After Marcus settled back into his seat, Serah wasted no time, laying everything out plainly. She told him about her mission involving Vaelen Drosmir—how she and her team had combed through every lead, only to find dead ends. Nothing tied Drosmir to any illicit dealings, not a shred of evidence pointing to slave auctions, or even the faintest trace of dirty business.
"Uh... how exactly do you need my help again?" Marcus asked, scratching the back of his neck.
Serah exhaled heavily. "Unlike me and my team, who haven’t fully dedicated ourselves to this sort of work, you—at least from what I can tell—live and breathe it. Shadows among shadows, assassinations, infiltration, and everything that comes with it. You’re the best person to ask for advice."
Marcus gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Yeah... you’re right."
"Well, first," he began, leaning back in his chair, "if Drosmir’s a dark mage but also has an affinity for water, it would make sense that all the dark mage detectors in Heyh wouldn’t pick him up—as long as he’s avoided using his dark magic. If he’s only been relying on his water magic, he could’ve gone undetected for years."
"Then how was the girl we recovered under the effect of a dark magic spell?" Serah countered. "That would mean he’s still using his magic and just has an incredibly good way of hiding it."
"Or," Marcus said with a sly smirk, "he might just have other dark mages doing the spellcasting for him."
Serah’s eyes widened slightly at the implication.
"Think about it," Marcus continued, his tone almost casual. "If Drosmir cast a memory spell on that girl, it’s likely he’s done the same to other slaves. If that’s the case, then there’s no way he’s as squeaky clean as you say... unless he’s my father."
The last remark made Serah narrow her eyes. "What do you mean by ’unless he’s your father’?"
"That’s something I can’t tell you, princess," Marcus replied with a smile that gave nothing away.
Serah studied him for a moment before speaking again. "So you’re saying Drosmir probably has other dark mages doing the actual work for him?"
"Yep. And besides, what makes you think a man at the top of the table has time to handle everything himself? If he did, it’d only make him more likely to get caught. But if he’s got others getting their hands dirty, then he can slip through even the tiniest cracks whenever trouble comes knocking."
Serah’s expression turned thoughtful as she considered his words. "Yeah... you’re right."
"Of course I’m right," Marcus said with a smug grin.
Serah ignored him. "Then how would we even prove he’s a dark mage or not? We’ve found no traces of dark magic in his manor or any of his warehouses. If he does have other dark mages doing his dirty work, shouldn’t they at least be leaving something behind?"
Marcus drummed his fingers against the table, each tap slow and deliberate, like he was counting down to something only he knew. "They probably are," he said at last. "You’re just looking in the wrong places."
Serah’s eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"Princess," he began, leaning forward, voice dropping just enough to draw her in, "if you were hiding something that could burn your entire life to the ground, would you keep it anywhere near your home? Your business? Your public face?"
"No," she admitted reluctantly.
"Exactly. You wouldn’t bury your secrets in your own yard—you’d scatter them where nobody would think to dig. Safehouses. Abandoned buildings. Maybe even in the hands of people who don’t realize they’re holding something dangerous."
Serah crossed her arms. "So you’re saying you think he’s got a stash—slaves, evidence, whatever—tucked away somewhere else in the city?"
Marcus’s smirk deepened. "Not in the city. You already said you’ve found nothing here, which means the only option left is miles away. The real trick is finding the trail without letting him know you’re on it."
"That’s easier said than done," Serah muttered.
"Not if you work smart," Marcus countered smoothly. "You’ve been sniffing for magic traces in all the obvious places. But if he’s careful—and from what you’ve told me, he’s very careful—he’s got middlemen doing the heavy lifting. People too low to matter in the grand scheme of things."
Serah tilted her head. "Servants."
"Servants," Marcus confirmed. "Guards. Dock workers. Messengers. The kinds of people everyone overlooks. That’s where you’ll find the cracks. Someone will slip. Someone always does."
She gave him a skeptical look. "And how exactly am I and my team supposed to find that ’someone’?"
Marcus’s grin sharpened. "You don’t. You let them find you."
Serah raised a brow. "And that means... what, exactly?"
