the four figures gazed at the darkened estate, their expressions irritated and impatience.

  They had moved through the night secretly, enduring the bumpy, dirt-caked paths, the buzzing of insects constant in their ears. They had navigated countless twists and turns to finally reach this place, yet the recipient did not even try to receive them?

  Their lantern light cut weak circles into the dark. At the very least, that old man should open the gate for them to rest inside.

  “He’s late.”

  Glen, the middle-aged man in front, said in a deep voice. The lantern in his grip swayed slightly as he adjusted it, its glow catching the rough planes of his face.

  His unkempt brown hair and shaggy beard framed his tired eyes, and a scar ran across his cheek. He wore a patchwork of rags sewn together into a semblance of a shirt, though his attire looked more complete than that of his three accomplices.

  His figure was balanced, with faint traces of muscle and biceps, suggesting he was the leader of this group.

  “Dang it! That fucktard wanted a deal, yet didn’t keep his side of the bargain?”

  Jack shouted loudly, clearly irritated as he raked a hand through his greasy brown hair. He angrily kicked the cart, then stomped his feet on the muddy earth, trying to crush the persistent bugs that swarmed around him.

  The guy had a long, gaunt face and narrow eyes. Jack was taller than the others, his thin frame suggesting chronic malnutrition. His face was the kind that invited a punch when sneering. He wore brown rags that were even poorer quality, if that were possible.

  “We shouldn’t have listened to that nuthead. Who knows when the mutton-shunters will come sniffing?”

  Rudolph, the burly man holding the horse’s reins nearby, spoke frankly. He had a shaved head and a massive physique.

  Unlike the other two, he wore colorful, mismatched rags. He furiously rubbed his side, where mosquitoes had bitten him, they kept buzzing around him.

  “Calm down, This is still our last deal. The cold season’s come. We take what’s ours, then leave before it worsens.”

  Glen interjected, calming the two men with his voice. They sneered, but complied, grumblingly walking the cart toward the mansion’s front door.

  The wheels crunched over gravel as they brought it up to the grand gate. It remained closed, as if explicitly denying them entry.

  “Nut, Maybe that fucktard’s too busy enjoyin’ the new flesh. Forgot about us. What a chumpfuck.”

  Ignoring Jack's venomous remark, Glen turned around and looked at another boy who was at the back of the cart, watching everything nervously.

  “Do you see anything, Arnold?”

  The boy jolted, straightening like he’d been caught slack off.

  Arnold looked much younger and smaller than the three men at the front, with tangled blonde hair. This boy had a scrawny body beneath rags that clung to him with dirt and sweat.

  He was dirtier than the others, with sticky mud clinging to his limbs. Clearly, he was the lowest in the group's hierarchy and also the youngest. It was evident that this was his first time joining them on a "deal."

  The only clean part of him was his unblemished face, without any of the blisters or rough marks that marred the faces of many men in their line of work.

  His smooth skin was something several men might envy. They often joked that once he reached adulthood, his face would surely become ugly and look like a demon.

  “N–no, brother,”

  Arnold stammered, wiping at his forehead with a filthy hand, clearly tired of this journey. His gaze flicked to the cart, where the unconscious girl lay gagged.

  His lips pressed tight, hands clasped together with complicated.

  “Don’t be too nervous. This one’s our usual customer. Next year, once you’re promoted, you’ll be back here again. Get used to it,” Glen’s tone softened a little.

  “alright, brother”

  Glen nodded. He sauntered in front of the front gate, knocking the ornate gate knockers several times and shout out loud

  “Old bone, come out! Your ‘goods’ are here!”

  Silence gleamed throughout the forest. Only the whisper of wind through branches and the dry rasp of insects in the dark answered him.

  Arnold swallowed his saliva, glanced at the two gargoyles standing solemnly by the flank of the gate. He could swear their eyes had just flashed faintly, yet when he blinked, they were just cold statues.

  A strong slap struck his side, making him yelp, startled. He turned his head, only to see Jack, with a smirk on his face.

  “Don’t be a meater, punyhead.”

  “That’s not funny, Jack,” Arnold rubbed his sore side while scowling.

  ‘Yadayadayada…”

  Jack waved a dismissive hand at him.

  Arnold’s mouth twisted, before he could say more, he froze as the front gate creaked open.

  “Heh, finally.”

