"Yellow sparrow?"

Muen glanced at the figure not far away and furrowed his brow slightly.

The figure was completely wrapped in a wide black robe, revealing no features at all. Yet Muen still faintly sensed something familiar about him.

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this. Back in that shady shop, he’d felt it too. Strange. Was this black market outing just a reunion tour?

But Muen quickly cast the thought aside. The chances of meeting someone he knew in a place like this ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ were slim to none—most likely it was just his imagination. After all, instinct was rarely reliable.

"Excuse me..."

Muen glanced at the figure’s chest.

"Mister, what do you mean by 'yellow sparrow'?"

The figure suddenly flinched. The hand hidden beneath the robe clenched, then loosened again. For some reason, his tone became less friendly than before.

"Hmph, still pretending to be clueless? You're hiding here just waiting for those guys to beat each other's brains out so you can swoop in and snatch the goods."

"I am waiting for them to fight," Muen replied, "but I’m not planning to snatch anything."

"There’s no use lying."

The figure gestured around them. Shadows flickered past.

"Look around you. These people all know how hard it is to grab something in this mess—but did any of them back off? No. They're all thinking, 'Might as well try. If it works, it’s a windfall.'"

"Oh? So you’re saying..."

"That’s why, my friend, you look kind of familiar. I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before...”

The figure rubbed his hands together excitedly. “And you don’t seem weak. Late Second Rank, right? In the Lower City, that’s more than enough to slaughter your way through. Want to team up and take the whole pot?"

"Familiar?"

Muen chuckled. "That kind of instinct isn’t very reliable. And how do I know you’re not trying to scam me?"

"We can form a contract."

The figure pulled out a sheet of golden paper. “Divine Contract. Once it’s signed, it can’t be violated. We team up, then once we grab the Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood, we each fight for our share. Sound good?”

"That does sound appealing."

Muen nodded, but still refused.

"Sorry, but I’m not planning to make a move."

"You still want to wait? Can’t you see it yet? This stalemate—someone has to break it, or there won’t be chaos. Or are you banking on those cowardly bastards?”

The figure stomped angrily.

"When you play black vs. black, timing is everything. You wait when it’s time to wait, but when it’s time to strike, you don’t hesitate! The time is now. What are you still waiting for?"

"Who said I was planning to backstab anyone?"

Muen smiled. “You’ve misunderstood.”

"Misunderstood? You’re not here to snipe the winners—what, are you just here to watch the show? Then I recommend you move a bit closer. The mist by the river doesn’t give a great view."

"I’m not watching the show either. I’ve got... other methods."

"Other methods?"

The figure paused, then let out a scornful laugh. “I get it. You’re planning to wait until the very end, huh? Be the last yellow sparrow to sweep in. I’ve seen your type. No guts, just sitting back hoping to scoop everything up at the last second. And you end up with nothing.”

As he spoke, the figure lowered his gaze, as if he’d just discovered something. Then he said, “Ah, I see. A newbie? Some rich young master come slumming for kicks? Now it all makes sense. Kid, the black market’s dangerous without experience. I suggest you run home and go flip up your maid’s skirt instead.”

His tone had taken on the smug air of a seasoned elder dispensing wisdom.

But Muen wasn’t fazed. He simply followed the figure’s gaze and looked down.

As the hem of his black robe fluttered in the riverside breeze, the edge of a luxurious golden-threaded cuff peeked through. No one who lived in the Lower City would be caught dead wearing something that fine.

Looks like even his inner clothes needed changing next time.

Muen tucked the sleeve back into the robe and said with a smile,

"In that case, I suggest you give up too, Mister."

"Oh? Why’s that?"

"Because the Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood is going to be mine."

“...Pff."

The figure froze, then couldn’t help but snort.

“That kind of baseless arrogance reminds me of someone I can’t stand. Even though that guy’s been acting like a different person lately, he’s still just as annoying."

“Whatever. If that’s how you feel, I won’t try to convince you. One more or one less makes no difference to me. Just stay here and watch.”

The figure waved dismissively, then turned confidently as if he were some hidden master looking down upon the night-veiled city.

“Watch as I seize the moment amidst the chaos, triumph gloriously, and claim the Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood! You’ll be left hiding on the sidelines, biting your handkerchief in regret! Hahahahaha...”

With that, the figure leapt into the riverbank mist like a black fish cutting through the fog—nimble and smooth.

“...Something about that guy...”

Watching the figure’s silhouette fade into the haze, Muen rubbed his chin in thought.

