Beyond the Sixth Alley

The merchant momentarily let a “jackpot” look slip across his face, but he quickly composed his expression and began to play hard to get.

“This isn’t for sale, young master.”

By now, the sight of the ensuing bickering—the “How much do you want? Name your price” routine—was all too familiar. I truly didn’t want to get used to it, but after repeating this for four days, I was beyond familiar with this crude script; I was sick to my back teeth.

“Elliot! Llewellyn!”

Ah. Finally.

Having finished the deal, Kyle Verenon turned back to us, his face flushed with excitement. Elliot muttered a soft “f*ck,” but Verenon either didn’t see it or chose to ignore it, continuing his performance as a naive, bird-brained sucker.

“Do you think you have anything that would suit my companions?”

“Oh my, oh my! Of course!”

The merchant, having hit the motherlode, couldn’t hide his grin. One wealthy sucker—no, customer—had turned into three. It was clear he intended to make a small fortune today.

The “breaking point” with Kyle-damn-Verenon wasn’t actually his habit of being a pushover. Truthfully, I didn’t care if he was a sucker or a fool. Whether he bought a knockoff cheaper than a steak for the price of a real gem plus a few extra gold coins was none of my business.

Unfortunately, Kyle Verenon was no sucker. If I had to find a proper label for him, “little demon” would be more accurate.

Despite that, Kyle Verenon played the part of a fool perfectly, willingly throwing money at items that were obviously cheap trash even if you looked at them while teleporting. Even if someone ran to Mrs. Verenon to tattle on him, he’d just tear up and give some nonsensical excuse about wanting to fit in with his friends, and she’d fall for it.

Right now, he acted as if he simply wanted to share the joy of discovering these “magnificent items” with his lovely relative, Elliot Dillon, and Elliot’s best friend, Llewellyn Edwill.

Casting himself as our guide, Verenon made a point once a day to wander through stalls and shabby shops. He would pay exorbitant prices for cheap goods to firmly establish his reputation as a mark, then introduce his companions. A sucker’s friends are suckers, after all. The merchants, gauging our value by our clothes, accessories, well-groomed hair, and clear skin, swarmed us like zombies. Every trick and scam in the book was thrown our way.

Naturally, we had no intention of spending money on such things, but these people weren’t refined enough to back off after a single rejection. Grabbing your arm was considered polite; sometimes, it bordered on semi-extortion.

I eventually realized it was easier to just hand over the money than to listen to their ridiculous backstories and sob stories. On the first day, I had been startled by someone touching me and swung my sword while it was still in its sheath; the man had clutched his grazed arm and rolled on the ground, forcing me to pay for “medical treatment.” Since then, I had simply opened my wallet quietly.

Elliot, who had initially been throwing fits, was now staring at the passing clouds with a hollow look in his eyes. It seemed he had finally realized that since he couldn’t stop it, losing his temper only hurt himself. I had given up on the first day and was busy counting how many wood grains were in a single floor plank.

Today, I let out a dry laugh and looked up at the decrepit ceiling. It was a disgusting mess of cobwebs and dust. I didn’t know what had annoyed the owner today, but the shop’s condition was abysmal. Verenon always pushed us right to the edge of the contract’s terms, irritating us just enough without crossing the line. Consequently, unresolved frustration continued to pile up.

“Of all the places, I never thought I’d be in Lovenus wishing I could just go home,” Elliot muttered, his face gaunt as he wiped his eyes.

“When did you say the Viscountess is arriving?”

“In two days.”

Elliot let out a disbelieving laugh, followed immediately by a string of curses.

It was a cycle: he would throw a tantrum, and if we didn’t react, he’d calm down again. Elliot was starting to say he’d just scrap the contract and leave, but I kept my mouth shut. As much as I disliked Verenon, there was a definite gain to be had here.

Go six alleys west from the center, then turn at the third door. To reach “Knox,” it was three more alleys west to a small stream, then another four alleys.

While being fleeced during our “sucker rounds,” I had luckily managed to get my hands on a map detailing the back alleys of Lovenus. It couldn’t compare to an officially made map, but it was clear it had been drawn by someone who knew the geography intimately. Every night back at the hotel, I had poured over it until it was burned into my brain. After four days of being dragged around, I had confirmed that the “limit” of the areas Verenon frequented was the relatively busy sixth alley.