  Jack sneered, pushing past Arnold and swaggering forward. He slapped Rudolph on the shoulder, urging him to follow. The bulky man grunted, but said nothing, steering the horse and cart inside.

  They had already grown accustomed to Jack’s crude attitude. The three men at the front walked into the mansion grounds without any apparent fear or nervousness, as if this were simply an everyday occurrence for them.

  From Arnold’s point of view, things looked quite different.

  Moonlight reflected faintly within the garden. He swore he had seen many small creatures with glinting eyes watching them, hearing unusual rustles in the bushes nearby. The mansion itself seemed swallowed in silence, as if it was uninhabited.

  His eyes darted left and right. There was clearly no one around, no one who had opened the gate for them, yet it had swung open automatically.

  After some time walking into the mansion’s front yard, Arnold couldn’t help but ask, “Who just opened that gate for us? I don’t see anyone at all.”

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  Glen answered him without looking back.

  “With our information, the old bone here is a Bless. Likely has the coins and resources to install mechanical gates.”

  Arnold, clearly still young and unexposed to much of the world, was a bumpkin, a countryside kid who understood little about mechanical marvels.

  He sighed in relief. It seemed his worry was unfounded. As for the Bless, he had heard a little about them.

  He’d heard the old folks talk about them: chosen by the Monarch, granted extraordinary powers outside of common sense. Oftentimes, when inexplicable situations arose, people simply attributed them to the Bless’s doing.

  His grandmother used to say, “Should you glimpse what ought not to be, turn your gaze away. Do not pry, do not linger. The Lord’s mercies are not meant for the likes of us to comprehend.”

  But here he was, standing in front of a Bless’s mansion.

  Their existence was only known as "the Bless". As far as he knew, most of them were Church personnel, having gone through harsh trials; out of hundreds, only half survived, and only one was accepted.

  He had witnessed many attempts by those around him to join as the Church’s Bless, only to be rejected. As for Bless outside of the Church, those independent ones did exist, though Arnold had never seen one himself.

  His thoughts broke when Glen stopped suddenly.

  “But where’s the old bone?”

  Beside him, Jack clicked his tongue, wrapping his arms around his head and yawning.

  “Tch. Fucktard probably forgot we even exist.”

  Glen thought for a moment as Rudolph chimed in, “Maybe he’s not home yet?”

  That was also possible, Glen thought. After all, things had grown tense here.

  After the recent storm, the Church’s personnel had increased their presence in Winterin Village, making their "business" harder. Even Inspectors had recently been spotted roaming around.

  That was why they were still trapped in Winterin, unable to evacuate. Leaving now would raise suspicion, so they had no choice but to lay low and await the cold season to pass.

  Glen had also caught wind of why the Inspectors were here. They were investigating a kidnapping case. So if the old man hadn’t come to meet them, could it mean…?

  “Being detained by the Inspector?” he muttered to himself.

  Obviously, that wasn’t their problem. They were just transporters, paid to do a job. The one who truly knew about the situation was probably the Golden Trader. Who was kidnapped and how was not their issue.

  However, if the old man was indeed caught, then there was a potential that their hideout would be discovered. Glen would need to return fast and warn their accomplices.

  “Since we’ve done the deal, let’s leave the goods and go back.”

  Glen said coolly. They could just unload the goods and leave them. The money had already been paid, and the Golden Trader had quite a reputation in the underworld, so customers usually didn’t hesitate to pay upfront.

  Rudolph nodded at Glen’s words. Together, they began to unload the boxes from the cart.

  The boxes hit the dirt with a dull thud, one after another. The quiet rhythm of unloading was broken when Jack suddenly froze mid-bend, his foot scuffed against something hard in the damp earth.

  He bent down, picked it up, and his narrowed eyes widened in shock.

  “G…gold?!”

  The word slipped from his tongue. Almost instantly, he clapped his hand over his mouth, realizing his mistake. But the damage was done. All three heads turned toward him in unison, their gazes flashing dangerously

  Jack swallowed hard, his eyes darting between them, sweat beading on his brow. Without a choice, he opened his palm.

  “Alan coin. Just found it… under the ground.”

  Glen walked toward him. His boots crunched on gravel as he loomed over Jack. Without a word, he plucked the coin from Jack’s hand.

  For just an instant, his eyes flickered crimson, before dulling back to brown. He slipped the coin into his pocket like it had always belonged to him.

