Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 252.5: Scrapped Manuscript
I originally intended to write this as part of the main story, but after finishing it, I felt that the plot and pacing didn't fit, and it wasn't suitable for putting in the main story to make money, or even as a side story. But I felt it would be a waste to throw away 10,000 words, so I'll just leave it here as a free draft.

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In the cold, damp Corpse Pit, a cold-blooded man, unarmed yet dressed in a tight-fitting outfit from head to toe, stood with his arms crossed, silently gazing at the ominous dungeon door at the end of the passage, ignoring the Star Lake Guards who were guarding the key passage and watching him with predatory eyes.

"Don't worry, that beautiful lady won't do anything," DD said, sitting at the broken wooden table and fanning the lamp flame idly. "Our boss is known for his kindness and compassion."

"So that's why Emerald City has become like this?" The cold-blooded man didn't even turn his head.

DD choked on his words.

“So Emerald City is still the same as it is now,” Paul, who was sitting next to him and maintaining his bow, retorted coldly, “including you, the gangster, and your lover that prostitute.”

The cold-blooded man remained silent, but his eyes were even colder.

“Hey, Brotherhood, that’s a nice knife, the nick of ...

The indifferent guest ignored him, focusing intently on the dungeon door.

The Star Lake Guardians exchanged glances.

Unexpectedly, the aloof guest looked at the wooden table and suddenly spoke:
You look familiar.

"Who? Me?"

DD, who was being stared at, reacted, first with surprise, then with delight:
"You? Do you recognize me? How could that be? I didn't even know I was this famous..."

He quickly stood up, straightened his clothes, and adjusted the corners of his mouth to a perfect angle, responding generously and amicably to the guests from the Black Street Brotherhood:

"I see. In the future, if you encounter any trouble in the capital, just mention my name—Wyatt Ka..."

"It wasn't you." The cold-blooded man's gaze remained unchanged.

Officer Doyle silently withdrew his outstretched right hand, his smile unwavering as he sat back down.

"Oh, you don't recognize me..."

Well, if it's not, then it's not.

DD pouted indignantly and muttered to himself:

Pshaw, I don't want you to piggyback on my reputation.

The guest's gaze continued forward, penetrating DD.

"Too bad I don't remember you, you knife-wielding thug."

Paul Bozdorf, who was maintaining his bow and arrows beside DD, sensed something. He glanced at the black lion pattern on his cuff, gave a soft hum, and skillfully and deftly flipped his bow:
"Because the famous bowman 'Ni Sha' does not kill nameless soldiers."

The guest frowned slightly, looking at the expensive bow in his hand.

well.

Paul thought to himself.

His words just now were arrogant and his demeanor was extraordinary.

They showed no respect whatsoever to the other party.

This not only saved face for the guards but also delivered a severe humiliation to the rude gangster.

That's not all—Paul thought to himself, clenching his fist.

Having served under the Duke of Starlake for so long, he had finally found the perfect opportunity to openly and without embarrassment introduce this extraordinary bow, passed down from his ancestors, to his colleagues in the Royal Guard. Using the pretext of answering the nameless gangster before him, he could do so naturally and effortlessly, with style and confidence, without any affectation or pretense. He would then have them, amidst their astonishment and awe, pass it on to those who desperately needed to know but had not yet had the chance—such as His Highness the Prince and Lord Marius.

In this way, without spending a single penny, he could imply that the Bozdorf family was deeply rooted in history, domineering and martial, showcasing how they fought bravely against their enemies, made one unparalleled contribution to the kingdom, and left a glorious mark on history books... At the same time, it would not make him seem shallow, vain, or deliberately ostentatious, but would also highlight his low-key nobility and uniqueness.

In doing so, he gradually established his image and reputation among the prince's troops and colleagues, accumulating prestige and fame for future use.

To live up to my father's instructions and the family's expectations.

Appropriate, perfect, efficient.

flawless.

Paul intently wiped the quiver with a rag.

Maintaining weapons in dirty, damp, abandoned sewers is unwise, but maintaining them in a way that everyone can see is quite wise.

