The moment the man stepped into the inn, something in the atmosphere shifted.
It wasn't loud or obvious. No one shouted, no one reacted openly. But the change was there, subtle and undeniable. Conversations that had filled the room just moments ago began to quiet down, one after another, as if an unseen hand was pressing down on the noise. Laughter faded into murmurs, and even the clinking of cups against wooden tables seemed to soften.
Leo noticed it immediately.
He didn't turn fully. He didn't stare. He simply lifted his eyes slightly while wiping a table, observing without drawing attention.
The man walked in slowly, his steps steady and unhurried. There was nothing exaggerated about his movements, yet every step seemed deliberate, as if he knew exactly how much space he occupied—and expected others to acknowledge it.
He was tall, his frame solid and well-built, the kind of body shaped not in training yards but through real fights. A faint scar stretched across his jaw, old but still visible, adding to the impression that this was not someone who lived peacefully.
His eyes moved across the room once.
Not lazily.
Carefully.
Measuring.
People looked away almost instinctively. A few lowered their heads, pretending to focus on their drinks. Others simply avoided meeting his gaze altogether.
The inn owner stepped forward, forcing a polite smile that didn't quite hide the tension in his face.
"Welcome," he said, his voice respectful but slightly stiff.
The man stopped in front of him and studied him for a brief moment.
"You run this place?" he asked.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried weight. It didn't need to rise to command attention.
"Yes," the owner replied quickly.
The man nodded once and walked past him without another word, taking a seat near the center of the inn. Not in a corner, not somewhere hidden—but in a place where everyone could see him.
It wasn't a choice made for comfort.
It was a statement.
Leo's eyes followed him briefly before lowering again.
So this is him…
The leader of the Black Wolf Gang.
Leo had heard enough stories to understand what kind of man he was. Not just someone who threatened people, but someone who acted without hesitation. Someone who didn't care about consequences as long as his authority remained unquestioned.
The owner approached him carefully.
"What would you like?" he asked.
"Food," the man replied. "And something strong to drink."
The owner nodded and turned away quickly, motioning for Leo.
Leo didn't hesitate. He moved toward the counter, preparing the order with steady hands. On the surface, nothing about him suggested unease, but his mind was alert, piecing together small details.
Men like this didn't come here for no reason.
When the food was ready, Leo carried it over and placed it on the table without speaking.
For a brief moment, the man didn't touch it.
Instead, his gaze lifted.
It met Leo's.
The look wasn't aggressive. It wasn't even hostile.
It was assessing.
Like he was trying to understand something.
Then, just as quickly, he looked away and began eating as if nothing had happened.
Leo stepped back and returned to his work.
Minutes passed. The tension in the inn loosened slightly, though it never disappeared completely. People resumed their conversations, but their voices remained low, cautious.
Then the man spoke again.
"A boy got beaten near the outer houses last night."
His tone was casual, almost as if he were making idle conversation.
But the effect was immediate.
The owner froze.
Leo didn't react outwardly.
"Did he?" the owner replied carefully.
The man took a slow sip from his drink.
"The guards were searching nearby at the same time," he continued. "Strange timing."
Silence crept into the space around them.
Leo kept working, his movements unchanged.
"Makes you wonder what kind of bad luck that boy has," the man added.
"This village isn't exactly safe," the owner said, trying to keep his voice steady.
The man gave a faint smile.
"No," he said. "It isn't."
His eyes lifted again.
This time, they rested on Leo for just a little longer.
Then he called out.
"Boy."
Leo paused briefly before turning.
"What?"
The owner stiffened at the tone, but the man didn't seem to mind.
"Come here," he said.
Leo walked over calmly and stopped in front of him.
"What do you need?" he asked.
The man studied him, his gaze moving to the injury on Leo's forehead.
"You're the one who got hurt last night," he said.
"Yes."
"Fell on a rock?"
"Yes."
The man's lips curved slightly, not in belief, but in quiet amusement.
"Unlucky."
Leo didn't respond.
"Did you see anything unusual?" the man asked.
"No."
"Nothing at all?"
"I was inside."
The man leaned forward slightly, watching him more closely.
"You live alone?"
"Yes."
"No one visits you?"
"No."
The questions came one after another, each simple on its own, but together they carried weight.
Leo answered each one without hesitation, his tone steady, his expression unchanged.
The man leaned back again, studying him for a moment.
"You're a strange kid," he said.
"Why?" Leo asked.
"Most kids would be shaking right now."
"I'm not most kids."
The answer came naturally.
The man watched him, then let out a quiet laugh.
"I can see that."
He took another sip of his drink.
"If you remember anything," he said, "you should tell me."
"Why?" Leo asked.
The man's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Because the people we're looking for aren't the kind you want near your home."
Leo met his eyes.
"Neither are you."
For a brief moment, the air grew heavy.
The owner froze where he stood.
Someone nearby stopped mid-drink.
Then the man laughed softly, clearly amused.
"Careful," he said. "That kind of talk can get you hurt."
"It already does," Leo replied.
The man looked at him for a second longer before standing up. He dropped a few coins onto the table and turned toward the exit.
Halfway to the door, he paused.
"Stay alive," he said without looking back.
Then he left.
The inn remained quiet for a few seconds after he was gone.
Only then did the noise slowly return.
The owner let out a long breath and looked at Leo.
"Be careful," he said quietly. "Men like him don't show up without a reason."
Leo nodded slightly.
"I know."
By the time the sun began to set, Leo finished his work and left the inn.
The village felt different.
People spoke less. Doors were already closing. Even the usual noise of the evening seemed subdued, as if everyone was waiting for something they couldn't name.
Leo walked back toward his hut, his pace steady but his attention sharp.
When he reached the outer part of the village, he slowed down slightly.
Something felt wrong.
The path ahead was empty in a way that didn't feel natural.
Then he saw it.
Footprints.
Fresh ones.
More than one person.
They led straight toward his hut.
Leo stopped for a moment, studying them carefully.
They weren't careless. Whoever had left them had moved with purpose.
His gaze lifted slowly toward the door.
It was slightly open.
Just enough to notice if you were paying attention.
Leo walked forward without hesitation.
When he reached the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
The room was dim, the fading light barely reaching the corners.
Everything looked the same at first glance.
But something felt off.
Leo stepped further in.
Then a voice came from the shadows.
"You're back."
Leo didn't react immediately.
He turned his head slightly.
The man who received leo's help stepped forward.
But he didn't look the same as before.
His posture was steadier, his eyes clearer, sharper than they had been the previous night.
He wasn't dying anymore.
He was thinking.
Planning.
And in his hand, something faintly caught the light.
"We need to leave," the man said.
Leo looked at him.
"Why?"
The man's expression hardened slightly.
"Because they're not searching blindly anymore," he said.
A brief pause followed.
Then, quietly
"They know."