The following days began with a simple, arduous routine. Damon left the mansion early, almost always before sunrise, and returned only when there was no longer any point in continuing on the streets. On the first morning after the destruction of the second point, Morgana found him at the main entrance, adjusting his gloves with his usual calm.

"Going alone again?" she asked, observing him from head to toe.

"Depends on whether someone useful wants to come," Damon replied emotionlessly.

Ester appeared right behind him, already dressed for fieldwork. "Considering you call breaking down doors an investigation, I’ll come along."

Damon gave her a short glance. "Then go."

Morgana smiled slightly. "Try not to demolish half the city before lunch."

"No promises," Damon replied, leaving.

Arven remained as lively as ever. Merchants shouted prices, children ran between stalls, guards feigned attention, and thieves feigned honesty. Damon walked through it all, neither blending in nor standing out. Ester followed beside him, analyzing the flow of people and the smallest details.

"Cherry sent three new names," she commented, opening a small notepad. "Two are probably useless."

"And the third?"

"Professional liar."

"Great. Sometimes liars know useful things."

She sighed. "Your method is still absurd."

"My method still works."

The second suspicious spot was on a commercial street too elegant to seem dirty. Clean facades, expensive shop windows, and overly smiling employees. Damon stopped across the street and observed the side entrance.

"Smells like money laundering," Ester commented.

"Smells like fear," Damon corrected.

She analyzed it again and nodded. Two men were positioned near the door, feigning casual conversation.

"When do we go in?" "Now."

"No plan?"

"This is the plan."

They crossed the street. The first man raised his hand.

"Gentlemen, restricted area."

Damon kept walking.

"I said restricted area."

"And I ignored it," Damon replied.

The man tried to grab him by the shoulder. Damon shoved him with one hand. The man flew against the wall and slid unconscious. The second pulled out a short knife, but Ester appeared beside him like a shadow.

"Bad choice," she said.

A twist in the wrist, a sharp blow to the neck, an immediate fall.

Inside the building, three employees froze behind a counter. One of them tried to run.

"If you run, it gets worse," Damon warned.

The man ran anyway. Damon caught up with him in two steps and knocked him down with a blow to the back.

Ester was already searching drawers and hidden compartments. "There’s a fake ledger here. And another real one hidden behind it."

"Take the real one."

"I figured you’d say that."

In the back, they found tables with small packages being sorted.

"Active distribution," Ester stated.

"Then shut everything down."

She raised an eyebrow. "You love saying that."

"Because it always means the same thing."

Minutes later, the place was unusable. Broken shelves, destroyed product, records collected. They returned to the mansion before dawn.

In the main room, Morgana awaited them, seated with tea served. Elizabeth was at the window, Aria was organizing documents, and Ingrivid stood guard.

"Report," Morgana requested.

"Operational point," Damon replied. "Money laundering and distribution."

Ester placed the books on the table. "Coded accounting. I can open this in a few hours."

Elizabeth approached. "Any relevant names?"

"Several cowardly nicknames," Ester replied. "But one symbol keeps appearing."

Morgana looked at Damon. "And you?"

"I broke the rest."

Aria sighed. "Naturally."

In the following days, the third point took longer to appear. It was mobile, cautious, and changed location frequently. Cherry appeared in person at the mansion one night, irritated and tired.

"I lost two informants trying to follow this trail," she said, throwing herself onto the sofa.

"Lost how?" Damon asked.

"One disappeared. The other returned trembling and unable to speak properly."

"Then they were close."

Cherry pointed at him. "Exactly. I hate when you get it right quickly."

Ester opened maps on the table. "Routes?"

Cherry indicated three neighborhoods. "They change carts, they change drivers, they never repeat the complete route."

Damon grabbed his coat. "I’m going for a walk." "Now?" Morgana asked.

"Now."

Esther stood up as well. "I’ll go."

"No," Damon replied. "I need someone thinking, not following me."

She narrowed her eyes. "That was almost a compliment."

"Don’t exaggerate."

For four days, Damon wandered around alone. He came home late, left early, and spoke little. On the fifth night, he entered the mansion with dust on his boots and his usual expression.