The center was a brilliant hub of culture. Beyond that lay the grand manors of the nobility, followed by the bourgeois and wealthy artists. Lovenus truly lived up to its name as the City of Roses.

But as you peeled back the layers away from the center, its shape changed. The east side, where residential areas had formed, was relatively safe, but beyond the stream to the northwest, it was an entirely different world. The glamorous dregs of the center were pushed to the west. Poor artists, the destitute, orphans—the people living in the shadows. And at the end of it all sat Knox.

A lawless zone that didn’t appear on any map. The trash spat out by the most brilliant city. A place that existed but remained unspoken of—a forbidden territory.

As the city that had once felt so abstractly distant grew closer, my tension took on a more concrete form.

“You can’t go any deeper than this.”

Having vented his spite, Verenon approached me with a smile, looking as cheerful as when we first met. He whispered as if sharing a grave secret.

“This is the line where they stop leaving nobles alone out of fear of a headache.”

“The line?”

“Yeah. The rule is that neither side invades the other’s territory.”

I could guess the gist of it. The other nobles of Lovenus weren’t ignorant of the ecosystem of the back alleys. In the capital, such a thing would be unthinkable, but the nobles here chose coexistence. They knew that even if they tried to cut it out, it would be impossible to eradicate completely. An extreme economic structure that had taken root over so much time couldn’t be normalized overnight.

Moreover, there was a massive red-light district in northern Lovenus. How many people would maintain a conscience in the face of such a lucrative business? None. Everyone, great or small, likely had a hand in it. To clean it up, they’d have to cut that out too. Naturally, it was impossible. The higher one’s status and the more benefits one receives, the more they wish for the world to remain unfair—so that it remains beneficial only to themselves.

“So this is the line. What happens if we cross it?”

“That’s where being a noble will get you into serious trouble.”

Blue eyes, resembling the Viscountess, sparkled. It made me wonder for a moment—if he was a “half-blood,” was it on the Viscount’s side or the lady’s?

“But Llewellyn, I didn’t expect you to actually talk to me. You haven’t answered me or even looked at me for three days.”

Yeah, and I’m going back to doing exactly that now. I had heard the answer I wanted, so I had no lingering regrets. I ignored Verenon again, turning my gaze toward the distance as I had for the past several days.

“Ahaha, how cruel.”

Your existence is crueler.

Water is water, and mountains are mountains. Where do those passing clouds go? I intentionally spaced out, and Verenon, quickly losing interest, moved toward the exhausted Elliot. He must have decided that a reaction, even a negative one, was better than nothing. I didn’t want to praise him, but it was a wise choice.

Elliot, forced to buy “The Treasure of Licht,” had annoyance written all over his face. Given his keen eye for quality, the fact that he had spent money on such trash clearly rubbed him the wrong way. I felt a deep sense of guilt toward Elliot, who was being sacrificed for my personal agenda. My nightly attempts to soothe him with promises of repayment were reaching their limit.

In my thinned wallet, the few remaining silver coins in my lightened pouch clinked against each other. At the very least, the merchants had a final shred of “conscience” and didn’t strip us of every single coin—though it was more likely they left us something so we wouldn’t come back seeking revenge. Just as I was about to head out to buy Elliot a drink to calm him down, someone bumped into me.

Exhausted in both mind and body, the sudden impact made me stumble and sparked a flash of irritation, but my anger vanished when I realized the culprit was a brat who looked barely ten years old. He was somewhat tall, but far smaller than me in build. The ankles peeking out from under his baggy pants were skin and bone.

“Edwill! Catch him!”

The shout came from Verenon.

My body reacted instinctively to the shout, and I took off. The speed difference between me, who had been raised on good food and physical training, and the small brat was stark. If it had been a more complex alleyway, his knowledge of the geography might have given him the advantage, but unfortunately, the path from the fifth road to the fourth was fairly wide with nowhere to hide.

I lunged at the kid and we tumbled to the ground. I had caught him simply because I’d been told to, but…

“He’s a pickpocket.”

Verenon pointed at my waist with a smirk. My coin pouch, which had been jingling just a moment ago, was empty. I couldn’t help but say, with a bitter taste in my mouth:

“Thanks.”

Even though I thanked him, Verenon remained silent. Soon, he tilted his head.

“We should hand him over to the guards. I don’t know how it is in the capital, but in Lovenus, if you’re caught stealing, they cut off your hand. Guess he won’t be pickpocketing anymore.”