For the first time, Lloyd experienced something akin to the exhaustion of a working man.
Kamu seemed to have anticipated everything. As the carriage rattled along the uneven streets, he draped a blanket over Lloyd's shoulders and even prepared a few snacks in advance.
Yet Lloyd had no appetite whatsoever.
He had only just crawled out from beneath the earth, his body reeking of that indescribable stench of dampness, rot, and decay.
He looked toward Kamu at the front of the carriage.
The vagabond had transformed completely. Dressed in clean, well-tailored clothes, guiding the horses with practiced ease, he carried Lloyd through the streets of Old Dunling. There was no obvious malice in him, nor any concern for the weapons Lloyd carried. It was as if he had already concluded that Lloyd would never harm him.
Closing his eyes, Lloyd sank into thought.
A strange feeling lingered in his heart.
He struggled to put it into words.
Only moments ago, he had fought demons through what felt like three hundred rounds of battle and clawed his way out of a river. Yet before he could even catch his breath, he had already been swept into another affair.
Though perhaps it wasn't another affair at all.
From beginning to end, Lloyd could clearly sense that every event he had experienced was part of a single whole, manipulated at will by an unseen hand lurking behind the curtain.
The Rat King.
At some point, without realizing it, Lloyd had stepped onto his chessboard.
From the very beginning, traces of the Rat King could be found behind every chain of events.
In this filthy darkness, rats seemed to exist everywhere, quietly guiding him forward. They had led him to the hidden stronghold, drawn him into battles against demons, and perhaps even orchestrated the arrival of the Suaran Hall, pulling them all into mortal danger.
Lloyd recalled the intelligence brokers he had encountered before.
By gathering immense amounts of information and piecing together deductions, they could reconstruct the origins of an event. At a lesser level, such a skill was merely intelligence and keen perception.
But when pushed to its impossible limit...
It bordered on omniscience.
Perhaps that was exactly how the Rat King operated.
He calculated everything.
He tossed pieces across the board at will, and the present situation emerged as naturally as a consequence.
If that were true, then none of Lloyd's seemingly accidental encounters had been coincidences at all. They were the designs of a mind so terrifyingly clever that everyone involved had become pieces to be exploited.
The thought filled him with anticipation.
A mysterious figure hidden beneath the shadows of Old Dunling, existing beyond the reach of the Purging Bureau.
That alone was enough to excite him.
"How much longer?" Lloyd asked.
"Not long now," Kamu replied.
"What happened afterward?"
"After what?"
"Back then."
Lloyd recalled the scene. He had climbed the wall in pursuit of the enemy, leaving the intelligence broker and Kamu behind with instructions to wait.
"Where did you two go?"
"We ran."
Kamu answered without hesitation.
"So many people died. We were unarmed ordinary folk. Of course we ran as far away as we could."
From the sound of it, they had never waited for him at all.
Reasonable enough.
The gutter rats were clever survivors. Fools rarely lived long amid such chaos.
"And then you met the Rat King?"
Lloyd studied him carefully.
At the time, Kamu had been nothing more than a homeless drifter. Now he was a neatly dressed coachman—or perhaps an attendant of some sort. Whatever his exact role, he was clearly in a far better position than before.
Such a transformation in so short a time could not have happened without cause.
"Mm. I met the Rat King."
Kamu nodded.
"He gave me a new job. What you see now is the result."
His answer was frank and utterly sincere.
The obedience in his tone unsettled Lloyd.
The enemies he had faced before were always vicious people. They barked threats the moment they met, eager to press blades against throats and prove their cruelty.
Yet this Rat King hidden in the darkness seemed strangely approachable.
"You'll like him."
A peculiar smile spread across Kamu's face as though he had remembered something amusing.
"He's a very, very adorable person."
The smile—and especially that choice of words—made Lloyd even more uncomfortable.
He had no fear of ruthless killers.
But secretive, eccentric individuals?
Those were another matter entirely.
The Rat King sounded like the sort of man who possessed deeply unsettling hobbies.
For a moment, Lloyd seriously considered jumping from the carriage.
Unfortunately, fate denied him the opportunity.
The carriage suddenly came to a halt before a tavern.
Lloyd immediately surveyed the surroundings.
The location was troublesome.
