Kyle's first instinct as he stepped into the lavish interior of the gambling house was to obscure himself.
He didn't need to draw more attention than necessary.
So, with a flicker of focus, he dulled his presence. His mana shifted—smoothed and layered over with careful control until it beca muddled and untraceable.
'This might be a little late, but having protection over my mana is better than nothing. It will make people second guess when they sense my mana in the future at least.'
A cloaking technique. Sloppy, but effective enough at his current level was what Kyle used to make his mana muddly.
'Level 4 mana control. Still not good enough.'
He noted grimly after glancing at the transparent system window floating in his peripheral view.
He couldn't even sense Silvy properly inside this place.
The establishnt reeked of power—people moving through the floors cloaked in magic, voices laced with coercion and influence.
Strong auras pressed in on him from all directions, and he realized quickly that he was one of the weaker ones here.
He needed to hit level 6—maybe 7—if he wanted to isolate her mana signature in this ocean of strength.
But before he could strategize more, a firm hand landed on his shoulder.
Kyle's posture stiffened instinctively.
High Inquisitor Charles gave him a half-smile, though there was sothing calculating behind his mask.
"Co!! You're our guest. Play a round."
Charles said, his tone deceptively light.
"I'd rather not—"
Kyle began, but Charles' grip tightened. His shoulder ached slightly from the pressure.
There was no room to refuse.
With a ntal sigh, Kyle gave a small nod.
"Lead the way."
Charles didn't let go until they reached a large table tucked into a corner of the main hall, surrounded by half a dozen masked individuals.
The mont Kyle sat, he noticed the masks. All of them bore different shapes and markings, but the style was the sa—ceremonial and ornate.
'So that's how they mistook . They think I'm one of them.'
Kyle thought.
"Finally! You're late. We're almost done with the preparations for the purification."
Groaned the person on his right.
Kyle blinked.
'Purification?'
He stayed silent, letting them continue.
"Don't talk so freely. You know the master doesn't tolerate leaks."
Hissed the man on his left.
"Oh, hush. You know our master is kind. They won't punish us for a little slip."
Another voice chid in, this one almost playful.
Kyle didn't speak, only watched.
The more they spoke, the more intrigued—and alard—he beca. So kind of secret gathering, veiled in mystery and powerful figures.
And all of it tied to a 'master' who inspired both devotion and caution.
Before the conversation could slip into more dangerous territory, Charles clapped his hands once.
"Enough chatter. Let's bet. I'll place it on our usual tab."
A few groans and murmurs rose, but the cards were dealt, and Kyle found himself in a quiet, tense round of betting.
He didn't care about the ga itself.
His eyes tracked their movents, their body language, the way they avoided certain topics or glanced toward the darker corners of the room.
After a single round, Kyle stood.
"I need a mont. Washroom."
Charles raised a brow but said nothing.
Kyle walked off with asured steps and exhaled when he was far enough from the table.
'Now to find her.'
He let his focus sharpen, drawing out his control over mana as much as possible. A flicker. A trace. There—light, nearly hidden, like a whisper of wind brushing past his senses.
Silvy.
Kyle followed the thread.
It led him through a narrow hallway, behind the gambling floor. Low voices echoed from one of the rooms.
He paused beside a door and peered in.
Silvy stood inside, tense and frustrated. Her hood was pushed back slightly, revealing her silver hair glinting under the dim light.
She stood opposite a taller man, whose arms were crossed and expression unreadable.
"I told you I'll pay it back. This ti, I actually have a patron. He's rich. I just need to get him on our side."
She snapped.
The man raised a brow.
"You've said that before."
"This ti is different. He's already interested. I'll bring him over soon."
Silvy insisted, pushing a coin purse across the table.
Kyle frowned.
'So she was planning to use ?'
She finally ended the argunt and turned, walking toward the door.
She froze when she saw Kyle standing there.
Her face paled instantly.
"K-Kyle—"
She began, taking a step back.
"Silvy. Or should I say… whoever you really are?"
Kyle said quietly, stepping in front of her.
She clenched her jaw, eyes narrowing.
"So you followed ."
"I did. And you were planning to sell out."
Kyle folded his arms.
Her fists tightened at her sides, but she didn't deny it.
"What now? Going to turn in?"
She asked, trying to sound strong but visibly tense.
Kyle looked at her for a long mont, then shook his head.
"No, not yet."
He said.
Silvy blinked in surprise.
"Why not?"
"Because I still need you. And because I want to know what this place is—what you're involved in. And what this 'ceremony' is all about."
Kyle said, voice low.
Silvy was quiet, her expression unreadable.
"But understand this,"
Kyle continued.
"You only get one more chance. Try anything else…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to. Silvy nodded slowly, tension still thick in her body.
"Fine. I'll tell you what I know. But not here."
She said quietly.
Kyle stepped aside, letting her pass.
She walked out stiffly, and he followed behind, both of them now aware that their partnership was no longer based on trust—but necessity.
______
anwhile, back at the table, the masked players were still imrsed in their ga, but the mood had shifted noticeably.
The absence of their 'special guest' was beginning to raise concern.
"He's taking too long. Should we go check on him?"
One of them murmured, glancing toward the hallway where Kyle had disappeared.
"Maybe he got lost? This place is confusing for newcors."
Another suggested.
"Or maybe he's just disrespectful. Doesn't he know how important this gathering is?"
The first said with a frown.
Before they could discuss further, the atmosphere suddenly grew heavier.
A new figure entered the room—tall, dressed in all black, and wearing a mask nearly identical to the rest of theirs.
The players imdiately fell silent as the man approached and sat down heavily in the chair Kyle had occupied monts ago.
"Tch, I arrive late and not a single person greets ? What kind of hospitality is this? I'll be reporting this humiliation. Don't think I'll let it slide."
The newcor clicked his tongue.
His tone was sharp with irritation.
The table went still.
A slow, creeping realization sank into each of them like cold water.
If this was their actual guest…
Then who had been sitting with them earlier?
Soone stood up so fast their chair scraped loudly.
"Wait a mont… if you're the special envoy—then the one who left before…"
"Was a stranger."
The High Inquisitor finished grimly, his jaw clenched beneath his mask.
Everyone looked at each other in alarm.
Soone unknown had infiltrated their inner circle.
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