The Brilliant Healer's New Life in the Shadows: Volume 4 E-Book

Sakaku Hishikawa

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Club
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: The Brilliant Healer's New Life in the Shadows
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 256

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Now that the situation with Liz has been resolved, Zenos shifts focus to researching the Black Guild. He soon learns of an important figure within their ranks who is supposedly able to heal any malady. Suspecting this might be his childhood friend Velitra, who once studied under the same mentor as him, Zenos decides to look further into the matter. Zenos suspects that Velitra has their old mentor’s notes. If Zenos is correct, his old friend might also hold the key to finding out more about the mysterious man.

Unfortunately, the Black Guild is shrouded in mystery, and information on their executives is guarded closely. Left with little other recourse, Zenos seeks out an information broker to help him gather the knowledge he seeks.

Will Zenos manage to infiltrate the Black Guild? And if he does, what secrets will his prying reveal...?

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Black Guild’s Information Broker

Chapter 2: The Night Healer

Chapter 3: Memories of the Shack

Chapter 4: Black Guild Infiltration

Chapter 5: Father and Daughter

Chapter 6: The Committee Meeting

Epilogue (I)

Epilogue (II)

Side Story: The Man of Legend and the Information Broker

Afterword

Color Illustrations

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

Landmarks

Table of Contents

Color Illustrations

Prologue

The slums were littered with dilapidated, abandoned shacks.

These places had been quickly stripped of any valuables, and there was little worth in the remaining ruins, with their rotting pillars and peeling roofs that couldn’t even keep out the rain. But with no one to demolish the remnants, they had been left to decay naturally.

One of these abandoned homes had served as a sort of training ground, once upon a time.

“Heal!” a child shouted, extending a hand forward.

Despite a slim frame clad in worn-out, dirty clothes, the child had eyes with a cool, determined sparkle to them, their color matching a mop of unruly deep-indigo hair. A white light gathered at the child’s slender fingertips, shimmering and popping.

“Huh. Well done, Velitra,” said a man with a scruffy beard from his seat on the stained floor. His eyes shifted under the hood of his coat—so deeply black that it seemed to block out all light—and landed on the other child in the room. “Color me shocked, Zenos. This kid you brought is a natural.”

“Told you,” Zenos replied proudly, looking at his orphanage companion. “Velitra’s smart.”

Zenos had often been tasked by orphanage staff to loot the corpses of people who’d dropped dead in the slums. Feeling sorry for them, he’d tried to find a way to bring them back to life, and studied magic on his own. He’d observed the bodies of the fallen from various races, focusing closely on them and visualizing them in his mind, all while practicing and refining his magic until the day he’d felt like he was finally on the cusp of successfully reviving someone.

But just as he’d been about to cast his best spell on a body he’d found, the man in the black cloak who now sat by the wall had scowled, smacked Zenos on the back of the head, and angrily shouted, “Don’t ever use that power on the dead! That’s for the living only!” His expression had been one of surprise, but with a tinge of exasperation.

“Can’t believe a kid can do this,” he’d said. “You’re a dangerous one. You need to learn to control your power.”

“Control my power?” Zenos echoed.

After that day, the man took shelter in an abandoned shack tucked away in a corner of the slums, and became Zenos’s occasional magic instructor. When asked who he was, the man had shot the boy an awkward look and replied simply, “Just a fourth-rate healer.”

Zenos sneaked away from his orphanage duties from time to time to visit the shack, evading the staff’s watchful eyes. And he didn’t go there just for magic lessons; the man’s stories of the outside world, too, were fascinating to Zenos.

The man taught him that the Kingdom of Herzeth, where they lived, was just one of many countries in the continent. That this kingdom may be bound by strict social hierarchy, but the world had countless other ways of life and peoples of a myriad of different races. The man spoke of vast oceans stretching on infinitely, of blazing mountains, of bottomless caves. The man also taught the boy basic reading, writing, and history, detailing events such as the war between humans and demons that had occurred three hundred years ago.

For Zenos, whose entire world was the orphanage, it was all an eye-opening experience. One he wanted to share with his friends, though sneaking out of the orphanage with a large group proved difficult.

In the end, he’d shared the lessons only with his closest friend, Velitra.

Velitra and Zenos were part of the same group of children in the orphanage. The indigo-haired child was reserved and gentle, if a bit hardheaded at times. But though their personalities were different, Zenos felt a strange affinity toward the other youth.

“So this is healing magic,” Velitra breathed in awe, gazing at the twinkling lights. “Amazing.”

“Pulling off a spell on your second lesson is impressive,” their mentor noted.

“You’re just a good teacher,” Velitra replied.

The man chuckled lightly. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, you know. You’re just quick to grasp the theory. Smart kid, that’s all.”

“Right? I keep saying that too,” Zenos boasted.

“And what are you acting all proud for?” the man admonished, though he didn’t mind seeing the boy gloat about his friend. He gave Zenos a glance, then sighed before continuing: “You’re the opposite of Velitra—it’s all instinct with you. You show great power once things click, but you’re way too inconsistent. That’s what makes you dangerous.”

