The duke’s stableman, Bill, was grooming a black stallion’s mane until it gleamed.

Then, hearing a faint presence, he instinctively turned his head toward the doorway and caught sight of a slender figure. With his keen eyesight, he quickly recognized the silhouette’s owner.

“Oh, my! Lady Croeta, is that you?”

Bill, still holding a brush tangled with horsehair, rushed over to greet her in a fluster.

Along with the old butler, he was one of the few in the estate who showed her any kindness. In fact, aside from the gardener, no other servant held any particular favor toward Aveline. This made the three of them quite the rarity.

“I need a horse,” she said.

“You mean right now?”

“Yes. One that won’t attract attention.”

Only then did Bill take a closer look at Aveline.

She was dressed in riding attire, but over it, she wore a plain, pitch-black robe. She was alone, without even a single attendant.

Instead of questioning why she suddenly appeared and demanded a horse, Bill simply went into the stable and led out a brown mare. He was used to this.

Despite her frail appearance, which made it seem like she couldn’t mount a horse alone, the young lady actually enjoyed riding. She was quite skilled—so much so that at times, she handled horses better than knights, surprising Bill.

This was one of the reasons he felt an unspoken fondness for Aveline. He believed that people who liked animals couldn’t be bad at heart.

For some reason, even the horses tended to behave gently around her. Another one of his beliefs was that people whom animals trusted were never bad.

“She’s had a full day of rest, so she’ll run well.”

Receiving the reins from Bill, Aveline swiftly mounted the horse.

The first time he had seen her ride, he had been anxious, worried that her delicate frame might fall. But now, he no longer felt the slightest concern.

“Safe travels.”

Bill bowed slightly, and Aveline gave a small nod before setting off at a gallop.

He stood still, watching her until she disappeared beyond the crimson sunset.

*

Aveline arrived at Morbe shopping district, entrusted her horse to a carriage rental station, and slipped into the alleyways between buildings.

With her deep hood pulled low, she quickened her steps. Soon, a narrow, unpaved alley unfolded before her. Without hesitation, she pressed on.

She walked for a long time, winding through the maze of cramped paths, until she finally halted in front of an old building.

Loud chatter seeped through the door’s cracks.

Aveline quietly pushed it open, immediately hit by the musty odor of an unclean space mingled with the strong scent of spice-laden food.

Even with multiple candles lit, the interior remained dim. Burly men crowded around tables, drinking noisily.

Though the sun had yet to set completely, the tavern was already as lively as if it were midnight. Without hesitation, Aveline strode through the rowdy establishment.

No one noticed her presence amid the drunken revelry, except for one man. Clearly intoxicated since midday, he was sauntering aimlessly when he spotted her and suddenly halted.

Grinning foolishly, he slurred, “Hey, kid. You lost? What’re you doing here?”

“……”

She was on the petite side, but certainly not a child. The drunkard’s bloodshot eyes made it clear that he was too intoxicated to see properly.

When Aveline ignored him and tried to move past, he trailed after her with an exaggerated sense of familiarity.

“Looking for your dad? Want me to help you find him?”

Every time he spoke, a strong stench of alcohol wafted over her. Instead of avoiding him, she abruptly cut to the point.

“Where is the owner of this place?”

“The owner? Well…”

The drunkard’s gaze shifted to a particular spot.

Behind the bar, where shelves were stacked with liquor bottles, stood a burly man taking orders. He was the most imposing figure in the tavern.

Aveline immediately made her way toward him.

The drunkard, still stumbling behind her, warned her to be careful, but she ignored him. Clearly, the only one who needed to be careful was the one staggering and bumping into everything in his path.

The tavern owner finally noticed Aveline and swept his eyes over her, his rough features tightening into a scowl.

“You don’t look like the type to belong here.”

“Aw, come on, boss,” the drunkard chimed in, slurring. “Be nice to her. Looks like she’s a good daughter searching for her dad…”

“Black whiskey. One glass.”

Without looking at him, Aveline interrupted the drunkard’s rambling, her voice flat.

It was the coded phrase—the black tail cipher—written at the bottom of the note.

“Huh? That’s a thing?”

Hearing the unfamiliar name, the drunkard’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, but as soon as he turned to the owner, he froze.

The owner, who had been indifferent until now, had stiffened. His entire demeanor shifted into sharp tension.

Even the drunkard sobered up at the sight of the owner’s face. The noisy tavern remained lively, but an eerie silence settled in in that small space around them.

