In one of the narrow alleys of the black market, Charles and Joseph moved at a steady, unhurried pace. Their eyes flicked left and right with caution as they began speaking in hushed tones that nearly disappeared beneath the constant murmur and shifting footsteps of the crowd around them.
"Why are we being followed?" Joseph whispered under his breath, his blue eyes scanning the darkness with perplexity.
Charles thought for a moment, his deep brown eyes glittering with vigilance. "This place is full of suspicious types, but it's strange they would single us out to follow—there are plenty of other targets to pick from in a place like this."
"Maybe it's because of Michael. I've been asking about him at nearly every stall, giving out quite a lot of detail."
"If you're right, then whoever's following us must have some connection to Michael Berg. Or they don't want us digging any deeper into his business."
They fell silent for a moment, each pondering the pursuer's motive. They had no way of knowing if the cloaked figure merely wanted to observe them or if he intended them harm.
Joseph leaned in closer and whispered, "We need to turn from the hunted into the hunters."
"If he's tailing us," Charles replied, "we have to make him think we're none the wiser. Then, when the time is right, we'll turn the tables and track him instead."
A slight smile tugged at Charles's lips. His detective instincts were awakened—time and again, his work had led him into dangers posed by criminals, while Joseph's experience in the Special Unit had further sharpened their combined expertise.
"How do we lure him in?" Charles asked.
"Let's split up," Joseph suggested. "Go over to the silverware stall. We'll see if he sticks with you or switches to me."
"And if he follows me?" Charles asked.
"Then I'll be the one to tail him. One way or another, we'll find out who he is and what he wants."
They parted ways so smoothly that to an outside observer, it appeared like nothing more than casual browsing. Charles drifted toward the row of stalls lit by dim oil lamps, while Joseph slipped into another section of the market. Within seconds, they blended into the shifting crowd, becoming just more shadows among the labyrinthine passages of the black market.
Charles walked to the silverware stall as planned, keeping his stride calm and purposeful—neither too slow nor too hurried. His ears remained keenly attuned to the slightest sound of footsteps behind him. Before long, he sensed a subtle movement; someone was indeed following him at a discreet distance.
But just as Charles became certain of the tail, he noticed the man in the dark cloak suddenly change direction. The figure drifted away from Charles's path, heading toward the route Joseph had taken.
'He switched targets,' Charles thought, his eyes narrowing with caution.
Meanwhile, Joseph continued along a cramped corridor as though completely unaware he was being followed. He paused occasionally at various stalls, appearing to browse idly, but his sharp gaze caught sight of a faint reflection in an old mirror for sale. A hooded man was tailing him—keeping the perfect distance, neither too close nor too far.
'He's definitely following me,' Joseph noted silently. Still, he gave no outward sign that he had discovered the pursuit.
Charles observed everything from a vantage point, partially hidden in the shadows. He did not rush to intervene; rather, he waited for their plan to unfold naturally, ready to provide backup from a safe distance.
Joseph weaved past stalls selling herbs and gemstones, appearing completely unalarmed. He knew the hooded man would likely avoid making any move in the middle of such a crowded marketplace. Joseph needed to draw him somewhere quieter, somewhere the stranger might reveal more of his intentions.
Spotting a narrow side passage that few people traversed, Joseph turned into it, trusting the man behind him would follow. Charles, watching from afar, quickly repositioned himself, tracking the pursuer from behind. The stranger, fixated on Joseph, seemed oblivious to Charles's silent approach.
Joseph walked deeper into the narrow corridor until he finally paused, pretending to examine something along the stone wall. He knew the hooded man would come closer in just a few seconds.
Sure enough, faint footsteps echoed from behind. As the man approached, Joseph waited until he judged the distance was right. Then he spun around abruptly to confront his stalker.
The stranger halted, momentarily startled. For a fraction of a second, a flicker of surprise showed in his eyes.
"Why have you been following me?" Joseph asked in a level voice that carried a subtle undercurrent of authority.
The cloaked man did not reply. His gaze darted around as though searching for an escape route. But before he could move, Charles materialized behind him, silent as a wraith.
Charles blocked the passage with a solid stance, forming a barrier the stranger could not easily slip past. The man in the cloak shifted uneasily, realizing he was now cornered by two individuals who were not about to let him go.