“I’m just not good with complicated theory and stuff,” Zenos protested. “You keep saying you’re a healer, gramps. Why don’t you just show me, then? I’ll get it if you do.”

But the man just laughed proudly for some reason. “Ba ha ha! You still have a lot of growing to do before I show you anything, kiddo. Come back in a hundred years.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zenos muttered.

He’d started to wonder if the self-proclaimed healer was a con artist, since he’d never seen the man cast anything, but he did have inarguably interesting tales to tell. And since Velitra had actually learned to use magic from the guy’s teachings, the man couldn’t be all hot air.

“Zenos, we should go,” Velitra said.

“Oh. Yeah, let’s get going,” Zenos agreed.

“You two live in an orphanage, right?” the man interjected. “Sounds rough from what you’ve told me. You really have to go back?”

“If we don’t, they’ll punish our friends. Something about ‘collective responsibility.’”

“Huh. All right. Not like it’s my place to interfere,” the man replied. The expression on his face was one Zenos had seen occasionally before—it was like he’d given up on something.

“We’ll be back, though,” Velitra said in a tone that was firmer than usual, though still mild-mannered. The pair stopped at the door and Velitra turned to ask, “Also, uh, what should we call you?”

The man looked up, seemingly touched by the question. “Hey, Zenos! You hear that? Your friend’s so polite! You, meanwhile, just call me ‘gramps.’”

“I mean, you never told me your name, so...”

It wasn’t as if Zenos hadn’t asked either. But whenever he had, the man’d just refused to answer, stating that he’d abandoned his name long ago. At first, Zenos had called him “healer guy,” but eventually, he’d settled on “gramps.”

“That so? Well, whatever. What would you like to call me? I’m open to ‘cool guy,’ for instance.”

“Ugh, you’re such a pain, gramps.”

“Shut up, Zenos! It’s a fine nickname! Put yourself in my shoes, being called gramps at my age!”

“How old even are you, gramps?”

The man chuckled. “How old do I look?”

“You’re such a pain!”

“Oh? The day I disavow you as my student draws near, Zenos. How sad for you.”

As the two bickered, Velitra timidly spoke up. “Um... How about ‘master’?”

Their mentor’s expression turned bewildered for a moment. Usually he was quite flippant, but he fell silent for a spell, closing his eyes. With a slow nod, he smiled and continued, “All right. Sounds great. You can call me master.”

A tinge of melancholy colored the nostalgic memory of days gone by.

Chapter 1: The Black Guild’s Information Broker

The powerful Kingdom of Herzeth lay at the heart of the continent.

Its people were divided into a strict class system, with royalty at the top, wielding an overwhelming majority of the power. Then came nobles, citizens, and at the very bottom, the poor, also known as the forgotten people.

Separating the dazzling districts where the citizens comprising the majority of the capital’s population led a leisure life and the sprawling slums, also known as the capital’s shadow, lay a stretch of abandoned residential area once devastated by a plague. Tucked away in this area stood a quiet building that could easily have been mistaken for a ruin. It was an illegal clinic operated secretly by a brilliant healer, born in the slums and without a license.

“All good now,” Zenos said, pulling away his hand. “Now you can play all you like.”

In the clinic’s treatment room, with its simple interior and function-over-form furnishings, sat a demi-human child with a fully healed knee. “Thank you, Dr. Zenos!” the child exclaimed excitedly before happily dashing out of the clinic.

“Phew. That’s it for the morning, I think.”

“Yeah,” agreed an elf girl wearing a handmade nurse’s cap as she walked closer, carrying iced tea on a tray. The ice cubes swayed against the glass, making a light clinking sound. “You’re doing great.”

“Thanks, Lily,” Zenos said before downing the iced tea in one gulp, standing from his chair, and opening the window wide. The lively chirping of cicadas filled the room, announcing the arrival of summer. “Looks like it’ll be hot today.”

Just last month he’d reunited with Liz—a childhood friend from the orphanage he’d grown up in—after several years apart. Much had happened, and an incident involving the place’s former director had been resolved. Liz, with dreams of starting her own orphanage, had taken her sister Gina and left the clinic. There had been no major issues since, and the days that followed had been relatively peaceful.

“It’s been so uneventful lately,” Lily mused.

“Sure has,” Zenos agreed. It’d been one thing after another since the clinic opened. The peace and quiet weren’t so bad.

It was of course Carmilla, the wraith sitting idly on the edge of the bed and swinging her legs, who rained on Zenos’s parade. “It could be the calm before the storm,” she pointed out.

“Don’t jinx it. Is this your wraith’s intuition again?” Zenos was loath to admit it, but Carmilla’s hunches often turned out to be right in the worst possible way.

The woman, who was an undead of the highest rank, shook her head. “Just wishful thinking.”

“That’s even worse!”

She chuckled eerily. “I am always after thrills that make the blood pump and the body shiver.”

“Except you don’t have blood and you don’t have a body.”