If—of course, just if—if someone can't contain their curiosity and admiration, their respect and flattery, and can't help but ask him about the past of the famous archer, Ni Sha…

As part of the strategy, he could first smile humbly and speak kindly, but not reveal too much, only mentioning the achievements of the bow after it was passed down to him. Then, amidst the surprised and respectful gazes of the crowd, he could sigh regretfully and casually mention that he still couldn't compare to the illustrious names of his ancestors. He would then leave them in suspense, ending the story there and keeping the rest a mystery...

Those who press him will inevitably become impatient and relentlessly dig deeper. At this point, he will laugh it off, admitting his slip of the tongue, and say that he has no intention of relying on his ancestors' reputation to show that he is indifferent to fame and fortune. Of course, this indifference is by no means the fake indifference of peasants and losers who can't reach the grapes and can only say sour grapes. Rather, it is the kind of indifference that comes from a good family background, which gives him confidence, the ability to achieve success, a rich resume, and superior intelligence. On the other hand, it is also due to his noble and generous character. Having seen through the world's ups and downs, he naturally has the demeanor of a superior person. Therefore, he is qualified to stand at the peak of life and look down on all others. Thus, he has the right and the right to be indifferent to fame and fortune. It is the kind of indifference that is genuine and sincere, without any pretense...

That's letting go after you've got it, not shrugs when you're empty-handed.

(Great, this line I just thought of is pretty good. I can add it to the Black Lion Family Precepts later, and the title will be "On Detachment"... No, that's too formal and too literary. It might make future generations suspect it's deliberate propaganda rather than everyday quotes. I need to change it to something more down-to-earth, like chatting casually. Yes, casual chat, casual chat, how about—"Talking Nonsense"? Not bad, even shorter would be better, catchy and easy to remember—"Nonsense"? Great, this is it, "Black Lion Family Precepts: Paul VI Chapter: Nonsense"...)
A unique smile, reflecting Paul's indifference to fame and fortune, appeared on his lips.

Note that he must subtly and naturally make everyone understand that there is a difference between these two kinds of detachment—one genuine and one feigned—and that the difference is significant, crucial, and even fatal. This point is extremely important; he must not let them misunderstand that he intentionally wants them to distinguish between these two kinds of detachment, because he himself is elegant, refined, humble, and introspective, and is truly detached from fame and fortune…

In this way, when they couldn't get answers from him but were still intrigued, they would take advantage of the breaks between guard shifts to ask each other all sorts of questions, thus continuing to spread the story of his connection to the Black Lion family. This naturally and effortlessly established the prestige of the family and themselves. For example, they would meticulously recount the souls of those who died under the Famous Bow Reverse Sands, including which infamous historical figures they included, and what glorious chapters and immortal achievements each dead represented for the Black Lions throughout history, how they shaped the kingdom's historical records—

"Nobody asked you, you shoeshine boy," the cold-faced man said softly.

Paul paused abruptly as he wiped his quiver.

He remained silent for a moment, then took a deep breath, reflecting on his noble thoughts of being indifferent to fame and fortune.

Amidst the curious and admiring gazes of the crowd (and DD's curiously outstretched hand waving in front of him), the heir of the Black Lion family put away his bow and arrows, threw away the rag, turned around, and stopped looking at the other person.

As if nothing had happened.

He remained aloof and possessed an extraordinary demeanor.

After all, one shouldn't shoot at nameless soldiers when the sand is against them.

Paul thought indifferently.

This is the true demeanor of the Black Lion Clan, a stark contrast to those commoners who fly into a rage at the slightest provocation—especially his nonchalant attitude, which contrasts sharply with the other party's rudeness. This undoubtedly draws attention to his humility and noble character through his manners and upbringing. Of course, this is not his intention, nor is it a deliberate display or boast, nor is it meant to distinguish between high and low status; it is simply a natural expression of his character…

"He recognizes me."

Glov appeared behind DD and Paul, shoved aside the bewildered Doyle, and stepped past the dazed little black lion:

"Leyok—is that his name? Haven't you had enough of being beaten up in the capital yet?"

The zombie clenched its fist, staring warily at Leyok:
"Don't worry, I said I'd leave you with a whole corpse..."

