"Ruined me…"
Li Fei lay collapsed on the sofa, face flushed, eyes unfocused, unable to move so much as a single finger. Her chest rose and fell in slow, deep breaths, and every so often her toes would curl and tremble — the very picture of someone suffering from severe oxygen deprivation.
Dawn had broken. Several hours had passed since she'd slipped free from Nicole-mama's mouth, and yet the star courtesan had still not recovered. Her dark hair, draped over her shoulder, had been properly washed — and yet Li Fei still felt damp and sticky all over, as though every last drop of her strength had been wrung out and discarded.
She clutched the Special Admission medallion in both hands, white-knuckled, unwilling to let go even for a single second. She was like a sister who had been forced to give herself to a rich young mistress in order to pay her little sister's tuition — and was now clinging to the wad of bills left behind afterward, as if releasing them even for a moment would make it all meaningless.
I, Li Fei, paid such an enormous price — wasn't it all for better educational resources?
Morality: -8 → -9
Charisma: 182 → 192
She hadn't crossed the line — but a transaction of this nature had inevitably taken its toll on her Morality. That much was to be expected.
It was nearly noon by the time Li Fei finally dragged herself upright, threw on whatever clothes were at hand, and climbed off the sofa.
"Wuwuwu… I'm not pure anymore."
She heaved two theatrical sighs for a sense of propriety she didn't particularly care about, then pinned the brooch to her chest with a delighted little smile.
"But it was all worth it!"
Intelligence: 11 → 13
Zhou Shuren once said: 'Borrowing books isn't stealing.'
And I, Li Fei, who sacrificed myself in the noble pursuit of knowledge — looking back on this someday, won't it be something quite refined?
Also, it was extremely fun.
The Magic Academy opened its doors the day after tomorrow. Li Fei planned to squeeze out one or two more levels before enrollment, and to deal with the spoils of her recent hunts — Potential Points and all. After classes started, she suspected life would devolve into a relentless grind: study all day, sell wine all night, and somehow carve out time in between for monster hunting and language lessons.
But before any of that — food.
Li Fei glanced at the clock on the wall, decided she had time, slipped her feet into a pair of sandals, and lazily pushed open the door.
She hadn't taken more than a few steps outside when a faint aroma reached her — woodfire and scallion, warm and unmistakable. Li Fei, who had consumed nothing since yesterday evening save for a belly full of citrus-flavored golden liquid, stopped dead in her tracks.
She turned her head. A new wonton stall had opened on the street, run by Easterners.
A bowl of wontons to tide me over, then tea and biscuits at Mrs. Annie's, and save my appetite for a proper dinner tonight.
With that plan settled, Li Fei pushed open the door of the modest little shop.
A sturdy woman sat rolling out dough, a bowl of freshly mixed meat filling beside her. A broad-shouldered man stood at the large pot, hauling wontons out of the rolling boil with an oversized strainer — and to Li Fei's surprise, there was also a wok of hot oil going, frying something she recognized immediately: youtiao. Fried dough sticks.
Li Fei stared at the familiar food and went very still.
The culinary culture of the Eastern Continent bore far too great a resemblance to everything she remembered...
Could the Eastern Continent actually have some connection to Earth?
She didn't pursue the thought. She settled into a chair, scanned the menu posted on the wall, and ordered a small bowl of wontons.
Quite refined, actually…
The bowl arrived promptly, steaming. Li Fei gave it a stir with her spoon and discovered the broth was dotted with dried shrimp, strips of purple seaweed, and other garnishes — her expectations quietly climbed.
She scooped up a wonton, blew on it, and slipped it into her mouth. The skin was thin and tender with just the right amount of chew; the filling inside was bouncy and juicy, seasoned with precise, unhurried restraint.
Li Fei's brow arched. She hadn't expected this unassuming little shop to serve her the most delicious wontons she'd tasted in her entire life. She quickened her pace — and by the time she'd finished the last of the seaweed from the broth, the soup was still steaming hot.
She'd only meant to grab something light to hold her over. But the wontons were so good they opened her appetite entirely.
She tilted the bowl back and downed half the broth in one go, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looked up at the menu, and waved at the owner.
"Another bowl — large. Two braised eggs and two fried dough sticks, please."
The dough sticks arrived first, fresh out of the oil and still faintly burning to the touch. The large bowl of wontons followed, with two plump, round eggs just visible beneath the surface.
Li Fei lifted the lid off the condiment jar on the table, heaped three generous spoonfuls of red chili oil into the broth, gave it a thorough stir, then scooped up a wonton with the ceramic spoon, blew on it a few times, and sent it into her mouth with barely restrained impatience.