  Jack could only grit his teeth in frustration, while Rudolph sneered, clearly enjoying Jack’s misfortune. Arnold said nothing, resuming on the task of unloading.

  The moment passed, but an avaricious idea bloomed in Jack’s mind. His eyes gleamed with greed as he looked at Glen, a sly grin spreading across his gaunt face.

  “Ay, since it’s our last deal, and the fucktard’s gone missing, how about we look for some treasure ourselves?”

  Glen narrowed his eyes, casting an indignant glance at Jack.

  “Are you out of your damn mind? He’s our customer. You want to deal with the Trader’s wrath if they find out?”

  Jack sneered back.

  “He’s not here anymore. The deal's done, and he’s disappeared. We can’t say he’s our customer any longer.”

  Glen stopped in his tracks, rubbing his untrimmed chin thoughtfully. Jack seized the opportunity, dealing another blow to Glen’s wavering resolve.

  “If that fucktard's still inside, we just say we wanted to finish our last deal in person. Ye?”

  Glen weighed the risks. The old bone was a Bless, that much he knew. But they were two muscles, two brains against an old bone who seemed nearly on his deathbed. Was it really that risky?

  “Come on, lead. What’s one old bag of bones compared to our desperate need?” Jack’s grin widened.

  The night seemed to stretch, the silence pressing close at them.

  Like Jack said, it was worth it. Their usual paycheck was enough, but for men like them, every coin mattered. Besides, Glen was especially in need of money right now.

  They wouldn't have chosen this dangerous line of work if it wasn’t inherently risky. To them, every day was precarious.

  Certainly, they still needed to make sure if he was truly a frail old bone, or a hidden powerhouse.

  Making up his mind, Glen smirked.

  “Ha, so you’re only smart when there’s money involved.”

  He knocked his knuckles against Jack’s chest. Jack puffed himself up proudly, grinning wide as though he had just outwitted the world.

  Glen turned his gaze to the others.

  “I’m in,” Rudolph rubbed his bald head and nodded. Arnold, however, nervously looked around, unsure how to answer. His eyes kept darting to the cart and the mansion.

  Did his response really matter at this point? Glen thought. Perhaps not. But as the oldest brother in their band, he couldn’t just irresponsibly leave the young lad like this, this spineless guy needed to be toughened up.

  “Arnold.”

  “I, I will join!” Arnold stood up straight, resolved his mind, prompting a sneer from Jack.

  Their heads turned toward the mansion’s closed two-leaf door. Glen nodded lightly, then began to issue his commands.

  “Rudolph will stay here and guard the door. If anything happens, inform us.”

  “Why don’t we all just go together?” Arnold asked anxiously, wondering why they needed to split their strength.

  Jack sauntered toward him, his eyes narrowing like a snake’s as he slung an arm around Arnold’s shoulder.

  “Punyhead, look at that big lump over there.”

  He said smugly, his finger pointing at Rudolph’s bald head, which earned him an angry glare from the burly man.

  “If that fucktard comes back, do you think you could handle him?”

  Arnold shrugged Jack’s slender arm off his shoulder, clearly uncomfortable but nodding in understanding. However, he then turned to Jack and inquired suspiciously.

  “Then what about you?”

  “Me? Ha! You think I’d stupidly stay out here and miss out on my good time?”

  Jack’s smirk widened, his eyes gleamed greedily as he slapped Arnold’s back again. A moment later, *clang!* A wooden mug bounced off Jack’s head.

  “Oi!” Jack snapped his head toward Rudolph, but the bulky man ignored him and stroked the horse to keep it calm.

  “Tch. Baldhead.” Jack muttered, stomping his feet angrily as he walked toward the mansion’s flight of steps.

  Glen had already moved ahead. Without waiting, he tested the arched double doors.

  *Creaaaak*

  They swung open easily. It oddly wasn’t locked. Considering the mansion was hidden deep inside the forest, he bet locking the door seemed unnecessary for the owner.

  In front of their eyes, the grandeur of the main foyer greeted them. If only the interior wasn’t submerged in darkness, they would probably have been impressed by the sheer magnificence of the exquisite furniture and ornate hall, with its detailed decoration walls.

  Only a little moonlight reflected into the mansion through the windows. The three men stood still for a moment, their lanterns casting long shadows on the floor.

  Exchanging wordless glances, the three of them each holding a handheld lantern, took their first steps into the mansion.