Chapter 208

Early winter dawn found them at the orphanage gates, the sky a pale bruise of violet and gray, light just beginning to seep into the world. Frost clung to the iron bars, turning breath into thin ghosts that drifted and vanished. 

Boris lifted a hand in a lazy wave.

The gate opened almost immediately.

Aldo stood there, already awake, posture straight despite the hour. His eyes swept over them in a practiced motion, counting heads, noting weapons, checking for injuries. Satisfied, he stepped aside and ushered them in. He didn’t reach for the bell this time. No cheerful ringing. Just quiet, careful movements. Most of the children and the few adults who stayed overnight were still wrapped in sleep, dreaming of warmer seasons.

Inside, Suri and Kana split off toward the rooms prepared for them. Each had their own, but habits were stubborn things. Suri followed Kana without comment, kicked off her boots, and collapsed onto the larger bed with a sigh that carried the weight of exhaustion finally allowed to surface.

Kana didn’t lie down.

She sat at the desk instead, shoulders slightly hunched, a candle flickering beside her. Parchment lay spread out before her, its surface already crowded with neat, deliberate strokes. A quill scratched softly, the sound sharp in the stillness of the room.

Suri watched her for a moment, eyes half-lidded. Kana reading was common. Kana sharpening weapons was expected. Kana writing, though—that was rare enough to stir curiosity.

“What are you writing now?” Suri asked, voice lazy but attentive.

Kana didn’t look up. “I took a job.”

That made Suri crack one eye open.

“I’m thinking about the members who will join me,” Kana continued, as if discussing tomorrow’s weather. “You and Boris will go with me.”

Suri snorted. “Straight to orders, huh?”

“You have no choice.”

Suri rolled onto her back, stretching until her spine popped. “I don’t mind. But Boris has been grumpy lately. More than usual.” She tilted her head toward Kana.

Kana’s quill paused for the briefest moment.

“Don’t worry about Boris,” she said calmly, dipping the quill again. “I have my ways.”

Suri grinned. She knew that tone. Boris was a simpleton. Mention Elle York and the problem usually solved itself.

Kana pulled another parchment closer and began organizing names. The list split neatly down the middle. Core members. Temporary members. No flourish, no hesitation. Every name was weighed, considered, and either written cleanly or left out entirely.

This wasn’t a game.

If the crown prince was right, if the empire’s reach truly stretched this far, then trust itself was a resource more precious than coin. Spies didn’t always wear foreign colors. Sometimes they wore academy uniforms. Sometimes they laughed too easily. Sometimes they stood exactly where you expected them to.

Kana’s eyes hardened as she wrote.

This task force would be small. Controlled.  Behind her, Suri’s breathing evened out, sleep claiming her at last.

………

Kana woke up last.

Light spilled through the  window in a pale, slanted sheet, dust motes drifting lazily within it like suspended snow. Her body protested as she sat up, every muscle reminding her of the dungeon raid, the night patrols stacked too closely together. 

Suri was already gone.

Kana glanced at the window again. The sun sat high enough that it pressed warmth through the glass. Late morning, edging toward noon. She rolled her shoulders, stretching until the stiffness loosened, then swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.

The orphanage greeted her with sound.

Footsteps thudded softly on wooden floors. Children laughed somewhere below, their voices overlapping like birds arguing over crumbs. The smell of warm bread and boiled milk drifted up the stairwell, familiar and grounding.

Kana descended.

“Kana, you’re finally awake!” Lily called, already waving her over before Kana had fully entered the dining space. “Come, drink your milk before it cools.”

Kana obeyed, seating herself at the long table. The cup was placed in her hands with practiced care, the warmth seeping into her palms. For a brief moment, she watched the surface ripple as she moved it, white and calm.

Sometimes, she wondered.

Was this how her mother had seen the princes in the castle? Sitting down to prepared meals, surrounded by caretakers, unaware of how much effort went into keeping the world orderly around them. The thought passed quietly, leaving no bitterness behind. Just curiosity.

As expected, chaos had found a new center.

Thorne.

The lizard Boris had bought sat on the floor, surrounded by a small army of children crouched low, eyes wide and unblinking. Its black-and-white scales gleamed faintly in the light, the horn atop its head catching attention like a crown. It flicked its tongue in and out, tasting the air, utterly unbothered by the attention.

Giggles erupted every time it moved.

Boris stood nearby, arms crossed, posture tense in the way of someone guarding a priceless treasure. His eyes tracked every small hand that came too close.

“I’m pretty sure he told us yesterday it’s harmless,” Kana thought dryly, watching Boris intervene when one child leaned in too fast.

“Oh! It poops!” a child shouted, laughter exploding anew.

“Boris,” Lily said in a deep voice, without looking up, “make sure to clean it.”

Boris froze. Then nodded solemnly, as if accepting a knightly duty.

Kana took a sip of milk.

Across the room, Suri leaned against a wall, deep in conversation with Aldo. Her voice was low, serious, entirely unlike her usual tone. She gestured toward the window. Blind spots. Sight ranges. Perimeter gaps. Aldo listened carefully, nodding now and then, committing everything to memory.

I should get one more villager to help Uncle Aldo.

Kana let her attention drift inward instead.

Yuri’s parents would be the additional core members of the new king’s group. 

They were experienced. Adults. Not dazzled by titles or afraid of consequences. They knew how the world really worked, the parts that never made it into textbooks. More importantly, Kana trusted them. She had seen them work. Seen them struggle. Seen them earn coin with their own hands. They weren’t spies. That’s for sure.

The academy, though…

That was the problem.

If she were the empire, she would start there. A place filled with talent, ambition, and young people eager to prove themselves. Easy to manipulate. Easy to watch.

