“He’s dead.”

  As those words were uttered, the whole town square froze in pce. A stunned silence fell over the crowd as everyone struggled to process the shocking announcement. Mayor Marcellus now looked like a corpse, his body trembling, mouth twitching involuntarily. Even Rennald, who had been calm and collected just moments ago, stood speechless, rooted to the spot.

  And Calyssa, oh poor Calyssa, turned paler than anyone else, as though the blood had completely drained from her body. “No... no, it can’t be,” she murmured. Her voice cracked, then went feral. “No!” she screamed at the man who had delivered the news. “That’s impossible! There’s no way...”

  The poor sod squirmed. “I... I’m telling the truth... I’ve checked his body carefully. There... there’s no mistake. He’s dead.”

  Calyssa shoved him aside and sprinted off. As she passed Viktor, he saw a tear in the corner of her eye.

  The adventurers and other employees of the Guild exchanged anxious gnces. Then, one by one, they began to break away from the crowd, rushing to follow the woman.

  “Let’s go,” Jeanne said, tapping Cire’s shoulder. The woman broke free from her paralysis, turning to her friend with a slow nod. Together, they ran back to the Guild, with Cedric’s party trailing behind.

  “No... that can’t be... he’s... he’s dead?” whispered a small voice beside Viktor. He gnced over to find Rhea’s small frame shaking uncontrolbly, and she had to grip the bench’s armrest for support. Frankly, he had expected her to dash off like the rest of them, which would have been nice, seeing as he had hoped to stretch out his legs across the bench. But there she sat, glued to her spot, so he would have to keep sharing the seat with this shock-stricken statue.

  He, himself, obviously had no reason to go anywhere. He already knew what they were going to find in the Guild. Gideon was lying dead in his bed, exactly as he had left him.

  He had pnned the murder for several days. He had studied the building’s yout to figure out the best way to get in and out of Gideon’s room unnoticed. He had learned about the man’s drinking habit, which was hardly a secret anyway, and caught wind of the Guildmaster’s brilliant pn of getting everyone merrily drunk the night before the vote.

  The original idea was to strike at midnight. He would sneak out of the house, secretly return to the Guild, slip in through a window and kill the defenseless man. But then, a new opportunity presented itself. Gideon’s medal fell out of his pocket when Calyssa and the others hauled him back to his room, so Viktor volunteered to pick it up and followed them. He had walked right into the room with the others, and when they weren’t looking, he slid out the poisoned needle he had prepared beforehand and gave the unconscious man a quick jab. Then everyone left the room, thinking they had simply put the Guildmaster to bed. Nobody noticed. Gideon didn’t even stir.

  Viktor wondered what kind of face Calyssa would make if she ever found out, if she learned that the murder had been carried out right under her nose, and that she had personally invited the killer into the room. She even thanked him afterward.

  It was a shame, though. He didn’t really want to kill Gideon, but there was no other way to stop Rennald. While the Overseer himself might seem like an obvious target at first, Viktor had quickly discarded the idea. First of all, unlike Gideon, it was far more difficult for him to approach Rennald, and even if he managed to succeed somehow, the chances of getting caught were very high. But most importantly, Rennald’s death would not change a thing. He would just be repced by a new Overseer, another rich and ambitious man who had every reason to sell the dungeon, just like his predecessor had.

  The pn was not without risk, of course. Viktor was fully aware of the dangers of his actions. Gideon’s death was a devastating blow to the Guild’s leadership. There was a real possibility that the organization would fall apart, and Rennald won by default. But that was a risk he had to accept when he made his move.

  And even if it all failed, so what? The outcome would be exactly the same as if he had done nothing. Gideon was not going to win, no matter what. He was a charismatic man, yes, but that wasn’t good enough. That was why Viktor had to turn the Guildmaster into something better. A dead charismatic man.

  In other words, a martyr.

  More and more people were leaving the square, heading to the Guild. On the ptform, Mayor Marcellus, who had been quaking in his boots, now descended into full-blown panic. “B-But... the vote?” His voice was barely more than a whimper. “E-everyone... come back...”

  “Vote?” yelled one of the adventurers who still remained here. His face flushed red, fists clenched at his sides. “The Guildmaster’s just been murdered, and you’re still thinking about a vote?”

  “There’s no vote, not while a murderer walks among us!” another shouted. “No vote until we find the bastard who killed Gideon!”

  More voices joined in, some chanting, some screaming in anger, and the words echoed across the town square. “No vote! No vote!”

  This was exactly what Viktor had counted on. The adventurers had been upset for a while. They could barely contain their frustration when they were denied a voice in a decision that directly affected their livelihoods, and now, the Guildmaster’s death was the final straw that had pushed them past the breaking point. While they were not the majority, they were all armed. And angry, armed people were dangerous. Even someone as powerful as Rennald needed to tread carefully.

