Chapter 217

Janus cursed under his breath as the first shout echoed behind him.

Too early. What did I miss?

The sound wasn’t panicked confusion—it was commanded. Authority carried on trained voices. That meant guards. That meant protocol. The auction house was already sealing itself like a clenched fist.

It was supposed to be tomorrow morning or at least a few hours from now, he thought grimly. 

No time now.

Janus veered sharply into a narrow service corridor, boots scraping stone. The moment he vanished from the main passage, he straightened—his frailty was nowhere to be found.

The cane snapped in half with a practiced twist and was tossed aside.

His hands flew.

Grey beard—peeled away in one smooth motion. Wig—off. The fine coat vanished beneath a flicker of practiced motion, reversed, folded inward. Fabric shifted, seams unthreading themselves by design rather than magic. What emerged was plain, functional attire: the muted browns and greys of an auction house server.

Janus rolled his shoulders as the illusion of age left him.

His hair fell free—thick, black, curling slightly at the ends. His jawline sharpened, wrinkles fading into nothing more than faint lines earned by thought rather than years. His spine straightened.

In less than five breaths, the old man ceased to exist.

The skill books pressed warm against his chest, secured inside a concealed inner harness. He could feel them—dense with stored power, quiet but heavy, like coiled storms.

Janus stepped back into the flow.

The exit loomed ahead, crowded now. Employees ran in tight formations, eyes sharp, hands hovering near alarm crystals. Guests murmured nervously as guards checked faces, a ripple of suspicion spreading outward.

Janus adopted the posture of a man with somewhere to be and no authority to question it.

He grabbed the sleeve of a passing guest. “Have you seen an old man?” he asked breathlessly, pitching his voice just right. “Cane. Grey beard. Walking slow?”

The guest frowned and shook his head without stopping. “No.”

Janus nodded, thanked him, and moved on—angling closer to the exit.

“Hey! You there!”

Janus turned.

A guard pointed directly at him. “Did you see the old man?”

Janus didn’t hesitate. He raised his voice, letting urgency sharpen it. “Someone said he went that way!” He jabbed a finger down a side corridor—one that led deeper into the auction house.

The guard swore. “Everyone! With me!”

Boots thundered past Janus in a blur of cloaks and steel.

“Yes, sir!” Janus replied crisply.

Then, without breaking stride, he turned and walked in the opposite direction.

His heart hammered, but his face remained calm. Controlled.

Behind him, the hunt surged the wrong way.

Ahead of him, the exit doors waited.

….

Kana burst through the exit corridor just as the auction house tipped into chaos.

Voices overlapped in sharp, panicked bursts. Nobles whispered behind gloved hands. Guards barked orders that tangled with one another. The word Phantom Thief spread like fire through dry grass, leaping from mouth to mouth until fear itself seemed to hum in the air.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

Everyone had expected the theft to occur outside—in the alleyways, in the shadows beyond the reach of wards and hired muscle. That was the Phantom Thief’s pattern. Why did it change now? Or was the incident before part of his plan? 

But this time, the crime had happened inside.

Inside a  dome with layered barriers, and veteran adventurers.

Kana’s [High Awareness] buzzed painfully as overlapping emotions and movements battered her senses. Too many heartbeats. Too many intentions flaring and vanishing at once. The noise alone was enough to drown subtlety.

She spotted Suri first—leaning near the staircase with Boris and Chelle. Relief flashed through Kana, brief and sharp. She took the steps two at a time.

“Did any of you see an old man?” Kana demanded the moment she reached them.

Suri shook her head immediately, illusion birds fluttering faintly at the edge of perception. “My scouts are watching the exits. He didn’t show up here. I’m actually curious about him so I’m planning to have one of my scouts latch on to him as soon as he gets out.” She frowned. “I thought you were following him.”

Kana exhaled sharply. “That old man,” she said, voice low and absolute, “probably is the Phantom Thief.”

Boris clicked his tongue. “Knew it. I told you something felt off..” He crossed his arms. “Disguise, obviously.”

Disguise. How did I miss that?

The word snapped into place like a missing gear.

Kana’s thoughts raced. “Suri. Can you scan everyone here? All the exits. All the faces.”

Suri grimaced and took a long sip of juice, as if bracing herself. “Kana, that’s like trying to write with four hands.” She gestured vaguely. “Two of them are imaginary. Two of them fighting each other. There are too many people tonight. I might be able to if we have a sun in the sky.”

Boris snorted. “Sounds like an excuse.”

Suri shot him a glare. “Funny. Says the guy standing around doing nothing.”

“Hey,” Boris said, offended, “I’m checking out everyone. Anyone with a similar build like the old man. He can’t disguise his body. His height. You didn’t think of that?”

Chelle laughed despite the serious situation, clapping a hand over her mouth as if to smother it. 

Asha and Opel arrived moments later, moving with the calm efficiency of veteran adventurers who had learned long ago not to panic just because everyone else had. Asha scanned the scene once, eyes sharp.

“Where’s our target?” she asked.