“You…”

The owner scrutinized her again, as if assessing whether what she said was genuine.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, the drunkard instinctively began inching backward.

Hic!

Letting out a sudden hiccup, he clamped a hand over his mouth, then quickly turned and slipped into the crowd, feigning sobriety.

As soon as they were alone, the tavern owner sighed deeply and set down the cup and towel he had been wiping.

Then, he went into the storage room, grabbed a lamp, and curtly said,

“Follow me.”

Aveline obediently followed behind him. He opened a small door next to the cupboard, revealing a long corridor.

The building appeared to be just a narrow, rundown structure from the outside, yet it was astonishing to see such a hidden space within.

‘What exactly is this place?’

Despite being a long-time regular in the back alleys, she had never heard the name “Black Tail” before, no matter how much she searched her memory.

That left only two possibilities.

Either the group was so insignificant that its name had never reached her ears, or it was so deeply hidden that it operated in complete secrecy.

And now, given the length and complexity of the path leading to them, Aveline was leaning toward the latter.

“Go to the room at the end.”

As if his role was now finished, the owner handed Aveline the lamp and retraced his steps back the way they had come.

Left alone, she silently walked in the direction he had indicated.

Whatever the true nature of Black Tail was, she had no intention of turning back after coming this far.

Creak, creak. With each step she took, the wooden floorboards groaned underfoot. Sporadically placed lanterns faintly illuminated the dimly lit corridor.

Soon, Aveline arrived in front of a door. Before she could decide whether to knock, it swung open on its own.

“We’ve been expecting you.”

A well-groomed man emerged from behind the door, greeting her. Aveline scrutinized him with open suspicion.

However, the man remained unfazed, enduring her gaze without the slightest discomfort. Though he knew her identity, he did not bow his head, yet his demeanor was polite.

At that moment, a soft female voice called from inside.

“Mark, if you’re too stiff, you’ll scare her. She is our esteemed guest, after all.”

A woman appeared from behind the man, resting a hand on his shoulder as she locked eyes with Aveline.

The man, now identified as Mark, twisted his shoulder away in irritation, freeing himself from her grip. The woman merely chuckled, as if amused by his petulance, and took a leisurely drag from a long smoking pipe.

Smiling slyly, she had deep bronze skin, thick black eyebrows, and an outfit that boldly exposed her legs, giving her an exotic appearance. In contrast, the man appeared entirely ordinary, aside from his somewhat cold expression—just a typical citizen of the empire.

As Aveline tried to gauge the nature of this suspicious group that seemed to have no national allegiance, she finally spoke.

“I assume you don’t intend to keep your esteemed guest standing forever?”

“Oh my, my apologies.”

The woman stepped aside, though her expression showed no real regret.

When the man also moved out of the way, Aveline held her head high and strode confidently between them.

As they watched her retreating figure, a flicker of intrigue flashed through the woman’s eyes.

“She’s bolder than I expected, don’t you think, Mark?”

“Shut up, Natalie.”

The two immediately started bickering. It seemed unlikely that Aveline would get any explanation from them.

Ignoring their exchange, she focused on surveying the room in detail.

It was a small, shabby space without windows, furnished with nothing but a long, narrow oval table and two empty chairs.

In the corner stood a tall partition woven from strands of yarn, and through a gap, she could see an opening behind it, suggesting a passage leading elsewhere.

“Who asked for me?”

“No need to rush, my lady. We’ll call them in soon.”

The woman, now identified as Natalie, winked playfully.

Without sparing her a glance, Aveline walked over to the most comfortable seat, which was covered in soft black fur, and sat down.

The seat originally prepared for her was likely the hard wooden chair across from it, but Aveline had no intention of settling for a lower position.

As Natalie approached the partition, she whispered to Mark with amusement,

“She’s quite an interesting one. I think I understand why the commander is looking for her…”

“Natalie.”

With a sigh, Mark cut her off and gave her a firm push on the back.

Still bickering until the last moment, the two finally disappeared beyond the partition. It did seem to lead into their main hideout.

Aveline stared intently at the opening, waiting for the schemer who had lured her here to appear.

‘Whether it’s a deal or a threat, they’d better get to it quickly.’

At last, the sound of light footsteps approached. Soon, the partition was abruptly pulled aside, and someone stepped into the room.

“……”

For a fleeting moment, the golden eyes—usually so devoid of emotion—widened in surprise.