Even though a thin mist still lingered in the street corners, the afternoon air was heavy. William almost followed the old man in the thick coat, but Aunt Grace's voice broke his resolve and called out to him.
"Will, can you help me for a moment?"
Her voice was hoarse, and her old hands were busy wiping away the dirt.
William turned with a raised eyebrow.
"If you need anything, just let me know," he said casually, though his eyes briefly glanced toward the corner where the two figures had disappeared.
"Please deliver the fruit that Sir Zander ordered. His house is two blocks away. And..."
He pointed to a paper bag on the table.
"These are the groceries that Young Master Louis left behind. You can deliver them as well."
William smiled faintly. Now, at least, he had a legitimate reason to follow Louis rather than stalk him like a thief.
He hurried down the small alley where Louis had turned, carrying the paper bag. High walls loomed on either side, narrowing the light to a thin line overhead.
William stretched out his hand and released a silver butterfly—a tiny creature whose wings shimmered faintly like light on still water. As it took flight, it looked at his left eye, which was now bright red. Compared to his brown right eye, his face looked...not quite human.
The butterfly settled quietly on the back of an elderly man wearing a black coat. William watched through double vision—his own eyes and the butterfly's.
Louis walked ahead unhurriedly, seemingly oblivious to the shadows following him. But William knew the man was no careless nobleman. Quite the contrary, he had deliberately chosen this deserted alley.
The elderly man pulled a wooden staff from beneath his coat, the faded wood tapping against the floor and swinging forward.
William made no move to help. He simply stood against the wall, his lips curling slightly.
"Young nobleman… is not just anyone," he muttered.
And sure enough—Louis turned quickly, catching the attacker's wrist in a firm grip. The joints in his old hand creaked, making the wooden staff fall with a clatter on the wet stone.
"Who are you? And why are you following me?" Louis's voice was flat, but sharp.
William continued to peer, his curiosity overpowering his caution. He was so focused on the brief duel that he didn't notice another shadow approaching from behind.
A supple but tight grip clasped over his mouth. The sudden tug pulled him into a dark alley, leaving two paper shopping bags on the ground.
The sound of rolling fruit bounced off the stone wall and faded into the afternoon silence.
***
The slender hand that had held William's previously now held nothing. The young man's figure disappeared, replaced by hundreds of silver butterflies that scattered into the air. Their wings glinted pale in the sunlight, casting a dim light across the dark alley, as if casting a silent spell.
William emerged from the darkness of the narrow alley. His movements were swift. His fingers reached out quickly, trying to grab the hood hiding the purple-robed woman's face. But the woman was more agile, her movements as delicate as an untouchable shadow.
With one hand, she parried his touch; with the other, she fished a small pouch out from beneath her robe. She blew its contents into the air, sending thick smoke swirling like a cursed mist.
Hundreds of silver butterflies immediately surrounded William. Their wings clashed with the smoke, creating sparks of cold light that were as beautiful as shards of exploding stars. A faint aroma wafted out, piercing the senses.
As the smoke began to subside, William's vision returned to darkness. The alley was empty. The purple-robed woman had vanished, leaving only a tattered cloth bag on the ground.
William reached for it and held it up to his nose. A sweet aroma assaulted his senses—ripe berries combined with the faint scent of wilted rose petals.
"A cunning mixture," he murmured, his lips quirked in mockery. "If inhaled, it's enough to make someone drunk or faint. Very clever."
He threw the bag into the air and caught it again with an almost childishly casual movement. Suddenly, something occurred to him.
"That old man... Could it be—"
Without delay, he jumped off the alleyway rooftop and started walking across the moss-covered tiles toward where Louis was fighting.
Down below, in a narrow, dimly lit alley, Louis still faced the old man with the wrinkled face, but his movements were nimble, almost unnatural. After knocking the man's weapon away, the old man quickly returned to his original position.
William chose to perch on the rooftop with his knees bent and his chin propped in his hand. His eyes glinted mischievously, as if he were enjoying a play as a spectator.
"Look at that," he said softly, as if commenting to himself. However, his tone was clearly directed at Louis. "Your sword movements are getting livelier. You even imbued the blade with mana. Wind element, isn't it? Ah, so elegant."
Louis swung his sword. The blade sliced through the air, sending an arcing howl of wind toward the black-robed old man. But his opponent only shifted slightly, causing the attack to miss. The wall behind him ripped open, leaving a rough scar.
Strangely, the old man wasn't using magic. He held a simple wooden staff that looked fragile but seemed deadly in his hands.
William narrowed his eyes. He had the same suspicions about the old man as he did about the blue-hooded woman.
William remained perched on the roof, watching the battle below with half-lazy, half-amused eyes. Louis, the sentinel, swung his sword with measured precision, delivering strike after strike with suppressed rage. His opponent, the old man in the black robe, relied on no magic whatsoever. He wielded only a fragile wooden staff in his wrinkled hands.
No matter how nimble the old man was, however, he was no match for the steely discipline of a sentinel. With a single slash, Louis's sword struck the staff, sending it flying through the air and crashing to the rocky ground.
The old man fell to his knees, landing with a thud on the cold, damp ground. Louis's blade was already pressed against his eyes, gleaming in the sunlight. His hood fell, revealing a wrinkled face, a trembling white mustache, and dull eyes that seemed to harbor past trauma.
William decided to descend. His light leap disturbed the midday air, causing both men to turn their heads. His lips curled slightly.
"Excellent," he said lightly, as if he were a spectator who had just enjoyed a circus performance.
Louis turned sharply, his gaze fixed on his opponent. "Why are you here?" His voice was flat yet wary. The blade of his sword didn't move an inch from the old man's eyes.
William held up a tattered paper bag as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "What a coincidence. You were shopping at my place and foolishly left your purchases behind. I was simply saving them from a terrible fate." His tone was mocking, as if it were a game.
But Louis ignored him, his gaze returning to the old man. "You. Who exactly are you?"
The old man remained silent. His chest heaved and his eyes darted wildly toward the wall and down the alley into the darkness. His face reflected one thing: fear. Finally, he shook his head violently and repeatedly as if trying to clear his mind.
"I... I don't want to go back... Don't make me go back to that place... That horrible place..." His voice cracked and turned into a hysterical shriek.
William snapped his fingers, the sound echoing off the narrow walls of the alley. With a mischievous smile, he pulled a small pouch from under his black coat. "Ah, you know her, so you do?" A woman in a purple veil. So cute. When I tried to introduce myself, she ran away and left this cute pouch behind."
He waved the pouch in front of the old man's eyes.
The old man's eyes widened. His pupils constricted, his face stiffened, as if he had just seen a curse symbol. His body trembled, then he roared: "I want to go! I don't want to see that again! I don't want to go back!"
William merely raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely amused. "So you do know her, old man. That's amazing. You're already hysterical over this little thing."
But Louis didn't respond to William's taunt. He turned his head and narrowed his eyes sharply.
"The woman in the veil?" he asked. His tone was laced with sharp suspicion and pierced William as much as the sword still pressed against the old man's face.