The filling was substantial and satisfying — savory and faintly briny with every bite. The skin hit exactly the right thickness: not so soft it turned to mush, not so thick it overpowered the filling. But the real star was the shrimp-flecked broth, which was so rich and fragrant that Li Fei had the passing thought that she could happily eat a bowl of plain rice drowned in nothing but that soup.
After a few wontons, she reached for a fried dough stick and bit down with a satisfying crack — the exterior was shatteringly crisp; the inside remained soft, fluffy, and dense.
After only a moment's hesitation, she dunked the dough stick directly into the wonton broth. One mouthful of wontons in chili oil, one mouthful of broth-soaked dough stick — she ate with total, unselfconscious abandon, and before long her forehead had begun to bead with sweat.
When the last wonton was gone, Li Fei used the remaining broth to wash down half a braised egg in a single bite. The deep, savory brine of the egg and the fragrant soup together put the perfect finishing touch on the meal.
She pulled a paper napkin from the holder and dabbed her forehead, rubbing her stomach contentedly. She made a point of committing the shop's sign to memory:
Liu's Wonton House.
...
"The people from City Hall actually said that?"
Kenneth sat in the center of the great hall, his smile warm and unhurried, looking down at the subordinate kneeling before him.
"Y-yes, my lord… They told me that after an overnight investigation, Eddy and the others were found to have died from a wolf attack. No trace of any other assailant was detected…"
The subordinate kept his head down, cold sweat running freely.
"Truly, the law-abiding city of Loxibrook."
The corner of Kenneth's mouth curved into a sardonic arc. He brought his hands together in slow, deliberate applause.
"Five trained and fully equipped Sequence 9 operatives, dead under murky circumstances in a wolf den. One burned to a crisp. Four killed by crossbow bolts, with clear signs of poisoning on the bodies…"
"I'm rather curious — when exactly did those filthy beasts outside the city walls learn to forge crossbow bolts and mix poison? And when did they pick up Fireball?"
How the hell should I know…
The subordinate was thinking exactly that when a teacup suddenly shattered against the floor, and his legs gave an involuntary jerk.
"It's not your fault. Don't worry about it."
Kenneth waved a hand. "I'm only taking my frustration out on a teacup. I don't make a habit of punishing innocent subordinates. You're dismissed."
"Yes, my lord."
The subordinate, who had witnessed Kenneth's unhinged side before, let out a quiet breath of relief and withdrew.
Not long after, a second subordinate arrived at a hurried pace and dropped to one knee.
"Who did it," Kenneth said.
"A woman named Li Fei."
"Li Fei?"
Kenneth's eyebrow lifted.
He remembered the commoner woman who hadn't known her place — of course he did. When he'd first learned that the prey he'd considered already in hand had taken shelter under the Golden Kumquat Tavern's roof, he'd smashed a beloved teacup over it.
What he hadn't anticipated was that, just as the whole affair was fading from his memory, that Eastern woman would have the audacity to come looking for a fight.
Kenneth narrowed his eyes. "That whore from the Golden Kumquat Tavern?"
"Yes, my lord. She joined the Tavern a month ago and made a name for herself as its star courtesan… After verifying through multiple sources, we found that Li Fei has been visiting the wolf den every day for the past several days…"
The subordinate answered truthfully.
Star courtesan? That's all?
Listening to the intelligence his subordinate had gathered, Kenneth let a flicker of poorly concealed contempt pass through his eyes.
With a face like that, she might strike unsophisticated commoners as breathtaking — but in his estimation, she still fell short of a true beauty. And yet she'd risen to star courtesan at the Golden Kumquat Tavern? The legendary establishment, it seemed, was not as impressive as its reputation.
But the implications quickly sharpened into something more serious.
In the span of a single month, just how powerful a patron had that woman latched onto — powerful enough to dare provoke House Mettis? Who was backing her? Killing those five incompetents was one thing, but to have influence over City Hall itself...
"Go to the Thieves' Guild!" Kenneth's composure nearly cracked. He kept his face cold as he barked the order. "Whatever it costs — I want a full list of every client Li Fei has entertained this past month. Immediately."
Any high-end establishment with a sense of discretion would guard its clients' identities fiercely. House Mettis, in its diminished state, had no way of extracting information the Golden Kumquat Tavern was deliberately protecting — not without the Thieves' Guild as an intermediary.
The subordinate's figure vanished like smoke, and Kenneth began pacing the length of the hall, turning over possibilities.
There was a distinction, after all, between killing someone in the wolf den and killing someone within the city walls. Loxibrook's strict legal code wasn't merely decorative — in the former case, the right application of connections and money could still potentially buy off City Hall; in the latter, if City Hall was still willing to look the other way, Kenneth would not hesitate to inform his family and move everything — wealth, personnel, the whole household — out under cover of night.
Whatever the case, that commoner woman with her inexplicable luck had clearly attached herself to someone powerful in the past month — powerful enough to lean on City Hall. Kenneth ran through name after name in his mind, weighing responses: appeasement for some, confrontation for others.