"I found it," he said simply.

Everyone looked at him.

"Where?" Elizabeth asked.

"Abandoned workshop in the north district."

"Are you sure?" Cherry questioned.

"I killed three men at the entrance. So yes."

"You have a strange way of confirming addresses," Morgana commented.

At dawn, Damon and Ester went to the location together. The workshop looked dead from the outside, but the chimney emitted a light smoke.

"Production," Ester said.

"Yes."

"Plan?"

"Go in."

She took a deep breath. "Of course."

The main door was flung open with a simple kick. Inside, two armed men stood up, startled.

"Who are you—"

Damon punched the first one in the face before the sentence was finished. Ester knocked down the second with a blow to the knee and another to the chin.

In the back were chemical benches, boiling containers, and separated ingredients.

Ester quickly observed everything. "This isn’t just distribution anymore."

"Then we’ll break it down with more force."

An alchemist tried to escape down the side stairs holding a notebook. Damon intercepted him mid-way.

"That’s mine!" the man shouted.

"Now it’s mine," Damon replied, snatching the notebook from his hand and throwing it against the wall.

The man tried to react and passed out seconds later.

When they returned, Elizabeth immediately grabbed the notebook.

"Don’t touch anything until I read it."

"I’ve touched enough," Damon replied.

She ignored him and began flipping through pages. Hours later, she called everyone into the room.

"There are incomplete formulas. And a rare component needed to stabilize the drug."

"How many sell this?" Morgana asked.

"Few. Even fewer in large volumes."

Ester opened new maps. "If we cross-reference business licenses with nighttime transport..."

"We’ve found bottlenecks," Damon added.

Cherry entered chewing something and sat down unceremoniously. "I also discovered a phantom supplier. Company with no employees, income too high."

"Address?" Damon asked.

She smiled. "Not even a ’thank you’?"

"Address."

She laughed and handed over the paper.

The next two days were dedicated to quick interrogations. Legal dealers, illegal middlemen, and men who swore they knew nothing.

A fat supplier sweated in front of Damon.

"I sell normal reagents!" "For whom?"

"For licensed clients!"

Damon leaned forward. "Names."

The man swallowed hard. "Verdan House. Warehouse north. I swear."

Another tried to lie and ended up on the floor clutching his dislocated arm.

Ester took notes without emotion. "You realize they would talk to me without violence if I had the time."

"But I don’t have time."

"Disgusting."

"And efficient."

That night, everyone gathered again. Ester spread maps across the table.

"The shipments converge here," she said, pointing to a rural area north of the city. "Old abandoned mills."

Cherry crossed her arms. "I never managed to infiltrate anyone there."

Ingrivid spoke for the first time. "How many guards protect an empty mill?"

"None, if it’s empty," Elizabeth replied.

"And many, if it’s not," Morgana added. Damon observed the marked spot for a few seconds.

"We leave at dawn."

"I’m going too," Esther said.

"Me too," Elizabeth declared.

"No," Damon replied immediately.

She narrowed her eyes. "Repeat that."

"You stay and analyze what we bring."

"Bossy."

"Useful."

Cherry raised her hand like a child in class. "Can I go?"

"No."

"Cruel."

Aria entered with trays of food and placed everything on the table. "Eat before discussing more."

Morgana accepted a cup and looked at Damon. "If this is really the root of the problem, the Duchess will react."

"Great," Damon replied.

"You like this too much," Cherry commented.

"I like to solve problems."

Elizabeth slammed a book shut. "When you find the main problem, bring names."

"If there’s anyone left to name," Damon replied.

Silence fell for a moment.

Morgana then smiled slightly. "Even so, come back alive."

Ester took a piece of bread. "No promises."

Damon stood up from the table.

"Sleep. Tomorrow another piece of this will be finished."

The night passed heavily in the mansion. No one truly slept, not even those who retired to their rooms. There were occasional footsteps in the corridors, doors opening and closing, the low sound of weapons being checked and maps being folded again. When the first ray of light touched the horizon, Damon was already ready in the main entrance, wearing simple, dark clothes, without anything ornamental. Ester appeared soon after, adjusting her leather gloves with her usual calm expression.

