The Gray Lowlands lay between the river and the oldest section of the northern walls. The streets were narrow and winding, paved with uneven stones darkened by mud and grease.

  There, the stench of the river mixed with that of accumulated garbage. The buildings were old and poorly maintained, their upper floors jutting out over the streets, blocking sunlight and creating shadow-covered corridors. The houses’ windows were boarded up, and their doors reinforced with iron.

  Many of the alleys were dead ends, making the area feel like a true labyrinth to anyone unfamiliar with the place.

  As they moved through the streets of the Lowlands, Lucius could feel the residents’ eyes fixed on them. They were wary, dangerous looks, which made him raise his guard even further.

  “By the way, after everything that happened, I never even asked your name. I’m Tália,” said the girl—no, Tália.

  Lucius hesitated for a moment, then replied.

  “My name is Lucius.”

  He thought that once introductions were over, the conversation would end there, but it seemed Tália had other ideas.

  “So, how long have you known my grandfather?”

  “About two years.”

  “And Grandpa has been selling you his medicinal paste that whole time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Strange…” Tália frowned suspiciously.

  But this time, the suspicion did not seem to be directed at him—at least, that was how it appeared to Lucius.

  Lucius had always sought ways to compensate for his shortcomings, whether through theoretical books or so-called miracle remedies. Needless to say, he had been deceived countless times in the process.

  He had found the old man’s shop purely by coincidence. At the time, he paid it little attention—no, that would be an understatement. But to his pleasant surprise, the shop truly carried many high-quality materials, and he eventually became a regular customer. It was during one of those visits that the old man offered him his paste.

  “By the way, in all the times I went there, I never saw you in the shop.”

  This time, it was Lucius’s turn to look at Tália suspiciously. But the girl already had an answer ready.

  “That’s because I used to live with my father in the capital.”

  “Used to? Do you live here now?”

  “No. Just me,” she said in a dry tone.

  “And your father? Did he stay in the capital?”

  “He died.”

  Lucius nearly stopped walking when he heard that.

  Did I touch on a sensitive subject?

  Although Tália’s expression remained unchanged, the topic died there, and they continued on in silence.

  It was already late afternoon when they arrived at the place the old man had said he went to. They would have arrived much earlier if Tália hadn’t taken so many wrong turns, but Lucius decided not to comment on it.

  The tavern stood at a corner, surrounded by a few wooden shacks. Its fa?ade was low and wide, built in such a way that Lucius wouldn’t have been surprised if the place collapsed at any moment.

  As they approached, they could already hear shouting and off-key songs coming from inside.

  At the entrance, several figures with their faces hidden beneath hoods were speaking in low voices. It was impossible to hear what they were saying, but given the general atmosphere, it was certainly nothing good.

  Opposite them were several drunks slumped against the walls, still clutching their bottles. There was even an old beggar sprawled on the ground, completely filthy, covered in grime and blood.

  No, wait—

  “Grandpa!”

  Tália ran toward the beggar—no, toward her grandfather. Lucius followed close behind.

  “Grandpa, Grandpa, are you okay?”

  Her voice trembling, Tália shook the old man’s body, searching for any reaction.

  “Ugh…”

  “Grandpa!”

  Fortunately, after all the shaking, the old man opened his eyes, groaning in pain as he looked around in confusion.

  Relieved, Tália hugged her grandfather tightly as tears streamed down her face.

  “Ugh, Grandpa, I thought you… I thought you…”

  “Hm? Tália…? What are you—ugh… I told you to stay—”

  Having just woken up, the old man was still quite confused, but when his granddaughter broke down in tears, he seemed more concerned with comforting her than understanding what was going on.

  “Hm?”

  But once Tália calmed down a bit, the old man finally had time to think more clearly, and his attention shifted to Lucius.

  “Brat? What are you doing here?”

  Lucius frowned.

  “I came to get my medicinal paste, and somehow ended up here… rescuing you, old man.”

  It was already getting dark. If they left now and he ran, he could still make it home on time.

  But to Lucius’s frustration, when he mentioned the words “medicinal paste,” the old man’s expression changed completely, his face turning red with rage.

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  “Those bastards! Ugh!”

  Wincing in pain, the old man glared furiously toward the tavern entrance.