  Viktor’s gaze shifted to the Overseer. He was still speechless, utterly at a loss for words. He had just preached that the loss of life was regrettable, but now, with his political rival lying cold and stiff with poison in his veins, that sentimental rhetoric rang hollow.

  “L-let’s focus on investigating Guildmaster Gideon’s murder first,” the man finally said, turning to the Mayor. “We’ll come back to this matter ter once everyone has calmed down.”

  And just like that, the event of the day came to an end.

  As Viktor leaned back on the bench, eyes scanning the dispersing crowd, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Everything had happened precisely as he intended it to. There was no vote today, and there would be no vote in the near future. Of course, his victory was not yet guaranteed. Rennald might still try to do something to steer things back on track once he regained his composure. But at the very least, Viktor had bought a little more time for his dungeon to prepare. So he allowed himself a moment of self-congratution.

  As his gaze swept through the town square, he noticed one person still standing in the same spot, unmoving—the enigmatic woman with skin of bronze. She was looking around, watching the people leaving the square, and when their eyes met, she smiled at him. This time, instead of just giving a nod, she waved her hand slightly, as if she was inviting him to approach.

  Well, he had intended to talk to her once everything wrapped up anyway. So he got up from the bench and walked toward the woman, his gaze never leaving hers. Time to find out what secrets she was hiding behind those cold blue eyes.

  “A real tragedy, isn’t it?” the woman said when he was a few paces away from her.

  “It is. Everyone here loved Guildmaster Gideon.”

  She giggled. “At least one person didn’t.”

  “You’re right.”

  “What do you think? Who has killed the Guildmaster?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe someone with an opposite view to his. Someone who wants the dungeon to be sold, instead of being kept here in Daelin.”

  “You mean Rennald?”

  “Not necessarily. Perhaps it was someone in his camp, acting on their own. Someone who’s impatient and doesn’t want to wait for the vote.”

  “If that’s the case, it has backfired spectacurly, hasn’t it?”

  “Seems so.”

  They had exchanged those words while their eyes locked with each other, neither of them blinking. Not even once.

  “We’re pying the same game, aren’t we?” the woman said with a teasing tone. “Just like the first time we saw each other.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I came to ask you. Why did you suddenly stare at me back then? Do we know each other?”

  She giggled again. “No, I didn’t. Our eyes just happened to meet. But then, you kept staring at me, so I stared back.”

  Perhaps she was telling the truth. It was those icy, unsettling blue eyes of hers. Not quite the Eyes of the Abyss, no, not even close, but they still pulled him in, making it hard to look away.

  “In that case, allow me to apologize,” Viktor said, still staring at the woman without blinking. “Forgive me if I’ve offended you in any way.”

  “Not at all. I’m quite enjoying the little game we’re pying with each other. As for your other question... No, we didn’t know each other. We had never seen each other before that day, and we have never talked to each other before today.”

  “I see.”

  “But we do know each other now,” she said with a smile. “I’m Nephra.”

  “Quinn.”

  “Quinn, huh? You’re very mature, you know? Feels like you’re much older than your appearance suggests,” the woman said, faint amusement dancing in the back of her depthless eyes.

  “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.” Viktor shrugged. He found it hard to guess her age. Her face looked young, but her eyes were ageless.

  Nephra raised a hand to cover her mouth as she gave a soft ugh. “You shouldn’t tell a woman she’s old.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean. Anyway, you work for Guildmaster Clovis?”

  “I do.”

  “You’re his Riftwalker?”

  “You figured that out?” There was a tint of condescension in her tone. “Yes, you’re right. My job is to move him where he needs to be.”

  “How long have you worked for him?”

  “I only started recently. A little more than a month, I think.”

  “And before that, what do you do?”

  She grinned at him mischievously. “Oh, I moved around.”

  That doesn’t answer the question, Viktor thought. But just as he was about to ask more, Nephra turned away, breaking eye contact. With that, once again, he won the staring contest.

  “It’s been a lovely chat, but I’ve got to go now,” she said. “I need to head back to Iskora and tell Clovis what happened here. He’s not going to like this.”

  “Goodbye,” Viktor said ftly.

  The woman looked at him with a feigned sorrow on her face. “Aren’t you at least a bit sad to see me go?”

  “I have a feeling that we’ll cross paths again.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” She let out a chuckle, then walked away.

  That was a long conversation, but in the end, Viktor had learned basically nothing about the mysterious woman. Only her name, if that was even her real name. Oh well, it was not like he expected her to reveal anything of substance anyway.

  It was clear Nephra knew more than she was letting on. So he needed to keep an eye on her whenever she showed up in town. But that was it. There wasn’t much he could do about her.

  Instead, he shouldn’t let himself be distracted. He had far more important things to focus on than some strange woman with a pretty face and cryptic words. There was a dungeon to grow and stolen power to recim. That, above all, was what mattered.

  Everything else could wait.