"Is everything going smoothly?"

"It's strange... Isn't this the best time to commit the crime?"

Dunkirk muttered to herself.

After Turing left, Dunkirk didn't rush to leave either. Instead, she sat on the roofs on either side of the street, still keeping an eye on Merka's procession slowly gathering and settling back into place.

There was a hint of puzzlement and contemplation in her gaze.

"Most of the Agio family's forces are here to celebrate Merka's honor ceremony."

"Now Abdiel's defense there is very weak."

"If the enemy really intends to cut off our military supplies, why not strike now?"

Dunkirk took out the monitor from her pocket, looking at the unharmed gate of the armory on the screen, filled with confusion.

"Could it be that this enemy is really an insider."

"That's why they're not acting now."

"Are they afraid of being absent for no reason and getting caught?"

"Come to think of it, I didn't see Bordeaux at the ceremony today."

"This person should have a good relationship with Merka."

"...although I hate to admit it."

"But let's go look for her anyway."

"The day she let the enemy escape without warning was just too suspicious."

Dunkirk stood up, reaching into her pocket to pull out a cigarette pack. She opened it, put one in her mouth, lit it with magic, and took a drag.

"I wonder if I can still have dinner made by Turing tonight..."

Dunkirk gracefully leaped off the roof, spread her wings, and quickly flew towards Bordeaux's villa in the city of Beauville.

As fast as a grenade fired from a blazing cannon, in the blink of an eye, Dunkirk arrived on the roof of a relatively simple mansion in the aristocratic area. She spread the crow meat wings on her back, stood on the chimney, with her weight pressed on one leg, balancing like a bird with her wings.

As if waiting for someone, Dunkirk spat out the smoldering stub from her mouth extinguished by the fierce wind, pulled out another cigarette, and smoked silently.

The extremely faint smoke slowly dispersed in the air, much like Dunkirk's restless and burning inner turmoil - anyone who saw Dunkirk at this moment would surely think that her mind was undergoing some kind of massive conflict test.

"Let's go in through the chimney."

After a while, until she finished the entire cigarette, Dunkirk finally exhaled the last puff of smoke, brushed off the dust on her body, and stood up from the chimney.

Without saying much, eerie creaking sounds rang around Dunkirk's body, followed by many of Dunkirk's body organs immediately transforming into softer, more slender tentacles than before, slowly probing into the top of the chimney.

With a squelch, the sticky tentacle monster Dunkirk fell from the top of the chimney into the furnace at the bottom.

Ignoring the soot and charred wood debris sticking to her body, Dunkirk quickly climbed out of the furnace, put on her fallen clothes, and restored to her original body shape.

"Is this person not at home either?"

Taking out a vial from the pouch around her waist, Dunkirk swallowed several pills like popping candy.

After a quick survey of the living room, Dunkirk did not sense anyone's presence. The entire villa was eerily quiet, and the living room was spotlessly clean, devoid of any signs of life.

"Could Bordeaux really be hiding some secret?" Dunkirk wondered. He started checking each room one by one, hoping to uncover some clues that might reveal any undercover activities.

"As a Knight of the Order of Gold, the furnishings at home are not extravagant." Dunkirk opened a room similar to Bordeaux's master bedroom and walked in. Before him lay a very simple, almost austere set comprising a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk.

Approaching the desk, Dunkirk picked up a photo frame placed right in front of it. Inside was a picture of Bordeaux with her lover and child.

"...It seems she didn't bring her daughter with her."

"Despite her husband's long passing, she refuses to bring her daughter from Lachésis City to care for her."

"Is she afraid of being caught in a compromising position?"

"If she is truly an undercover agent, that would make sense."

Furrowing his brow, Dunkirk set down the photo frame and turned to the wardrobe, opening it. With a skeptical glance inside, he noticed Bordeaux's knight's uniform still hanging there, untouched.

"Strange, she hasn't put on her priestly robe either. Did she not go to work at the church today?"

"She's not at home, or at Merka's place."

"Where could she be now?"