  “Those damned mercenaries stole all my money!”

  Yeah, I suspected as much.

  “Mercenaries are dishonest scum, old man. Nothing good ever comes from associating with them.”

  “And you think I don’t know that?!”

  The old man looked at Lucius as if he were an idiot.

  And this is what I get for going out of my way to help this old man.

  “That doesn’t matter, Grandpa. What matters is that you’re okay. Let’s just get out of here,” Tália said, her face still red but calmer than before.

  “Yeah, Tália’s right. It’s better if we leave now,” Lucius agreed.

  But their words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

  “Not a chance!” the old man shouted. “You think I’m just going to leave like an idiot?! No fucking way!”

  It had been Tália who spoke first—Lucius merely agreed—but the old man’s furious glare fell on him instead.

  “Grandpa!”

  Tália tried to dissuade him, but ignoring his granddaughter’s words, the old man fixed his gaze on Lucius.

  “Brat, go in there and get my stolen money back. The man who robbed me is bald and wears an eye patch.”

  He can’t be serious, can he?

  Lucius stared at the old man, who simply waved for him to hurry inside the tavern.

  “…I’m not doing that,” Lucius said.

  If they left now, he would barely make it home on time. There was no way he would prolong his stay in this place even further by picking a fight with a bunch of mercenaries.

  “You don’t want to go, huh?” the old man spat between groans of pain. “Then know this: if you don’t help me with this, you can forget about ever getting any more of my medicinal paste.”

  “Grandpa!” Tália glared at the old man. “Lucius came all this way to help me find you. You’re being very unfair to him.”

  “Hmph. This brat only came because he knows how good my paste is. He’s not worried about me at all,” the old man said disdainfully. “And don’t say another word, Tália. This is a matter of principle. So, brat, are you going to help me or not?”

  This old man…

  Sighing, Lucius asked, “You said the guy who robbed you is bald and wears an eye patch, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Was he with anyone else?”

  “He had two thugs with him.”

  Well, this shouldn’t take long.

  Lucius nodded.

  “Fine. I’ll be back shortly.”

  Thinking that things would somehow work out, Lucius headed toward the tavern.

  “Are you serious?! This is complete insanity!” Tália grabbed Lucius’s arm tightly. “They’re mercenaries. You could get hurt!”

  “Let go of the brat, Tália,” the old man said with a grunt, bracing himself against the wall. “He knows how to handle himself.”

  “But Grandpa—”

  “That’s enough. He goes in, gets my money, and comes out. Simple as that.”

  Lucius gently pulled his arm free and cast one last glance at Tália.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Without waiting for her reply, he turned and walked through the tavern door.

  The moment Lucius entered, a strong stench of alcohol assaulted his nostrils. No—if it were just alcohol, it might have been tolerable, but the place was filled with a strange odor that seemed to be a mixture of sweat, blood, and mold.

  The noise was deafening, with terrible music sung in harmony with the shouts of drunks and braggarts.

  Ignoring it all, Lucius walked straight toward the table where his target sat.

  Given the old man’s description, it wasn’t hard to find him. Surprisingly, the tavern had several men with eye patches and several bald men—but only one who possessed both traits at once.

  Just as the old man had said, the eye-patched man was accompanied by two companions, all wearing leather armor with swords resting at their waists.

  “Hm?”

  As Lucius approached the table in the back corner of the tavern, the one-eyed man turned his attention to him.

  “What is it, kid? Got business with me?”

  Lucius scratched his cheek.

  “Hm, you could say that.”

  “Then spit it out. Can’t you see my brothers and I are busy?”

  Yeah, let’s get straight to the point.

  “The money you stole from the old man—I need you to give it back.”

  The smile vanished from the one-eyed man’s face.

  “What did you say?”

  His two companions also turned their attention to Lucius, who merely shrugged.

  “I think you heard me just fine.”

  “And I think you made a serious mistake, brat.”

  Spitting on the floor, the man pulled a dagger from beneath the table and stabbed it into the wood. His companions also drew knives, casually playing with them.

  “You’d better leave before you get some scars on that pretty little face.”

  I knew it would end like this.

  Lucius sighed.

  Let’s get this over with.

