"Master Campbell, the matter has been resolved."

Inside the carriage, which was filled with a faint fragrance, Moen lifted his eyes and glanced at the bald middle-aged man who had just returned from outside.

Dewdrops from the night still clung to the sparse hair on the man's crown, forming a Mediterranean pattern. His dark circles were particularly pronounced, making it seem like he hadn't slept in a long time.

And yet, he still exuded vigor.

There was no choice but to stay spirited—when his subordinate suddenly reported that the son of Duke Campbell had issued a complaint about illegal transactions and gang fights happening in the Lower City District, the man nearly spat out a mouthful of water onto another distinguished guest he was entertaining at the time.

The thought of this incident made him break into a cold sweat. Luckily, the water didn't spray out; otherwise, he might have really lost his life.

Still, the news had been terrifying enough. He initially thought an unresolved issue from earlier had drawn the ire of that Campbell heir, who was deliberately targeting him.

After all, illegal transactions and gang fights—especially if they endangered the son of a duke—were matters that, if escalated, would almost certainly lead to dire consequences for him.

Fortunately, none of those scenarios came to pass.

"Viscount Guen, are you alright? You look like you haven't rested at all," Moen said with concern as he observed the exhausted, seemingly ready-to-collapse Guen.

"Is it my late night intrusion that troubles you?"

"Not at all, not at all! This is simply my duty to the people of Belland; how could it be a bother?"

Viscount Guen forced a strained smile as he wiped the seemingly never-ending sweat from his forehead and pulled out a box from behind him.

Inside lay a familiar metal container, which Moen recognized immediately. Its surface was etched with profound golden runes, resembling tiny tadpoles that swam about effortlessly.

"Master Moen, here's your possession. We’ve regained it from those gang members," Viscount Guen said respectfully as he handed over the box.

"Thank you," Moen replied with a faint smile as he took the box. His hand gently stroked the container, triggering a mechanism that caused it to open partially.

Instantly, an overwhelming pressure surged forth. Moen instinctively inhaled sharply and hurriedly sealed the container shut again.

"It is indeed what I had lost. All thanks to you, Viscount Guen."

"Master Campbell, you are too kind. This is hardly a bother—it's my responsibility. In fact, I should thank you for uncovering such criminal activities hidden in the shadows."

"Viscount Guen, you are truly a dutiful administrator. With someone like you managing the Lower City District, it is sure to prosper," Moen said, offering praise.

"Now that’s generous of you, Master Campbell. You, on the other hand, demonstrated bravery by coming to the Lower City District late at night to investigate its conditions and standing up to the criminal elements. You are indeed worthy of the title as the duke's heir."

"Oh, it’s nothing. Just wandering around late at night, really," Moen replied casually.

"You're far too humble, Master Campbell. I imagine your actions tonight would make for lively conversation even with the elite at their banquets," Viscount Guen said enthusiastically.

"Ha, those elite only care to talk big. That's not for me—I prefer practical, hands-on individuals like you, Viscount Guen!" Moen exclaimed as he firmly patted Guen's shoulder in approval.

"Keep up the good work; you are bound to have a bright future."

"Ha-ha, then I hope Master Moen will put in a good word for me with the elite," Guen said eagerly.

"Of course," Moen responded, storing the metal container back into his spatial storage tool. Rising to his feet, he stepped off the carriage.

"Master Campbell, should I arrange for escorts to accompany you?" Guen hurriedly followed him and asked.

"No need," Moen replied.

"I see. Then safe travels, Master Campbell," Guen said with a deep bow.

Waving his hand dismissively, Moen vanished into the night.

As Guen watched Moen's silhouette fade into the distance, his smiling expression suddenly disappeared. Muttering something indistinct under his breath, his face twisted into an almost grotesque expression.

But in the next moment, he slapped his own cheeks, forcing his fatigued face into another cheerful smile.

He hunched his back low, adopting an even more servile posture than earlier, and quickly returned to the carriage.

The carriage wasn't empty; in the spot Moen had previously occupied sat a silver-haired young woman.

She was flipping through a stack of documents, her slender brows slightly knitted as though lost in thought.

Viscount Guen dared not interrupt her and quietly controlled his breathing, waiting patiently.

After what felt like an eternity, the young woman finally seemed to notice his presence. She glanced up briefly and asked, "Is everything resolved?"

"O-of course! Just a bunch of filthy rats and cockroaches from the Lower City District. I feel ashamed for wasting so much of Your Highness's valuable time," Guen stammered.

"Oh? So according to you, all of those rats and cockroaches have been eliminated?" The young woman’s gaze became sharper.

"Uh… w-well… maybe… not entirely…"

Cold sweat reappeared on Guen's forehead, and under the oppressive silence of the young woman, he could feel several more strands of hair falling from his head.

The moonlight's reflection on his nearly-bald head made it look even chillier.

"Forget it. The situation in the Lower City District isn't something you alone can change," Celicia muttered indifferently, her voice devoid of emotion.

"But that guy's actions tonight did surprise me," she remarked.

When Moen had come forward with a righteous report, Celicia was in the middle of a discussion with Viscount Guen. Initially, she had thought someone had foolishly provoked Moen, prompting him to use his status to retaliate.

She had stayed hidden, ready to intervene if Moen overstepped his bounds. But contrary to her expectations, it turned out he was… striking a blow against the underworld?

How interesting.

Ignoring for the moment the fact that someone like him, a duke's son, would be wandering the Lower City District, his impeccable execution of exploiting chaos for personal gain was astonishing. It was far from the impression one would expect of a noble born into endless wealth.

If it were the Duke's son who wanted the ancient dragon's heart blood, why would he bother with such theatrics? A single command would surely suffice to get whatever he desired.

"But given his recent peculiar behavior, I suppose it isn't entirely out of character," Celicia mused, her pale lips curving faintly upward as she thought about Moen's absurd antics in the Lower City District. Pretending to be harmless while secretly dominating the scene—it was amusing enough to make her shake her head lightly.

However, discarding all irrelevant thoughts, her expression became frosty once more.

"Now then, Viscount Guen, let's resume our earlier discussion."

Celicia pulled out several photographs from the stack of documents and laid them on the table before her. She also placed accompanying excerpts describing the photos or sketches alongside them.

These photographs were extremely blurry, displaying only vague figures. Some of them weren't even photographs at all but resembled crude, childlike drawings.

Yet every time Celicia’s slender, fair fingers touched one of the images or sketches, Viscount Guen's face grew a shade paler.

"Heart-Ripping Banshee…"

"Shadow Butcher…"

"Insomniac…"

"The Monster of Grien River…"

"And then…"