“It’s not you either, you big guy with the sword,” the Silent Assassin of the Brotherhood said coldly, “and it’s not certain who will beat whom.”

Golov dismissed it with a sneer and was about to retort.

“I’m talking about him,” Leyok interrupted him, his gaze sweeping over the group and pointing straight to the last one, “the one wearing the mask, have we met him before?”

Everyone turned around following his gaze and froze in surprise.

In the corner, a strange man wearing a half-mask slowly raised his head.

The moment he saw the other person clearly, Leyok's expression changed.

Although the tattoo had faded, covered his face, and even his movements and posture were different, for some reason, the killer's instinct to recognize people reminded Lyok:
That person looks a bit like...

A ghost that flies with the wind?

What was his name again? Ralph? Laffer? Rofar?
But didn't he... disappear on Red Town Street?

Just like the countless people who disappeared in that fierce battle where the upper echelons downplayed it while blood flowed like rivers below.

On the other side, the masked strange man silently looked back at the other person.

In the instant their eyes met, Leyok first confirmed it, then his emotions became complex:

Yes, that's him.

A ghost that flies with the wind.

He was once the most prominent young superhuman in the Blood Bottle Gang.

The most troublesome figure among the "Twelve Strongest".

His movements were unpredictable and elusive.

His personality is terrible and awful.

When he was young, Leyok was one of the Brotherhood's "Thirteen Generals" and once regarded the other party as a hypothetical enemy, practicing countless times in secret how to deal with his superpowers.

Unfortunately, their encounter ended abruptly in the inexplicable "one-night battle" on Hongfang Street, with only the threat of "fighting again next time" left unresolved.

That was the last time he saw the Ghost of the Wind.

Thinking of this, Leyok couldn't help but sigh:

Whether it's the Blood Bottle Gang, the Brotherhood, the Twelve Strongest, or the Thirteen Generals, how many of those street toughs who were as young and ambitious as him back then, whether they were enemies or allies, are still around now?
How many can he still remember?
I wonder what kind of impressive, or even more amazing, nicknames have been given to those new generation members who want to show off on the streets these days?

Twelve Divine Generals? Thirteen Demon Kings?
Thinking of this, Leyok instinctively wanted to laugh, but couldn't.

Opposite him, the superhuman who was known for being incredibly noisy and fond of using words to confuse his opponents, remained silent, seemingly unwilling to say more.

"Is that you?" Leyok stepped forward. "Why aren't you speaking?"

The masked man's eyes flickered, and he moved slightly, but ultimately said nothing.

The guards looked around, some puzzled, some curious, and some with expressions of anticipation.

"Well, actually..." DD scratched his head.

"Stop trying to get close to me, you little black silk!"

Golov interrupted them unusually, his face contorted with rage, and he savagely blocked Rolf's path:

"Nobody knows you, you scoundrel... unless you want to get beaten up?"

Leyok frowned.

Seeing that Golov's attitude was clear and that the Starlake Guard was acting in unison, his colleagues, though unaware of the situation, also stood up, their hands on their weapons, their expressions unfriendly.

This is……

Leyok's expression darkened as he looked around.

He suddenly realized that his former gang rivals were now standing naturally among these distinguished guards, some with extraordinary bearing and others dressed in fine clothes.

It turned out to be the case.

Leyok stared at the masked man and laughed.

So, this superhuman not only didn't die in some ditch, but also got lucky and climbed up to some big shot, becoming a lackey of the scoundrels—no, they should be called blue-skinned, the lackeys of those nobles sitting behind their desks.

No wonder Phantom Blade dared to be so presumptuous during his trip to Emerald City.

“Is that so?” He stepped back, raising his hands to indicate that he meant no harm. “I must have misjudged him.”

The Silent Assassin narrowed his eyes:
"They mistook him for someone else."

Rolf's fingers trembled.

Only then did the people release their weapons.

Leyok glanced at Rolf in the crowd opposite him and scoffed inwardly.

"Who? Who did you mistake for?" Neshi asked curiously as she leaned closer.

"none of your business?"

Golov turned around abruptly and yelled back at Neshi.

