Before I could begin hunting down this Keane Leon, my stomach let out a sharp, painful growl. I hadn't eaten a single bite since leaving Caria City, and flying for two hours on an empty stomach had left me completely running on fumes.
Leaving the heavy Death Chant Shotgun safely concealed under the floorboards of Room 201, I smoothed down my canvas cloak and headed downstairs. My goal was twofold: fill my stomach and subtly listen in on the tavern chatter to see if anyone had spotted our D-rank pickpocketer.
The morning sun was trying to filter into the tavern as I approached the heavy oak counter. The barkeep from last night looked up, wiping down a glass. "Morning, traveler. What can I do for you today?"
I pulled out my notepad and jotted down a single, simple word:
Breakfast.
The barkeep nodded.
"Sure thing. Pancakes and a tall glass of water. That'll be 10 copper coins."
I dug into my purse, handed over the copper, and waited. As he set the plate down, the barkeep leaned in, squinting slightly at my hood. "One question, traveler... I've known mute folks before, but how exactly do you eat when you have no tongue?" He must have caught a glimpse of the jagged, ruined scars lining the inside of my mouth when I breathed.
I didn't bother answering. I don't need a tongue, my vampiric jaw strength allows me to just chew and swallow food almost completely whole, and my mutated senses mean I can still taste it perfectly fine. There was absolutely no reason to share the horrific story behind my scars with a random barkeep.
Seeing my cold, silent stare, the barkeep quickly backed off, looking a bit embarrassed.
"Well... sorry about that. Here is your meal."
I picked up my wooden tray and scanned the tavern room. Hoping to gather some quick intelligence on the local crime scene, I intentionally picked a spot and sat down right between two heavily intoxicated men who looked like they had been drinking since yesterday afternoon.
Unfortunately, they were far too gone to offer any actual tactical intel. Instead, they were loudly slurring out incredibly bizarre, unhinged conversations.
"Have you ever slept with a mannequin before? I swear to you, they're good. Way better than paying for a prostitute." the first drunk slurred, hitting the table.
"People are so damn spoiled nowadays! Back in my day, we dug up a corpse with our bare hands and fucked it like the good lord intended!" The second one scoffed, slamming his tankard down.
I stared blankly at my pancakes for three seconds, completely disgusted by the sheer, unfiltered degeneracy of the local drunkards. Realizing I wasn't going to get a single shred of useful information about Keane Leon from these two lunatics, I picked up my tray, promptly stepped out from between them, and walked over to a much quieter table in the far corner of the room to eat in peace.
I sat in the quiet corner of the tavern, chewing my pancakes mechanically while keeping my remaining eye moving. Activating my Appraisal Skill, inspect, a faint, magical overlay bled into my vision as I scanned every patron scattered across the room. According to his criminal profile, Keane Leon was highly active during two specific windows: the dead of midnight and the early hours of the morning. Morning was the absolute prime time to catch him trying to blend into a bustling breakfast crowd.
As I was halfway through my plate, a young man casually slid into the empty seat directly beside me. He leaned in, flashed a smooth, confident grin, and looked me up and down.
"I love that cloak of yours, but tell me... you look seriously good under there." he murmured, his voice dripping with charm.
I blinked, a sudden warmth rushing to my face as I blushed a little. It had been an eternity since anyone, let alone a total stranger had tried to flirt with me, especially given the monstrous scars hidden beneath my hood.
But my combat instincts quickly overrode the momentary embarrassment. Keeping my face calm, I subtly cast my Appraisal Skill directly onto him. The magical data flashed in my mind, revealing his true identity:
Keane Leon
Skill: Inspect
Vitality: 100
Strength: 200
Defense: 50
Agility: 100
Mana: 100
My eyes widened slightly. Speak of the devil.
Before I could even process the luck of him walking right into my lap, I felt a faint, practiced tug at my waist. Keane's hand had smoothly slipped beneath the folds of my canvas cloak, his fingers wrapping around the strap of my leather purse. The flirting wasn't genuine admiration at all, it was a highly calculated distraction to get me to lower my guard.
He broke out into a sudden sprint, ripping the purse away from my side.
But he had severely underestimated who he was dealing with. Even with my stats completely unbuffed and my left arm missing, my reaction speed was still that of an S-rank hunter. The exact fraction of a second his fingers gripped my bag, my right hand shot out like a striking viper.
Before he could even take his first step away from the table, I violently grabbed him by the throat of his collar, locking my fingers into the fabric with an iron, inescapable grip.
Keane choked, his momentum violently halting as he was yanked backward, his boots skidding uselessly against the tavern floor. I stared up at him from beneath my hood, my single eye locking onto his panicked face with a cold, predatory glare. I had found my ticket to the Dodorant Citadel.
The sudden scuffle violently rattled the wooden table, drawing the attention of the entire tavern. The barkeep slammed his rag down and shouted over the noise,
"What the hell is the commotion about over there?!"
With Keane still dangling from my iron grip, his hood fell back, exposing his face to the morning crowd. Instantly, a wave of recognition rippled through the room.
One of the breakfast patrons jumped out of his chair, pointing an angry finger.
"Hey! That's the damn pickpocket! The one who stole my entire leather wallet three days ago!"
"Yeah! You little rat, you stole a whole crate of premium fish from my market stall just yesterday morning!" a burly fisherman at the next table roared, standing up.
Even the two unhinged drunkards from earlier paused their degenerate conversation, their bloodshot eyes locking onto the thief.
"Hey... you're the bastard who lifted my silver dagger the other day!" I swear, I should just drag you into an alley and fuck you instead!"
Looking around the room, it was hilariously obvious that Keane Leon had made an absolute mountain of enemies in this district. Seeing the crowd rapidly forming an angry mob, I decided to let the locals have their petty revenge. I didn't say a word, but I looked directly at the furious customers and gave them a sharp, telling nod… a silent "he's all yours."
I let go of his collar and stepped back.
The crowd immediately swarmed the terrified thief, dragging him to the floor. Even though Lulu City prided itself on a strict, zero-tolerance legal policy, it clearly didn't stop the local working-class citizens from enforcing a little brutal street justice when the knights weren't looking. A chaotic flurry of heavy boots and angry fists rained down on the poor D-rank criminal as he curled into a ball, crying out and begging for mercy.
I stood just a few feet away, watching the spectacle with my arms crossed, or rather, my single right arm resting across my chest while my empty left sleeve hung loose beneath my cloak.
After a solid minute of a thorough beating, the angry citizens finally sated their rage. To top off their vengeance, each of the primary victims hacked up a disgusting, phlegm-filled spit directly onto the bruised, groaning thief before huffing and returning to their respective tables.
The tavern settled back into its usual morning hum. I walked over to the shivering, bloodied heap that was Keane Leon. Reaching down, I grabbed his collar once again and hoisted his battered body off the floor.
The original plan for a normal hunter would be to drag this pathetic ten-silver bounty straight to Keith Pat or the local guard station to collect a meager payout. But I had a much grander prize in mind. I dragged him toward the shadows of the tavern's rear exit, preparing to harvest a fresh DNA sample. I was going to steal his face, mimic his identity, and let the city's strict laws naturally throw me straight into the deep, dark waters of the Dodorant Citadel.