"Alright, since Sari has a certificate from the school affairs office and can leave through the main gate, how am I supposed to get out?"

At the edge of the academy, Moen stood watching the patrolling teachers and magical constructs, feeling a rising wave of frustration.

Even without the blockade of the second-layer grand arcane array, security had visibly tightened—likely due to the increasingly tense situation of late. The academy's vigilance was significantly more stringent now.

By nightfall, the number of patrolling teachers would always increase sharply.

In this state of affairs, trying to sneak out of the academy with his current pathetic second-tier late-stage abilities was almost impossible; those teachers weren't amateurs.

At the same time, there was no way he could openly follow proper procedures—it wasn't as though his trip out was for something as casual as shopping for presents.

"It seems I’ll have to rely on my final trick."

With no other options left, Moen pulled out his last-resort plan. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the patrolling teachers who were gradually getting closer, his eyes glinting with a kind of fiery determination.

"Teacher Mela, help me!"

"..."

"Pretty please? I'll buy you your favorite candies later!"

"Get lost."

From the void came an angry, exasperated voice tinged with a "why on earth am I burdened with such an embarrassing disciple" tone. A dainty, pale foot appeared from nowhere and kicked Moen squarely on the backside.

With a yelp of pain, Moen felt the world spin wildly around him, as though he'd been stuffed into an oversized tumble dryer set to high.

By the time he managed to climb to his feet, rubbing his sore backside, he found himself standing on the street just outside the academy.

Because it was a school day, the street—whose very existence depended on the academy—was eerily quiet. Dim firelight flickered faintly from the windows of closed shops along the roadside, casting a soft glow on the impeccably clean blue stone pavement.

The night had fallen, and the street was utterly lifeless.

Only a pitch-black, unmarked carriage stood silently waiting.

Moen approached the carriage.

The person within had been waiting for some time.

"Young Master."

Ann pounced forward, wrapping her arms around Moen's waist.

"I've been waiting for so long."

"Alright, less fussing for now," Moen said, inhaling the familiar fragrance and patting Ann on the head.

"First, let's go straight to the point."

"Understood."

Ann straightened her posture instantly, her movements as precise as if measured with a ruler. The indulgent and affectionate expression melted away, replaced by her usual solemnity.

Clop, clop.

The carriage began to move automatically, heading in the direction of the Lower City District.

"This is the information Young Master requested."

Amidst the rhythmic sound of hooves, Ann handed a folder to Moen.

Moen took it, opened it, and scanned its contents rapidly.

"So this is data on all the major gangs in the Lower City District?"

"That's correct."

Ann gave a slight nod. "All the notable groups with territory are listed here."

"The number is lower than I expected."

"Indeed, those who can rise above the quagmire of the Lower City District are few. Most of what the Lower City District contains are disorganized groups surviving under the shelter of the bigger gangs. Those, I imagine, would be of no use to you, Young Master.

Besides, in the case of the Lower City District, what's important isn’t what’s below, but what’s above."

"Above..."

Moen murmured.

"And the information from above?"

"I've marked everything obtainable on it. What remains are the more cautious individuals whose tracks are too well-hidden," Ann admitted with a tinge of self-reproach.

"It's not your fault. If capturing their trail were so easy, the royal family would have wiped them out long ago. They wouldn't be flaunting their power like this."

Moen sighed.

Though he knew his cheap excuse for a father thoroughly looked down on those nobles who only cared about money and greed, there was one thing even that man had to admit—

When it came to committing crimes, those people could be terrifyingly clever. Among the gangs in the Lower City District, who knew how many layers of false identities those nobles used to shield themselves.

The money gained through smuggling and illegal sales flowed into their coffers, and who could even say how much of it ended up lining their pockets?

“However, for the time being, the Lower City District shouldn’t have to worry about influences from above," Ann suddenly said.

"Hmm? Why do you say that?"

"Because right now, most of the nobles in the Upper City have been summoned by His Majesty."

"Summoned?"

Moen frowned.

"For what?"

"I don’t know. Perhaps because of the Lord’s absence, the Campbell family didn’t receive any notification—but I visited several noble families, and most of their heads and young men are gone, leaving behind only the elderly, women, and children."

"After my inquiries, it appears His Majesty issued a conscription. They say something major is about to happen."

"Something major..."

The only major events lately were related to...

It seemed the movement of that Moon faction was bigger than he had anticipated.

"But would those nobles really obey so easily? When something big happens, shouldn’t their first instinct be to escape?"

"I’m not sure too," Ann said, scratching her cheek in frustration. "But under normal circumstances, with a blade to their neck, it’s hard to lie, wouldn’t you agree?”

...Wait?

Hold on.

Ann?

Did I just hear something outrageous? Were you really paying those nobles a friendly visit?

…Let’s just pretend I didn’t hear that.

"Additionally, the Duke’s information informs us that Belland has recently ramped up efforts against smuggling, and the city gates have been temporarily shut down—essentially allowing entry but barring any exit."

"I think I understand why those nobles are trying so hard now."

Moen’s lips twitched.

He truly lived up to the reputation of His Majesty—the one who had mercilessly purged Belland’s criminal syndicates time and again—such ruthless efficiency.

If the moon faction really intended to gamble on an all-or-nothing plan, then Belland had effectively been turned into a tightrope for everyone involved. Even those nobles dared not slack off now.

"For me, though, this is actually a good thing."

Moen tucked the folder away. "Without their masters yanking on the leash, these lapdogs are even less useful than stray mutts."

"Oh, right. What about the other item I requested?"

"Naturally, Young Master."

Ann took out a small chest and opened it. Inside rested a sleek black suit and a finely-crafted human skin mask.

"The suit was custom-made overnight with special fabric. It’s resistant to most cuts, flames, blunt attacks, and even sub-third-tier mystical magic. Most importantly, it’s very lightweight, weighing only half as much as regular clothing.

As for this human skin mask, it was crafted by a professional artisan—indistinguishable from the real one..."

"..."

Watching Ann’s serious demeanor as she introduced the items, Moen couldn’t help but feel warmth bloom in his heart.

All he’d required was something light and a simple disguise.

Ann, however, always went above and beyond in preparing everything to utter perfection.

Perfect beyond imagination.

"Thank you, Ann."

"Young Master, this is simply my duty."

"Then help me put it on—just like before."

"Very well." Ann smiled softly. "As you wish, Young Master."

...

A few minutes later, when Moen stepped out from the carriage, his appearance had undergone a dramatic transformation.

His height and build had increased by an entire size. A high nose bridge and deep-set eyes left him looking cold and aloof, like the infamous Lady Lasffersen of the northern regions.

The form-fitting black suit exuded a wild, bestial elegance, a blend of nobility and savage beauty. The golden ornaments added a layer of affluence and imposing splendor.

Golden short hair was hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat. As he pressed the brim down slightly, his expression and gaze were veiled in shadow, adding an icy, menacing chill to his aura.

"Well then, gentlemen..."

Moen gripped his cane as he gazed down the silent streets of the Lower City District.

"Let’s begin the second round of the game."