What exactly was this "presence"? Rhode still couldn’t explain it in his own words.

But he’d grasped the gist.

Though invisible, odorless, and silent, Rhode sometimes just *knew*—Black Raven was right there.

Intuition? Maybe. Though there was always a slight deviation.

Later, Hagart stopped calling it luck.

With Hagart’s occasional guidance, Rhode gradually learned to sense this elusive "presence."

Everyone needs those moments of clarity—the "Ah! Now I get it!" kind.

Hagart munched pastries, watching Rhode flail about with leisurely amusement. Three days slipped by like that.

Now Rhode was fully qualified as a scout.

Mastering presence meant learning to conceal it too.

Once suppressed, sounds, sights, even scents faded naturally—no extra effort needed.

A person who fully concealed their presence became utterly overlooked, like a roadside stone, unless they deliberately drew attention.

How? Hagart couldn’t say. It was too ethereal.

Even books written by determined souls were riddled with flaws, as any expert would spot.

In the end, it remained beyond words.

"Rhode, wasn’t someone supposed to pick you up?" Hagart paused before asking.

"Hm?" Startled, Rhode opened his eyes.

Seeing this, Black Raven hopped onto his head without a care.

"Seems the time’s come," Rhode muttered, peering out the window. The agreed hour had long passed—*way* overdue.

Dusk deepened. The servant hadn’t come. Something felt off.

"Rhode. Hide. Now."

The old man lifted his drooping eyelids, voice calm but firm.

Rhode froze a moment, then ducked into a corner. Unless you were a tracking specialist, you wouldn’t spot him.

Confusion lingered even as he hid.

Not long after, a loud, impatient knock rattled Hagart’s door.

Hagart rose calmly and opened it.

A squad of Clinton guards flooded in, surrounding him instantly.

"You’re connected to Rhode Carasco, right?" one guard snapped.

His captain smacked his head. "Show respect! Hagart is our instructor!"

Flustered, the captain bowed. "My apologies, Instructor."

"No need. Ah—I remember you. Just a young lad back then." Hagart chuckled warmly.

"Yes, Instructor." The captain saluted. "We’re here to apprehend the Doraf family. Rumor says their eldest son, Rhode, trained here, so…"

"You mean to search," Hagart finished smoothly.

"The boy left with a servant after two days. He’s not here."

"But if you doubt me—search freely." Hagart’s ease made hiding anyone seem impossible.

"Forgive the intrusion," the captain said, leading his men inside.

They combed the house thoroughly, careful not to disturb Hagart. No trace of Rhode.

"Captain, neighbors swear Rhode Carasco entered and never left!"

"If he’s not here, he’s not here. We won’t trouble Instructor Hagart further."

He dared not disrespect the old man—Hagart’s prestige ran deep among guards, in Clinton and the Imperial Capital alike.

"By the way," Hagart asked mildly, "what crime is the boy accused of?"

"Doraf is charged with colluding with the Itruria Empire—exposed by the Crown Prince and a priest from the Church of Lightsen Gate. We’re hunting all his direct kin."

Itruria, another Central Continent empire, was populated mainly by half-elves—unlike Vankarel. Half-elves, as the name implied, carried diluted elf blood; pure elves dwelled mostly in the Northern Continent. Though Vankarel and Itruria hadn’t declared war, relations were frosty. Doraf stood accused of leaking imperial secrets and taking bribes.

Hagart smiled faintly. A simple conspiracy—but common, practical among nobles. Exposed or not, unstoppable.

*He must have heard everything.*

"Poor innocent child," Hagart murmured.

"My orders," the captain said quietly. He, too, felt the boy shouldn’t be dragged in—but such raids aimed to erase future revenge.

"Fall back!"

The street cleared, leaving only passing carriages.

Hagart closed the door softly—and turned to Rhode, brows tightly furrowed.

"You heard it all, didn’t you?" Hagart had never doubted Rhode would stay hidden. Calm? That was another matter.

"I heard."

"Does it feel sudden?" Hagart studied him.

*If it weren’t sudden, it wouldn’t be a targeted conspiracy.*

Rhode fell silent a few seconds.

"Teacher… Shilo went to the Imperial Capital with Father."

"Right. So he’s likely captured too." Hagart’s brow lifted. He wanted to say *This is almost certainly a setup*—but held back.

"What about Mother in Clinton?"

"You already know," Hagart sighed. Even he hadn’t seen this raid coming.

"I’m going home." Rhode met his gaze, resolve clear.

"She won’t be there."

"I still have to go…"

"Even if she’s already taken?"

"Mm… If she’s not home, I’ll go to the prison."

"Then use what I taught you," Hagart said helplessly. He couldn’t stop him.

"Wait." The old man fetched a gray coat. "Inconspicuous. Hood and stand-up collar. Raise the collar to blend in; save the hood for emergencies."

"Teacher… thank you." Rhode paused, pulled on the coat, and whispered his gratitude.