“...kind of felt like a diva.”

“Don’t tell me he really is a fag...”

Muen shuddered and quickly turned to walk in the opposite direction.

Just like he’d said, he did intend to be the yellow sparrow.

But who said the yellow sparrow had to play dirty?

Muen reached the bridge and removed his robe.

This bridge was the tallest tower bridge spanning the old Rhine River, a vital link between the Upper and Lower City.

Every day, patrol officers crossed it on horseback.

Muen straightened his collar, crumpled from the robe, and walked toward the sound of hooves in the mist.

"Halt. This bridge is closed at night."

The officer atop the large horse looked down on him from above.

But as soon as he saw Muen’s expensive attire, his expression changed. He immediately dismounted and bowed respectfully.

"Young Master, out at this hour—have you encountered some trouble?"

"I need to speak to your superior."

Muen took out his family crest and gave it a brief shake.

"The highest-ranking one."

—

—

In the alley, the standoff continued.

The three gang leaders stared each other down, full of suspicion, yet none of them dared to retreat.

The Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood was too tempting.

A gift from the heavens—no one wanted to give it up.

As time passed, more eyes gathered around them.

The stray dogs had already encircled the alley, lying in wait.

Once the three wolves of the Lower City tore each other apart, the scavengers would descend on the bones for a gluttonous feast.

Under such pressure, everyone in the alley gripped their weapons tighter. Their nerves stretched to the breaking point.

"This won’t work..."

Lorenzo, the most anxious of the three, was thinking fast. He realized that if this dragged on, the one at the biggest disadvantage would be him—he was the one holding the Lifeblood.

He began to consider: maybe he should ally with the Rat Society and take out the road-blocking Hyena Gang first.

After all, the Hyenas were the weakest. And once they were gone, neither he nor the Rats could easily overpower the other.

At worst, he’d give the Rats five drops of the Lifeblood. Better that than ending up with nothing and getting punished by the High Lord. That was the best outcome he could accept.

So what if he got screwed over a little? For the promise of immortality from the High Lord, what man wouldn’t swallow a bit of pride?

With that thought, Lorenzo turned to Sam.

“Sam, how about we—"

His words cut off. Lorenzo’s expression changed instantly.

He heard the twang of a bowstring.

So clear in the still night air.

Before his brain could react, pain shot through his arm.

A sharp arrow tore through the air and slammed into his magitech armor, sparking on impact.

It only left a small scratch, but it was enough to fill Lorenzo’s head with rage.

He drew his long blade and pointed it at the dwarf-like figure, eyes bloodshot as he roared:

"Sam, you despicable rat!"

"N-No! It wasn’t me!"

Sam’s face changed too.

"I didn’t give any order—"

Before he could finish, something flew at him.

He instinctively dodged, and the object slammed into the minion beside him. Blood sprayed everywhere.

It was a spiked club!

In the entire Lower City, who else but the brutish Hyena Gang would use such a vulgar weapon?

“Shurz!”

Sam bellowed, “Are you looking to die?!”

“I didn’t!”

Shurz had just begun to frown when a shadow darted out from Lorenzo’s own elites. A massive blade swung down.

Shurz’s hair stood on end. He might’ve been old, but he’d survived in the Lower City for years. He immediately dodged back and raised his cane to block.

A deep gouge appeared on his beloved gilded silver staff. His reason was instantly drowned in fury.

"LORENZO!!"

His shout tore through the night.

In that moment, the three leaders instinctively realized something was wrong—but the tense atmosphere and building pressure had already passed the tipping point.

It was like a powder keg—once the fuse was lit, it had to explode.

Seeing their leaders attacked, the elite guards, thugs, and rats—already wound to the limit—could no longer hold back. They swung their blades, raised their weapons, and pulled their triggers!

Chaos erupted instantly!

Blades flashing, arrows flying, blood spraying—roars and gunfire turned the once-silent alley into a battlefield.

"Something’s wrong. Seriously wrong!"

Lorenzo cleaved down a charging thug and finally regained his senses. He realized someone was trying to muddy the waters—because that attacker who had rushed out from his side, he didn’t even recognize!

But when he looked for the figure again, there wasn’t a trace left. It was too chaotic.

And in the middle of the chaos, a drifting voice rang out from somewhere:

"Charge!! Whoever grabs the Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood keeps it!!"

Lorenzo’s face twisted. He clutched the metal container close to his chest, trying to escape under cover of his men—but then another voice screamed nearby:

“Lorenzo’s over here!!”