Easy. Laws of physics.
“There’re supposed to be vaults under the sea,” went on Liz. “They’ve gotta be gorgeous. I’ll have to figure out how to breathe underwater. Ooh, and I’d love to fly above the clouds too! The capital’s a convenient place to live in, but after all these years—you know.”
She sounded just like she was planning a vacation.
As we continued to walk down the street with me nodding along to Liz’s chitchat, Liz’s expression suddenly grew tense. And before I knew it, she had let go of my arm. By the time I heard her shopping bags hit the floor, she was already pinning a man on the ground a few meters ahead. She had him by the wrist with one foot on his back—a flawless lock. I was walking next to Liz, and even I couldn’t follow her tackle the man; I doubted he even knew what had hit him.
The poor sap whimpered in pain. He was a bearded man of my height with a brown coat; he didn’t look all that remarkable and definitely didn’t look like a hunter.
I stood there dumbfounded for a second before running over. Hunter-on-normie assault was a big no-no, especially when the attack was unwarranted. Despite Liz’s violent nature, she hadn’t attacked a nonhunter in a long time. Just as I thought she was starting to become more reasonable, now what was that just now?
“Wh-Whatcha doin’, Liz?” I asked, pale with fear undoubtedly.
Passersby awkwardly hastened their steps. It was only a matter of time before the peacekeepers arrived.
On the brink of breaking the man’s arm, Liz maintained her grip while keeping her eyes fixed on him beneath her foot. With an ice-cold stare, Liz pressed her foot harder on his back. The guy struggled, but her grip didn’t budge.
“He was staring at us,” said Liz.
So?
I hardly thought a single stare deserved to be met with such cold-blooded assault. With Liz’s vibrant demeanor drawing a lot of attention, I’d been noticing plenty of glances throughout our stroll. What made his gaze so offensive to her?
The man let out another agonized groan, and so I took Liz’s arm and pried it off his arm. “Uh, let’s start by letting go. Okay?”
The man sat up and coughed as Liz stepped off him, gazing up at us with fear in his eyes. He really seemed like an ordinary middle-aged man of a normal build with neither scars nor weapons—he was just another law-abiding citizen. Liz’s action, on the other hand, was far from law-abiding. As much leeway as the capital’s administration allowed hunters in their actions, they didn’t go so far as to give hunters a pass for attacking normies.
I extended my hand to help him to his feet and said, “I-I’m sorry; she’s mentally unstable. Are you hurt?”
The assaulted citizen didn’t take my hand and ran away in a tizzy—with Liz’s boot print still on his back—after letting out a short cry. Behind him, Liz frowned as he fled.
He’s not hurt then. What a relief. Well, it wasn’t exactly a relief: there was no telling what would set Liz off, and that wasn’t good for my heart.
What now? What part of that interaction ticked you off?
Up until this point, Liz had been (relatively) well-behaved. But I had to get us out of here before a crowd formed and looked at me with that familiar look on their faces that said “You again?”
As I stood there itching to get away, Liz remained still in contemplation before crooking her neck and said, “Wait a minute. You were stringing him along.”
Stringing him along? What in the world was she talking about?
I couldn’t be bothered by every staring eye; it wasn’t like their gazes were hurting me anyway. What did Liz expect when she wore boot Relics that could be spotted from the other end of the capital?
“You’re getting a talking-to later, Liz,” I said.
“You’re too good of an actor!” she said, returning to her cheerful mood. “It went right over my head, and I’m usually pretty good at this stuff. I’ll be more careful next time.”
***
Navigating the capital was as familiar as strolling through his own backyard for the man. He knew every path, from the busiest main roads to the darkest alleys that most law-abiding citizens avoided. But now, as he sprinted with all his might like prey escaping an apex predator, he had no time to think. His oxygen-deprived brain was burned with the image of the pair of bone-chilling eyes that had locked onto him; no pedestrian dared stand in his way after seeing his expression.
Only after running for half an hour did the man turn around, as his shoulders rose and fell with each ragged breath, to confirm that he hadn’t been pursued. He’d arrived outside a dingy building in the “decaying district,” the capital’s southwestern neighborhood that was more run-down and crime-ridden than the rest of the city. He knew that he wouldn’t have made it this far if his assailant didn’t want him to. In fact, he would’ve never escaped her grip in the first place if she really wanted to keep him there. As slender as her limbs were, they had felt like a pair of vises that pinned him in the most efficient way possible; it even felt like he was tied up from head to toe.
A dusty ray of sunlight peeked into the alley and illuminated his vision, now blurry from exertion, as he regained his composure.
“What...just happened...?!” Out of breath, he clasped his arms which were shaking nonstop.
He hadn’t walked half-heartedly into the mission against a Level 8 and a Level 6 hunter. He could’ve sworn that he hadn’t done anything to betray his identity. His targets had already been drawing a lot of attention in the crowded streets—there had been no way to distinguish his attention from anyone else’s when he hadn’t even made any moves against them.
The nonhunter’s sole objective had been to observe them, with his top priority being to avoid detection. He’d been confident in his ability to do so. He’d dressed and acted inconspicuously, following the couple from a safe distance without staring for long nor showing any animosity; he’d even made sure to always remain in their blind spots. As someone who was a master of Thief techniques, he’d taken every precaution perfectly. Truth was, he didn’t so much as suspect that he had been noticed until his face was on the ground.
Clutching his arm, which still throbbed in pain from the detainment, the man controlled his breathing. As much as he wanted to chalk it up to bad luck, there was no denying that his cover had been blown by the Stifled Shadow. The question was, “Why did the Thousand Tricks release him after going through the trouble of detaining him?” He couldn’t fathom why they’d let a man who’d been stalking them go scot-free. If it’d been their intention to let him be, there’d been no reason for the Thousand Tricks to have his companion detain him. What was more, the Level 8 hunter even gave him a deliberately fake apology. Although the man would’ve kept his lips sealed through interrogation or torture, he was troubled by the fact that he was set free.
Was that a warning? Dammit! How much does he know?
He gritted his teeth. It was inconceivable that information about the syndicate had been leaked—their plan was perfect, or so it seemed.
When Noctus Cochlear had ordered him to keep an eye on the Thousand Tricks, he’d thought the scientist overly cautious. But now the image of the young hunter’s face flashed before his eyes, making him tremble all over again.
Behind that building, the man remained until dusk fell upon the city.
White Wolf’s Den is over. Worse, he knows about us, he thought.
Regardless of what the Thousand Tricks wanted to do with that information, the syndicate’s situation couldn’t have been any worse. He’d have to notify the team that they’d have to change their plans.
Not a soul was watching the man as he stumbled into the darkening alley.
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