I continued my clockwise rotation along the grand circular perimeter of the metropolis, finally leaving the echoing cracks of the Caria Mastery Academy's shooting ranges behind as I crossed the border into the 3rd District… The Residential and Academic District.
As the massive stone archway of the 3rd District gates loomed ahead, I spotted the gatekeeper on duty. It was Renny.
Beneath the absolute psychic barrier of my Leech's Hollow Mask I analyzed her posture as I approached. Just like Carlos back at the 2nd District, Renny didn't see me as Eirene Rynd, the eccentric, frail young item appraiser. To her, I was a complete and imposing stranger. The Eirene she knew was a quiet girl draped in a dusty, standard-issue morning cloak who kept her head down. She couldn't possibly link that mundane image to the tall, blood-themed silhouette I currently occupied… draped in Olive's pristine crimson trench coat, carrying a massive wooden alchemical crate in my single right arm, with heavy lethal firearms resting invisibly against my hidden demon wings.
Without a sound, I reached into the breast pocket of my trench coat and slid my silver 7th-Rank Luminous Knight status card into her reading terminal, dropping a single silver coin into the toll tray. My currency pool was now down to exactly 1 gold and 46 silver pieces.
Renny watched the terminal flash with my high-clearance data, but as she looked up at the card's registered owner name and matched it to the tall figure before her, her jaw practically dropped.
"Eirene?! Wow... I didn't recognize you there! You're wearing some seriously fancy gear now. I bet that severed head you brought through the gates this morning had some insanely high bounty price on it to afford all of this." Renny gasped, her eyes widening as she stared at the shifting, light-swallowing void of my mask.
I stood perfectly still, my single jade-green eye locked onto her through my visor. I didn't speak up. I didn't even bother reaching into my pockets for my notepad. My physical resources were calculated, and I absolutely wasn't going to waste a single scrap of parchment or a lead pencil just to indulge in idle, mundane conversation with a standard gatekeeper.
My prolonged, deathly silence and the unblinking stare of my hollow mask quickly made the atmosphere incredibly tense. Renny cleared her throat nervously, shifting her weight from foot to foot under my heavy gaze.
"Okay, okay, Eirene... I know you're completely mute, but it's kind of mean to just stare like that, right? Go on through." Renny muttered, giving an awkward, defensive shrug as she quickly handed back my status card.
I snatched the card, pocketed it, and marched past the checkpoint without a backward glance. My leather boots clicked rhythmically against the familiar cobblestones of the residential sector as I navigated the winding streets, heading straight toward my safehouse: House 132.
When the modest, high-walled estate came into view, my analytical eyes immediately scanned the perimeter, checking the hidden magical tripwires and subtle physical markers I had left behind. Everything was completely undisturbed. The Bureau's high-noon tactical inspection had officially concluded hours ago. Chief Roman had kept his administrative word; the perimeter was entirely clear, and no Capital Knights or Bureau investigators were lurking in the shadows of my property.
I unlocked the heavy front door, stepped inside, and securely bolted the iron latches behind me, plunging the entryway into a quiet, safe dimness. I set the heavy wooden crate of chemical precursors down onto the foyer table with a solid, satisfying thud.
The security quarantine of House 132 was absolute. Within these walls, the bureaucratic strings of the Luminous Knights couldn't reach me, and the public leaderboard didn't matter. The blood-sucking, sixth-evolution winged demon that the Holy Church so desperately wanted to eradicate for their ninety-day savior ritual was completely safe, locked deep inside her own sanctuary. It was time to brew the tear gas, decode Vanessa's stolen syndicate files, and prepare for the 5th District tenements tomorrow morning.
The moment the front door bolted shut, my predatory instincts took over. I moved through the dim corridors of House 132 like a specter, systematically drawing the heavy, light-blocking curtains across every single window until the living room was plunged into a state of absolute, comforting twilight. As a sixth-evolution demon, the blinding solar rays of the high noon sun weren't just an annoyance; they were a literal biological hazard that triggered severe allergic reactions on my skin. More importantly, I couldn't risk a single nosy neighbor peering through the glass and catching a glimpse of the monstrous silhouette that the entire kingdom knew as the Crimson Phantom.
With the perimeter light-locked, I turned my attention back to the interior. A cold, analytical sigh of relief escaped past my scarred lips.
During the Bureau's high-noon tactical inspection while I was out, I had fully prepared myself for the worst. I half-expected the investigating knights to have ransacked the property and confiscated the highly illegal, bootleg Tommy guns and the raw magical artifacts I had violently stripped away from Don Anthony's arms trafficking guild. But as I checked my hidden compartments beneath the floorboards and the false walls, everything was untouched. The knights hadn't stolen a single piece of my black-market arsenal. The Bureau's search had been purely superficial… a routine box-checking exercise that left my most lethal assets completely secure.
Reaching up with my single right hand, I unbuttoned the front of Olive's heavy, blood-themed crimson trench coat. With a sharp, rhythmic flex, I allowed my massive, translucent blood wings to burst freely from their compressed constraints beneath the fabric.
I kept the trench coat draped over my shoulders like a cape, but now, my wings could stretch into the dim air of the living room. Because of my unique, asymmetrical biology, I had customized my flight appendages into literal weapons racks. Using a series of heavy leather tactical straps, I had rigged different firearms directly onto the skeletal structure of each wing… my devastating Death Chant Shotgun anchored to the left, and one of my bootleg Tommy guns pinned to the right. They dangled from the translucent webbing like bizarre, lethal Christmas tree bulbs, perfectly counterbalancing my weight and ready to be deployed into my hands with a single high-stat twitch.
As I stood in the center of the quiet room, the stiff fabric of my clothes began to irritate my skin. I was still wearing Luke's oversized polo shirt and durable tactical trousers from last night's operations. They were covered in a thin layer of Caria peak dust, dried alchemical residue, and the faint scent of sulfur from the 1st District. I desperately needed a change of attire before I began cooking the weaponized tear gas.
Moving with fluid agility, I walked over to the worn fabric sofa. I carefully set my leather purse… containing my remaining 1 gold and 46 silver pieces… alongside my fresh medical supplies and the silver vial of holy water onto the cushions.
Leaving my heavy alchemical crate of precursors resting safely on the floor, I turned and proceeded straight into my private bedroom.