Night.

  Hunter’s Bar blazed with lamplight.

  As Isabet worked, she kept an eye on William. He looked even more exhausted than usual. Now and then he said strange things, but his heart was kind.

  So Isabet offered him a worried glance.

  William—dark circles beneath his eyes—shook his head, signaling that he was fine.

  He was simply too tired. And, at the same time, he couldn’t help feeling bitter.

  So Wynchester is this dangerous… even a random tavern owner can squeeze me dry whenever he wants. And the place I’ve been working in is a hidden entrance to the Black Queen District. All my struggling, all my searching—what was it even for?

  Poor Mr. William Charle was drowning in confusion.

  Just then, Mr. Balkin—the very man who had drugged him before—walked over with a mug of beer and a pleasant smile.

  “Sorry about what happened earlier. This one’s on me.”

  “I understand. I understand. It was all the boss’s order.”

  William suddenly felt a grim camaraderie—the bond of two workers under the same roof.

  Balkin watched him finish the beer, then looked at him with a slow, sympathetic gaze and drawled, “The boss wants you to drop by his office after you finish your shift.”

  Office.

  When William knocked and entered, Javon inclined his head.

  “Good timing. Come with me to the washroom.”

  For a moment, William’s expression became a masterpiece.

  Especially when, inside the washroom, Javon stepped into a toilet stall—and waved William over with a beckoning hand.

  All the scandal sheets about House Sodoma flooded William’s mind at once.

  Even a newcomer like him had heard rumors of the Sodoma royals’ decadent appetites.

  “What are you standing there for?”

  Javon shot him a glare. William obeyed on reflex, his body marching him into the stall like a trained animal.

  Then he watched Javon put on a silver half-mask, close the wooden stall door, and tap three times on a symbol on the back of it.

  When the door opened again—

  They were in a castle corridor.

  “Welcome to the Black Queen District, rookie.”

  Javon led the way. William let out a long breath.

  So the boss didn’t have that hobby.

  Thank the stars.

  “This is the Black Queen District?” William murmured.

  When they entered the grand hall, the bustle hit him like a wave—crowds, long tables, and piles of Spirit-infused materials glittering under warm lamplight.

  It dazzled him.

  “It’s… incredible.”

  He sighed like a country bumpkin seeing the capital for the first time—then, spotting Beyond Ones with half-masks and bare faces, he abruptly felt danger crawl up his spine.

  “A mask,” William whispered as he followed behind Javon. “Boss—shouldn’t you give me a mask?”

  “Why would you wear one?”

  Javon stroked his own mask. “Actually, I plan to train you. You’ll be the bar’s manager dedicated to Beyond Ones.”

  Javon continued, “So your face being seen doesn’t matter. Our bar’s Beyond business will rely on you. Starting today, you’re promoted. You’ll be a manager like Balkin. He handles daily operations and bounty-hunter business; you handle Beyond business. I need your face as the signboard.”

  I bet you just want to wring out what little labor I have left.

  William’s heart burned with the righteous fury of an exploited worker.

  “Now you have a task. Find someone named Xander or Langley Tannis. Deliver these potions and give them my name.”

  Javon handed over the promised potions. “There are plenty of swindlers here. I hope you won’t be stupid enough to fall into a trap and lose my goods. Otherwise, pray you can escape my pursuit.”

  After seeing your divination… I don’t think I can escape at all…

  William looked like he was about to cry. With a resentful face, he accepted the potions.

  “I’ll complete the task.”

  “Good.”

  Javon nodded—and saw Gantiss approaching from the front.

  “Elvander, my friend. You kept me in the dark.”

  Gantiss wore a wry smile. “You didn’t tell me you were the craftsman himself.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “But I never said I wasn’t.” Javon blinked.

  “And this one is…?” Gantiss looked at William Charle.

  “One of my followers.” Javon answered with a light smile. “He represents me in the market.”

  Gantiss’s eyes grew a shade deeper. A powerful Beyond One’s mouthpiece?

