Favna and Alte had barely wrapped up their “pleasant” (?) raid run when the Dragon Knight logged off—probably off again to explain his warrior account’s weird damage numbers to customer service.

But that didn’t matter to Favna.

She had to go out tonight.

As mentioned before, being a hacker active on the dark web meant Favna had her own intel network. And as a dragon who neither stole nor robbed, selling information was her only way to earn a little cash.

The thousand gold Alte gave her earlier? Nowhere near enough for her in-game spending. Farming the gear he wanted alone would cost a fortune. Don’t be fooled by the listed 350 gold—that was only under perfect conditions. Reality? Way pricier.

More income was always better. Who turns down money? Especially with summer break ending soon and tuition to prepare for.

“Alright…”

Before leaving, Favna wrapped herself tightly in a black robe—partly to calm her social anxiety, partly to hide her identity. After triple-checking her voice changer, she slipped out of her messy dragon’s den and headed toward the black market.

Soon, in a shadowy corner of Naro City’s black market, a hunched figure in a black robe appeared.

It was Favna.

Also a quietly famous information broker here.

Pay enough, and there was nothing she couldn’t find.

“Ghost Shadow, you’re finally here.”

Before Favna could settle in, a silver-haired girl stepped from the shadows. Masked, her face hidden—but her tail and ears marked her as a young thief of the Night Cat Clan. Over the past month, she’d become a regular at Favna’s stall, always buying intel on merchant caravans. Why? Not Favna’s concern.

“Miss Liko, welcome.”

Through the voice changer, Favna’s voice turned gravelly and low. Hunched posture complete, anyone would assume an eighty-year-old elder—not a girl barely nineteen.

“Same as usual! New merchant caravans just arrived, right? What’re they selling?” Liko rubbed her hands together, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Favna gently cut in: “Payment first.”

“Tch~” Liko pouted. “C’mon, Uncle Ghost Shadow! I’m a loyal customer—just a tiny free tip?”

“Out of the question.”

Her tone sounded firm. Truth was, without the robe, she’d probably shrink under the table to talk. And this booth only held one person. Any more? Even the robe wouldn’t save her.

“Fine, fine. Fifty gold per caravan. Here.” Liko handed over the coins. She remembered last time she pushed too hard—Ghost Shadow just slapped up a “Closed” sign and bolted. Hardly “elderly composure.”

“Two hundred five gold. Thank you.” Favna passed six sheets to the catgirl.

Liko blinked. “Wait… six caravans?”

“Check the last one.” Favna gestured calmly.

Liko’s smile faded as she read. Her expression tightened.

“Slave traders?”

“Yes.”

Human trafficking was illegal here. Worse—this caravan had backing. They’d snatched children and women without a trace. Only deep dark web digging uncovered them. Favna hoped Liko would act.

“Tsk…” Liko clicked her tongue after finishing. “Their backers feel… off. Any leads, Ghost Shadow?”

“Follow this trail, people die. I won’t dig deeper. Intel’s delivered. Saving them? Your call.”

“Heh~” Instead of fear, Liko’s eyes gleamed. “Then… join me, Uncle Ghost Shadow?”

“I have no interest in thievery—”

Favna froze. Liko wore a mischievous, *sly* grin.

“Really?” The white cat leaned in. “Uncle Ghost Shadow… no. *Miss* Ghost Shadow. We’re in the same boat. If I’m caught? You’re exposed too.”

Exposed?!

Favna stumbled back, trembling—not with anger, but sheer panic. For someone with social anxiety, nothing terrified her more than a blown disguise.

“You know who I am?”

“Nah.” Liko smirked. “But… you forgot gloves when handing me the papers, didn’t you?”

“What?!” Favna glanced down—gloves firmly on. *Tricked!*

Then… how did she know?

“Miss Ghost Shadow,” Liko purred, “you *really* don’t want other clients knowing you’re a girl, do you?”

“Ugh…”

Defeated, Favna removed the voice changer. She couldn’t meet Liko’s eyes. *You sly cat… I hope some perverted royal white-hair fetishist snatches you for “discipline” in the dungeon…*

(She only thought it.)

Aloud, she murmured softly: “Um… Miss Liko? Your silver hair… be careful. I heard the royal family’s hunting white-haired girls lately.”

“Ah… uh…”

Liko’s confident smirk faltered. Her expression turned oddly stiff.