“Just a dead… friend,” Leyok shook his head, crossed his arms dismissively, and leaned back against the wall, no longer looking at Rolf. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

It's obvious, that's for sure.

This lackey is now shining shoes for important people; he's got some influence now.

As for those days of risking one's life on the streets, bullying and extorting money...

Didn't I see him remove his tattoos and even put on a mask?

The Silent Assassin, having grasped this point, couldn't help but sneer inwardly.

Yes, after achieving great success, who wouldn't want to say goodbye to that filthy cesspool, cut ties with their ugly self, and ideally never mention it again in this lifetime?

Moreover, they were facing familiar enemies.

It's perfectly normal for him not to want to talk to you, or even to pretend he doesn't know you.

Since our paths have diverged, the best outcome is for us to forget each other.

Leyok scoffed and shook his head.

Fine, I'll be a sycophant then.

If he were still hanging around on the streets, given the wicked nature of the Ghost of the Wind, he would inevitably lose his life one day, or worse, end up crippled and bedridden for the rest of his life.

They either give up on themselves and wallow in self-pity, or they struggle in agony and lose all dignity.

Lyok felt a pang of sadness as he thought of Mertessa, who had stayed with her mother to watch over the abandoned house.

Perhaps this is just... everyone has their own destiny.

But at that moment, Rolf suddenly reached out and put his hand on Golov's shoulder.

Under the zombie's astonished gaze, the mute man unequivocally pushed him aside, stepped forward, and slowly walked toward the Silent Assassin.

Until he stood in front of Leyok.

"What, you want to fight?" Leyok said dismissively without even looking up. "Then give me back my knife first..."

Rolf suddenly reached out and removed half of his mask.

From his chin to his throat, the hideous, grotesque scar of flesh was exposed to the air, completely visible.

Everyone, including Leyok, was stunned.

"you……"

Leiok lowered his hands and moved away from the wall without realizing it, looking quite surprised.

He frowned as he looked at the horrific, pitted scars on the other man's neck, clearly torn open with irregular and rough methods and then healed with even more brutal methods—most likely by using a branding iron to stop the bleeding.

"Your neck..."

Rolf pointed to his throat, shook his head, and let out a few unpleasant groans.

The Silent Assassin finally realized what was happening.

He stared blankly at Rolf at that moment, at the mask in the other's hand, and was suddenly overwhelmed with mixed feelings.

"It's weird..."

On the other side, DD, who was watching from the sidelines, saw Rolf's actions and covered his mouth to whisper:

"The mute girl is clearly very sensitive about that wound, she covers it up completely, and she gets angry with anyone who mentions it..."

"Isn't it you who gets mentioned the most?" This was Paul, holding his bow and arrows, with a blank expression.

"That's to help him desensitize and get out of the shadows as soon as possible! Look at him now, when he encounters that big oaf Cohen, isn't his attitude much better? At least he's not gritting his teeth anymore..."

"Because half of the hatred has been transferred to you?"

"I call this sacrificing the self..."

"Have you all been too talkative?" Golov turned around coldly, his sharp gaze causing everyone to tremble.

On the other side, even though Leyok was used to the bloodshed on the streets, he couldn't help but be shocked by Rolf's scars.

"Damn it... are you alright? Oh."

The silent assassin instinctively asked a question, but quickly realized it was an old wound that had long since healed, so he immediately shut up and turned his head to defuse the awkward situation.

Rolf did not answer; he simply stared coldly at his old rival on the streets of the former capital.

The next second, DD, watching Rolf and Leijock's sullen confrontation, suddenly realized something. His expression changed drastically, and he quickly reached out to grab Paul beside him, pulling him back without saying a word:
"Ah! By the way, little silly lion, what was your bow and arrow called again? Reverse Sand? Wow, that's so cool! What's the story behind it? Tell everyone... Come on, everyone doesn't know, right..."

The surrounding guards were drawn to their attention and, after DD's frantic waving, reacted and began to gather around them in twos and threes.

Paul was both shocked and furious. He struggled to break free from DD's pull while trying to say something but holding back.

