Ken walked slowly into the basement. The recent gamble had left him highly excited. Recalling that high-stakes bet now, he still trembled slightly.

He had essentially gone all-in, choosing the fastest and most direct method. There was no doubt it was utterly insane. Fifty holy gold coins! They might look like just a few dozen, but in reality, that was a minor noble’s annual salary. Though he won, he didn’t know why—he’d won unclearly. He hadn’t even considered what if he lost; a conflict between the Wind Kingdom and Snow Kingdom seemed inevitable. Perhaps it was sheer luck—the Goddess was on Ken’s side.

Ken nervously straightened his clothes, put on his hat, and pressed down the brim. Avoiding the scattered "entrants" holding wine glasses in the underground hall, he walked alone to a dark corner. Sitting on a chair there, he scanned the entire scene from the shadows.

It was enormous—as if the entire underground had been hollowed out. Only a few massive stone pillars supported the space. Clearly, there were many exits and entrances. Such a crowd couldn’t have poured in through the casino’s hidden door all at once. The air felt fresh, likely due to some magitek device made of magic crystals.

According to Ross’s intel, the auction would start soon.

It’s just for a few hundred credits… Is it really worth such a desperate effort? Ken muttered inwardly.

Gryffindor, the continent’s top academy, had an impeccable reputation. It had produced saints, heroes, politicians, and military leaders. In academics, it rivaled any vassal kingdom’s royal academy, earning it a formidable reputation across the land. But what mattered was its credit system. After a year of basic martial and magic training, students could take bounty missions in their second year. Tasks varied by grade—from finding a missing cat to slaying dragons. Students could take any mission they wished. Upon completion, specialized teachers at the academy’s credit office evaluated the points. These credits were crucial for advancement, so students had no choice but to take missions.

This time, Ken and Ross’s mission was simple: investigate why girls were mysteriously disappearing in the Imperial Capital and report it for the bounty. But an investigation mission wouldn’t earn high credits. That’s why Ross took the risk to probe this underground auction.

In the Ostend Empire, any covert human trafficking was illegal. This underground auction clearly violated the law. It must involve dark elements—robbery and kidnapping were surely tied to this human auction house.

Ken squeezed the magitek device Ross gave him—a gem-like artifact shaped like a rhombus. It emitted faint light intermittently, sometimes long flashes, sometimes short, making it hard to decipher.

"D-a-r-k—C-a-g-e—S-t-i-n-k—T-h-r-e-e—G-u-a-r-d-s," Ken deciphered the words haltingly from the device.

Ross was tapping the device, describing his current situation. After this sequence, it flashed again identically. Worried Ken might have missed it, Ross kept tapping tirelessly.

It seemed Ross was locked in a dark cage, guarded by three sentries. Ken silently pieced together Ross’s message. I should rendezvous with him immediately.

Ken glanced around, surveying the area. He was seated at the bottom-right corner of the hall—a spot few noticed. To his left and right were corridors. Above, on the second-floor balcony, careful observation revealed clear lettering: "Backstage." That’s where it was.

"Hello, sir. Mind if I sit beside you?"

Ken’s thoughts were interrupted by a confident query. The speaker’s tone was haughty, vaguely familiar, and seemed excited to see him. Ken looked up, nervously sizing up the arrogant youth with fiery red hair.

Huh?!

Ken’s eyes widened in disbelief. This was none other than Richard, Crown Prince of the Ostend Empire.

"Y-Your Highness! What brings you to this place?!" Ken asked nervously.

He and Richard were half-friends, acquainted through Ross. As the Grand Duke’s son mingling with the future king was typical noble networking.

"Same as you~" Richard kept a polite smile but unceremoniously sat on the chair next to Ken.

"You know… lately, carriages have been transporting unknown goods from various places. Due to special permissions, the city guards couldn’t inspect them…" Richard dropped the pleasantries and spoke seriously.

"Slaves and laborers gathered from all over, right? I’ve noticed too… It’s linked to the recent disappearances," Ken interrupted.

"Correct." Richard tilted his head, adjusting his cloak’s hood. He continued, "By law, the Ostend Empire bans all human labor trafficking. You know that."

Ken nodded, signaling understanding.

"But the law is rigid. I need evidence. Frankly, my royal guard is outside. With proof, I can order them to raid this place immediately…" Richard shifted closer, gesturing for Ken to do the same.

Then Richard and Ken lowered their heads. Being in the last row, the front seats perfectly blocked them from view.

"They seem to have special clearance from someone. Without higher authority, soldiers can’t enter. Plus, there are many lookouts. If tipped off, they could turn this into an underground concert hall in minutes." Richard paused, glancing at the scattered, well-dressed crowd. "So I need you to capture evidence for me. I’ll lead the troops in by force."

Richard stealthily pulled a scroll from his cloak. "This is an imprint scroll. You know how to use it, Ken, right?"

Ken took the scroll gently and quickly hid it in his pocket. "Our goals align… I’ll help you," Ken replied.

"I’m leaving now. I’ll find a way to get soldiers in. These cunning foxes have outsmarted us before… due to lack of evidence." "Excuse me~ Brother Allen," Richard said, standing up to Ken. He walked straight toward an entrance.

"Time to move…" Ken muttered to himself. He stood and headed to the restroom.

The auction hall was lavishly decorated—truly like a concert hall. The walls were adorned with intricate reliefs and deity statues. The hall soared over ten meters high, with three tiers: the first-floor corridor housed restrooms and instrument rooms; the second floor was the target—backstage; the third held special boxes for nobles. Stairs to the second and third floors were guarded by leather-armored sentries. A direct assault wasn’t wise. Careful observation showed no guards on the second-floor corridor—only two swordsmen in leather armor at each stairwell. This worked perfectly for Ken.

After assessing the situation, Ken retreated to the restroom—a blind spot for guards and guests. Allen focused Frenzy into his limbs. Deep breath. He checked the guests’ sightlines again. All clear.

Tap-tap-tap…

The youth scaled the second floor with incredible speed, stepping on reliefs and statues, light as a thief. Due to the noisy auction, no one heard Ken’s heavy footsteps. Ken wasn’t a thief or assassin; he couldn’t silence his steps like them. That had been his biggest worry, but clearly, no one noticed his movements. He pressed his hat brim down and walked straight to the backstage door… No one noticed the silent figure slipping backstage.