At night, Panthonia climbed over a low wall, stepped onto the grass-covered ground, and entered a dilapidated half-collapsed house. It used to be a clock shop, so there were many old clocks on the walls, now unable to measure the passage of time. The corpses of time.
Inside the house, a collapsed wall connected the former living room and bedroom. A lamp was lit here. Three people stood within the dim yellow light. The leader was the poisoner, Ravenholt, who had once disguised himself as a male servant.
Panthonia entered the room and glanced at them in turn. He sensed hostility from the tallest among them.
"Hey, boss," the poisoner said. "These are my companions. It wasn't necessary, but I think it's proper for the employer and the hired to meet."
"There should be one more person," Panthonia said.
"He's outside. After confirming that you didn't bring anyone else, he should come in."
"Tell me the situation."
"From now on, you have twenty-four hours," the poisoner provided an address. "Salvaney is hiding there. He allowed my companions to jointly scout the location within a day. If it takes too long, he'll become suspicious. So practically, your chance is probably from dawn to sunset. When we're not here, he should call back some men for protection. In fact, we don't need to investigate for you."
"There's nothing more for us here. What about the remaining payment?" Another assassin asked.
"Of course, it needs to be confirmed that you haven't deceived me before I say it. It's also stipulated in the contract," Panthonia said. "By this time tomorrow, someone will come to take you to where the money is."
"If you die during the capture of that guy, can we still get the money?" The poisoner asked.
"That's impossible."
"I don't like your attitude," the tall one, who had been hostile, said. "If it weren't for someone getting in the way, our companion would have killed you last time. Just like killing a wild dog."
"I'm the one who survived. And he... the Security Bureau usually doesn't bury the bodies of assassins. I guess you wouldn't want to know where he ended up."
The tall one drew his knife. "You disgusting little bastard. I'll at least cut off one of your hands."
"Hey," the poisoner touched the tall one's arm, as if to stop him from approaching. "If you do this, we really won't get the money."
"I don't want my share. There are two commissions waiting for me at the manor, and I don't need this little money."
"Hold on," the poisoner raised his voice. "Even if you're terminating the contract, the three of us aren't. Understand the rules of the manor."
The tall one looked at the poisoner, then at the other companion, realizing he was isolated. He pointed his knife at Panthonia and said, "You'll pay for this sooner or later," before retracting his knife.
"So... who's the one bringing us the money tomorrow?"
"Easy to recognize. A blind beggar. He doesn't even know he's leading for someone else. When he comes here tomorrow and knocks on the door, just follow him. Don't worry, he's been blind for seventy years, and no one will track or harm him, even in the Queen's District. Just in case, he carries a map in a cloth bag. If you don't want to waste time following him, use whatever method you find convenient."
"To be honest," the poisoner said, "I'm curious, what were you doing before infiltrating the Security Bureau? You're quite bold. This guy even bet that you wouldn't have the guts to come alone."
"Knowing about my situation won't help. We won't meet again."
"Perhaps so. Of course, you can come to Ravenholt to continue providing us with work. We rarely have clients from institutions like the Security Bureau. Lord Jorach would be very pleased to have you," Panthonia said.
"I doubt that," the response came.
"I guess that's all there is to say. So, good luck," Panthonia concluded.
Panthonia left the dilapidated house. He took quite some time to ensure no one was tracking him before leaving the Queen's District. He entered a tavern connected to the Security Bureau through a back door and went upstairs. The tavern was closed today. Dennisen and some of his men were waiting for him.
"How did it go?" Dennisen asked as soon as he saw his partner.
"The location has been identified," Panthonia replied with the address.
"Are those guys trustworthy?" Dennisen inquired.
"No need to worry. It's not to their advantage to deceive us."
"But if they're allied with Salvaney..."
"If that were the case, I wouldn't have come back here. Besides, the house at the address is in a densely populated area of Queen's Street. Even Salvaney wouldn't think it's suitable for a trap."
Although he had already carefully considered these questions, Dennisen always felt he needed to hear Panthonia say it himself to be reassured.
"Do you know how many people are with him?" Dennisen asked.
"I don't know. But I don't think there will be much resistance since we've eliminated most of the core members of the organization."
"Or maybe we should wait until tomorrow morning, scout first, and then act in the afternoon..."
