Late that night, in a shabby tavern, Ruben and Ikael sat in modest attire, blending into the surroundings. Their gaze was fixed on a man drinking heavily in the corner.

Though they weren’t openly staring, their attention was focused, making it impossible for anyone in the lively tavern to suspect they were watching him.

Ikael leaned closer to Ruben, speaking in a hushed voice.

“That man can’t be the final informant, can he?”

“Who knows?“

“Come on, after all this, why would he just sit there and act like that?”

Earlier in the day, they had received another package of information from their intermediary and handed a letter to her, asking that it be delivered swiftly to the anonymous informant.

After that, they had been tailing the woman for hours. From a flower girl to a burly, boisterous man, from the man to a scrappy street boy, and then to a beggar, a wandering minstrel, a traveling peddler, and even a dancing gypsy—each received and passed the letter with staggering efficiency. Keeping up without being noticed was a Herculean effort.

Now, the letter sat crumpled in the pants pocket of the drunken man before them. Ikael shot a skeptical glance in his direction.

“What if he loses the letter? This is making me anxious.“

“He’s not as careless as he seems,“ Ruben said.

“Really? To me, he looks ordinary enough.“

“At least stronger than you,“ Ruben said dryly.

“Hey, I’m the brains, remember?“

“That doesn’t excuse neglecting physical training.”

Ruben raised his glass as if to drink, discreetly watching the man. At that moment, the drunkard stood up.

“Thanks for the drinks,“ the man said, tossing a few coins to the tavern staff.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t overdo it,“ came the curt reply.

The man chuckled, patting his pocket as if ensuring his belongings were still there. The letter stayed put, and Ikael sighed a subtle sigh of relief.

Without making a sound, Ruben rose from his seat. Ikael hurriedly followed, leaving a few coins on the table before stepping out with him.

The streets at night were excessively dark compared to the tavern, and almost no passersby could be seen. The two men continued to trail the man in silence, suppressing any noise. The man, now heavily intoxicated, staggered along the path. As he left the main street and ventured into a dark, secluded alley, the pair grew tense again. It was an unfamiliar city, and even a moment of distraction could mean losing track of the man.

Despite his heavy drinking, the man walked on tirelessly. Soon, the moon’s faint glow was the only light guiding their way. After traversing through the dark alleys, the man finally came to a stop. It was a dead end, and at its conclusion stood someone—a shadowy figure.

The two men hid themselves, holding their breaths. The man reached into his pocket and handed the letter to the figure. The recipient, cloaked in a pitch-black robe, was unrecognizable as a human at first glance. As they extended a hand to receive the letter, a glimpse of their fingertips was visible before vanishing back into the robe.

“A woman?”

While Ruben speculated on the figure’s identity, the man completed his task, handed over the letter, and retraced his steps, disappearing into the darkness without noticing the two hidden onlookers.

The figure seemed to stare blankly at the letter in their hand. For a long moment, silence engulfed the surroundings. Finally, one hand moved, tearing open the sealed envelope with an audible snap.

Ikael let out an instinctive murmur of awe. At last, they had found the letter’s owner—their informant. This was the long-awaited moment. Yet as he turned to look at Ruben, elation still evident on his face, Ikael realized something was terribly wrong.

Ruben’s green eyes trembled, unfocused as if he’d encountered something that should never have existed. He froze entirely, his fair face growing pale as though drained of all blood.

“What on earth is happening?”

But Ikael wasn’t given time or clues to grasp the situation. Before he could process anything, Ruben abruptly stepped out from their hiding place.

With determined strides, Ruben advanced toward the informant. Before the figure could react, Ruben unsheathed his sword. A sharp blade, hidden in a weathered scabbard as part of their disguise, pointed straight at the figure’s throat. It happened in an instant, leaving Ikael gasping in shock.

“Why are you here?“

Ruben’s voice was dangerously low. His breathing was uneven, and though he stood still, he felt as though he were suffocating. His mind was a blank canvas of chaos.

In contrast, the figure remained eerily calm. Raising a hand to their head, they pulled back their hood. At that moment, Ikael’s expression also twisted in shock. The face beneath the hood was one he recognized well.

