The next day, Arnold walked back toward the village.

  The morning air cooled against his face. Sunlight filtered through thinning clouds, casting pale gold across the dirt road.

  ‘Hmm?’

  He looked around the village square, his gaze sweeping the familiar spots, searching for a familiar figure.

  The bright girl was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘She’s not here.’

  Usually, by this hour, Mary would already be bustling around, running errands, tending to her flowers or chatting with the other children.

  Maybe she was further in? Arnold continued toward the bustling heart of the village.

  The closer he got, the livelier the surroundings became. The Rite was approaching, and the entire village seemed caught in its gravity.

  People moved from place to place, carrying bundles of cloth, baskets of offerings, carved wooden decorations, and fresh flowers. Voices overlapped in hurried conversation.

  ‘Why is that girl—?’

  In his Field Vision, he could see someone following him closely.

  She stayed just at the edge of his perception, close enough to track his movements, yet far enough to pretend it was just a coincidence.

  The girl wore a long white ulster coat, its hem brushing her boots, with a pristine white cape draped over her shoulders.

  A silver cross pendant glinted at her neck, and her hands were covered by immaculate white gloves.

  Her long strawberry-blonde hair spilled down her back, with several strands swept artfully over one eye. Beneath the brim of her fez hat, her predatory gaze like a hawk’s fixed on prey.

  ‘Hazel.’

  Hazel, if he remembered her name correctly. Gregory had introduced her to him yesterday. Her molten-gold eyes followed him without blinking.

  “...”

  Arnold stroked the bridge of his nose.

  ‘...Really?’

  Pure white clothing, in the middle of a poor village filled with mud and patched garments.

  ‘At least try to be a little more discreet when tailing someone!’

  A sense of self-awareness washed over his mind.

  ‘Right. I’m not much better.’

  He momentarily forgot that he, too, wore a fine, conspicuous frock coat in this poor village, a noble’s attire that made him stand out like a swan in a flock of crows.

  Arnold turned his back and looked directly in Hazel’s direction.

  The girl immediately executed an abrupt pivot and walked in the opposite direction, pretending to be intensely interested in a blacksmith’s stall until she was out of his direct line of sight.

  ‘...’

  Arnold stared for a second, and shook his head.

  ‘That girl does not seem to know how to sneak.’

  Were these really the famous Inspectors?

  In his Field Vision, he could tell Hazel was peeking out from behind another house, her golden eyes still fixed on him.

  ‘...’

  Arnold decided to ignore her and continue looking for Mary.

  “Mary! Mary!”

  As he entered the heart of the village, he could hear a raw, booming voice screaming a name, cutting through the din of the busy street.

  “Mary! Where are you, Mary!”

  Arnold looked toward the source.

  A massive figure stood in the middle of the street, towering over those around him. The man’s broad shoulders strained against his clothes. A scruffy beard framed his face, and brown hair that had grown past his neck, tangled stray strands fell around his face.

  His eyes were wild with a haggard desperation as though he hadn’t slept all night.

  He wore a patched shirt of faded color, the chest slightly open, and crude brown trousers stained with dirt.

  “Mary, do you know where Mary is!” The man shouted, grabbing a passerby by the shoulders.

  Arnold watched as the man questioned everyone in sight, anxiety etched into every line of his face. He moved around frantically, grabbing villagers by the arm, asking children, knocking on doors, his voice raw with panic.

  ‘Who is this?’ Arnold frowned.

  Broad shoulders. Scruffy beard. questioning everyone about Mary.

  ‘Don’t tell me.’

  By the time Arnold had an idea who he was, the man’s frantic gaze swept the crowd and landed on Arnold.

  Their eyes met.

  “You!”

  The man turned fully, fury blazing across his face.

  “!”

  It was inevitable. Arnold’s clothes stood out like a flare in the village. Anyone could notice him easily.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The man charged toward Arnold like an enraged bear, boots pounding against the dirt.

  “Where is she! You! What have you done with my Mary!” he snarled.

  Before Arnold could react, a massive hand seized the front of his coat. In one swift motion, the man hoisted him clean off the ground.

  Arnold’s feet left the earth.

  The man was so tall and strong that he held Arnold aloft with just a single bulky arm, leaving him dangling like a puppet.

  His eyes burning with rage and fear intertwined.

  ‘This must be Mary’s father.’

  Arnold looked at the man calmly, even as his collar was still clenched tight in the other’s grip.

  The size difference was obvious up close. Lumber’s shadow loomed over him, broad shoulders blocking the sunlight, his breath heavy with anger.

  Arnold met the man’s bloodshot eyes without flinching.

  “What happened to Mary?” he asked evenly.

  “You! It is you who should know! You are the one…!” Lumber roared. Spittle flew from his mouth, his grip tightening.

  Arnold frowned slightly.

  ‘Something happened to her.’

