"But it has..." Witt's next words were cut off by a knock at the door.

Persistent knocking drowned out Witt completely. Clearly, the person outside was frantic.

Witt frowned, displeased at the interruption with Kaelxi. He stood to open the door.

Kaelxi had learned the Advancement Stone's purpose. She began scheming how to get it from Witt.

As a Rogue of Blackiron Rank, an Advancement Stone to reach Bronze was perfect for her.

Yes, perfect. Absolutely perfect, in every way.

She now regretted hiding her professional identity from Witt.

If Witt knew she was a professional, he'd hand over everything without hesitation.

Last time, Witt asked if her blood healing wounds was an innate skill. Only natural-born professionals had those.

Kaelxi lied, claiming all Elves' blood had that power—it was a racial trait of the Elven Kind.

Seeing Witt praise Elves as noble, like he'd discovered a new continent, Kaelxi silently prayed.

Please, Witt, never bleed Elves for healing. And if you must, don't pick me.

Kaelxi deeply regretted not being honest earlier.

The visitor spoke briefly with Witt, then hurried off to notify the next household.

Witt shut the door with a darker scowl. He turned to Kaelxi. "Kaelxi, the city lord ordered all Cesecity residents to attend John's memorial the day after tomorrow afternoon."

"John is dead. Attending isn't a big deal," Kaelxi said, puzzled by Witt's grim face.

"No, Kaelxi. They claim to have caught the murderer," Witt explained. "Undoubtedly, another poor scapegoat."

"They'll behead him publicly at the memorial!"

Kaelxi helped others within her limits. Giving bread to beggars was her max. Storming a noble's memorial to rescue a scapegoat? That was impossible.

Anger flashed in Witt's eyes. He seemed ready to act.

Kaelxi almost urged caution but recalled Witt wiping out the mine alone, beating dozens of professionals. She stayed silent.

Then she thought: public beheading was nobles flexing power. If Witt caused chaos, killing lackeys, nobles would lose strength and face. It'd be satisfying. More importantly, seeing nobles' ugliness might wake numb residents. Cesecity had been under noble rule too long. This could plant rebellion seeds. After this, she'd have no reason to keep Witt. She needed to break up.

Kaelxi switched to a sympathetic tone. "Witt, he's so pitiful!" "This innocent man is framed as the killer." "The nobles are despicable!"

Witt remembered the western district beggars—victims of greedy nobles. But he hesitated. Could he defeat the nobles?

Seeing his doubt, Kaelxi fanned the flames. She leaned toward him from her chair, grabbing his sleeve with both hands. Pouting, tears welling, she looked up. "Witt, I'm so sad. Please save him?"

Seeing the Elf girl's tearful eyes, Witt's hatred for Cesecity's nobles deepened. He didn't see them as true nobles. Anyone hurting Kaelxi deserved a miserable death. This was his creed now. If he couldn't make her happy, how could he protect her?

Witt nodded firmly. "Kaelxi, don't worry. I'll save him." "For justice." And for you. The nobles were already dead in his heart.

Kaelxi blinked, a hint of slyness in her tear-filled eyes. "Hehe, so gullible." "As gullible as ever." But she didn't know if her tears were real or fake.

...

These two days, Kaelxi lived peacefully. Baking bread, selling bread. Picking an easy mark's pocket. Distributing bread with Witt. But breaking up abruptly might raise suspicion. So she provoked arguments: scolding Witt over small things, clumsily burning him while cooking, making him do all chores, waking him at night to stand guard. Witt wasn't angry. He said he found her cute this way, feeling he understood her better. Kaelxi sighed silently. "Witt, you understand nothing..."

That afternoon, patrolmen and guards herded residents to Cesecity's central circular plaza for "great benefactor" John's memorial. People marched mechanically toward the plaza, armed guards behind them. Factory workers joined, expressions numb like robots. Lackeys herded residents like sheep. Perhaps they were sheep—wool sheared, milk drained, skin peeled, meat served. Or worse; at least sheep graze freely. They worked for pennies to buy barely enough food. Kaelxi, with a house, rented shop, and business, was among Cesecity's luckiest commoners. By evening, the plaza was packed with a sea of dark heads. They stood like a grounded black cloud, mirroring the storm clouds above. The entire plaza was deathly silent.