The woman who had stood beside the princess during their visit was the same one who had helped her retreat during the banquet. The sole lady-in-waiting the princess had brought to the Duke’s residence.

“Lina, wasn’t it?”

Ruben frowned as he searched his memory for any information about her.

“That is correct.”

Lina confirmed lightly.

“I’ll ask again. Why are you here?“

Ruben’s voice had dropped to a whisper, so low it was nearly inaudible. If this wasn’t the dead of night, one might not even realize he was speaking.

“You’ve been following me. Shouldn’t you know that better than anyone?”

Lina spoke as if she had been aware of their pursuit. Ikael looked utterly dumbfounded.

“You’re the informant?”

Lina shrugged, a gesture of affirmation. Ruben’s expression contorted with frustration, his face clouded with an anger that bordered on sorrow.

A heavy silence settled over them, pressing down like an invisible weight. Ikael could barely withstand the suffocating tension, feeling as though he might be crushed by it.

Ruben’s mind was no longer functioning rationally. He struggled to anchor his sanity, which teetered on the brink of collapse.

What was happening? His legs planted firmly on the ground; his arm, holding the blade steady; the chill of the night air on his skin; the breaths he drew through his nose; his unmoving lips; his eyes fixed on her—none of it felt like his own. It was as if his body had been hijacked by a stranger’s will.

“The princess…”

No, he no longer trusted himself. His entire body rebelled against his intentions, his mouth opening against his will. His lips trembled as he spoke.

“…Did you betray her?”

The air grew heavier still. Ikael, fearing for his life, clamped both hands over his mouth to suppress any sound.

Ruben’s piercing gaze bore into Lina, blazing with fury. He looked like he’d come here to punish a traitor and sever her life with his sword. The memory that she had been their anonymous, invaluable informant seemed entirely erased from his mind.

“Betrayal? I’ve never held any loyalty to her to begin with.”

“…”

“And even if I had, would that be something for the Duke to be angry about?”

Lina smiled, her lips curving in a way that made Ruben’s fury boil over. At the same time, a wave of hot emotion surged within him.

Was this the kind of person she had by her side? Acting like she could handle anything while keeping someone like this so close? Pretending to be untouchable, all while blind to the snake ready to strike her throat? All for this pitiful outcome?

“…”

But something didn’t add up. The intelligence Lina had provided thus far was beyond what even a princess could realistically know, especially for Helia, who had retreated from the front lines. There had to be another source. She must have had additional channels of information. It was impossible that she had gathered it all from the princess alone.

Yes. It was too much.

Still gripping his sword tightly, Ruben asked in a low voice, “Where did you get the information you’ve been providing?“

“From none other than our Princess, of course.“

“No. It was far too detailed for that.”

At this, Lina’s lips twisted into a smirk. Her expression transformed, her eyes now sharp and predatory, like a serpent’s.

“So, the ruler of Effenberg isn’t a complete fool after all.“

Lina’s voice, which had maintained a bright tone until now, completely changed. Her husky undertone of speech also transformed. Her indifferent black eyes stared at them under the moonlight, and she seemed entirely different. Ikael wished he could simply faint.

Ruben tightened his grip on the sword in his hand. He was close enough to subdue her at any moment. However, the one with the blade pressed against her throat remained utterly composed. With the sword pointed at her neck, Lina opened her mouth.

“Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Miel Apri.”

It was a name he had never heard before. Yet, her confident demeanor as she revealed it exuded an inexplicable sense of intimidation. While Ikael rummaged through his mind, trying to piece together who she might be, Lina—no, Miel—continued speaking.

“I hail from a kingdom in the northwest of the continent. It’s a kingdom that lost its name long ago.“

“No way—Sorel?”

Even as the words escaped his mouth, Ikael’s tone was filled with disbelief. Many kingdoms in the northwest had risen and fallen like anywhere else, but the only name he knew was Sorel. Not because the kingdom held any particular significance but because a famously notorious guild had originated there—a guild known as the source of all information. A guild that had devoured the kingdom itself. People spoke hushedly: “If you want to make a pact with the devil, head northwest. They’ll lead you to him.“

“What a nostalgic name,“ Lina said with a faint smile, readily affirming Ikael’s suspicion.

