Inside the Green Chamber of Commerce, the dim light flickered, casting a harsh glare on the cold sweat beading the fat shopkeeper’s forehead.
The smile at the corner of Kyle’s lips faded inch by inch, his tone growing even colder:
“You keep saying you’re just an ordinary businessman, yet you can call ‘Lord Black’ by name so familiarly the moment you open your mouth.”
Julius stepped forward slowly, his tone steady, but his young voice carried an undeniable pressure:
“If you really have nothing to do with the Abyss Cultists, then tell us the truth. Otherwise, even if I hand you over to the Church right now, no one will speak up for you.”
“Th-the Church…?”
The shopkeeper’s face turned deathly pale, his body swaying as if he might collapse at any moment.
Selina delivered a cold finishing blow:
“Or we could hand you over to the Duke’s estate. Don’t tell me you actually believe that, in the eyes of those nobles in the Upper City, a small fry like you can keep any secrets?”
The dual pressure left the fat shopkeeper gasping for breath, the towel in his hand falling to the floor with a thud.
At last, he couldn’t hold out any longer. With a flop, he fell to his knees, his voice trembling violently:
“D-don’t kill me! I’ll talk, I’ll tell you everything!”
Watching the fat shopkeeper kneeling on the floor, Julius couldn’t help but exchange a surprised glance with his two companions.
They each caught a hint of astonishment in the others’ eyes.
Should they say the man had a keen sense of self-preservation, or was he simply too cowardly?
Clearing his throat, Julius frowned and said:
“Talk. Now.”
The fat shopkeeper nodded, shivering, as if any delay would cost him his life:
“Just a few days ago, someone from the Baron’s estate really did come looking for me… They wanted me to help cover up some of their accounts! On the surface, it looked like liquor business, but the real goods never stayed in my warehouse at all.”
He swallowed hard, cold sweat sliding down his temples:
“They told me to use a warehouse on the border between Upper and Lower City as cover. The goods were recorded under my accounts, but in reality, they went straight through a secret passage in the warehouse down to the Lower City.”
“Delivered to the Lower City?”
Selina’s brow furrowed, her voice suddenly dropping low, “Where does that secret passage lead?”
“Y-yes!” The fat shopkeeper was nearly in tears, “I don’t know! All I did was sign the books, making it look like the goods were transferred from my company. But every time, someone in black robes was there, watching closely. I never dared to ask where the goods actually went…”
Kyle narrowed his eyes, his voice cold and mocking:
“So your only use is to launder their books, and at the same time, cover up the true destination of the goods through the secret passage?”
The fat shopkeeper nodded frantically, voice trembling, “Y-yes! I swear, apart from signing and handing over the goods, I did nothing else! Please, just spare me…”
The room fell into a brief silence.
This time, the clues finally came into sharp focus—Baron Black had indeed used outside chambers of commerce as a front, smuggling the Abyss Cultists’ goods endlessly through a secret warehouse passage down to the Lower City.
“So things are simple now, aren’t they?”
Kyle withdrew his gaze, glanced at Julius and Selina, and shrugged, his tone a bit more relaxed.
But Julius didn’t echo him immediately, his brows still tightly knit:
“Simple? I don’t think so. The secret passage is in a warehouse at the border between Upper and Lower City—meaning they had their escape route planned from the start.”
“Let’s not worry about that for now. At the very least, we know that H—”
Selina took a deep breath, suppressing her slip of composure, her gaze shifting to her companions, “Ahem, the young lady’s judgment was correct.”
She paused, then continued:
“In that case, we’ll start with that warehouse.”
With that, she fixed the shivering shopkeeper with a cold stare.
“Lead the way.”
Just two words, but so cold they sent chills down the spine.
The fat shopkeeper dared not utter another word, terrified he’d be pressed for more. He nodded and bowed repeatedly.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, then, trembling all over, led the three of them out of the chamber of commerce.
The night was deep, and the streets felt all the more deserted for their silence.
A few magical lamps flickered lonely in the corners, stretching their shadows long behind them.
All along the way, the fat shopkeeper nearly jogged, as if afraid the eyes behind him would see through him if he slowed down.
Finally, at the border between Upper and Lower City, he stopped, pointing to an inconspicuous warehouse ahead, his voice so low it was nearly inaudible:
“T-that’s the place.”
The warehouse looked extremely ordinary. Without a guide, anyone would have mistaken it for an abandoned old house.
The gray-black outer wall was covered in mottled cracks, the wooden gate reinforced with thick sheets of iron, yet the edges were already rusted.
Two broken wooden crates stood by the entrance, bits of burlap and straw scattered within, looking like casually discarded goods.
The windows were long since nailed shut with planks, and from the cracks, a musty scent of mildew and dust drifted out.
The only sign that the place was still “in use” was the stretch of flagstone before the door—even though a thick layer of dust covered it, faint wheel ruts could still be seen, proving the place wasn’t as deserted as it seemed.
“This place is a warehouse?”
Hidden in the shadows not far away, Selina spoke in a low voice, a note of surprise in her tone.
From the outside, it looked more like an abandoned ruin—who would suspect it to be a drop-off point for goods?
“Underground—the main part is all underground.”
The fat shopkeeper added quietly, his nerves taut, as if afraid his voice would carry.
He pointed at the battered gate, the sweat on his forehead shimmering in the moonlight:
“The outside is just a front. The real part… is all below.”
“What else? Is there anything you haven’t told us?”
“N-no, nothing at all!”
Seeing how frightened the fat shopkeeper looked, Julius just shot him a sidelong glance:
“Fine. From now on, we’ll have people watching your every move.”
In the darkness, the boy’s gaze was sharp as a blade, as if he could see right through the other’s thoughts:
“If you dare say a single wrong word, or try to tip anyone off—”
He gently patted the hilt of his sword, his voice colder than ice, “You’ll bear the consequences.”
Kyle chuckled, his expression seemingly relaxed, though his tone held another meaning:
“You know as well as we do—your only chance of survival is with us. If you really piss us off, we won’t even need to lift a finger; the villains will handle you themselves.”
Selina stepped closer, her gray eyes glinting coldly in the moonlight. Her voice was low and icy:
“Remember everything you’ve said and done tonight. We remember it all, every bit. Watch your tongue, or not even your corpse will be found.”
With those threats, the air grew heavy and oppressive.
Sweat ran down the fat shopkeeper’s temples, his legs leaden with fear.
But with three pairs of icy eyes locked on him, he dared not say another word, only nodding frantically.
“Get lost,” Kyle said impatiently, waving his hand.
It was as if the fat shopkeeper had been pardoned. He agreed in a rush, stumbling as he retreated.
He even accidentally kicked a stone, the sound making him jump in fright, gripping his clothes tight, and hurrying away in a panic.
In the moonlight, his figure wavered, as if he might fall at any moment, but he kept running as fast as he could.
Julius watched him disappear into the darkness, only drawing back his gaze once the shadow had vanished completely.
He looked at the man and woman beside him, hesitated for a moment, then slowly said:
“Uh, looking at it like this…doesn’t it seem like we’re the real villains here?”