  He signaled into the shadows. A tail-coated attendant nodded, indicating he would watch over the boy so he wouldn’t suffer a serious loss in the market.

  “Those arcane items—you made them too? I have many questions about forging. I’d like to discuss them with you.”

  Gantiss was all warmth.

  “Fine.”

  Javon casually dismissed William and followed Gantiss to the second floor. Then they climbed another level, reaching the castle’s quieter third floor.

  “Each floor of housing represents different permissions within the castle.”

  Gantiss led the way as he spoke.

  “It seems you’re held in high regard by Havier.”

  Javon glanced around. The hush here felt cut off from the lower floors entirely.

  He didn’t mind.

  “Hah. If it’s you, Elvander, you’ll be valued even more.” Gantiss flattered him. “You’re not only a master craftsman—you have terrifying strength as well…”

  Javon had expected news to spread. After all, the Professor, Roselyn, and the others all had their own circles. And Gantiss clearly had deep connections inside Havier’s The Displaced Castle. Someone would inevitably tell him.

  That also explained Gantiss’s increased deference.

  Elvander now carried the weight of a Nonhuman-level combatant.

  They entered a receiving room. As soon as they sat, an attendant served tea.

  Gantiss kept smiling, bringing up questions about forging arcane items.

  Javon had experience, but he had always worked alone. He also wanted to exchange methods with a “proper” craftsman—most importantly, to gauge the limits of the other man’s ability so he could disguise himself more cleanly.

  So he entertained the discussion gladly.

  As the questions deepened, Gantiss’s expression shifted—from disbelief, to shock, to silent admiration.

  At last, when he looked at Javon again, there was something close to reverence in his eyes.

  “Elvander… you truly are a master of forging.”

  Only a fellow craftsman could understand another craftsman’s weight—especially in the mystic arts. It wasn’t just technique. It was how one avoided pollution, how one refined materials, how one used rites to borrow power from a Velthyr without being devoured by the cost—every part of it was a deep discipline, built through years of learning and accumulation.

  A craftsman so young was rare to the point of absurdity.

  Third floor of the castle, receiving room.

  After another ten minutes, Javon finally smiled.

  “Gantiss, you didn’t bring me here just to exchange notes, did you?”

  A trace of awkwardness flickered across Gantiss’s face at being seen through. He recovered quickly and answered honestly.

  “Yes. Havier wishes to meet you.”

  As the owner of the castle, Havier was clearly at least a Nonhuman. A life without a qualitative change could not endure the castle’s drawback for long.

  “I’ll meet him.”

  Javon inclined his head.

  Ever since he’d revealed a portion of his strength in front of the Professor’s group, he had known this day would come. As the black market’s controller, how could Havier ignore a variable as large as him?

  “Excellent. Please wait a moment.”

  Gantiss stood and left.

  Not long after, a middle-aged nobleman entered—brown curls, a slightly round face, dressed in aristocratic finery.

  “Havier, my lord.”

  Javon rose to greet him with courtesy.

  “I am Havier Quinn Enzoss.” Havier’s eyes were gentle, his lips carrying a warm, habitual smile. “Just call me Havier.”

  A man like this was easy to like.

  And easy to underestimate.

  “I hear from Gantiss that you’re a craftsman even he can’t match.” After a few pleasantries—weather, local gossip—Havier poured more tea with a teasing tone. “Which school is your lineage from? Of course, if it touches private matters, you needn’t answer.”

  “I don’t belong to any school.” Javon shook his head. “Self-taught, I suppose…”

  “To reach such a level by self-study—remarkable.”

  Havier praised him, without making it clear whether he believed a word of it.

  Javon could feel it: Havier likely didn’t.

  In the mystic world, most Secret Lore was full of traps. “Self-taught success” was hardly plausible.

  “And the ‘Vultures’… you destroyed them?”

  Havier asked as if it were casual. “That Hunter’s Bar—is it now under your hand?”

  “Yes.”

  Javon removed his mask, revealing Elvander’s face.

