Three hours later, as the Adventurer Guild finally quieted down and the last lanterns dimmed, Renya observed silently from her rooftop vantage point. Her black eyes narrowed, and with an icy, expressionless face, she muttered:
"Now."
She launched forward like a shadow, sprinting silently from rooftop to rooftop—swift, precise, invisible to the ordinary eye.
Landing lightly in front of the Guild's main entrance, she whispered:
"[Vanishing Mist]."
Her form shimmered, then vanished completely—melding into the fog of illusion magic. Without a sound, she slipped inside and ascended to the second floor, her presence nothing more than a passing breeze.
At the end of the hallway, Renya paused in front of the Archive Room door.
Still locked.
Without hesitation, she pulled out a slim, black multipurpose key and clicked it into the mechanism. The door opened with a muted click, and she slipped inside like a phantom.
Moments after she entered—
Tap... tap...
Footsteps echoed down the quiet corridor.
A calm, measured pace—heels clicking against the wooden floor.
Knock knock knock.
The footsteps stopped just outside a different room.
"Guild Master..."
A woman's voice. Polite but weary.
The door creaked open—
Thud.
Then silence again.
Inside the archive, Renya exhaled slowly, her breath steady and composed. She pulled out a folded note from her coat—the one Prince Paul had given her earlier.
"Let's see... which one..." she murmured under her breath.
With sharp eyes and steady hands, she began scanning the labeled shelves, moving quietly through the room according to the locations listed on the note. Her fingers glided across folders, files, and sealed reports. Every document she needed, she slipped into her inner coat.
Thirty minutes later, the mission was complete.
Renya exited the room, She stood still for a second in the hallway, listening.
Nothing.
"[Vanishing Mist]."
Her form faded again as she bolted toward the exit, slipped through the darkness of the Guild's empty halls, and leapt out through a window near the back, landing soundlessly.
She raced across rooftops, her figure nothing more than a fleeting shadow under the moonlight.
A few minutes later, the door to the Guild Master's office creaked open.
Carla stepped out, adjusting her gloves and brushing a lock of auburn hair behind her ear.
"Okay, I'll take a look first..." she muttered to herself, her boots clicking steadily as she made her way to the corridor toward the archive room.
As the familiar hallway stretched before her, her eyes instinctively scanned the doors.
Then she stopped.
Her brows furrowed.
The archive room door stood ever so slightly ajar.
"...Huh? It's not locked?" she said, eyes narrowing in disbelief.
A chill of unease crept up her spine.
"This is very strange..."
Without wasting a second, Carla reached for the doorknob and pushed it open fully, stepping inside the dimly lit archive room. Her trained eyes immediately began scanning the area—shelves, floor, locks, everything.
No sign of forced entry.
No sign of a struggle.
Her eyes narrowed even further.
"Someone's been in here..."
And Carla, unaware of the phantom visitor mere minutes before, clenched her jaw and muttered:
"I need to report this..."
With that, she strode off toward the Guild Master's office once more.
While darting and leaping from rooftop to rooftop, Renya moved with practiced precision. Her shadow blended into the darkness, barely making a sound against the tiles. She finally reached the marked location—an old, two-story house nestled between warehouses and dim alleys.
Landing on a nearby roof, she crouched low, eyes narrowing as she scanned the structure.
Her lips parted slightly.
"...You're kidding me."
It was just as the records described—a residence for commoners and foreign workers, a place so unremarkable that most would overlook it. But what caught Renya's attention was that the registered adventurer living here had been stuck at D-rank for three years—no promotions, no transfers, no mission breakthroughs.
"Really suspicious..." Renya muttered under her breath.
She landed quietly on the balcony, slipped open a window, and entered the second floor with a phantom's grace. Once inside, she closed the window behind her without a sound, her black cloak blending into the dim shadows of the unlit room.
Reaching up to her earpiece, she whispered,
"Hey, call center... who's on duty now?"
There was a brief pause—then a startled thud in her headset, followed by a panicked voice:
"Whoa—! Thud—Yes, yes! Edelin here! What can I help you with? Over!"
Renya sighed sharply, her tone dry.
"Are you falling asleep on the job?"
She moved silently across the wooden floor, plugging in a small mic bug under a shelf as she made her way toward the next room.
Edelin's voice crackled back through the headset, still flustered:
"No, no! I'm fine—wide awake!"
Renya didn't slow her pace, eyes scanning as she reached the second room's door.
"Right... Has the Prince gone to sleep yet?" she asked, still in a low but firm voice, as she slowly opened the door and slipped inside.
"Not yet," Edeline replied, her tone uncertain. "I think... he's still drawing something."
Renya sighed again.
"Call him. Tell him it's urgent."
"Roger...!" came the immediate response, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps and shuffling paper through the headset.
Renya closed her eyes briefly and rubbed her forehead, exasperated.
A few minutes later...
A crisp voice came through the headset.
"Paul's here. Over."
Renya, now crouching inside the dim third room of the house, pressed her finger lightly to the headset.
"Prince... this problem is more serious than we thought." Her voice was low, tight with unease as she closed the door behind her and scanned the room.
There was a pause on the other end, then Paul's voice replied, slightly puzzled,
"What do you mean?"
Renya moved quickly, checking drawers and corners while whispering,
"The first house I entered... it's occupied by an adventurer ranked D."