Yes, he really wanted to... no, not really wanted to, absolutely not really wanted to... it was just that he might have unintentionally revealed a bit of the Reverse Sand's reputation and the family's heritage to everyone, so that everyone would naturally etch their impressions of him and the Black Lion family into their minds...

But no...

Not in this situation...

It shouldn't be this fool...

"Hurry up, don't just stand there," DD approached him, patted his bow and arrow, and whispered, "It's okay, I'll cooperate with you. Even if this broken bow doesn't have any story, we have to blow it up and make it sound like a divine weapon that can slay gods with a single arrow. The main thing is to divert everyone's attention and stop staring at the mute guy..."

A broken bow...

Paul gasped for breath.

Damn it, the image of a renowned archer he had painstakingly cultivated, the personal reputation he intended to spread through it...

"Hurry, this is for the guards..."

“DD,” Bozdorf’s heir looked at Doyle with heartache and gritted teeth, “are you really stupid, or are you just pretending?”

"Whether it is or not!"

Doyle's expression was serious:
"You have to play dumb at this time!"

Snapped!
The next second, a pair of large hands landed on their shoulders.

"Quick, tell a story now."

The zombie's head squeezed in.

“The more exaggerated the better, to attract everyone,” Golov stared at the shocked Paul with a gloomy expression, “that’s an order.”

Paul's expression was stiff.

So, under the combined assault of soft and hard tactics, Paul could only tell the story of the famous bow Ni Sha with a look of utter despair. He recounted to his guards, who were listening intently but still couldn't help turning around frequently, the stories of those who had died by its arrows. He explained which infamous historical figures were among them, and what glorious chapters and immortal achievements each of the dead represented for the Black Lions throughout history, and what significant chapters they marked in the kingdom's history...

"...In the old days of Heroic Souls Fortress, the Bozdorf family produced a rebellious son. He disliked swords and gladly preferred archery. He didn't covet high positions or power, only seeking to uphold justice. Therefore, he was misunderstood by his family and had no like-minded friends. So, in a fit of pique, he ran away from home... At that time, King Tormund III was in court, and under his command was a peerless expert at the peak of the Western Continent. He wielded his bow with unerring accuracy, his achievements were outstanding, and his skill was unparalleled throughout history. He was known as 'The Sun Shooter' Giuliano..."

On this side, the Silent Assassin ignored the rambling about the Bozdorf family's past and DD's applause and shouts; he simply stared at Rolf's throat, hesitant to speak.

"Okay, I understand, I see... But you, how could you..."

Leyok gritted his teeth.

Damn, what should he say at this moment?
Should I say "You deserve it" or "You're so unlucky"?
Or should we do as Belicia taught, when we see an old acquaintance, whether there's a reason or not, say "You've changed so much" or "You haven't changed at all"?
Damn it, nothing I said makes sense.

Is Belica really up to the task?
As a hitman and thug who takes on jobs, he was not good with words, let alone small talk, except for making threats.

The situation was delicate, and the Silent Assassin was at a loss, unable to utter a word.

Besides, the other party wasn't exactly his friend—he couldn't even remember the mute man's full name.

The next second, the former Ghost of the Wind pulled up his trousers, revealing a pair of legs below the knees that gleamed with a metallic sheen.

"Your leg……"

After seeing everything clearly, Leyok's eyes froze. "These are all... from the night we attacked Red Street?"

"Silent Assassin," the assassin said softly.

Rolf shrugged.

"Was it done by our people? Qincha? No, it's so cruel... Was it Anton?"

Rolf chuckled and shook his head.

If it really was the Black Street Brotherhood, that would be great.

His injuries could be considered battle wounds or even workplace injuries, medals earned for fighting for the gang, making him a gang hero...

No, heroes only come from kingdoms, heroes only come from good people who walk the right path, and heroes only come from people who live in the sunlight.

They're from underground gangs, so let's just call them heroes for now.

If he survives, he can at least make a name for himself in the Blood Bottle Gang and have his own territory.
Rolf's eyes were glazed over.

"If it wasn't the Brotherhood, then it must be... oh."

The Silent Assassin seemed to realize something and fell silent.

