Charlotte realized she had lost sight of the man.

  By the riverbank, there seemed to be a commotion. A crowd had gathered to watch, while she saw the bearded man vanish into the throng.

  The disturbance attracted the guards' attention, which made Charlotte worried about whether they were like the city guards, who first blocked the routes and then fired. However, upon closer observation, she saw there were only four guards.

  The crowd dispersed, and Charlotte resumed her pursuit.

  But as she inadvertently raised her eyes, she discovered she had been following the wrong person.

  From her current position, she could see almost the entire Rat Street. There was no way someone could escape so quickly without her noticing.

  He must have entered a building along the street.

  Without worrying about drawing attention, Charlotte leapt directly from the roof to the ground. The impact was silent but startled a woman who was leaving her house.

  The woman cursed a typical Solvellon greeting, but Charlotte paid no attention. She noticed that a manhole cover had been moved recently.

  On Rat Street, the sanitation workers didn’t bother sweeping the ground, only picking up items that could be sold. Sometimes, this included belongings from pockets or houses.

  However, the accumulated mud on the street wasn’t valuable. Just Charlotte’s heels stepping into it would have been enough to make Caroline, her maid, disapprove: “Ah, my lady…”

  Still, despite the thick layer of mud, Charlotte managed to identify the manhole cover.

  It was strange to find manholes on Rat Street, but since three thieves who had tried to steal them fell into the sewer and died, a legend had arisen about a “Sewer Wizard.”

  They said the thieves of the covers were cursed, walking like sleepwalkers back to the spot they had robbed and falling in, becoming the wizard’s souls.

  What truly caught Charlotte’s attention was the sharp outline of the cover. The dirt accumulated around it formed a visible gap, and footprints indicated recent activity.

  Among the overlapping footprints, she identified a fresh trail coming from the river and ending at the manhole cover.

  Ignoring the grime, Charlotte grasped the edge of the cover and lifted it with effort.

  Fortunately, the cover wasn’t as heavy as a giant sword.

  The woman watching was dumbfounded. The cover was almost half Charlotte’s size!

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Swallowing hard, the woman warned, “Girl, you shouldn’t steal those covers!” and began recounting the legend of the Sewer Wizard.

  Charlotte maintained a polite smile throughout the story, occasionally nodding to show she was listening.

  Suddenly, a horrible stench emerged from the sewer, rising straight to Charlotte’s nose and hitting her head.

  She stepped back a few paces, feeling as though her nose might fall off.

  Was it really possible to go down there?

  While the woman kept rambling about the Sewer Wizard’s sixth marriage, completely unfazed by the smell, Charlotte wondered how anyone could endure it.

  She pinched her nose and peeked into the manhole. There was no light down there, but an iron ladder on the side indicated the place had been used recently.

  Going into the sewer didn’t seem like a good idea.

  Charlotte hesitated. It wasn’t the fear of getting dirty but the unbearable smell that made her fear she wouldn’t make it back out.

  “Hey, watch where you’re going!” The woman was interrupted as a man bumped into her. She was irritated, but the abrupt end to the story gave Charlotte some relief.

  And then, she heard something—a melody, echoing within her blood.

  .............

  Beatrice was trimming chrysanthemums as she walked through the garden. She circled the flowerbed, cutting out-of-place branches with precision.

  The branches fell to the ground unceremoniously, and she continued.

  Beatrice’s movements were slow and shaky but surprisingly steady.

  Each step was carefully calculated, landing exactly on the marks left by the previous round. Observing only her steps, no one would believe she needed help.

  Caroline, standing behind a window, watched Beatrice without offering assistance.

  Finishing her routine, Beatrice returned inside and collapsed into a rocking chair, gasping for breath.

  Caroline continued staring at the tranquil stars in the sky, paying no attention to the elderly woman.

  “I’ve heard of Kaihaide,” Beatrice said, catching her breath.

  The two rarely spoke. Caroline, besides her polite replies, never initiated conversation.

  Beatrice, for her part, did not see Caroline as human, despite her almost indistinguishable resemblance to a real person.

  Receiving no reply, Beatrice continued, “That was a city of alchemy. The origin of the Golden Combustion Secret Art and also the hometown of Doctor Amon. I heard that living metals also originated from that city.”

  The name “Amon” stirred something in Caroline. She shifted her gaze from the stars and, facing Beatrice, responded mechanically, like an automaton from the alchemical guild: “Yes.”

  “Meow.” Mr. Morris appeared from the darkness, circled Caroline arrogantly, lay at Beatrice’s feet, and yawned.

  Beatrice extended her hand and stroked Mr. Morris’s chin, making him purr.

  She teased the cat for a while before asking the question that had been troubling her all day: “Were the knights of Kaihaide as your lady described? Did they truly protect the commoners?”

  “Yes.” Caroline responded with the same coldness as before.

  “Oh.” Beatrice smiled but seemed to understand something. “And their true motives? Surely they weren’t that noble?”

  “For the sake of survival, nothing more.”

  Caroline remained firm, but her words carried more weight now.

  “I heard that Kaihaide was ruled by a duke and that Doctor Amon was just one of three counts under his domain. How would an automaton evaluate that?”

  “Puppets, slave-owning masters obsessed with utopias, and greedy merchants.” Caroline’s tone carried disdain, though her face remained expressionless.

  “And the Eiberg family?”

  “The Eiberg house was not subordinate to the duke of Kaihaide but rather a partner. I cannot judge them,” Caroline replied, closing her eyes briefly before moving toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “My lady hasn’t returned yet. I’ll look for her.”

  The church bell had already rung 21 times.

  The alchemical exam shouldn’t have taken this long. Something must have happened. Caroline shouldn’t have let Charlotte go alone.