I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. Office work was somehow more exhausting than poison resistance training. And this was just a small business—a bookshop+café. The ledgers, inventory lists, and customer records piled up faster than I could manage them.
The worst part? Business was good. Too good. The number of customers had grown steadily over the past months, and the real moneymaker—the information exchange—had only properly launched a month ago.
Right, the info exchange.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. And naturally, my thoughts drifted to Emory.
It still baffled me how someone so timid, so painfully introverted during the day, could be running an information network at night.
How in the world was he managing a business that dealt with nobles, merchants, and Resonators?
My curiosity had gotten the better of me a week ago, and I’d offered to "help" him—mostly just to see how he managed it.
What I’d discovered had shocked me.
There was a secret room tucked between the second and third floors of the shop, accessible only to Resonators. A clever bit of aura manipulation made it undetectable to ordinary customers—unless you knew exactly where to look and how to push your aura through the hidden seams in the wall, you’d walk right past it.
But the real surprise had been Emory himself.
The moment he’d donned that plain white and black mask, his entire demeanor had shifted. The nervous stutter vanished. The hunched posture straightened. Even his voice had changed—smoother, darker, laced with an unshakable confidence that commanded attention.
He’d become someone else entirely.
That night, I’d watched in silent awe as he’d handled clients with practiced ease—merchants seeking trade secrets, nobles digging for ways to get even richer, even a few resonators looking for artifact locations. He’d navigated each conversation like a seasoned player, extracting valuable information while giving away just enough to keep them coming back.
No fear. No hesitation. Just cold, calculating precision.
And, almost all of them treated him with respect while showing some wariness.
However, they all left satisfied.
It was almost terrifying how good he was.
A knock at the office door snapped me from my thoughts.
The door creaked open, revealing Emory himself—daytime version, shoulders slightly hunched, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his clothes. His blue bird friend, Kai, was perched on his shoulder as usual.
He sat across from me, his usual nervous energy replaced by something more focused. Kai the bluebird fluttered to perch on the desk between us, tilting its head curiously.
"M-manager," he began, then took a steadying breath. "I have something important to tell you."
I nodded, gesturing for him to continue.
His fingers tapped rhythmically against the chair’s armrest—a habit I’d noticed he only displayed when wearing his broker persona. "For the past two weeks, there’s been... unusual activity at the exchange. People asking about monsters in the forest. Specifically about their nature and territorial behaviors."
I leaned forward slightly. "That’s not completely unusual though, right? I heard resonators take contracts for culling dangerous beasts all the time."
"That’s what I thought at first." Emory’s voice grew steadier as he spoke. "But then I noticed three things: First, the inquiries all came from different people, but half used nearly identical phrasing. Second, they only asked about monsters that are of high rank and dangerous. Third..."
He reached into his pocket and produced a small notebook, flipping it open to reveal meticulous records. "Every single one of these clients paid in newly minted aura coins from the capital. Same mint mark, same production year."
My eyes narrowed. "You’re saying they’re the same person? Disguising themselves?"
Emory nodded grimly. "At least four different disguises that I’ve identified. Probably more."
I frowned, tapping my fingers against the desk. "But why would someone go to such lengths just for monster information?"
Emory nodded, his fingers stilling against the armrest. "I-I’ve been thinking about that too. That’s why I wanted to inform you first."
I leaned back, my mind already racing through possibilities. Countless stories and scenarios flashed through my thoughts—conspiracy theories, hidden agendas, secret plots. Each more outlandish than the last, yet somehow all plausible in this world of resonance and aura.
"Let’s consider the most plausible options," I said, counting them off on my fingers. "First possibility: They’re hunting something specific. Maybe a rare monster part for alchemy or artifact crafting."
Emory’s brow furrowed. "But why the disguises then? Hunters usually brag about their targets."
"That’s right. And usually, they don’t have to come to us for this kind of info. Anyway, the second option," I continued, "They’re testing something. New weapons, poisons, or techniques against powerful monsters before using them elsewhere."
Kai the bluebird let out a soft chirp as Emory considered this. "That... would explain the secrecy. But it still feels..."
"Off?" I supplied. "I agree. Which brings me to the next possibility..."
The cliche one, but the closest one if we consider the worst-case scenarios.
"This possibility will probably sound absurd, but..." I met Emory’s gaze. "What if... they’re planning a monster attack?"
Emory’s eyes widened slightly. Kai let out a soft, alarmed chirp.
"You mean... someone’s trying to orchestrate an incident?" Emory’s voice dropped to a whisper, though his posture remained steady. "But why? And where?"
"That’s what we need to figure out." I tapped the desk thoughtfully. "First question—why would someone want to release high-ranking monsters?"
Emory’s fingers twitched, his broker persona surfacing briefly as he analyzed the problem. "Several possibilities: An evil organization trying to stir trouble. Distraction for another operation. Political destabilization. Or..." His voice grew quieter. "Targeted assassination under the guise of an accident."
A cold weight settled in my stomach.
Although all of them were dangerous possibilities, it was obviously the last one that sounded terrifyingly plausible in my ears.
...The target couldn’t possibly be... urgh, I hate red flags!
"Second question," I continued, keeping my cool outwardly. "Where would they strike? The town’s well-guarded. And since it is winter, the defences have been strengthened accordingly. So..."
Our eyes met as the realization hit us simultaneously.
"...The Academy?" Emory breathed.
It was painfully obvious now.
Because clearly, gathering all the main characters in one place was just asking for disaster.