“Not just us,” Kana replied. “The entire auction house is hunting him now. Supposedly an old man with a cane—but that was a lie. It was probably his disguise. We have no clue at the moment.”

Opel frowned. “So the quest failed?”

“Not yet,” Kana said. “Suri might discover something. Let’s wait for a bit… And call it a night if there’s nothing.”

As if summoned by the words, Suri stiffened.

“…That’s strange.”

Kana turned instantly. “What is it?”

“There’s an employee,” Suri said slowly. “A server. Walking alone near the west exit.. But he is now walking towards the slum district direction.” Her eyes narrowed. “Everyone else is kinda panicking...”

“And him?” Kana asked.

“He’s relaxed,” Suri said. “Too relaxed for someone who should help in searching.”

She tilted her head. “Is he simply… lazy?”

“He sounds like Boris,” she added.

Boris scoffed. “Excuse me?”

Suri raised her juice.  Chelle laughed again, unable to help it. Asha merely sighed, while Opel shook his head with the faintest smile.

Kana didn’t laugh.

Her [High Awareness] replayed the memory—the ripple of mana, the direction of the guards, the shouted command that might sent everyone running the wrong way.

Someone had pointed.

Someone had blended in.

“Everyone followed the noise,” Kana murmured. “Except him.”

She straightened.

“We must meet that lone employee,” Kana said. “Now!”

……

Janus walked without care in the world. Or at least it looked that way.

Winter had claimed the street completely. Snow clung to the edges of rooftops like pale scars, and the wind slid between the narrow buildings with a low, mournful whistle, carrying the scent of cold stone and distant smoke. No lanterns burned here. This road had long since been abandoned by anyone with sense—or safety.

That was precisely why he chose it.

His boots tapped softly against the frozen cobblestone. He hummed under his breath, a tuneless sound meant more to steady his thoughts than to entertain. 

A man who ran at night drew eyes. Questions. Fear. But a man who walked—slow, weary, unremarkable—became invisible.

The long street stretched ahead like a dark corridor carved through the city itself. No doors opened onto it. No windows glowed. Even the wind seemed hesitant, curling low, as if unwilling to disturb the silence.

Janus preferred it this way.

Then—

The air shifted.

Not sharply. Not violently.

Just… wrong.

A subtle pressure pressed against his back, like a breath that did not belong to the wind. His steps slowed, then stopped entirely. The hum died in his throat.

Janus exhaled once, thin and calm.

“So,” he murmured. “Someone followed after all.”

Nothing new, he thought.

What greeted him was not what he had expected.

They stood several meters away, spaced just enough to avoid being caught by a single skill or sudden strike. Their silhouettes were dark against the snow-dusted street, the moonlight catching on metal and fabric alike.

Two young women stood at the front, their noble dresses muted beneath travel cloaks—too composed to be ordinary spectators. Behind them were two adults, shields angled slightly forward, weight balanced on the balls of their feet. Probably an adventure. The man with a shield slowly went in the front.

Others lingered farther back, staff in hand, eyes sharp.

And then there was her.

Small. Too small to be leading the charge.

Red eyes gleamed, black hair fluttering against the wind, unflinching. Her armor was strange—not ornate, not ceremonial. Every plate served a purpose. Every joint allowed motion. It was the armor of someone who had survived by understanding exactly where death liked to strike.

Janus felt a prickle crawl up his spine. He might have panicked if the girl was not young.

Interesting.

They did not rush him. They did not shout.

They waited.

Clever but wrong choice.

“Why are you following me?” he asked, voice light, almost amused.

As he spoke, his gaze lifted deliberately, locking at them.

Especially the dangerous red eye girl.

He began to count.

One.

The cold faded from his awareness as his mind sharpened.

Two.

The world seemed to narrow, every sound stretching thin.

Three.

[Mind Dominance]

Then—nothing.

No resistance. No struggle.

Just the skill did not activate. There was no reduction on his mana.

Janus’s breath caught. It was very rare but they might have an item or a skill preventing someone from using a skill.

“Damn it,” he spat, the word sharp against the frozen air.

He had hoped to save what came next.

His hand slipped inside his sleeves.

The parchment brushed his fingers—

—and the girl moved.

She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t call out. Didn’t wait for permission.

She exploded forward and shouted.

Stone cracked beneath her boots as she crossed the distance in a heartbeat, cloak snapping violently behind her. The shield-bearers surged after her, boots pounding, steel lifting—but they were slower.

Not slow.

Just not fast enough.

Janus’s pulse spiked, exhilaration flooding him like fire.

Good instincts.

But too late.

He tore the scroll free and snapped it open.

[Teleportation]

Light erupted beneath his feet, lines of power carving themselves into the stone in precise, unforgiving geometry. The air screamed as space bent inward, collapsing toward a single point.

Janus looked up.

Met the girl’s eyes one last time.

“It doesn’t matter if you follow,” he said calmly, the wind tearing at his voice. “The others are waiting.”

The light swallowed him whole.

His surrounding flared white—

—and then he was gone.

Not just him. Three of them were gone.

Post note:
Hope you enjoy the chap 🙂