  Raising his leg, he delivered a front kick to the one-eyed man’s face, smashing his head against the wall behind him before he collapsed unconscious, face-first onto the table.

  “Son of a—”

  The man’s companions were caught off guard, instinctively jumping to their feet.

  That makes things easier.

  Lucius spun the same leg, still in the air, toward one man’s chin, striking him with such force that he went spinning to the ground. In the same motion, he reversed the kick and struck the other man in the face, knocking him conscious but leaving his nose and at least half a dozen teeth shattered.

  The commotion Lucius caused silenced all the music and chatter in the tavern. Every gaze turned toward him as he rummaged through the one-eyed man’s pockets.

  Once Lucius found the pouch stolen from the old man, he prepared to leave.

  “Where do you think you’re going, kid?”

  A massive man nearly two meters tall stepped between Lucius and the door.

  “I don’t recognize your face. You’re not from around here, are you? You think an outsider can come into our territory, beat up our people, and just walk away?”

  Looking around, Lucius realized he wasn’t the only one. At least half the tavern was on its feet, most holding daggers or clubs, all staring at him with hostility.

  “What is it? You just gonna stand there with that—”

  The man choked when he saw what Lucius did next.

  Reaching into his pocket, Lucius pulled out a leather pouch. Opening it, he revealed dozens of gold coins.

  The eyes of everyone present lit up, fixed on the pouch in Lucius’s hand.

  “Kid, that’s—”

  “It’s yours,” Lucius said, shaking the pouch and tossing all the coins into the air.

  “What the hell?!”

  The big man stared in disbelief as the coins flew and scattered across the floor. For a moment, he must have thought they could all have been his—but now…

  “It’s mine!”

  “Get out of the way! I got it first!”

  “I grabbed this one!”

  “Let go or I’ll kill you!”

  A riot unlike anything else erupted in the tavern, everyone fighting over the gold coins on the floor.

  “You’d better hurry, or there won’t be anything left for you,” Lucius said to the big man.

  “You…!”

  The man glared at him with hatred. If Lucius hadn’t done that, he might have kept all the coins. Realizing this, he couldn’t help but feel furious.

  “Brat, you—aghhh!”

  Before he could finish, Lucius shattered the man’s knee with a kick. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his leg and screaming in agony.

  “Yeah, I don’t think you deserve any coins at all,” Lucius said as he walked past him.

  “Brat! What happened? Did you get my money back?”

  Lucius had barely stepped outside when the old man questioned him.

  “Here’s your money,” Lucius said, shoving the pouch into the old man’s chest, making him cough in pain.

  “Hehehe, I knew you could do it.”

  “But you’re hurt, Lucius?” Tália circled him, inspecting his arms, legs, and torso for injuries, sighing in relief when she found none.

  “Hmph. See? I told you not to worry about the brat—he can handle himself.”

  The old man’s words earned him an angry glare from his granddaughter.

  “Just because it worked out doesn’t mean it wasn’t an incredibly stupid thing to do!”

  In the end, Tália’s accusatory gaze turned toward Lucius himself, as if saying he was also at fault for doing something so foolish.

  “Ugh, fine, fine. Let’s just get out of here before the people inside decide to come after us,” Lucius said, ushering the two of them away.

  “Hahaha, sounds like you caused quite a commotion in there. You can hear it from outside. What did you do, brat?”

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I got your money back. Now let’s go—I want my medicinal paste.”

  …

  In the end, Lucius got the medicinal paste he wanted and managed to return to the estate on time.

  This time, he took enough that he wouldn’t need to return to the old man’s shop for a long while. After everything that had happened, he didn’t want to see that wrinkled face again anytime soon.

  “Aghhh!”

  After dinner, back in his room, he finally exploded.

  “Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!”

  He pounded the wall over and over, venting all the anger and frustration building up in his chest.

  Useless, useless, useless.

  What happened at the tavern had been a farce—shameful, humiliating.

  To have to resort to such a stupid trick just to get out of that situation…!

  If it were his father, he would have simply crushed everyone there. No—even Alex or Camille would have been able to deal with that bunch of amateurs. But him…

  How useless can you be? How pathetic can you be? Disgraceful. Disgraceful.

  He kept punching until his fists were soaked in blood, but it did nothing to calm the rage he felt—rage at himself, at his own incompetence.