"We don't have that much time, and as I said, it's densely populated there. You're not in the right state, Dennisen. I don't know what you're thinking. Remember, this time we're not going to fight Salvaney. He doesn't deserve that. We're just going to bring back a criminal."
"I... I don't know. Actually, I wasn't nervous before. But after talking to her..."
"You talked to your fiancée? About this matter?"
"Uh, yes. I said I was going to catch Salvaney tonight. She was very worried and started crying. When she cries, I get nervous."
Seeing his partner silent, Dennisen added, "Sorry. I know I made a mistake."
"Let's move now," Panthonia said. "We need to bring him back before dawn."
Dennisen's words suddenly sparked an imagination in Panthonia that shouldn't have existed. What would happen if he also told Hilsbeth about this in advance? What would she say? What would she do? Since living together, they hadn't mentioned Aretta again. Bringing up Salvaney now might bring her ghost back between them. But, perhaps, what Hilsbeth would primarily consider was his safety. There were times when he needed to leave home at night for missions, and she would have that look: disgust and discomfort at the unexpected momentary separation. She wasn't like some women in the past, constantly trying to please him with methods he was already tired of. Hilsbeth had become part of his life.
He halted his imagination. Because if he continued, he would soon feel no smarter than Dennisen.
Panthonia and Dennisen led five colleagues to the destination. It was a two-story mansion with iron bars guarding it, which was quite impressive for a building in the Queen's District. There was a person guarding the front door. Two Security Bureau members made noise in the distance, attracting his attention. Panthonia quickly circled around and took care of him. From the window, a light could be seen in the downstairs hall, and it seemed that some people were sitting around; as they got closer to the house, they could hear a gambling game in progress.
They quickly chose one of the predetermined tactics. Panthonia alone climbed to the second-floor balcony with a grappling hook. The house was dark, but he could vaguely see a figure lying on a bed through the window. The figure was facing away from this side, but from the outline of the body, it could only be Salvaney. Panthonia turned around and signaled downstairs to Dennisen.
Not long after, Dennisen burst through the wooden door with his men and stormed into the ground floor hall. There were shouts, clashes of blades, barking dogs, and gunfire. Soon, there was a cry of someone being seriously injured, but Panthonia recognized it wasn't the voice of a Security Bureau member.
He also heard Salvaney waking up, jumping out of bed, and retrieving his weapons from somewhere. Panthonia didn't see all this, but it sounded like some sort of club. Salvaney typically only used his fists, and if he had to resort to a weapon, he'd grab something easy to swing and capable of blocking blades. Panthonia also heard Salvaney cursing, pacing back and forth in the room, seemingly not immediately intending to go downstairs to confront. There was a moment when he walked to the door leading to the balcony but didn't open it, instead quickly returning to the center of the room.
Panthonia didn't rush to act; although the best approach would be to ambush Salvaney when he came onto the balcony himself, there wasn't such an opportunity. He took out his lockpicking tools and inserted them into the keyhole. The commotion downstairs would prevent Salvaney from detecting this sound. When he heard Salvaney touch the bedroom door, preparing to go out, Panthonia deemed it the right moment and opened the door. His movements were deliberate, trying not to make noise, to give himself a chance to approach Salvaney from behind after entering the room. The moonlight was dim, and opening the balcony door shouldn't alert Salvaney to the change in light behind him.
With the door halfway open, Panthonia already saw Salvaney's back; the long-sought enemy stood in the corridor outside the front room door, gripping a long iron rod tightly in his right hand, leaning forward to look downstairs. He seemed to be planning to go down to assist in the fight; Panthonia was confident he could safely approach the enemy. A long weapon was difficult to use in the relatively narrow room, coupled with Salvaney's unusually large stature, Panthonia didn't think the enemy would effectively counterattack at close range.
At that moment, he heard a voice behind him. Instinct made him lower his body and lunge forward into the room, avoiding the blade aimed at his head.
As he landed, he rolled, then turned around to see the Ravenholt assassin who had earlier threatened to cut off his hand standing in his previous position.
"Salvaney," the assassin said loudly. "Looks like I just saved your life."
Salvaney turned around, looking at Panthonia in the corner of the room, immediately assuming a defensive stance, then said to the assassin, "What's going on? Where are the other idiots?"
"You can ask this kid here. He's bought them all off. I don't need money... neither yours nor his. But I don't like him, so I decided to help you. And this man is Panthonia Shawl, the one who's always been against you."