One name he instinctively skirted around. But in the end, caution and reason forced him to prepare for the worst possibility:
Perhaps Li Fei had, in this single month, crossed paths with that she-devil. And — like his own shameless sister — had used foul means to cling to the she-devil's coattails…
The moment that possibility surfaced, a hellish tableau unfolded in Kenneth's mind: Bai Mengtian, ink-black hair cascading like a fall of dark water, lounging on a throne of blood — legs crossed, one foot resting atop a severed head with its eyes still wide in fury — chin propped on her hand, smiling sweetly.
That image had haunted him — had haunted every noble who survived the purge — jolting them awake from nightmares on countless sleepless nights.
Undisguised terror flooded Kenneth's eyes. He stumbled backward and sank into his chair.
Ever since that she-devil Bai Mengtian had descended on Loxibrook like a force of nature, House Mettis — indeed, every noble house in the city — had been living in humiliating submission. In the old days, if a commoner woman was fortunate enough to catch a noble's eye, there was no need for delicate maneuvering; a casual word to one's attendants, and she'd be "invited" to the manor that very evening. Abducting a common girl was such a trivial matter that no one bothered to care — until the she-devil arrived.
That she-devil had drawn a line. Any noble who dared cross it would find her descending on their estate with gleeful, personal enthusiasm — every man of the household beheaded and hung from lamp posts along the road, every woman of the household taken back to her own residence.
The nobles had resisted, drawn their swords to defend the honor and interests of their houses — and under Bai Mengtian's bloody suppression, the coalition of noble interests had been slaughtered wholesale. New lamp posts went up in front of City Hall every day; the heads that had once been held so high and proud were strung up in long rows, dried and tight as cured meat, swaying gently in the wind. Meanwhile, the she-devil's palace kept expanding — its scale eventually surpassing City Hall itself, the only way to accommodate the mountains of seized wealth and the endless stream of beautiful women flowing through its gates.
Under the she-devil's iron fist, the once-mighty noble houses had remained docile ever since. And Bai Mengtian's notoriety had spread from Loxibrook all the way to the Dwarven Royal Court — there was no one who hadn't heard of her.
House Mettis had been among the resistance. The previous head of the family had been beheaded at Bai Mengtian's sword. The family's survival had come down to the Countess — the head wife, a woman who had brought shame upon the house — personally leading the legitimate daughter to pay a visit to the she-devil's manor, where she had used shameless means to win the she-devil's favor and spare the family from annihilation.
It was after that purge that Kenneth's birth mother — the second wife — had risen to hold power within House Mettis.
Kenneth sat motionless in the hall, waiting in silence. Only the unseasonable warmth of the day betrayed his unease, causing him to reach up and wipe his brow at irregular intervals.
From early morning through to midday, he waited — until his most trusted aide, Annan, finally returned, drawing a folded slip of paper from inside his robe.
"Is… that person on the list?" Kenneth made no effort to hide his dread, not even in front of his most trusted man.
"No."
Annan shook his head.
"Good."
Kenneth exhaled.
Intelligence purchased from the Thieves' Guild — that, at least, he trusted. The Guild's reputation was as reliable as the laws of Loxibrook — the laws within the city walls, that is.
The wolf den might operate in a legal grey area, but once inside the city's boundaries, no one could violate the code Bai Mengtian had laid down — not even Bai Mengtian herself, though she retained the personal authority to amend those laws at any time she pleased. By the same logic, tampering with a Thieves' Guild intelligence report was essentially impossible — as far as Kenneth knew, only the Guild Master or Vice-Master held that kind of authority.
Even if the star courtesan had managed to attach herself to some great figure in a single month — impressive enough as that was — the idea that she had simultaneously charmed the Guild Master into fabricating false reports to deceive him was simply absurd.
The thought struck him as something from a bad joke, and Kenneth allowed himself a faint smile as he slowly unfolded the paper. It listed Li Fei's movements over the past month.
According to the intelligence, for all thirty days, Li Fei had entertained only a single recurring client, the same person, every single day.
Kenneth's gaze fell on the name.
His smile froze on his face.
It was not the outcome he had feared most.
It was the outcome that enraged him — and, deeper than that, filled him with something he was loath to name: envy.
Kenneth's hand trembled as he reached out and ran his fingers across the name written on the paper, and a face rose unbidden in his mind — a face that had haunted him and consumed his thoughts for longer than he cared to admit.
"Why you… Nicole… Nicole… Nicole…"
Kenneth repeated the name — the name of the Dean he had longed for and could never have — over and over, his voice saturated with heartache, bitter frustration, and impotent fury. By the end, it had collapsed into a low, ragged, chest-tearing howl.
____
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