In a small cafe beside the central market, two men could in seen sitting there. One eating calmly while and other chewing like he never had seen food.


    "Boss... you didn’t," Albert said, his words trailing off as he continued to eat hastily.


    "Either eat or talk," I replied, setting my spoon down on the table.


    Rather than answer, Albert swallowed the last of his food and let out a sigh of relief.


    "Why are you even eating this much today?"I asked intrigued by this behavior.


    He looked at me for a moment, then said in a small voice. "I lost my money on gambling yesterday."


    "What did you say" I asked again.


    "I lost all my money gambling yesterday." He said again a bit louder this time.


    My eyes twitched in annoyance. Just three days ago, I had given him money, and he’d already lost it. How could anyone be this reckless?


    "Wait, it’s not my fault! I was doing the task you gave me," Albert quickly explained, sensing the displeasure on my face.


    My face grew stern. "And what task was that exactly?" I leaned back in my chair, my arms crossed.


    "I was investigating Castor bar remember, and you said I should go sometimes and check it as well."


    I nodded, I remember giving him this work. But how is losing his money related to this?


    "I chatted with some people present there and played some games with them for two days. Observing from afar whatever happened in there." Albert told in a serious tone. "There I found Castor''s main business."


    ''Finally something interesting.'' I looked at him expectedly, hoping whatever he got would be of help to the investigation.


    Albert started yawning, rubbing his eyes to stop the drowsiness. "He is kind of a broker but for many different reasons."


    "What reasons?" I asked.


    "Selling artifacts or buying them through illegal auctions and many specific reasons." He continues after another yawn. "He sells information and wanted people required details."


    "Wanted people? What''s that?" I asked leaning forward.


    Albert looked at Asher with squinted eyes unable to determine if he was joking or not. Not wanting to be on the bad side of his employer he readily told. "People put bounties legally or illegally on monsters or," he said giving a final glance. "humans."


    I nodded understandingly. "Go on."


    "And what he does is, he collects these bounties and then sells the information to the highest bidder," Albert explained, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of his discovery. "It''s like a secret marketplace for bounty hunters, but more... sophisticated."


    "A really business mind," I mumbled.


    I could understand Castor’s operation now. When I had first met him, his brutish demeanor had made it hard to imagine he was running such a well-organized business.


    But now, hearing Albert’s report, I was forced to rethink. How had Castor pulled this off?


    ''And he also let this guy find this information easily.'' For a person who had made an image of the brute bar owner running such a sophisticated and brilliant business was not something people would expect nor did I expect it.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    But here we are with this turn of events. Sighing I looked outside the cafe, the bustling city, Carriages running like every day.


    "And what about other topics?" I asked.


    Albert scratched the back of his head, seemingly confused about what to answer. After a bit thought he told. "About the missing kid, I found nothing, but as you have told me to I anonymously informed the Temple."


    "Good," I said, nodding, "and anything else?"


    Albert paused, his expression sheepish. "Well, I might have gotten a bit... distracted. But it''s all part of the job, right?"


    "Yes" I sighed, had done more then enough expecting anything else would be useless now.


    "Anyway, boss what have you been doing for the past two days." He asked curiously.


    "Collecting debts" I looked around once more before adding. "I will give it to you later, so just remind me of it."


    He nodded eagerly and asked. "Ah, about my cut in it."


    "You will get it. Don''t worry about that." I said.


    Albert looked relieved. "Thanks, boss."


    "Oh before I forget tell me which gang rules Philip Street, I heard many rumors about them, from my Inn owner," I asked eagerly, if it''s possible I would like to check them as well.


    Albert''s expression grew serious. "The Red Hands have taken over Philip Street. They''re pretty brutal and don''t take kindly to strangers poking around their business."


    "There are so many gangs here, I wonder why Temple of Stars or Guild let them move around freely" I gave a curious look to Albert.


    Albert shrugged before saying. "I am not too sure but I think because their leader is a transcendent no one in their right mind would want to make an enemy out of them."


    I sighed at his words. I had never met an Avenger-rank monster or a transcendent, but from the power of even an awakened, I knew the difference between us would be immense.


    "Hey, do you know why a nose can’t be twelve inches long?" I suddenly asked Albert.


    He frowned, puzzled. "Why, boss?"


    "Because then it would be a foot!" I said with a grin, proud of my joke.


    Albert''s gaze suddenly became intensely focused on the tabletop, avoiding Asher''s eyes.He shifted in his seat, looking anywhere but at Asher.


    He paused, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, before saying. "Uh...right."


    "Was that joke too hard to understand?" I asked, looking at him with pity. ''He doesn''t have any sense of humour, I guess.''


    Albert, clearly embarrassed, shook his head and avoided my gaze. I decided it was time to end the conversation and left the café.


    As I walked down the crowded streets, I thought about the artifact Selby had given me. I hadn’t checked it yet, not because I had lost interest, but because I wasn’t sure what to do with it in a town full of humans. The swords were made to kill monsters, not people.


    Shaking off the thoughts I decided to focus on the task at hand, Philip Street and The Red Hands. They had been a nuisance to the local businesses and townsfolk. The Temple and the guild might turn a blind eye but I won''t.


    But what can I even do? Am I supposed to get strong enough to beat a transcended and then kick him out of city? Then what?


    These thoughts lingered in my mind as I walked through the crowded streets of the city. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets and the people moving about their businesses. The smell of roasting meats and baked goods filled the air, and the chatter of the crowd grew louder as the evening approached.


    I looked round seeing people do their everyday work with ease. Many were struggling in their lives but still, they would manage somehow, this was the kind of thought they had while working.


    "Hmm, who was that." I looked toward the man walking through the stores one by one, he had a bag in hand from which ropes were peeking out.


    He looked somewhat in a hurry, bite marks were visible on his right arm. Even though he had tried to hide it, they could still be seen.


    ''A wild animal maybe?''


    Sensing my gaze on him, he looked back with a strong glare. His gaze seems to be saying ''What are you looking at''.


    I’ve been looking at him too long, I realized. I quickly flashed him a friendly smile before turning down a different street. But I wasn’t done with him yet.


    I decided to take a roundabout route and follow him from behind, making sure to stay out of sight. There was something about him that seemed suspicious, and that was more than enough reason to keep track of him.


    The man with the grayish hair didn’t head straight home. Instead, he made a series of turns, as if trying to shake any potential followers. I kept my distance, noting how practiced he seemed at moving this way.


    Does he know I’m following him? I wondered. No, it seems more like a habit, not something planned.


    Finally, he stopped in front of a dilapidated house. The paint was peeling, the wooden panels were worn, and the door looked as though it could fall off its hinges at any moment.


    I crept around the back, where the house was even more run-down. No lights flickered in the windows, and the only sound was the distant laughter of children playing in the market square. The alley smelled of rotting garbage, mixed with something sweet—an out-of-place scent.


    Let’s try the back door.