To one side stood prosperous buildings illuminated by warm lights. To the other stretched a district of crumbling ruins and neglected streets.
This was the boundary between the Lower District and the Western District—a place infamous for laundering dirty money, where wealth flowed out of the slums and into more respectable corners of the city.
Kamu gestured for him to get down.
"Of course," he said, "before you meet him, you'll need to pass a small test."
"That sounds suspiciously like selecting a royal consort."
Despite his reluctance, Lloyd pushed open the tavern door.
Kamu remained outside beside the carriage, silently watching him enter.
The air within was thick with the fragrance of alcohol.
Not the chaotic den Lloyd had expected.
Patrons sat quietly at their own tables, drinking in silence or speaking in hushed voices. The atmosphere felt as heavy as iron. Even the sweetness of liquor seemed unable to soften it.
His arrival immediately drew attention.
That was hardly surprising.
His soaked clothes carried an unpleasant odor, tinged with the faint scent of blood. He looked very much like a man who had just survived a massacre.
The clientele here were hardly saints themselves.
Most of their dealings involved gangs, smugglers, and worse.
Compared to the usual crowd, someone like Lloyd barely stood out.
He walked straight to the bar.
Whatever this mysterious test might be, ordering a drink seemed like a reasonable first step.
The bartender wore a neatly groomed mustache and greeted him with an amiable smile. Like any ordinary barkeep, he struck up casual conversation while setting down a bottle.
"Was it raining heavily outside?"
Lloyd glanced toward the nearby window.
If it had been raining, the bartender could see that himself.
"No."
He paused.
"I just happened to fall into the river."
"And killed a few people along the way?"
Lloyd's hand froze midway through lifting his drink.
The bartender smiled and pointed at the tears running along both sides of Lloyd's coat—slashes left behind by Banr.
"Something like that."
Lloyd shrugged.
"It's a rough place."
"Indeed it is."
The bartender casually polished an empty glass.
"So rough that even those strange creatures exist. For a long time, I thought they were some kind of demons."
Lloyd said nothing.
"Though judging by your condition, your skills are impressive. Just like before."
The bartender chuckled.
"Me? I start wheezing after a short sprint."
His hand suddenly stopped.
Because Lloyd was staring at him with extreme caution.
One hand had already slipped inside his coat, fingers wrapped around the handle of a folding knife.
"Relax, Mr. Lloyd Holmes."
The bartender smiled.
"This isn't our first meeting, is it?"
Lloyd froze.
His mind raced through countless faces.
Then recognition struck.
"...The information broker?"
"It seems you haven't forgotten me."
The broker set aside the polished glass and poured himself a drink.
"To be honest, I thought you'd recognize me immediately. Unfortunately, my disguise may have been a little too perfect."
He looked nothing like the filthy man Lloyd had met in the Rat Nest.
Back then, he had hidden beneath layers of dirty clothing and grime.
Now he appeared refined and elegant.
No one would ever suspect they were the same person.
"It was perfect."
Lloyd lifted his glass.
"No one would connect you to that filthy fellow."
"Not worried it's poisoned?"
The broker tilted his head.
"Or is your constitution simply immune to such concerns?"
It sounded less like a question and more like an examination.
Lloyd found it bizarre, but drank anyway before setting the glass down.
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
"Nothing."
The broker smiled.
"There are simply many hypotheses I'd like to verify. You might tell me the answers directly, but I've always preferred the process of solving mysteries myself."
He extended a hand.
"Hercule Christie."
After a brief hesitation, Lloyd shook it.
Everything about Hercule embodied qualities Lloyd disliked: uncertainty, unpredictability, and hidden depths.
"So you're the Rat King?"
"Good heavens, no."
Hercule laughed.
"I'm merely one of his information brokers."
"Then why are you here? And what exactly is this test Kamu mentioned?"
Lloyd's patience was beginning to wear thin.
But Hercule seemed delighted.
"You killed that creature."
He paused.
"What do you usually call them? Though I suppose the name doesn't matter. A monster by any name remains a monster."
Before Lloyd could answer, Hercule dismissed his own question.
"You survived."
His eyes gleamed.
"I've witnessed that kind of power before. There was no opportunity to escape. Yet here you are. Which means you eliminated everyone inside that stronghold."
He leaned forward eagerly.
"The creatures included."
Excitement lit his face.