"Simple," Marcus said, leaning back like he was explaining something so obvious a child could understand it. "Stop hunting like a wolf and start baiting like a spider. Set the kind of trap that forces the little fish to swim right into your web. You stir the waters in just the right places, at just the right times, so word trickles back to the wrong ears. If Drosmir’s people think someone’s sniffing too close, they’ll panic. They’ll move whatever they’re hiding. And when they do..."
Serah’s lips parted slightly as the realization sank in. "We follow them."
"Exactly." Marcus tapped the side of his head. "But you’ve got to do it quiet. You tail someone straight from his estate, they’ll smell you before you even get started. You need layers—watchers for the watchers, dead-drop signals, fake leads to shake their rhythm."
Serah exhaled slowly, clearly debating whether she actually wanted to take advice from him. "You make it sound so easy."
Marcus chuckled. "Easy? No. Not for you and your team, anyway. But since you said you’ve got two people who can actually move quietly, if they’re half as good as you think they are, it gets a lot less difficult."
"I see," Serah said. "Is there somewhere that would be best to start?"
"The docks," Marcus replied without hesitation. "Always the docks. If Drosmir’s moving bodies or contraband, they’ll pass through there—quiet shipments at strange hours, paperwork nobody checks too closely. That’s where you’ll spot your first crack."
"You’re sure that’s the best place to start?"
"Nope," Marcus said, shrugging. "But if it were my mission, that’s where I’d begin."
Serah studied him for a moment before scoffing. "Who am I to judge when you’re the one giving advice?"
Marcus grinned, clearly pleased.
"I guess I’ll approach this operation from that angle, then," she said. "Thank you, Marcus."
"You’re welcome, princess."
"Since we’re done here, I suppose I can leave now..." he added, rising from his seat.
Serah stood as well, extending her hand.
Marcus regarded her for a beat before smiling and clasping it. "Your hand is really soft."
"Can you be official for one second?" Serah said, rolling her eyes.
"I was," Marcus replied with a faint smirk. "Just now, when I was helping you."
Serah sighed. "I guess you were." She released his hand. "Guess this is goodbye for now."
"Yeah," Marcus said, turning to leave. But he paused mid-step. "Oh—and princess? You and your team should also confirm whether Drosmir isn’t a double. The one you see in Heyh, I mean. If he is, catching the real Drosmir might be a lot easier than you think."
"A double?" Serah muttered under her breath.
Marcus only smirked. "Well, see you when I see you, princess."
And with that, Marcus stepped out into the afternoon sun, the light catching on his shoulders as he slipped into the moving tide of people. His pace was unhurried, his whistle carrying a casual, almost mocking rhythm that lingered in the air long after he had vanished into the crowd, leaving Serah standing alone.
Her eyes followed him until he disappeared from sight, but her thoughts remained tangled in his final words. A double? In the six weeks she’d been on this operation, that possibility had never once crossed her mind—or the minds of her team. They had been so focused on the man in Heyh that it hadn’t even occurred to them to question whether he was the real Drosmir at all.
Yet Marcus, who had known nothing of this mission until mere minutes ago, had thrown the idea out as if it were obvious. She wanted to be irritated with herself for missing something so potentially crucial, but the truth was plain—Marcus struck her as someone who had faced situations countless times, someone who had learned to see angles others overlooked. For him, coming up with a possibility like that was as natural as breathing.
"A double, huh?" Serah murmured under her breath. "If the Drosmir we’ve been tailing for the past six weeks is just a stand-in, then it makes perfect sense why we’ve found nothing. Which means the real Drosmir could be in a completely different city... maybe even another Zone altogether."
The thought made her sigh, though it wasn’t entirely from frustration. Her mission had just taken a sharp turn, but perhaps in the right direction—toward a real chance of success.
Still, there was a problem. "If I tell the others about this," she thought grimly, "I have to make sure it doesn’t trace back to Marcus. If there’s even a hint that he’s connected, it could go bad for everyone... but especially for him. And I can’t let that happen."
Her decision made, Serah reached into her pouch and placed five gold coins on the table, leaving them behind as payment. She turned to go, her mind still racing with new possibilities—only to halt after two steps.
"Yeah," she said quietly to herself. "Myla did say she wanted food."