  Once he’d decided to bring William into the light, the connections—him to the bar, and the bar to him—could not be concealed from anyone who watched carefully.

  Javon had no intention of hiding it.

  Elvander had no intersection with his other identities.

  “Marek was too greedy,” Havier said lightly. “I always felt he would come to ruin.”

  He didn’t elaborate.

  To him, the fall of the ‘Vultures’ was a small matter.

  Confirming Elvander’s strength—and confirming that Elvander intended to settle down—was what truly mattered.

  “Then…” Havier finally arrived at the point of tonight’s meeting. “Do you still accept commissions for arcane items?”

  “Of course.” Javon looked at Gantiss, playing the innocent. “But Havier, don’t you already have Master Gantiss?”

  Gantiss gave a helpless smile.

  “What Havier wants made… I don’t have the confidence.”

  “Nonhuman-grade?” Javon feigned surprise. “If it’s that level, I have no way either…”

  “No, no.” Havier shook his head. “Not Nonhuman-grade. It’s a special Extraordinary-grade arcane item. I’ve long had an idea.”

  And then—

  Havier’s figure vanished from directly in front of Javon with a whoosh.

  Vanished.

  Javon stared at the empty chair opposite him, momentarily blank, then looked at Gantiss.

  Gantiss didn’t look bothered at all. He calmly took a sip of red tea.

  “Havier does that often. You’ll get used to it, Elvander.”

  “This…”

  Javon made a show of being startled. Inside, he understood.

  A drawback of the castle, then. I just hope he wasn’t buried underground…

  The two of them drank tea for another half hour, sampling the court pastries currently fashionable in Wynchester.

  The door opened.

  Havier returned—now in a different set of clothes—and apologized with a smile.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. That is one of my drawbacks. It causes me no end of trouble.”

  He laughed at himself softly.

  “Tonight wasn’t too bad. Long ago, I remember waking up from my bed—only to find myself lying in a stinking ditch. A truly dreadful experience.”

  He did not add more. Javon did not ask. He only smiled.

  “A novel experience. So, Havier—what arcane item do you want to forge?”

  “This castle is remarkable, isn’t it?” Havier said. “I found it in an adventure when I was young. In that same expedition, I also gained an unusual Dreamworld coordinate. I brought this castle out from the Dreamworld—and at that time, its hallways, corridors, and bedrooms were still haunted by strange Dreamworld creatures.”

  “They weren’t strong, but they possessed teleportation. Hard to capture.”

  “Only recently did I, with the aid of friends and certain arcane items, return to that place and catch a few… The Stiphenc Wraith—that name was coined by a friend.”

  “The materials they left behind have extraordinary properties. I want to use them to forge an arcane item with a teleportation function.”

  Javon’s eyes brightened.

  To touch new, strange materials was every craftsman’s wish.

  “May I see the materials first?”

  “Of course.”

  Havier slipped a hand into a drab pouch at his waist and drew out a large box. Its surface was layered with mystic sigils—symbols of secrecy and sealing.

  Plainly, his pouch was also a space item.

  After Havier murmured a spell and loosened the seal, Javon opened the box and saw what lay inside—

  White eyeballs.

  Human-eye size, each one shining with brilliant Essence as they orbited a central eye the size of a football—pure white, like a cold moon.

  “These Stiphenc Wraith eyes have a peculiar trait.” Gantiss explained, taking one and tossing it into the air.

  The eye vanished.

  In the next instant, it was back inside the box again, circling the great white eye like a satellite.

  “The smaller ones are subsidiary eyes. No matter how far they are, once you infuse Essence, they teleport back near the principal eye.”

  “A marvelous material.” Javon frowned as if troubled. “Forging an arcane item that can teleport people… that truly is difficult.”

  “No.” Havier shook his head. “I already have the castle for transporting people. What I want is an item that transports objects.”

  “It doesn’t need to transport living beings. But the distance…”

  Havier’s gaze sharpened.

  “…must be as far as possible.”