Sometimes, fate can play tricks without any reason.

In that instant, Mertesa, the guard of the abandoned house, flashed past Leyok's eyes.

That guy... was he once one of the so-called Thirteen Generals?
Leyok nodded blankly:
"So you've disappeared, or at least you're not going back—you bitch, I mean, Catherine didn't get you justice, or at least compensation?"

Upon hearing the familiar name, Rolf remained motionless, seemingly oblivious.

Leyok thought of Mertesacker again, frowned and waved his hand:
"Never mind, it's not important, and I don't want to know."

Rolf suddenly felt very grateful to him.

The mute man lowered his trouser leg and shrugged indifferently.

And so, Leyok and Rolf, two former street rivals, stood facing each other in silence, the atmosphere subtle.

"...The female ranger, dressed in a tight-fitting outfit, without saying a word, mistook 'The Rebel Lion' for a corrupt official and fired an arrow... Although the Rebel Lion was strong, the female ranger was more accurate. The two exchanged thirty arrows from a distance, going back and forth without a clear winner... Just as it seemed they were about to fight to the death, an arrow flew from the horizon, deafeningly piercing the air and simultaneously snapping both of their bowstrings... Both were greatly shocked. The newcomer was none other than the Sun Shooter himself—his own nephew, the knight's squire, Lycos..."

Amidst the noisy background, Leyok spoke first.

“My dead… friend,” the Silent Assassin murmured, as if talking to himself, “was actually quite lucky.”

Rolf smiled.

Yes, I was very lucky.

But in the deepest darkness, luck alone is useless.

We also need to be strong and resilient.

And a tiny, yet crucial, glimmer of light.

"You know, I still have a fight to finish with that dead friend."

Rolf raised his eyes and clenched his fist without any attempt to hide it.

Leijock shook his head and said quietly:

"But now I'm wondering: what was the point of that fight in the first place?"

Rolf was taken aback.

What was the point of that fight?
"A piece of land?"

"A little reputation?"

"A gang?"

Leyok said quietly:

"An inability to swallow an insult?"

"Or... is it fighting for the sake of fighting?"

These words from the other party made Rolf fall into deep thought.

"...Upon seeing that resolutely worded farewell letter, Count Reverse Lion and Knight Lycos finally realized that their so-called duel for love was both self-righteous and meaningless, and completely contrary to their master's painstaking teachings... This love triangle among fellow disciples ultimately ended without fruition. The two men, both enemies and friends, endured many vicissitudes and never saw that passionate, unconventional, and rebellious Raison again in their lives... But of the three great bows personally taught by the 'Sun Shooter,' the horse bow 'Reverse Sand' remained in the Heroic Soul Fortress from then on." The bow 'Tidebreaker' remained in Saltwall Harbor, while the short bow 'Thunderclap' disappeared with the wandering swordsman Leisen, vanishing from the world... With one of the three bows lost, the three lineages incomplete, and the world would never again witness the three disciples of the Sun Shooter fulfill their promise to duel, to determine who was the rightful heir to the 'Sun Shooter Bow' and the best wielder of the divine bow 'Sun-Shielding'... let alone use it to challenge the legendary anti-demon force from the north—the Demon Bow 'Immovable'—and avenge the Sun Shooter's arrow wound..."

On the other side, Paul's story, told with gritted teeth and a listless demeanor, was nearing its end and could no longer drown out DD's excessively enthusiastic applause, and the crowd gradually dispersed.

"I've figured it out now."

Leyok smiled with relief.

"A bad fight that's fought for the sake of fighting is better left undone."

As soon as he finished speaking, Leyok turned and left without looking back.

I don't know why I was hit...

A terrible set of boxes.

Rolf watched the silent assassin's retreating figure with mixed feelings, then turned back as well.

He tossed the mask onto the table and gestured to Golov (who had snapped out of his reverie about the Black Lion family history).

Glov frowned repeatedly, but luckily DD suddenly appeared to save the day:

"What's wrong, Rolf? What do you mean? What do you want? Food? Drink? Or something else?"

Rolf glanced at him and sighed.

That's not what he meant.