Paul's tone remained flat.
"So...?"
Renya narrowed her eyes.
"The problem is—this place is big. Two floors. Spacious. And yet... the guy's still a D-rank. Worse, the registry marks him as a commoner—a foreign one—who arrived exactly three years ago." Her voice had a hint of tension now, the kind that only surfaced when something wasn't adding up.
There was a beat of silence before Paul answered, this time with a more serious tone.
"Investigate every name tied to that record. This could be worse than we expected. Over."
Renya's voice sharpened.
"Understood. Over."
Without wasting a second, she returned to her task, moving silently through the house, planting small micro-listening devices in every unlit room—beneath furniture, inside air vents, under tables—ensuring full coverage.
Once satisfied, she slipped back out through the same window she entered and vanished into the night.
Several houses later...
Renya sprinted across another rooftop, her breath steady, steps light.
"This is... so strange," she muttered, pausing as she crouched atop a chimney and gazed down at the last marked location.
It was a lavish estate, surrounded by a sturdy one-meter-high fence. Lights gleamed from every window. Laughter and chatter echoed into the quiet night—unusual for this hour.
"Looks like there's a party," Renya murmured in a cold tone, eyes narrowing as she focused on a brightly lit room where silhouettes danced and clinked glasses.
Slipping inside through a darkened side window, she moved swiftly through the quieter, unoccupied rooms, placing more microphone device with practiced ease.
In one particularly lavish bedroom filled with jewelry, ornaments, and expensive furnishings, Renya paused and frowned.
"...Is this the leader's house?" she whispered to herself, eyeing the opulence with growing suspicion.
After finishing the setup inside, she ascended silently to the roof, crouching above an open window just above the party room.
Voices and laughter roared below, people oblivious to anything above them.
With perfect timing, Renya pulled a small microphone device from her sleeve and tossed it inside, where it stuck cleanly to a beam on the ceiling—camouflaged in the shadows.
As Renya peered into the final, extravagant room, her eyes scanned the gold-trimmed furniture, velvet drapes, and the glint of scattered jewelry.
"Is this the boss's room?" she muttered in a cold, low tone.
She dropped silently from the roof onto the balcony—
–Thud.
But the soft landing was still too loud.
From inside the room, a gruff, furious voice barked:
"WHO'S THERE!!?"
Renya's eyes widened as a burly man, shirtless and furious, burst out of the room, wielding a massive battle axe, veins bulging across his arms. His face was twisted in rage, eyes locked onto her.
Without warning, he charged.
"[Wide Swing]!!" he roared, the axe arcing from right to left with terrifying speed.
–VWHISH!–
Renya didn't flinch. She dropped, ducking low in a perfect squat, the blade missing her by a mere finger's width.
But the man wasn't done.
"HRAAH!!" he bellowed, launching a powerful right-leg kick toward her midsection.
Anticipating it, Renya twisted her body mid-crouch, hands planted on the floor as her legs flipped up and over—
–SWFF!–
His kick whistled past harmlessly, missing her completely.
"You bastard!!" he snarled, more enraged.
Again, he shouted,
"[Wide Swing]!!"
This time, the axe came back—left to right—even faster.
–VWHISH!–
Renya didn't run. She pushed off the ground with both hands—Fwip!—twisting in mid-air.
Her body curled like a spring, and she crossed both arms into an X, daggers glinting in the moonlight, legs folded to brace impact.
–CLANG!!–
The daggers met the axe with a resounding metallic crash.
–BOOM!!–
The sheer force sent Renya flying backward exiting the House.
Above, the man howled in rage,
"YOU FUCK!!"
He leapt toward the balcony edge, ready to chase.
But before he could jump—
–SWFF!!–
An arrow screamed through the air from the dark rooftops.
The man barely raised his axe in time—
–CLANG!!–
But the arrow wasn't normal—
–BOOM!!–
It detonated on impact, blasting the man backward through the balcony door and into the rear wall, collapsing it in a spray of splinters and dust.
"DAMN IT!!" he roared, coughing and furious, buried under debris.
Renya, still airborne from the clash, twisted gracefully mid-flight. She landed with precision atop a rooftop several houses away from the chaos, her boots touching down with barely a sound.
With a light exhale, she brought a finger to her headset and said,
"Thanks for the assist, Greta."
Her tone was unusually light—grateful.
Greta's cheerful voice chirped back through the comms,
"Hm, hm~ Of course!!"
Her delight was clear, even through the mic.
Below, chaos erupted.
The boss's mansion doors burst open—a flood of armed men spilled out in disarray, torches and weapons in hand.
"CATCH THAT BASTARD!!"
Their angry voices echoed through the night.
Renya, still crouched on the rooftop, didn't flinch. She tapped the mic again, her voice ice-cold:
"Do it."
Instantly, three voices responded in sync over the headset:
"OK!"
—Ursula.
—Hilda.
—Anna.
From the shadows, the quiet hum of drones activated, and—
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
One by one, the armed men collapsed mid-chase, hit by precise shock rounds from above. Screams turned to groans. Feet to knees. Bodies hit the ground like falling dominoes.
From her perch, Renya stood, eyes cold and unblinking as she watched the final few fall.
A moment of silence returned to the night.
She turned away without looking back.
"It's finally finished..." she whispered to herself, vanishing into the darkness beyond the rooftops.