"... Governor Wei Yenwu, I've come to discuss a partnership."
"…Oh? And what kind of 'partnership' does the infamous leader of the terrorist group Reunion wish to form with Lungmen? And what exactly do you bring to the table, Miss Talulah?"
"Infected, Governor. You've always viewed the Infected as a burden, haven't you? And… I hear you've been working on a certain plan."
"…And where did you hear that from?"
"There's no need for you to know. What matters is—what do you think of my proposal?"
"…I'll have to give it some thought."
---
So, Talulah's already made her move…
Kashchey, disguised as an ordinary traveler, strolled leisurely through the bustling streets of Lungmen.
Of course, anyone truly watching would notice the faint traces of shadowy figures lurking nearby—and the sharp, ever-alert presence of Leizi, who had traded her uniform for civilian clothes but still watched him like a hawk.
Lungmen's surveillance net was as tight as ever.
At least, that meant "The Duke" was indeed under their watchful eye.
...Fine. My priority right now is to locate Edward's corpse.
This had nothing to do with any order from the Ursus Emperor.
No, this was Kashchey's own objective.
He intended to use Rhine Lab's biological technology—combined with his own mastery of ancient Originium Arts—to create a new Draco.
A creation that might not be fit to rule Victoria—since the nobles there were hardly fools—but one capable of shattering the current deadlock within the kingdom.
After all, Victoria's throne had remained vacant for far too long.
And with Theresis having torn up the Ursus alliance treaty, now exploiting Victoria's resources to expand his army, his growing influence was even beginning to affect "The Boss"—the one profiting quietly from Victoria's relative peace.
That, Kashchey could not allow.
If Theresis wanted to play his hand, then Kashchey would simply slip another piece onto the board.
---
At that very moment, as the "ordinary tourist" Duke Kashchey paused before a small street food stall, a purple-haired Cautus thief perched quietly on a rooftop, eyes gleaming as she aimed her grappling hook down at him.
She had been tailing him for a while now.
Just from his posture and mannerisms, she could tell—this guy was easy prey.
A prime target.
Years of thievery had taught her a few golden rules:
First, never steal from people who look poor. It's not worth the trouble.
Second, never steal from people who look dangerous. Thieves steal to live, not to die being hunted by gangsters.
Third, if you make a mistake—if you accidentally steal something way too important—turn yourself in to the Lungmen Guard immediately.
At least there, you'll live to eat three meals a day.
And this man before her—Citizen Kashchey—fit her definition of a perfect target.
Just look at him: awkward, out of place, clearly not a local. Probably a foreign visitor with plenty of money and no protection from Lungmen's gangs.
Then, there was his "bodyguard"—the stern-looking woman beside him who, even in disguise, couldn't help but stay on edge, scanning their surroundings (though, in truth, she was watching him).
Yes… this was definitely a rich man.
And his gentle tone toward the food vendor, his lean build, his calm, unhurried demeanor—
All of it screamed: easy money.
Rope suspected the man before her was likely a wealthy foreign businessman—an easy mark who had come to Lungmen to make money.
A perfect target, really.
Unfortunately for her, she failed to notice the shadow at the man's side.
The one cloaked in black.
And the one thing that shadow would never allow—was anyone laying a hand on Kashchey.
Just as Rope swung her hook, aiming to snatch the man's wallet, she found herself instantly restrained. The cloaked figure moved like a phantom—swift, silent, merciless.
Kashchey, of course, noticed the little incident.
"…"
…You again?
---
In a dark alleyway, Leizi stood nearby, watching uneasily as Kashchey "dealt" with the would-be thief.
Kashchey leisurely opened his own wallet and began to count through the thick stack of Lungmen notes one by one—right in front of Rope's face.
When he finally reached the last bill, he sighed softly, then pulled out… a single bill.
"Ah, such a pitiful child. Here—take this."
Rope's fury nearly exploded on the spot.
He was clearly mocking her.
But when she glanced at the black-cloaked figure beside him, she forced her expression into one of gratitude instead.
"Yes… thank you. Thank you so much."
At Kashchey's gesture, the black cloak loosened its grip. Rope was free to take the money.
She did so with trembling fingers, her face plastered with a sickly sweet smile. After a few forced words of flattery, she turned to leave.
"Wait."
Rope froze mid-step.
Every instinct screamed for her to run, but she dared not move. The memory of that suffocating grip—those interranly strong fingers closing around her throat—still lingered vividly.
If not for the white-haired man's calm voice stopping the cloaked monster, she might not have survived.
…But now, she wasn't so sure that had been mercy.
No decent person would toy with someone like that.
She didn't know what this strange man wanted, but resistance would only dig her grave faster.
Damn it… I'm really screwed this time. Who are these people? That thing in the cloak—doesn't it fear the LGD catching wind of a public murder?
She forced herself to bow, keeping her tone meek and submissive—something she'd learned from half-rotten survival guides scavenged in the slums.
"If… if there's anything else you wish of me, sir…"
It was the tone of someone clinging desperately to life.
Kashchey smiled—warmly, almost fatherly.
"Don't be afraid, child."
For a moment, the tension drained from Rope's shoulders. His gentle expression, the soothing timbre of his voice—it all made her want to believe she was safe.
But then his next words turned that illusion to ash.
"Although I'm a kind man, unable to watch a child suffer, and have chosen to support you with this humble gift…"
He paused deliberately, letting the silence tighten around her like a noose.
"…Still, fairness is fairness. Perhaps you could offer a little something to compensate for my emotional distress, don't you think?"
Rope instantly regretted her earlier gratitude.
This wasn't a man with strange humor.
He was a devil.
---
When she finally stumbled out of the alley, her left hand clutched her hook, her right a single money. Her wallet, however, was gone.
In Kashchey's hand, the shabby little purse felt light—almost meaningless. Inside were a few crumpled notes and a handful of money.
"…"
This little Cautus moves fast… Already pawned off Zhu Jiuyin's wallet, has she? I thought I might get it back.
Kashchey wasn't angry. Far from it.
The girl's repeated attempts to pickpocket him amused him. There was a certain charm, even a touch of fate, in it all.
After all, what harm could a stolen wallet possibly cause him?
And to Kashchey—the ancient Black Snake—those who stole merely to survive, without malice or ambition, deserved leniency.
As for that so-called "compensation fee"?
Well, business is business.
In his mind, everything was perfectly reasonable.
His benevolence had been exercised.
His losses had been repaid.
A mutual benefit, as far as he was concerned.