Surprisingly, the person who answered the call was Glov.

“No, I’m not sleepy yet, I can stay on duty a little longer,” Golov shook his head, “I’ll switch shifts later.”

Rolf was silent for a moment, then gave a muffled hum and turned to walk towards his bedding.

"Hey, mute."

But Golov stopped him and pointed to the table:
"You forgot your mask."

Rolf stopped in his tracks.

He stared at the half-mask left on the table, remained silent for a long time, and then made a few gestures to the zombie.

DD's eyes lit up, and he repeated Rolf's gestures, ready to enthusiastically translate, but then he saw Golov scoff dismissively:
"Why would you give it to me? I don't wear a mask."

Not wearing a mask?

Rolf did not respond, but gave him a deep look.

Even the strong-willed Grover felt a chill run down his spine.

The next second, Rolf made another gesture.

"All right……"

Golov frowned, grabbed the mask, and stared at the straps.

"Then I'll... find a corner to throw it away?"

Rolf waved his hand dismissively and turned to leave.

Golov removed his mask, gazed at the mute man's retreating figure, and scoffed disdainfully:

"Tch, with that face showing, even kids avoid you... What's wrong with you now, DD?"

DD, who had been watching the whole thing from the sidelines, gesturing wildly but unable to get a word in edgewise, gaped in shock.

"You...he...he...you...you...when...when..."

DD turned his head back and forth, looking at Golov and then at Rolf, in disbelief.

"What's wrong? When? What? When?" Golov asked impatiently.

"when……"

Doyle took a deep breath and finally managed to suppress his astonishment.

"No, it's just... oh well, never mind."

Doyle shrank back into the corner, hugged his knees, sniffed, and said sourly:
"fine."

Golov was completely baffled.

Just then, footsteps came from deep within the tunnel.

Everyone became alert, and Paul straightened his appearance and responded seriously.

What if His Highness the Prince wanted to take a walk...?

"Wow, such a big fuss?"

Soon, everyone was drawn to the newcomer—a graceful and beautiful woman, followed by Miranda with an aloof expression.

"Put your eyes where you should look!"

Miranda's cold voice rang out, sending shivers down the spines of the men who had been staring wide-eyed, causing them to turn their heads away.

Belicia covered her mouth and chuckled upon seeing this.

“I’m not just talking about them, ma’am,” Miranda said coldly, her hand on the hilt of her sword never relaxing. “I’ve been very polite to you since I invited you here, so don’t make me regret it.”

Belicia raised his hands and rotated his wrists:

"What if?"

"Otherwise, you'll regret it."

Miranda remained unmoved.

Belicia raised an eyebrow.

"And another one, open your eyes wide, you little madam in black silk!"

Just then, Golov, who had been wearing a gloomy face ever since Belicia appeared, suddenly spoke:
"Don't cause trouble on Red Town Street, or you'll drag down... well, the entire industry."

Ok?
The entire industry?

This remark was rather inappropriate and ruined the atmosphere, causing everyone to turn to Golov with strange expressions.

The zombie seemed to realize he had said the wrong thing and could only turn his head and cough.

“Oh, my good sir,” Belicia smiled, “so you also frequent Red Street?”

DD, standing behind him, turned to his colleagues and silently mouthed, "That's what I think too."

"Then why didn't you come to 'One Night Romance'? You know, with your delicious figure and domineering temperament, my little beauties would love you... Hmm!"

Miranda grabbed Belicia's shoulder, causing him to let out a muffled groan.

"enough."

She grabbed Belicia, but her gaze drifted to the uneasy-looking Golov:

"Madam, this is not the place to solicit customers."

The latter stared at Belicia a few times before turning away dejectedly.

Just then, Leyok appeared in the passage ahead, looking towards Belicia:

"Honey, what's the problem?"

He saw Miranda holding Belicia's hand, and his expression turned cold, his knees slightly bent.

Upon seeing the Silent Assassin's movements, the Star Lake Guardians all became wary and placed their hands on their weapons.

The atmosphere was tense, and Belica was about to speak when Miranda behind her tightened her grip, causing her expression to change slightly.

