Not long after, Elias was already back in his seat. 

His fingers tapped lightly against the polished surface of the table, rhythmically, like a clock ticking down to something unsaid. 

His smile, calm, almost too soft, didn't quite reach his eyes. 

To Esmeralda, it felt like watching someone hold up a painted mask, the kind with just enough cracks to make it unsettling.

She caught him from the corner of her eye, pen still gliding across the paper.

Her wrist barely shifted as she wrote, yet her mind wasn’t fully on the words anymore.

There was something off about him.

She couldn’t explain it. 

Nothing he did was overtly wrong. 

But whenever his eyes lingered on her, brief, passing, and polite on the surface, her skin tingled like a cold draft had slipped through the room.

It wasn't fear, exactly.

It was the quiet kind of dread that bloomed in your gut without reason.

Her pen stopped. 

In one fluid motion, she set it aside, sliding the paper across the table. 

Then she leaned back in her chair and let out a soft exhale.

"These are just some of the basic requirements from our side," she said, her tone even. "We’d love to negotiate to satisfy both parties. As for the price, we’re prepared to go quite far for the dungeon."

Elias gave a faint nod and picked up the paper with one hand, holding it closer to his face. 

His other hand reached out toward the edge of the desk, fingers tapping again in that same, measured beat.

"Possession of the dungeon is impossible, Miss Esmeralda," he said evenly. "You should know better than to include that on the list."

His eyes flicked up at her briefly as he tilted the paper a few inches off-center, then returned it to its original position, continuing to read without another word.

"Is it really impossible, Sir Elias?" Her voice was light, testing.

She wasn’t expecting a yes. 

Everyone knew the idea of owning the dungeon outright was little more than a fantasy.

Still, she was hoping for something in his reaction. 

Anything.

He angled the paper slightly, the edge catching the light as he replied, “You’re playing in a game that belongs to a Goddess. Curiosity is fine, Miss Esmeralda. But willingly throwing yourself into that game"

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle like dust across the room.

"... is rather stupid, I must say."

A flicker of discomfort crossed her features, but she forced a small, wry smile. “I-I see.”

She didn’t seem particularly embarrassed.

More than anything, she looked… relieved.

As if some unspoken suspicion had just been confirmed.

The butler, standing silently at her side, stiffened ever so slightly. 

His fingers twitched, and he very quietly decided he would forget everything about this conversation the moment they walked out. 

‘A game?’

‘Goddess?’

Why did everyone speak of Her Highness not with reverence, but with fear?

The thought came unbidden, and Esmeralda immediately tried to shake it off.

The warnings are clear, she reminded herself. I shouldn’t involve myself in things that don’t concern me.

Outwardly, she kept her smile in place and gave a polite nod. “Then how about the rest? Is it doable?”

“Several are,” Elias replied, still thumbing through the paper. “I can authorize the establishment of an Adventurers’ Guild branch in the city"

"The right to mobilize Awakeners in the dungeon. The right to sell and purchase, establish a dependency-based marketplace, and a few others along those lines. But that’s it.”

He set the paper down, drawing a line through certain sections with quick strokes of his pen.

“As for the rest… They interfere with Her Highness’s interests. And it wouldn’t end well if she caught wind of these requests. After all"

His tone softened oddly, but the smile that accompanied it was wrong. 

“I wouldn’t want your home city to be slapped to the ground because of your rude suggestions.”

!!!

A breath caught in her throat.

Both Esmeralda and the butler stiffened.

They didn’t respond. They didn’t need to. 

It wasn’t a threat.

It was a fact.

A quiet question settled between them, unspoken, why is everyone so afraid of Her Highness, instead of in awe?

Elias reached across the desk and slid the paper back toward her after drawing several neat crosses through the sections he’d denied.

“I’ll have the contract prepared tomorrow. You can send someone to sign it and return your revised copy based on the conditions I’ve approved.”

He smiled again, that same polite one, and gestured gently toward the door.

“I look forward to a good partnership with the Adventurers’ Guild. On behalf of the city management.”