She would have to be careful.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the door.

“Aunt Shar,” Kana greeted instinctively.

Yuri’s mother stepped inside, arms full of bundled herbs. Some smelled sharp and fresh, meant for cooking. Others carried a bitter edge, the kind that hinted at alchemy and long nights over bubbling flasks.

Her gaze dropped immediately.

“What do you have here?” Shar asked, already kneeling slightly to inspect the lizard.

“Do you know Thorne?” Boris asked, eyes lighting up.

Shar hummed thoughtfully. “Of course. Lizard body parts are quite useful in alchemy.”

Thorne reacted instantly.

It wriggled free, leaping from the floor and scuttling behind Boris with surprising speed, pressing itself close to his leg as if seeking shelter.

Shar laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to use your body for that.” She tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “Maybe the tail, though. It will grow back.”

Thorne hissed softly.

Shar looked up at Boris. “Where did you get it? This one’s rare.”

“Somewhere in the central district,” Boris said. “It just felt like it was calling me and it’s not really expensive so I bought it..”

Shar’s expression shifted, curiosity sharpening. “Hmm. That might actually be possible.”

Kana stiffened. So Boris was telling the truth?

“It’s a magical beast,” Shar continued, setting the herbs aside. “Very hard to identify yet because it’s still young. Its scales are still developing, but they’re already darker than most.”

Magical beast.

Kana blinked. Those were rare. Creatures that absorbed mana over time, evolving naturally. Sensitive. Elusive. Hard to hunt because humans, saturated with mana themselves, often drove them away without realizing it.

Boris practically vibrated in excitement. “Then what can it do? Fire? Lightning?”

Shar laughed, waving a hand. “Don’t expect too much. Lizards like this usually develop something similar to the [Phase] skill. Invisibility. Passing through solid objects.”

Boris’s excitement dimmed, just a little. Still, he reached down and patted Thorne’s horn gently.

Shar tilted her head, studying the creature more closely. Then she smiled.

“Why did you name it Thorne?” she asked.

She glanced up. “It’s a girl.”

The room went quiet.

Then Thorne chirped softly, as if amused.

“......”

………

Kana slipped back into routine like a blade into a familiar sheath for a few weeks, at least.

Weekdays were for the academy. Bells, lectures, physical training, the copper classroom chattering with voices that never truly stopped. Weekends were for movement. A quick dungeon raid beyond the walls then the orphanage, where the air smelled of soup and laughter instead of blood and ozone. It was a rhythm she could breathe in.

Sometimes Leo joined them, Kier at his side, both of them reliable in the quiet way that came from knowing their limits. Elle York, however, remained elusive. Every time Kana tried to invite her, there was always another emergency, another wounded adventurer, another long night spent pouring light into broken bodies.

That morning, Kana leaned back in her chair, relaxed in the copper classroom. The room was alive. Conversations overlapped like clashing waves. Someone laughed too loudly near the windows. Toby was already holding court near the back, spinning rumors into half-truths and watching them spread. Chalk scraped against a board somewhere, forgotten.

Then the room shifted.

A shadow crossed her desk.

Kana looked up just as a bird descended, wings snapping open with a sharp flutter. It landed neatly in front of her, claws clicking against the wood. Tied to its leg was a scroll, sealed in dark wax.

The bird winked at her. It’s Artin?

An X-mark. Her throat tightened.

The bird—Artin stared at her for half a heartbeat, then launched itself back into the air, vanishing through an open window as if it had never been there.

The classroom noticed.

Whispers rippled outward. Chairs creaked. A few students leaned closer, curiosity bright in their eyes. Kana didn’t hesitate. She snatched the scroll and sent it straight into her [Inventory] in one smooth motion. They grunted in response though.

What a delivery method, she thought, teeth grinding. There are too many eyes here.

By the time afternoon classes ended, Kana was already moving. She didn’t linger, didn’t chat, didn’t let herself get cornered by questions. The library welcomed her with cool air and silence, towering shelves swallowing sound whole. Only a handful of students occupied the far tables, heads bowed over books.

Safe enough.

She sat, hands steady now, and drew the scroll from her [Inventory].

There was a condition the king added—Complete the first mission. Prove competency first. Only then would the dungeon item be given.

She broke the seal.

The words burned themselves into her vision.

Operation: Catch the Phantom Thief. Alive.

Nobles possibly feeding information to the thief.

The thief is suspected to sell stolen dungeon items to the empire.

Kana’s breath left her in a sharp exhale. “Damn it—”

The old librarian’s glare cut through the silence like a knife.

Kana flinched, bowed her head quickly. “Sorry.”

Her gaze dropped back to the parchment.

Phantom Thief. A name spoken in taverns with a mix of awe and frustration. A ghost who slipped through enchanted wards and guards alike. Over a decade of thefts. Dungeon items vanishing without a trace. No witnesses. No bodies. No mistakes anyone could prove. She wasn’t really sure if the Phantom Thief really existed.

It must be since the king asked her to capture the thief. If the thief existed then he must be specialized in movement and advanced concealment skills. Possibly there was inside help from nobles themselves.

She leaned back slowly, the chair creaking beneath her weight, eyes tracing the tall shelves as if answers might be hiding between the spines.

So this was her first task.

Not a monster to kill. Not a dungeon to clear.

A person who had never been caught.

“Well,” she murmured, folding the parchment carefully, “this is going to be troublesome.”

It was almost an impossible mission. Does the king really want to give a dungeon item? 

Post note:
A small time skip from the last few chapters, now we are near the end of the school year-Kana will probably reach lvl 30 once they do the full raid with the other students.
Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