"Did you at least get some rest?" she asked.

"I didn’t need to."

"Predictable answer."

"Useless question."

She let out a short sigh. "Good. Then we’re even."

Morgana descended the stairs at that moment, impeccable as if it were the middle of the afternoon and not the beginning of a potentially bloody day. She stopped before the two and observed them both for a few seconds.

"Last time asking," she said. "Do you want backup?"

"No," Damon replied without hesitation.

"Yes," Ester replied at the same time.

The two looked at each other.

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."

"We don’t need backup," Damon said.

"We need witnesses when you exaggerate," Ester retorted.

"I never exaggerate."

She stared at his face for a second. "That’s probably the biggest lie of the week."

Cherry appeared, still sleepy, wearing a robe that was far too expensive for that hour. She held an apple in her hand and seemed annoyed at being awake.

"If they die, let me know beforehand," she murmured.

"How exactly?" Ester asked.

Cherry took a bite of the apple. "Technical details bore me."

Elizabeth appeared right behind her, already formally dressed, a stack of papers in her hands.

"If you find records, bring them intact," she said directly. "I want names, numbers, routes, and connections."

"If there’s time," Damon replied.

"Give me time."

"Authoritarian so early in the morning."

She crossed her arms. "Competent so early in the morning."

Aria emerged from the kitchen with a small bag of supplies and handed it to Ester.

"Food, water, and basic antidotes," she explained. "I don’t trust places that manufacture drugs."

"Neither do I," Ester replied, taking the bag. Ingrivid appeared in the background, leaning against the wall as always.

"If you take too long, I’ll come after you."

"We won’t be long," Damon said.

"I hope not."

Without further conversation, the two left.

The journey to the northern mills was silent at first. The city was slowly awakening, with carts appearing on the main roads and merchants opening their doors. When they left the dense part of Arven behind, the atmosphere changed. Fewer buildings, more open terrain, old dirt roads, and structures abandoned by time.

Ester consulted the map once more as they walked.

"There are three old mills in the marked area."

"Then we’ll start with the most protected one."

She looked at it. "How do you know which one it is?"

"If I were hiding something, I’d protect the center and feign ruin."

"Are you surprised by how easily you think like a criminal?"

"No."

"I would be."

They climbed a small rise and finally spotted the area. The three mills were scattered a reasonable distance apart. Two looked quite abandoned. The third had a similar appearance, but with different details: recent wheel tracks in the ground, a recently repaired side window, and two birds taking flight simultaneously from a roof.

Esther followed his gaze and nodded.

"I agree. That one."

"Great."

"Plan?"

"We watched for five minutes."

She stopped, surprised. "You suggested patience?"

"You don’t get used to it."

They crouched down among the stones and dry vegetation, observing. Within a few minutes they saw a man emerge from the back carrying empty buckets. Another appeared at the top for a few seconds, gazing at the horizon before retreating back inside.

"Bad sentry," Ester commented.

"Confident men relax."

"Or stupid men."

"Often both."

After a few more moments, Damon stood up. "That’s enough."

"Of course that’s enough."

They descended the slope without haste. The man with the buckets saw them first and froze.

"Hey! Area closed—"

Damon struck him in the chest with a frontal blow that sent him flying backward, knocking over the buckets and silencing any remaining words. The noise alerted those inside immediately.

The main door burst open and two guards emerged armed with short swords.

"Who the hell—"

Ester intercepted the first before the question was finished. She dodged the blade, struck his elbow and then his throat. The man fell, struggling to breathe.

The second rushed toward Damon. Bad decision. Damon grabbed the armed arm, twisted until the sword fell out, and slammed him against the mill’s outer wall with enough force to immobilize him.

"Clear entry," Ester said.

"Then come in."

The interior was larger than it seemed. The ground floor contained fake grain sacks concealing wooden crates, sealed barrels, and common tools used as disguises. There was also a chemical smell in the air, faint but unmistakable.

