I made my way back across the districts toward the Golden Shrimp Inn, paying the internal checkpoint tolls as I navigated the bustling city streets.
Before I could lock myself away until midnight, I had to fix a glaring flaw in my upcoming arrest scenario. I needed to purchase a standard set of men's clothing that matched Keane Leon's profile. If I walked up to a guard patrol to get arrested while wearing my current dress and feminine gear, the entire disguise would look like a complete, ridiculous joke the moment I shapeshifted. A rugged, street-level pickpocket wouldn't be caught dead in silk linings.
First things first, though: I had to safely deposit my heavy artillery. Carrying a highly volatile, blood-infused magical explosive and a massive S-rank firearm through the city streets while shopping for civilian clothes was a recipe for disaster.
I arrived at the Golden Shrimp Inn, approached the front desk, and quietly paid the front-desk clerk the necessary coins to extend my stay for another day. With the logistics settled, I walked down the dim hallway and slipped into my designated room, Room 102.
The moment the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind me, I pulled the glowing blue cylinder from beneath my cloak. Moving with deliberate care, I knelt down and slid the specialized Blood Bomb deep under the bedframe, tucking it away securely in the shadows. Leaving an advanced military-grade explosive out in the open would instantly mistake me for some sort of psychotic terrorist looking to blow the tavern to pieces if a maid walked in. I wasn't evil; I was just a highly pragmatic bounty hunter doing what needed to be done.
Next, I unstrapped my heavy shotgun from beneath my canvas cloak. I laid the weapon flat across the middle of the mattress, carefully covering it with the heavy blankets so it was completely obscured from view. The last thing I needed was for some random, petty thief to break into my room and lift my primary source of firepower. I certainly wasn't going to let myself become the next ironic victim of an Alta-pattern Death Chant firearm, especially not a devastating Tommy gun variant, just because I left my gear unguarded.
With my heavy equipment hidden and my room secured, I checked my remaining copper and silver coins, swept my cloak around my shoulders, and locked the door behind me. I stepped back out into the bustling streets of Lulu City, completely unburdened and ready to find a low-profile tailor or a second-hand clothing stall to finalize Keane Leon's look.
The soft chime of a brass bell echoed through the room as I stepped over the threshold of the low-end tailor shop. The interior was pleasantly dim and well-shaded, allowing me to comfortably lower my canvas hood without the looming threat of the afternoon sun.
There were three people ahead of me in line, passing the time with casual conversation. I quietly took my place at the back of the queue, my eyes immediately scanning the racks of cheap, mass-produced garments. I wasn't here for high fashion; I needed a sturdy, utilitarian outfit that matched the rugged, urban profile of a street-level rogue. My eyes settled on a sharp, dark ensemble: a thick navy blue blazer paired with durable, loose-fitting trousers. It was the perfect outfit for Keane Leon to wear before being dragged off to a cold, damp prison cell.
As I waited for the line to move, a crucial, terrifying flaw in my timeline suddenly struck me.
"I couldn't get arrested during the day.". I thought
I had originally planned to trigger the arrest in the morning, but I completely overlooked the biological mechanics of my shapeshifting ability. Even when I mimic someone else's skin and take on the exact physical appearance of a human man like Keane, my underlying genetic traits remain fundamentally unchanged. I am still a vampire. My severe, fatal allergy to sunlight would carry over completely into his form.
If I allowed the city guards to arrest me during broad daylight, the logistics of the transport would kill me. The moment they dragged me out of the police precinct and onto an open-air prison boat to sail across the Mirage Sea, the direct, unshielded rays of the daytime sun would hit my skin. I would instantly begin to scorch, burn, and smoke right in front of them. The guards wouldn't just ignore a prisoner spontaneously combusting in the sun; they would immediately realize I was a monster, panic, and execute me on the spot. My entire mastermind infiltration would collapse into a suicidal disaster.
Getting caught by midnight was the only viable path forward.
Lulu City's legal bureau prided itself on its lightning-fast, zero-tolerance enforcement. If I initiated a crime and got myself caught in the dead of night, the authorities wouldn't wait around for sunrise. They would process "Keane" immediately in the dark and throw him straight onto a midnight transport boat. I could sail across the ocean to the Citadel under the safety of the night sky, completely protected from solar radiation. By the time the sun rose the next morning, I would already be safely locked away inside the shadow of the stone fortress blocks.