"Who are you?" Joseph demanded again, his voice still calm but now carrying a razor edge. "What do you want?"
The cloaked man's eyes flicked around, and Charles sensed a slight movement under the man's robe, as though he were preparing to do something rash. Joseph also noticed the motion. Instantly, he invoked his power, his voice resonating:
"Do not move."
In that moment, the air around them felt as though it were locked in place by an unseen force. It was as if time itself froze in that tight space, snaring all within its reach—ally and foe alike. Even Charles and Joseph felt the rigid grip of it, though Joseph's ability carried certain limits and conditions; everyone within range was impacted, including Joseph himself.
Then, from beneath the cloak, a small paper bundle slipped free and hit the ground.
'No!' Charles cursed inwardly, realizing at once what it was.
The packet shattered on impact, releasing a thick smoke bomb. Acrid sulfurous fumes filled the passage, rolling in dense gray clouds. The stinging odor suffused their lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe, and their vision blurred with the swirling haze.
Joseph clenched his teeth, his throat and chest burning as the sulfur-laden smoke assaulted him. The stifling fumes made them all tremble and sway, their lungs and heads throbbing with each breath.
In the end, Joseph was forced to break off his power. In that brief second, the hooded man hurled himself out of the smoke, vanishing into the intricate maze of the black market.
Charles blinked rapidly, fighting to clear the haze from his eyes. He forced himself to speak over the residual coughing. "Joseph!"
Joseph, coughing quietly to clear the bitter taste of sulfur, managed to reply, "I'm fine." Straightening up, he scanned the corridor where the cloaked figure had disappeared. "He got away..."
Charles glanced in the same direction but could see no trace of the man. The choking smoke still lingered, masking any sign of pursuit.
"That man must know something," Joseph said, pressing a hand to his chest as he steadied himself. "Nobody runs like that without a good reason."
"If he's on the run, he might not get far," Charles said, looking toward another branching corridor of the black market. "I can ask a few of the merchants if they've seen him around—maybe someone knows who he is or what business he's involved in."
Joseph raised his hand in caution. "Better not. If that man knew we were asking about Michael, it's possible he overheard us, or someone we talked to tipped him off."
Charles frowned, piecing it together. "So you think someone in the market told him we were looking?"
Joseph nodded, the wariness in his blue eyes deepening. "Yes. And if that's the case, pressing further might make them close ranks even more."
Charles exhaled softly. "Then what do we do now?"
Joseph fell silent, his gaze drifting into the darkness as he sank deep into thought. Charles shifted slightly, about to speak again when Joseph raised one hand, signaling he needed a moment more. Charles, seeing the intensity in his friend's eyes, stepped back and gave him the space he needed.
Moments later, Joseph released a long breath, as though he had come to a decision. "Let's head back to the Special Unit."
Charles arched a brow in surprise. "Why? We're so close to uncovering something here."
Joseph looked at him firmly. "Uncle Edward just sent me a message..."
He hesitated, as though weighing his words. "He says he found the location of the Script-Decipherers. We need to head back right away."
Charles's expression turned grim. He recalled Edward's warning—if they ever found a lead on the Script-Decipherers, they would have to move quickly before the group vanished again.
"All right," Charles said. "Let's go."
They left the black market through the underground passage, darkness closing in behind them. Only the skittering of rats and the drip of moisture from the tunnel ceiling broke the silence as they retraced their steps.
Charles pulled out his pocket watch, angling the dim oil lantern to read the time. He noticed that the edges of the watch had grown dull and discolored. The once bright metal had begun to tarnish.
"Why does it look tarnished?" he muttered, wiping at the faded edges with a cloth. The dullness did not disappear.
Joseph glanced at it. "Probably from that smoke bomb. Remember how strong the sulfur smell was? If your watch has any silver in its casing, sulfur would make it tarnish."
Charles sighed with mild regret, running a finger over the watch's rim. "I thought it was just some alloy. I didn't realize parts of it were actually silver."
Joseph offered a small, sympathetic smile. "Don't worry. That tarnish can be polished off. We'll get it back to normal."
With that reassurance, the two continued their climb out of the subterranean depths, preparing themselves for the next challenge awaiting them above ground—and for the secrets about Michael Berg, the Script-Decipherers, and everything else that lurked in the shadows of the Kingdom of Hydelyn.