"Definitely here," Esther stated.

Footsteps echoed above. Three men began to descend the internal staircase.

"You shouldn’t have come!" one of them shouted.

"I disagree," Damon replied.

The first one leaped the last few steps, trying to surprise them. Damon grabbed him by the clothes in mid-air and hurled him back up the stairs, knocking the other two down. Wood cracked from the impact.

Ester was already opening a nearby box. Small bottles lined up in rows.

"Product ready for shipment. Much larger volume than the other points."

"So it’s a logistics center."

"Or one of them."

They went up to the second floor. There were tables, logbooks, mixing equipment, and two men trying to burn documents in an improvised furnace.

"Oh, no," Elizabeth would say, Ester thought.

She immediately moved forward, kicking the furnace lid off and knocking one of the men down with a blow to the jaw. The second tried to escape through the window, and Damon pulled him back by the belt.

"Stay."

The man trembled. "I only follow orders!"

"Tell me whose."

"I don’t know names!"

Damon stared at him silently.

"I know faces!" the man quickly corrected.

"I’m improving."

Ester collected the intact books and papers. "It has codes, routes, and dates. Quite a lot."

"Take it all."

She pointed to a reinforced door in the back. "That bothers me."

"Me too."

Damon went to it and tested the doorknob. Locked.

"Key?" he asked the kneeling man.

"With the supervisor!"

"Where?"

"Inside!"

Damon simply kicked the door. The reinforced wood gave way after two impacts.

The hidden room was smaller, but more important. Shelves with rare ingredients, sealed boxes with noble markings scratched off, and a table where a well-dressed man was trying to stuff coins into a bag.

He stopped when he saw Damon.

"We can negotiate."

"No," Damon replied.

"I’ll pay triple what they offered!"

"No, either."

The man tried to pull out a small crossbow hidden under the table. Esther threw a short knife that pierced his hand before firing.

He screamed.

"That’s better now," she commented.

Damon pulled up a chair and sat facing the wounded man.

"Name."

"Varen."

"Position."

"Local administrator!"

"Above you."

The man hesitated.

Damon rested his hand on the table. The wood creaked and cracked under simple pressure.

"Right! Right! I receive orders by messengers. A masked woman. Always a different escort, same mask."

Esther exchanged a look with Damon. "Intermediary."

"Frequency?" Damon asked.

"Every nine days. Sometimes less."

"Next visit?"

"Two days!"

"Final destination?"

"I don’t know! I swear!"

Damon watched him for a few seconds, seemingly measuring whether he believed her.

Ester opened one of the boxes in the room. "This matters more now."

Inside was a large quantity of the rare component Elizabeth had mentioned.

"Heavy production," she said. "Very heavy."

Damon stood up.

"Then it’s over."

"Interrogation over?" Ester asked.

"For now."

They tied up Varen and collected all the documents they could carry. The remaining useful items were destroyed. Broken barrels, crushed vials, jammed gears, contaminated stock. When they finished, the mill was still standing, but dead inside.

On the way out, Ester wiped her hands on a cloth and looked back.

"This is going to cause panic."

"Great."

"You really like this part."

"I like the reaction of arrogant people losing control."

She smiled slightly. "Honest of you." They returned to the mansion in the early afternoon. This time everyone was already waiting in the main room.

Morgana was the first to notice the books in Ester’s arms.

"This pleases me."

Elizabeth practically snatched the documents from her hands.

"Don’t touch anything else," she said, immediately sitting down to analyze them.

Cherry stood up from the sofa. "So? How many died?"

"Too few for your excitement," Ester replied.

Damon dropped a box on the table. Aria opened it and saw the reagents.

"So it was indeed serious production."

"It was," Damon corrected.

Morgana crossed her legs. "And names?"

"An administrator named Varen. Masked intermediary. Next contact in two days."

Elizabeth looked up from the papers for the first time.

"Two days?"

"Yes."

She smiled coldly.

"Excellent. So we can stop hunting for deposits."

Cherry understood first.

"Let’s hunt down whoever’s in charge of them."

Damon nodded once.

"Finally."