It was a flawless adjustment to the sequence. First, I would buy these clothes. Then, at midnight, I would fly out to plant the Blood Bomb at the Fourth Watchtower. Immediately after returning, I would put on this navy blazer, assume Keane's face, and deliberately get caught by a night patrol.
The customer ahead of me stepped away from the counter, and the tailor looked up, gesturing for me to step forward. I reached into my purse, ready to purchase my new disguise.
I stood completely frozen in line, my jaw tightening as the conversation between the three boys ahead of me drifted back into my ears. I thought the fishermen at the docks were a localized anomaly of sheer idiocy, but these three took it to a genuinely horrifying new low.
"How do you guys even masturbate without making a massive mess?" the first boy asked, entirely unbothered by the fact that they were standing in a public tailor shop.
"Oh, I just cum straight out the window. It's a bit hard to do at first, but once you figure out how to steer the wheel with your knees while you're driving, you've pretty much got it down." The second boy shrugged, leaning casually against a clothing rack.
"I knew it... I knew it wasn't bird shit on my window every morning. It's cum. But no one believed me when I told them it didn't taste like bird shit." The third boy's face fell into an expression of profound, crushing disappointment. He stared blankly at his friend.
I felt a physical wave of revulsion wash over me, my single eye widening under my hood in absolute disgust. My stomach practically turned.
"What the hell is wrong with the people in this city?" I thought
I began to genuinely wonder if the citizens of Lulu City had some kind of unwritten, degenerate cultural tradition to loudly exchange the most crude, vile humor every single time they stepped into a public space. First, it was the rowdy, cheering drunkards celebrating a brutal alleyway beating at the Golden Shrimp Inn. Then, it was the brainless fishermen joking about training for a cockfight against a literal chicken. And now, these absolute clowns were openly debating the flavor profiles of window ejaculate right in front of me, a visibly armed, scarred young woman. It was exhausting.
Mercifully, the three of them finished paying for their items, gathered their packages, and finally walked out the front door, the brass bell chiming happily behind them as if it hadn't just witnessed a crime against humanity.
With the air in the shop slightly cleared, I took a deep breath, stepped forward to the counter, and faced the tailor. I pulled my purse out from beneath my cloak, ready to buy the navy blue blazer and trousers to finalize my midnight disguise as Keane Leon, eager to get out of this store before anyone else started speaking.
I stepped up to the counter and handed the tailor my pre-written note.
Navy blue blazer and trousers. It's a gift.
I deliberately added that it was a gift to completely shut down any unnecessary curiosity. A one-armed, heavily scarred girl buying a rugged, street-level man's outfit would definitely raise an eyebrow, and the last thing I needed was a gossiping tailor remembering my face.
The tailor read the note, tapped her chin, and smiled warmly.
"Ah, a gift! Is it your father's birthday, perhaps? Or maybe a special brother? Well, either way, he's going to look very sharp. The total comes to 12 silver and 41 bronze coins."
I reached into my leather purse and counted out 13 silver coins, sliding them across the smooth wooden counter. The tailor swept them up, logged the transaction, and counted out my exact change, 59 bronze coins, which I swept back into my purse with a quick, silent nod.
Since it was a low-end shop, they didn't have the luxury of instant magical tailoring, so I had to sit quietly in the corner of the shop for a few hours while she made the final adjustments to the trousers and altered the blazer's fit. I used the time to mentally rehearse the flight path I would take across the Mirage Sea.
Finally, the tailor called me over and handed me a neatly wrapped brown paper parcel containing the navy outfit.
"Here you go, dear. All finished."
"Thank you," I muttered quietly.
I pulled my heavy canvas hood low over my face once more, stepped through the doorway as the brass bell chimed, and walked directly back to the Golden Shrimp Inn.
When I unlocked the door to Room 102, everything was exactly as I had left it. I placed the paper parcel containing Keane's future disguise right on top of the bed, right next to where my heavy shotgun was safely hidden beneath the blankets. I checked underneath the bed frame, the blue, blood-infused mana bomb was still glowing faintly in the dark, humming with lethal, compressed energy.
The physical components of the mastermind plan were fully secured. Now, all I had to do was rest my body, wait out the agonizingly slow hours of the afternoon, and let the deadly daylight completely fade away. Once the clock struck midnight, the true infiltration would begin.