"Although you're framing it as a deal…"
Hiltina's voice was calm, yet carried a subtle weight.
"If everything you said is true, then… I never really had a choice to begin with, did I?"
After a brief silence, a faint smile curved her lips.
She knew nothing of Deep Blue Port. If she didn't want to be crushed into dust by the residual fallout of the divine descent, relying on the experience this boy had amassed over tens of thousands of loops was her only chance.
"It's not just me—it's you too," she continued.
"If we fail this time… who knows how many loops the next Night Traveler will endure? Or what might happen in the Night World in the meantime."
"We have no choice left."
Hiltina reached into her cloak and tossed something toward Rast.
"Not a deal, then. It's more like we've been bound together on the same rope from the start."
"Let's struggle to survive… together."
Clack.
Rast caught the object—a necklace. Its pendant bore a finely carved rose emblem, but instead of crimson petals, the bronze-colored metal shimmered with a metallic sheen.
Compared to when it had adorned the now-dead masked woman, the bronze rose's center now bore a crack slicing through the entire emblem.
Rast recalled Hiltina also had a similar pendant, though hers bore a laurel instead of a rose.
"A unique emblem relic of the secret organization, the Bronze Rose," Hiltina explained.
"Though the relic is damaged, its function as a Night Traveler credential still works."
Rast examined the pendant briefly, his gaze lingering on the fractured side of the bronze rose. He said nothing, slipping it into his pocket.
"I'll make some preparations," he said.
He glanced at the clock overhead, then pulled on the coat hanging by the door and stepped outside.
"Meet me at the front of the inn in an hour."
By two a.m., Deep Blue Port was quiet. The lamps lining the streets had mostly gone dark.
Hiltina stood motionless in the autumn chill, her slender frame cloaked in a hooded garment that reached her waist, a statue of calm in the empty street.
Tick… tick…
She listened to the ticking of her pocket watch, counting down the seconds.
Fifteen seconds before the agreed time, a voice whispered at her side.
"This cloak suits you better than the one I prepared."
Hiltina turned and found the hooded boy already standing beside her, as if he had appeared out of nowhere.
Rast tossed another cloak casually.
"Of course. As Night Travelers going to different worlds, you can't go without the right tools for murder, arson, and robbery," he said with a grin.
Then, he raised his hand, gesturing toward the empty street.
A moment later, a horse-drawn carriage turned the corner and rolled onto their street, stopping precisely in front of Rast.
"Outer District, 17 Loning Street."
Rast climbed aboard and expertly handed the driver two bills and a pack of cigarettes.
"Make it quick, friend. My private detective and I have been tailing my wife for two and a half months. Finally, we've caught a break."
"When we catch them red-handed, that adulterous couple won't get away so easily."
His tone shifted from the clear voice Hiltina had known—it was now low, rough, with a rasp that carried the weight of a man struggling to make ends meet, stifling frustration at some invisible burden.
"Don't worry," the driver said, eyes sharpening as he took the money and cigarettes.
"I'll stake my career on it—they won't escape."
Crack!
The whip cracked sharply, and the horses, initially sluggish, surged forward, tearing through the city streets. The old carriage groaned under the strain.
Hiltina glanced at Rast. Even in the dead of night, most hired carriages wouldn't accept passengers at this hour.
She had been waiting at the inn's entrance for half an hour—the carriage was the only one to pass, and Rast had caught it exactly.
The ride was silent, save for Rast chatting occasionally with the driver. Hiltina said nothing; after all, she was playing the role of a private detective hired to catch an adulterer, and her voice was far too delicate for the part.
Outside, the dark streets blurred past. Wide, orderly avenues soon gave way to narrow alleys flanked by low buildings. Another turn revealed a faint outline of the next street.
"We'll get off here," Rast said, and the driver nodded in understanding, bringing the carriage to a stop.
"I understand. If we're catching cheaters, we can't make a scene," the driver said. "Otherwise, that adulterous pair might escape."
He looked back at Rast, raising an eyebrow. "Want me to help? Your detective looks rather fragile. If the couple fights back, she might not be much help."
"I'm not bragging, but back in my youth, I ran with a gang here in the port. Keeping them in line? No problem."
"Wouldn't be driving a carriage now if my wife hadn't had twins. Need something steadier… sorry, not trying to show off in front of you."
"Don't worry about it," Rast said, waving off the offer. "We've got this. You can head back."
"After this whole mess is done, I'll take you for a drink at the Golden Stag Hotel."
Rast jumped down, walking beside the silent Hiltina toward Loning Street.
"Not surprised that a client from the inner city would spend as much on one meal as I earn in a month," the driver muttered once their silhouettes disappeared into the night, scratching his head in confusion.
"How is he planning to get me to the Golden Stag without leaving an address?"