Inside the workshop, firelight danced quietly on the walls.
Kyle took the empty bottle out from under his cloak and set it on the workbench:
“This is it, found it in the Lower District. Lynn thought something was off, so she asked me to bring it back for you to take a look.”
Helos glanced over casually, intending to just toss it aside, but the moment her gaze landed on the bottle, her movements froze.
She reached out, pinching the neck of the bottle, her fingertips slowly tracing down the glass.
The cool touch was nothing unusual, but the faint ridges and uneven cuts made her brows knit tighter and tighter.
“…Rough.”
Her voice was soft, as if speaking to herself.
Julius leaned in, scrutinizing the bottle suspiciously:
“Where’s it rough? Looks just like the bottles we use.”
Helos ignored him, only raising the bottle up to the firelight.
The glass caught the light with a harsh glare, the edges rough and uneven.
But in her memory, bottles produced by Ultimate Alchemy—their lines were as smooth as water, flawless.
‘It’s a pretty good imitation, though.’
She set the bottle back on the stone table, her tone cold, with a trace of disdain.
“But no matter how well they imitate, there’s no way to replicate this level of craftsmanship.”
Kyle raised his brows, letting out a low whistle:
“So what you’re saying is, someone’s started making fakes?”
“Mm.”
Helos withdrew her gaze, her expression utterly calm. “And their hands are pretty quick, too.”
“Don’t tell me…This is another scheme by those Abyssal Cultists?”
Julius straightened, frowning, connecting it with the recent, unusual peace. He couldn’t help but look at Helos.
“It’s too soon to say.”
Helos shook her head gently, her voice steady. “It could just be ordinary Fake Liquor peddlers.”
She paused, tapping her fingertip against the bottle, her gaze darkening slightly:
“After all, we haven’t caught any evidence on them yet. It’s too soon to jump to conclusions.”
At this, she lifted her eyes, her tone lightened with a hint of a smile:
“But this just happens to give us a new direction to investigate, doesn’t it?”
“You mean, start from the Fake Liquor side?”
Kyle blinked, as if he already understood what the girl meant.
“That’s right.”
Helos nodded, her voice firmer than ever before. “If Fake Liquor has started to appear, then there must be a workshop making it.”
She paused, knocking on the bottle again, her expression overly serious:
“After all, no one can just make bottles appear out of thin air, right!”
She couldn’t help but emphasize those last few words.
To be honest, perhaps it was because she herself felt a bit guilty inside.
After all, these real bottles were indeed produced by Ultimate Alchemy—created “out of thin air.”
“Especially Baron Black—”
Helos’ voice sank, “If those Abyssal Cultists really want to stir things up, there’s no way they could get around that guy. He’s a key piece on the board.”
Julius’s expression darkened, then he nodded:
“He’s been entangled with them for a long time. If anything happens, odds are it’ll end up at his door.”
Kyle snorted, a trace of mockery at his lips:
“So all we have to do is keep an eye on Baron Black and follow the thread, and we’ll dig up something, right?”
Selina shook her head slightly, cutting in with a cold voice:
“Watching him isn’t hard. The hard part is not alerting him. If that guy’s managed to survive this long, he must be plenty cautious.”
The firelight cast the group’s grave expressions onto the bottle’s surface.
Helos was silent for a moment before speaking slowly:
“Either way, we have to confirm the source of this Fake Liquor—as long as we find the Warehouse, we can crush their scheme before it begins.”
She lifted her eyes, sweeping her gaze across the three:
“Starting with Baron Black might just be our breakthrough.”
***
In the study, Eleanor sat upright behind her desk, poring over a thick stack of documents.
Suddenly, a knock interrupted her thoughts. Julius’s voice drifted in from outside the door:
“Young Lady.”
“Come in.”
The black-haired youth pushed the door open, his expression grave, and carefully placed the wrapped bottle before her.
Eleanor looked up, her brows twitching slightly:
“What is this?”
Julius stepped forward and recounted Helos’s discovery and the encounters Kyle and Selina had had.
“The bottle is very rough, completely different from a real Dawn Dew Brew bottle. Helos suspects someone is deliberately imitating them, producing Fake Liquor in bulk.”
His voice lowered, “Also, Kyle said Selina’s familiar has also been cut off, likely discovered by the Abyssal Cultists.”
“Mm.”
Eleanor picked up the bottle, raising it to the lamp for a closer look.
The glass caught the firelight with a cold glint, but she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
Still, she showed no hesitation, only spoke calmly:
“Even if I can’t tell what’s wrong, I trust my sister’s judgment. If it’s as you say, then it’s probably the Abyssal Cultists working behind the scenes.”
Julius was briefly stunned:
“You’re that certain?”
Eleanor set the bottle down, fingers laced atop the desk as she took a deep breath.
“Ruining reputations with counterfeits—this trick is all too common.”
Her voice was steady, carrying a hint of confidence. “And you know very well who our opponent is.”
She paused, a glint of coldness in her eyes:
“Just as Helos guessed—they’re getting desperate.”
Eleanor slowly rose, her skirt brushing quietly over the wooden floor.
She walked to the window, pushing aside the heavy curtains, her gaze turning toward the Upper District.
Night had deepened, with lights flickering in the distance like countless hidden eyes.
“I’ll send people to assist you and keep close watch on Baron Black.”
After a moment, she turned back, looking calmly at Julius. “Forging Fake Liquor isn’t a job for just one or two people.”
Eleanor paused again, her eyes flashing coldly:
“The rats lurking below the surface—this time…
…I imagine they’ll have to poke their heads up for a breath of fresh air.”
***
Meanwhile, in the secret chamber of Baron Black’s manor, the lighting was dim and somber.
The Baron lounged back in a high-backed chair, idly playing with an empty wine glass, his face unable to hide a satisfied smile.
In the flickering glow, his eyes gleamed with pride and delight.
“Heh… So it works, after all.”
He muttered under his breath, as if answering himself, “Those people really aren’t as unbreakable as they seem.”
In his mind, the Fake Liquor was like a stone thrown into the lake of both Upper and Lower Districts, sending out ripple after ripple.
Suspicions among the nobles, rumors spreading among the common folk—as long as it fermented little by little, it would be enough to cast a shadow over ‘Dawn Dew’ and ‘Dawn Dew Brew.’
Baron Black raised his glass as if toasting himself.
His eyes flashed with greed and cruelty:
“Eleanor, oh Young Lady… No matter how clever you are, you can’t dodge this. Once Dawn Dew’s reputation is ruined, your naïve little tricks will be nothing at all.”
“What do you say?”
Baron Black turned his head, looking into the deep shadows, a smug curve on his lips.
“This time, it’s all thanks to your idea.”
One of the black-robed figures gave a low laugh, their voice muffled and indistinct:
“You flatter us, sir. Since we’re partners, it’s only right to share what we can.”
“That’s the only way to show our sincerity, isn’t it?”