Under the cloak of night, Cian made his return to Abetha guest mansion, his countenance heavy with displeasure. Once again, his pursuit of knowledge regarding that mysterious woman and her group had ended in frustration. Before they could even approach the rendezvous, the smugglers had met their demise elsewhere, leaving no trace. By the time news reached them, the band herb had been incinerated beyond recovery.
'They are way too familiar with each corner of this kingdom that it's difficult guess from where they would appear and where they disappear.'
Feeling vexed, Cian sought solace at the mountain cliff, a place of childhood memories. There, he gazed into the distance, half-hoping to glimpse the woman with the windmill, yet she remained elusive. His mind churned with questions: to which noble family did she belong? How could he hope to find her without a single lead? The sole tangible clue, a piece of jewelry, taunted him with its silent mystery.