  His expression hardened. He lifted one hand and placed it against the man’s knuckles that were gripping his shirt.

  “Could you tell me,” Arnold said again, his voice low, “what happened?”

  “…”

  For a brief moment, the street seemed to mute.

  Lumber’s eyes gleamed, a deep crimson sheen flashing through them as his rage crested. Veins bulged along his forearm as he drew his fist back.

  ‘Aha.’

  Arnold’s pupil dilated as he let out an internal chuckle, watching the big man grip his own hand and throw it at him.

  In his eyes, the fist approached him slowly. It was the result of both minds’ thinking processes combining, making his eyes see things slower than it should be.

  ‘A Warrior Path Stagefarer. Should not provoke him.’ A resigned smile tugged at Arnold’s lips.

  It was almost amusing, in a bitter way. He didn’t expect to come across so many Stagefarers.

  Davis had claimed Stagefarers were rare, but apparently, they filled the whole street. Just in the span of three days, Arnold had encountered a startling number of them.

  Of course, he could block this strike, using his self-defence techniques to stop the attack, or Psychokinesis to redirect his hand,...

  But…

  His Field Vision flickered toward the distance.

  The girl in the white coat stood far away, watching the scene unfold.

  ‘Better not expose myself.’

  Arnold sighed inwardly and closed his eyes, letting his body go slack, bracing himself.

  Lumber’s fist surged forward toward Arnold’s face.

  At the same time, Isa instinctively began preparing Psychokinesis, ready to lighten the impact at the last moment—

  *Bang!*

  The sound cracked through the air.

  Yet, Lumber’s knuckles stopped inches from Arnold’s face, stopped dead in midair. The impact echoed as if his fist had slammed into something solid yet invisible!

  “!”

  “!”

  Both Arnold and Lumber’s eyes flew open in shock!

  ‘What?’

  In his Field Vision, the white-coated girl had her hand raised.

  Arnold couldn’t help the spark of astonishment that flared in his mind.

  ‘Is that their ability? Harmony faction?’

  “Tch.”

  A click of annoyance cut through the moment.

  A girl dressed entirely in white stepped into view. Her ulster coat gleamed under the sun, pristine and severe. She moved with confident strides.

  They both craned their heads down and looked at her. One was filled with confusion and anger, the other with surprise and admiration.

  Hazel Harrison.

  She caught their stares and spoke with irritation.

  “What?”

  Her expression made it painfully clear what she meant: ‘Am I some kind of animal? Why are you staring?’

  ‘...’

  ‘...’

  She walked straight up to the big man. Though her height barely reached his chest, she carried herself as if she were towering over him.

  She craned her neck upward, visibly annoyed by the height difference.

  “...”

  *THUD*

  She kicked the big man’s shin-bone.

  “Aghhhh!”

  Lumber screamed as he threw Arnold down and collapsed, grabbing his leg. He rubbed the abused bone and craned his head up, looking into Hazel’s molten gold eyes.

  “Y–you!”

  The girl looked down on him and smirked.

  “Problem?”

  Lumber looked at her eyes, his pupils dilating. His own fury was extinguished as he looked down, shoulders sagged.

  “...My, my apologies, miss.”

  Arnold widened his eyes at the exchange as Isa yelled in their shared mind.

  ‘So cool!’

  Inspectors were so cool!

  Arnold shook his head. His expression returned to his normal caution as Izzy fully returned her control over the vessel.

  He stepped toward Hazel.

  “Thank you for your—”

  “Shut up.”

  Before he could finish his sentence, Hazel cut him off.

  Hazel gazed toward him, her eyes filled with irritation and… hostility? Arnold stopped talking.

  She tightened her gloved fist, turned on her heel, and walked away.

  “…”

  “…”

  What was that about?

  What was her problem?

  Hazel disappeared around the next house.

  However, in his Field Vision, he saw her sneakily return, her head peeking out from behind a wall corner.

  “…”

  Around them, villagers cast curious glances at the disturbance. The moment they noticed the white-clad girl lurking nearby, however, they quickly averted their eyes and moved away, pretending nothing had happened.

  ‘So this is why the Inspector is infamous,’ Arnold thought, shaking his head.

  As if anyone could deal with that temperament.

  He turned back to Lumber.

  The man still sat on the ground, shoulders slumped, pride clearly shattered after being humiliated by someone half his size.

  “Can you tell me now? What has happened to Mary?”

  Lumber clenched his fists, his teeth biting hard into his lower lip. His expression twisted, pain and fear mixing together.

  “Sure…”

  After a long pause, he nodded.

  —

  “Achii–!”

  “...”

  “Curse. Did someone talk ill of me? I swear to Mona…” Hazel casted her furious gaze at the boy with the bandaged head.

  As the boy walked away with the big man, she finally noticed her surroundings.

  “What?”

  “N…No, miss!”

  Everyone ran off.

  “...”

  “Shitty mission.”