Inside a dimly lit inn, on the third floor, the sound of running water echoed faintly through the cracked door.
"Gust, we don't even know where in Lightfall Mountain the treasure is..." Robert's coarse voice came from inside the washroom. He stepped out a moment later, steam curling around him. A towel hung loosely around his waist, another draped over his shoulders as he wiped his face.
"Hmmm… The only clue we have is 'that,'" Gust replied from the table, spreading several papers and maps across it. His tone was steady, calm—he was the thinker between the two. "Let's wait for the next report and—"
He stopped. Robert had raised a hand sharply.
The chief guard's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. His instincts, honed by years of violence and deceit, screamed that something was off. Slowly, he turned his head toward the window.
An owl sat perched on a branch just beyond the glass, feathers ghostly under the pale moonlight. It stared directly at them—unblinking.
Robert's grip on the towel tightened. For a brief, absurd second, he thought the thing was smiling at him.
The owl lifted one wing, scratched the side of its head with its beak, and then—with a soft rustle—took flight, vanishing into the night sky.
Robert watched it disappear, his reflection staring back from the windowpane.
"What happened?" Gust asked, rising from his chair.
"Nothing..." Robert muttered, forcing a laugh. "Must be my imagination."
But deep inside, unease coiled in his gut like a worm under ash.
---
The owl glided above Ram City's rooftops, its feathers brushing the night air as it descended onto a distant terrace. Lock stood there, leaning lazily against a chimney, the wind tugging at the edges of his dark coat.
He extended his arm. The owl swooped toward him —but instead of landing there, it plopped squarely onto his head.
"I almost got caught," Hoot grumbled, ruffling his feathers irritably.
Lock chuckled, brushing the owl's wing aside. "I told you to be subtle, not stare into their souls like a demon statue."
"There should be a reason why the witch didn't get the treasure even though she found the coordinates," he muttered thoughtfully, crouching near the edge of the roof. "Maybe those two guards know something. One of them—Robert, right?"
He exhaled slowly, the night wind catching his words. "Maybe they hold the missing piece."
Hoot blinked. "You're thinking of talking to them?"
Lock smirked beneath the shadow of his hood. "Sometimes, to find light, you have to flirt with the dark."
---
Morning sunlight spilled across Ram City, breathing life into the cobblestone streets. Dusk and Dawn walked side by side through the bustling crowd, weaving between stalls and wagons. The scent of baked bread and roasted chestnuts filled the air.
Dusk's thoughts were distant, his gaze drawn briefly to the faint marks on his palm— traces of the rune he had used days ago. The glow was gone, but the memory of that moment still burned inside him.
He had carefully stored the remaining ink Lock gave him, hidden away in their home. Just in case.
He recalled Lock's words about fate—how every thread was connected. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that his own thread was being pulled toward something inevitable.
"Oh hey, Little Dusk! Little Dawn!"
A familiar voice cut through his thoughts. Seid, half-drunk and cheerful, waved from across the street. He stood surrounded by a small crowd of slum kids, a bottle dangling loosely in his hand.
Dawn waved back with both hands, her smile bright as morning.
"Hey, Uncle Seid!" she called.
Seid's grin softened as he watched them pass. The kids beside him whispered among themselves, eyes following Dusk and Dawn's clean clothes and well-fed faces with a mix of envy and disbelief.
"Don't even think about it," Seid said suddenly, his smile fading. His tone carried an edge that silenced them instantly. "Those kids work at the church— and they're under my protection."
The boys stiffened. Even the boldest among them looked away, muttering apologies. The church's influence in Ram City was absolute, and Seid's words—though slurred by drink—carried enough weight to keep them in line.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, enough glaring. You want work? I might have a few odd jobs."
The kids straightened immediately.
"Tomorrow morning, nine sharp," Seid continued, fishing a crumpled paper from his pocket. "Carrying goods from the grocery to the gate zone. You'll earn three Fins, but one Fin comes to me. So, two Fins for the day. Enough for some bread— if you're lucky."
A few groaned, but he kept going. "Oh, and one more. Guiding two outsiders to Lightfall Mountain. Eight Fins for that job —three for me."
He waved the paper lazily. "Anyone interested?"
---
Meanwhile, at the cathedral, sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, painting Dusk's face in colors of crimson and gold.
"You wanted to learn to read and write?" Richard asked, blinking in surprise.
"Yes," Dusk said earnestly. "Me and my sister —both of us."
Richard crossed his arms. "That won't be cheap."
"I have some savings," Dusk replied. "And with my salary, I can manage."
For a moment, the knight just studied him —this boy who had once looked lost and desperate, now speaking with quiet determination. Then Richard smiled and patted his head.
"You always move forward, huh?" he said warmly.
Dusk smiled back.
---
That night, the city quieted under the silver gaze of the moon.
Inside the same inn from before, Robert and Gust sat at a table strewn with maps of Lightfall Mountain. Candlelight flickered across their faces, illuminating the growing frustration in Robert's scowl.
"So it's going to be a blind search," he muttered. "I can't even find a single sorcerer still hiding in this damned city."
"They probably ran," Gust said, yawning. "Because of Luminous— and that witch getting burned recently."
Robert grunted in annoyance, looking to his left —then froze.
An owl perched on the window sill, staring straight at him.
He cursed under his breath and drew his sword. Gust jumped.
"Shoo! Shoo!" Robert hissed, waving his hand.
"Shoo your head," the owl replied flatly.
Both men froze.
The owl tilted its head. "Lightfall Mountain. Heretic's treasure. Wanna work together?"
"Huh?" Gust blinked, looking from the owl to Robert. "Did... it just—?"
Robert swallowed hard. "Yeah. It did."
---
A few minutes later, the two guards stood on the terrace, the night wind tugging at their cloaks.
A figure stood there waiting, masked and still, like a shadow cut out of the dark. The owl fluttered down to rest on his shoulder.
Robert's hand went instinctively to his sword. "Who the hell are you?"
The man turned slowly, his tone smooth, confident.
"Hello... Robert, Gust," he said, voice calm beneath the mask.
"My name is Lock."