The snow was falling heavily.
Though it had been cleared not long ago, the snow still piled higher than ankle-deep.
The buildings along the way were draped in thick silver-white coats, making people hesitant to linger beneath the eaves, fearing that the snow might suddenly slide off and hit them on the head.
Such weather in Caesania only appeared during the depths of winter.
In a northern part of the city stood many independent residences.
Over time, the once-powerful nobles who lived here gradually dispersed, and now it was merely an expensive residential area with no political significance.
The Borik family estate was located among them.
Uncommonly, a young man had come to this family’s mansion, now on the path of decline.
A man clad in thick winter clothes, wrapped in a scarf, topped with a felt hat.
His seemingly expensive fur boots stepped onto the snow-covered path, sending small flakes flying.
As if expecting his arrival, the mansion’s main door suddenly opened.
A silver-haired elf dressed in black appeared bathed in the warm glow of the firelight.
“We’ve been awaiting you for some time, Mr. Loki.”
He bowed slightly, every movement brimming with noble grace, yet so decayed that a sour, musty stench seemed to waft from him.
“Hm.”
Loki exhaled a cloud of white breath through his nose.
He knew that when dealing with people like this, he had to show even more disdain than they did to earn their respect.
At this moment, Loki could still be called a youth.
But with his mature attire, nearly adult physique, somber face, sharp eagle-like eyes tinged with a hint of ferocity, and the two small patches of fake facial hair stuck to his lips, he could easily pass for a young boss running a high-end flesh trade business in the Imperial Capital.
“Please come in and have some hot tea, sir. The weather outside isn’t pleasant.”
“All right.”
The man gestured behind him, and several servants stepped forward to remove Loki’s scarf, felt hat, and coat, hanging them on the hall’s coat rack.
The two took seats on the living room sofa.
“Thank you for your trouble, Mr. Krown.”
“You are an honored guest of the Borik family, Mr. Loki. After we’re done, would you care to stay for dinner?”
“Thank you for the invitation, but unfortunately, I’m not very convenient. You know, in our line of work, we have to keep running around looking for merchandise and can’t just casually meet people. Besides you, I have some other clients to visit, so my schedule is tight.”
“I see. Then why don’t you delegate all these matters to your servants?”
“Heh, to properly serve the lords and ladies of the Imperial Capital, everything must be done personally… If they’re displeased, regret will come too late.”
Loki took the hot tea handed to him by a servant.
The mansion’s decor was the stereotypical noble style, utterly forgettable, with nothing worthy of his attention.
From the information he had previously gathered, the Borik family was one of Caesania’s local noble houses, but due to political and commercial failures, their reputation had suffered a heavy blow, and they were burdened with significant debt.
One of their solutions to this problem was—
To sell off their children who held no value for cultivation.
Given Loki’s position within the Truth’s Hand, he normally wouldn’t need to personally play the role of a “piper,” but because the person originally responsible for the Borik family had met with an accident, and the Truth’s Hand was temporarily short-staffed, he had no choice but to fill in.
For this reason, he had to put aside his other tasks for the moment.
Most matters had been settled during their first meeting, and today Loki came specifically to inspect and collect the “goods.”
“Fa… Father…”
Before long, a servant brought the “merchandise” Loki intended to purchase.
A petite girl, no more than ten years old.
Silver hair, purple eyes, delicate and adorable—a budding flower about to bloom.
She had been carefully “packaged,” wearing a dress that exposed large areas of skin, entirely inappropriate for her appearance and age.
… Disgusting.
A trace of undisguised disgust flashed in Loki’s eyes.
Besides the girl, two beautiful women stood behind her, along with several men and women older than or about Loki’s age.
From their attire, it was clear these were Krown’s family members.
Loki could guess this opportunist’s plan with just his toes.
No more than to use him to climb up one level in the Imperial Capital’s social ladder and make his family more familiar.
Unfortunately for Krown, Loki’s identity was fake, so the most he could receive today was the previously agreed gold pounds.
Currently, the Truth’s Hand still acquired children for experimentation through transactional means, lacking the standing to confront the Empire directly. But in a year or two, this gentle approach would no longer be viable.
After tediously introducing his family to Loki, Krown finally pushed the little girl forward.
“She will become a remarkable beauty in the future… though I think she’s already quite charming as she is.”
Loki nodded and reached out to touch the girl’s head.
There was no denying that the family was good-looking; the elven heritage gave them a natural advantage.
“Her name?”
“She has no name, sir.”
“No name?”
“Only the true members of our family receive names given by their parents… Besides, having no name should make things more convenient for you, right?”
“… I see.”
Loki had no intention to criticize this strange family tradition.
Though the Empire had undergone several reforms, it was still too ancient and vast; some deeply rooted customs were nearly impossible to change without uprooting everything.
“I need to inspect.”
“Please do.”
With that, Loki lifted the little girl, and under her terrified and confused gaze, he rolled up her sleeves, tugged her collar, and lifted her skirt.
He examined her precisely as one would a commodity.
… Sure enough.
Loki expressionlessly placed her back on the ground.
“Four bruises on the wrists. Seven burns and bruises on the waist and abdomen. Three scars and eight bruises on the thighs.”
“…”
Despite the cold winter, beads of sweat began rolling down Krown’s forehead.
Loki shot a furious glance at the family members—some shrank back in fear, others lifted their chins arrogantly, indifferent.
“Mr. Krown, let me be clear—we do not accept defective goods.”
Loki patted Krown’s shoulder, a forced smile playing on his lips.
“I have traveled a long way with sincerity, and you trample on it like dirt. That won’t do. But… I have no intention of terminating our transaction; it’s just that the price will have to be greatly reduced.”