"You're human, yet you possess strength no human should possess. I must admit, Mr. Holmes, you fascinate me."
"What are you, my biggest admirer?"
So Lloyd had been right.
Everything had been arranged from the beginning.
He had been used.
Even more troubling was what Hercule's words revealed.
He knew demons existed.
Yet only partially.
To him, they were merely monsters.
"No."
Hercule shook his head.
"I'm simply a seeker of knowledge. A man curious about everything unknown."
A seeker.
That was how he described himself.
"I know you desperately want answers. About all of this. About the Rat King."
His speech quickened.
"Please be patient a little longer, Mr. Holmes. There are still a few things I'd like to confirm. After all, I wasn't fortunate enough to witness your grand slaughter firsthand."
Though he tried to restrain himself, Lloyd could hear the excitement beneath every word.
The man was thrilled.
As though Lloyd himself were some priceless treasure waiting to be unearthed.
Suddenly, Hercule leaned over the bar and wrapped an arm around Lloyd's shoulders, directing his gaze toward the patrons behind them.
"You're a detective, aren't you?"
He pointed at the silent drinkers scattered throughout the tavern.
"What do you see?"
Lloyd resisted the gesture instinctively.
Yet Hercule radiated no hostility whatsoever.
He had seen Lloyd's weapons and still approached without fear.
At this point, Lloyd decided he might as well see where this was heading.
"They're enemies."
His eyes narrowed.
Only now did he notice it.
The two groups seated across from each other radiated unmistakable killing intent.
Negotiations had clearly broken down.
Violence could erupt at any moment.
"Exactly."
Hercule grinned.
"They always come here to negotiate. Then the negotiations fail and they start killing each other. Sometimes people die. Sometimes they destroy my newly purchased tables. Occasionally blood even splashes onto me."
He sighed dramatically.
"My point is, they never reimburse me."
Lloyd stared at him.
"You're actually a bartender?"
"Of course."
Hercule spread his hands.
"How else would I afford to pay all those gutter rats who gather information for me?"
"So this is the final test?"
"More accurately, it's an assessment."
Hercule stepped back behind the bar.
"I know you're capable of killing creatures like that. What I lack is a proper frame of reference. I need to understand the limits of what you can actually do."
He looked at Lloyd expectantly.
"These ordinary people aren't much of a reference—"
Lloyd stopped mid-sentence.
Something was wrong.
His body suddenly felt heavy.
Numb.
He tried to stand, only to find the motion unexpectedly difficult.
Looking up sharply, he saw Hercule calmly making notes on paper.
"I already know how strong you are."
The broker spoke without looking up.
"I witnessed enough in the Rat Nest. So this time, I decided to place a few restrictions on you."
"There was poison in the drink?"
Lloyd staggered to his feet.
A Witch Hunter's body was extraordinarily resilient.
That same resilience had dulled his awareness of danger.
An ordinary person would have noticed the numbness much earlier.
But Lloyd's enhanced physiology had dismissed the symptoms like a minor cold.
By the time he realized something was wrong, it was already too late.
"Not poison."
Hercule corrected him.
"Merely a standard dose of anesthetic."
He adjusted his notes.
"Under such conditions, the distinction between you and ordinary people should become much easier to observe, don't you think?"
Then he lowered himself slightly, meeting Lloyd's gaze.
"And consider it a warning, Mr. Holmes."
His voice softened.
"Do not allow your strength to make you arrogant toward ordinary people."
Lloyd opened his mouth to object.
Hercule raised a finger.
"No, no. Don't rush to disagree. I know you don't view yourself as superior."
His smile widened.
"But you are overly confident in yourself."
He leaned closer.
"Or more specifically, overly confident when dealing with people like me."
For a moment, while lecturing Lloyd against arrogance, Hercule himself appeared strangely proud.
"Remember what I said earlier?"
He tapped the empty glass.
"I told you the drink might be poisoned."
His eyes gleamed.
"And yet you drank it without hesitation."
He paused.
"You trust your armor too much."
Then he smiled.
"Be grateful I mean you no harm. Otherwise, that arrogance of yours would have become a fatal weakness."
Lloyd glared at him viciously.
But before he could respond, chairs scraped across the floor.
The gangsters throughout the tavern rose to their feet.
The test required to meet the Rat King had begun.