Ikael stammered as he asked again, “Then… are you affiliated with Devon?“

“Affiliated?”

Lina chuckled softly as though the question amused her.

“I am not bound to Devon. Devon is bound to me. That name exists because I call it forth.”

Ikael froze, his body rigid as if turned to stone. A summoning force. An entity that is not subordinate but instead subjugates others. There was only one meaning such words could carry.

“…The leader of Devon? The guild master?”

Ikael could scarcely believe his words, shaking his head slowly as if to reject the notion. His legs trembled beneath him in the presence of such an unfathomable figure.

Devon was an immense guild of information brokers and assassins. Nothing was known about its leader. Despite the vast sums of money that royal families across the continent had spent to uncover even a shred of information about them, no shadows had ever been brought to light. Yet here and now, this continent-wide power had appeared without warning. Why?

Ruben, however, seemed strangely unaffected, almost as though he had anticipated this. Or perhaps her identity simply didn’t matter to him anymore. Someone else had already consumed his mind, leaving no room for shock at such revelations.

“Why would someone of your stature serve under the princess of a minor kingdom like Bailey?“

“Ah, now that’s the question you should be asking.“

Lina’s expression remained of perpetual amusement, and Ruben, watching her, felt a vague and indescribable unease. Something was deeply wrong. That thought alone dominated his mind. At the same time, an inexplicable urge to run—to anywhere—overwhelmed him. He didn’t know where, but he felt his feet would instinctively take him to where he needed to go. He wanted to throw himself into this irrational impulse.

Perhaps sensing his thoughts, Lina lowered her voice and spoke, her smile vanishing.

“She may not be my master, but she is my employer.“

“…What?”

The hand gripping the sword fell slack, the blade clattering against the ground with an unfiltered metallic echo.

“She bought information from me, compiled it with intelligence she confirmed, and passed it along to your revolutionary army.”

“….”

“She struggled to bear the cost alone, but in any case, she was an excellent strategist.“

“What are you talking about…?”

Ruben felt as though he were drowning. He needed to challenge her nonsense, but no words would come. He could do nothing but stand there, rooted to the ground as though nailed in place. Not even the strength to collapse remained. What was happening? What was this woman saying? His mind refused to process it.

It couldn’t be true. She had always been hostile toward everyone outside the royal family. She had been cruel and dismissive, even to the nanny who raised her, and utterly indifferent to how people perceived her. She treated the nobility with disdain, indulged in extravagance at the cost of others’ lives, and embodied the broken symbol of a ruined royal family.

She was the sole child of the late king, with royal bloodline claims to the throne. A princess shielded by the monarchy’s protective mantle. If the monarchy fell, she would fall with it.

It made no sense. If the royal family disappeared, she would disappear with them. Why would she… how could she?

But even as Ruben tried to reject it, everything he had built inside himself began to collapse instantly. His steadfast convictions shattered into countless fragments, leaving only ruin in their wake. There was nothing left. No remnants to salvage or piece back together. He looked around the desolate ruins of his mind. The world turned pitch black. His vision darkened.

“That can’t be…”

He muttered as if deranged, but his words trailed off before reaching a conclusion. What had she done? No—what had he done? That question alone gripped his chest with unbearable intensity.

“The princess… was the informant…?”

Then, a trembling voice interrupted their exchange. Both Ruben and Lina turned toward the source of the sound. Ikael’s face was pale with shock, his body trembling violently as he struggled to hold himself together.

“I… I didn’t know… and I gave Euresica to the princess…“

“What?”

Ruben repeated the word as though he had misheard. Ikael swallowed hard, stammering out his reply.

“You seemed too shaken… so I asked Enoch to…”

There was no need to hear anymore. Ruben turned on his heel and bolted toward the direction they had come, leaving behind the desperate cries of his name echoing in his wake.

The ground beneath him crumbled. Everything he had trusted, relied upon and believed in disintegrated into dust that slipped through his fingers. Nothing remained. Nothing could hold him back now.

He had to meet her immediately. Nothing else mattered anymore.