“We’re fine, right?” Miranda said softly, her tone tinged with warning. “Darling?”

Belicia felt the hand tightening on her shoulder and managed a weak smile.

"Of course, your master is very easy to talk to... Aww!"

"Who is it, sir?"

Miranda increased the pressure on her hand without making a sound.

Belicia's eyes flashed coldly, and he remained silent for a moment.

"I was mistaken, there were no adults."

There are only little kids here.

Belicia added a resentful remark to himself.

Miranda then said with satisfaction:
"By the way, the master asked you to pass on a message to Maurice and Lancer: he remembers this favor."

Leyok frowned, but Belicia asked, puzzled:
"What? Which sir? What favor?"

Miranda stared at the innocent-looking woman for several seconds before nodding and letting her go.

"Don't worry, cool northern girl, I know the rules." Belicia rubbed her aching shoulder and chuckled dismissively.

I've seen this kind of thing countless times.

Miranda nodded:

"Very well, I'll see you out now."

But Miranda immediately sensed something was wrong and frowned warily:
"how do you know……"

"Did you know you came from the north?"

Belicia scoffed:
"Isn't this what the upper class in the capital is all into these days?"

Miranda's gaze was somber.

On the other side, Leyok snatched the confiscated sword from Morgan's ill-intentioned hand and stood beside Belicia.

But Belisia's smile suddenly vanished, and she looked towards the dungeon:

"What will happen to him?"

The question seemed absurd, leaving the people behind him puzzled.

"He's going to pay the price."

Miranda answered without hesitation:

"For what he did in the Emerald City."

Belicia gestured to Leyok beside him to calm down, while squinting at Miranda:

"Does everyone know how to do it?"

“Everyone can,” Miranda said with absolute certainty.

“Wrong, cool girls with gloves,” Belicia said after a moment of silence, then sneered, “I dare say there are some people in this world who don’t have to, and are destined not to, pay the price.”

Miranda did not answer.

Belicia glanced at everyone present: DD, Golov, Rolf, Morgan, Nehi, Paul, Kusta...

"Someone..."

Her eyes flickered, a half-smile playing on her lips, as if she had endless unspoken words:
"Some people."

For some reason, her calm gaze and indifferent demeanor made the battle-hardened guards inexplicably nervous.

They are even more wary of Leyok than before.

“It is indeed difficult to make some people pay the price, more difficult than others,” Miranda scoffed, “but believe me, they will.”

Regardless of whether the cost is visible or whether everyone is satisfied...

Miranda placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, her eyes slightly unfocused.

"They all will."

Leyok scoffed dismissively, "Even if it's your boss?"

Miranda's expression shifted:
“Especially him.”

Belicia smiled, her gaze carrying a deeper meaning.

She stood up straight, left hand behind her back, right hand raised, and pretended to remove a non-existent hat. Then she bowed deeply to the crowd as if to give a final bow, before turning and leaving gracefully without looking back.

Leyok remained silent, giving Rolf one last look in the crowd before leaving.

Miranda pursed her lips, calmly followed, her hand never leaving the hilt of her sword.

The guards breathed a sigh of relief, but then looked at each other with strange expressions.

strangeness……

How could the mighty Star Lake Guard, the Second Prince's trusted lieutenants, possibly harbor any fear towards a mere whore...?

"Have you seen enough?"

Paul was the first to speak, and he gave DD a cold look:

"Your neck is practically stretched out."

Doyle clicked his tongue and withdrew his neck, seemingly unsatisfied.

"But she really is very charming. Didn't you stare at the beautiful Mila in a daze before?"

Paul suddenly coughed loudly, interrupting DD.

“This, this is different,” Paul said awkwardly, “She is a… she is…”

"Is she a whore?"

DD said leisurely:
"So what you care about isn't whether someone is pretty or not, but whether they're a slut or not?"

Paul turned and glared at him.

"What, did I say something wrong?" DD looked completely innocent.

"Humph."

After glaring at the other person for several seconds, Paul scoffed dismissively, shook his head, and left.

“Doyle…”

"Yep."

DD shook his head and followed behind, completely unconcerned.

"Doyle".