“We share the same hope, Sir Elias,” Esmeralda replied, standing smoothly as she offered a small bow. 

The butler mirrored her.

They were nearly at the door when Elias’s voice rang out, casual yet deliberate.

“But be careful, Miss Esmeralda.”

She stopped.

“Pardon?”

She glanced back, brow lifting slightly.

Elias still wore that strange smile. “Be careful not to get lost. This territory… tends to become quite a maze during the night.”

"I hope a night walk isn't on your to do list, here"

A faint glint passed through her eyes. She straightened her expression, brushing the moment off.

“I see. Thank you for the reminder.”

Then the two of them exited the room, the sound of the door clicking shut behind them.

Elias remained seated, smile still in place, hands folded loosely on the table. 

The soft rustle of papers shifted in the silence as the frame of the scene slowly panned away from his face.

Eerie.

They stepped out of the room, not sparing a glance behind them, and made their way briskly through the quiet corridor of the government building. 

As soon as their feet touched the polished stone of the main street outside, both Esmeralda and her butler exhaled a breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding.

The moment they were back in the open, Esmeralda clutched the folded parchment tightly to her chest, her expression unreadable. 

Her eyes slid to the man beside her as they walked, and she asked in a quiet voice, “What do you think?”

“Tier six,” the butler answered without hesitation. The weight of his words hung in the air between them. “The previous report was inaccurate. He’s clearly tier six now.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, catching a gleam of insight. “I see...” she murmured, her gaze shifting back to the bustling road ahead as they moved forward.

The street was alive with motion. 

Footsteps and conversation blurred into a humming background, and warm light spilled from the nearby buildings, casting a soft sheen over the stone pavement.

Vendors called out, children ran past in bursts of laughter, and the steady rhythm of carts and feet filled the air.

But despite the lively atmosphere, something gnawed at her from within.

“Why does everything feel so fake?” she whispered, the words slipping out as if on instinct. 

The tone was barely audible, low enough that only the butler could hear. “There’s this... weird pressure. Like it’s suffocating.”

He nodded slightly, not looking at her.

"Perhaps you’re sensing the truth beneath it all, my lady,” he said. “There’s something wrong here, no doubt. But even so, it’s not our place to meddle. The interests converging here are vast, soon enough, the bigger forces will start to move.”

“And when they do, it’ll be chaos,” she muttered, her pace slowing. “I doubt those forces are keen on sharing. Especially not with each other.”

“Certainly not with the cultists,” the butler agreed.

She came to a stop near a food stall nestled along the side of the road. 

The warm scent of grilled meat and spices drifted in the air. 

Without a word, she stepped forward and pointed to a skewer of beef roasting over the open flame.

The vendor, a lean man with a sweat-damp brow, quickly handed one over, dusted with glittering red seasoning.

She paid, took the skewer, and the two of them quietly moved to a bench beneath a street lantern. 

The butler stood respectfully nearby as Esmeralda sat down, crossing one leg over the other and sinking her teeth into the food.

It wasn’t the most refined behavior, certainly not befitting someone of noble birth, but refinement was never her concern. 

Manners didn’t shape character. Status didn’t define virtue.

“Does being born a noble really make someone noble?” she thought idly, chewing on another piece of beef. “If birth decided everything... then shouldn’t we all be born poor?”

A dry chuckle flickered in her chest, and she bit down again, more thoughtful than amused.

She tilted her head toward the butler without looking, her voice casual. “How about those two idiots? Have they tried stirring up trouble yet?”

The butler hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, his voice steady but his expression slightly strained. 

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to report this since early morning. It appears both of them disappeared last night... along with their guardians.”

The skewer nearly slipped from her fingers.

“What?” She turned to him, eyes wide.

“Vanished?”

“No trace. The city’s sentry guards have already been informed by the scouts. But... nothing so far.”

For a moment, she said nothing. 

Just sat there, her skewer forgotten in her hand. 

The taste that had once been rich and savory now felt dull, almost metallic on her tongue.

“…This is going to be a problem.”