“Irrelevant,” Carmilla pointed out before continuing, “Either way, why are you wearing something so stifling in this heat?”

“Hmm? Oh. You’re right,” Zenos said as he glanced at his black cloak. He took it off and hung it on a hook on the wall. “I’m just in the habit of wearing it. It looks warm, but it’s really worn out, so it’s surprisingly breezy.”

“And what is there to be proud about in that?” the wraith asked. “Why not get a new one? You have the means, no?”

“Well... I’m attached to it.”

“Zenos, that was your mentor’s cloak, right?” Lily asked while gazing at the garment on the wall.

The healer nodded. “Yeah. He was a shady old coot, but I owe him a lot.”

“A memento, then,” Carmilla remarked, shifting to sit cross-legged.

“Something like that, yeah,” Zenos replied with a somewhat nostalgic expression. The dirtied black cloak was the only thing he had left of his mentor, whose identity and past remained a mystery.

However, a letter from Becker of the Royal Institute of Healing—a former friend of his mentor’s—had made Zenos realize that there could still be something else the mysterious man had left behind.

“His notes,” he murmured. His mentor had owned a black leather journal.

The man had once been an elite healer, but he’d abandoned everything and come to the slums because he’d dabbled in the forbidden magic of resurrection. A curse had befallen him for it, and due to that, not even his old friend Becker could remember much about him. Becker’s letter had said that if Zenos wanted to find out more, he should look for the journal.

“A childhood friend of yours might have these notes, is that right?” Carmilla asked.

“It’s just a possibility,” Zenos replied. The childhood friend in question was Velitra, who had trained in healing magic under the same mentor. If anyone other than Zenos had the man’s old journal, it’d have to be his fellow student.

“Do you know where your friend is now, Zenos?” Lily asked.

“Would be easier if I did,” Zenos replied with a shallow sigh. All of his friends from the orphanage had gone their separate ways after the fire. He did want to find them, but the slums and the capital were vast, and locating them through conventional means would be challenging.

Carmilla’s lips curled into a sly grin. “Perhaps luck will be on your side and you shall have your answer this very day,” she said with a chuckle.

Zenos tilted his head. “What are you talking about?”

At that exact moment, the door to the clinic burst open and the three demi-human bosses—Zophia of the lizardmen, Lynga of the werewolves, and Loewe of the orcs—all swarmed in.

“Doc!” Zophia called out. “Are you here?!”

“It’s me! Lynga!”

“Sure is sunny today,” Loewe muttered.

There was no need to ask what had brought those three to the clinic today; they hung around all the time as though they lived there, business or no. Instead, Zenos stated firmly, “It’s almost time for lunch, but I’m picking the menu this time.”

Zophia smiled awkwardly. “Aw, come on, doc. It’s like you’re saying we only ever come here for lunch.”

“You’re always here for lunch, though,” Zenos pointed out.

The lizardwoman laughed. “I won’t deny that, but we actually have business here today.”

“Business, you say?”

“We looked into the matter of your childhood friend as best as we could,” Lynga clarified.

Zenos’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

“The three of us came by last month, but you and Lily were on a house call,” Loewe explained. “We chatted with Carmilla, and she told us that your childhood friend might have your mentor’s journal.”

Indeed, Zenos had shared that information with Lily and Carmilla previously. He glanced at the Lich Queen, who shrugged lightly and asked, “Is there a problem? These people practically live here. They would have found out sooner or later.”

“Well, it’s not that I mind, exactly...” Zenos mumbled.

The three demi-humans spoke up all at once.

“We can’t do anything about forbidden magic or curses or anything, but we can definitely help you find someone,” Zophia declared.

“You’re always helping us out, Sir Zenos,” Lynga added. “This is the least we can do!”

“We each spent a month investigating, so we wanted to pool our information,” Loewe explained.

“And you want to do that today,” Zenos concluded. Since the matter of his mentor and Velitra was personal, he hadn’t intended to ask the demi-humans for help, but their network was undoubtedly helpful when it came to finding people in the slums. “I see. Sorry for the trouble.”

“What are you talking about?” Zophia asked. “A problem of yours is a problem of ours. Plus, if we’d told you earlier, you’d probably have said you didn’t need our help, so... Sorry, but we went ahead and acted on our own.”

It sounded like they’d gone and fussed over him for no good reason. With a sigh, Zenos sat down at the table and straightened up slightly. “All right, then,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”

***

Out of consideration, Lily closed the window, and the chirping of the cicadas faded into the distance. An inexplicable tension hung in the now quiet, still air of the room.

“I’ll start. To summarize...” Zophia paused, looking around at the group before continuing. “My men and I, uh, actually found nothing at all. Sorry, doc.” She slumped forward dejectedly.

“All that mystery for nothing?” Carmilla complained, glaring at the lizardwoman.

Zophia’s shoulders sagged even further. “I’m sorry. I thought we’d be able to sniff something out if we really went at it, but there really was no info whatsoever. I even extended my network past the slums into the city district, but couldn’t catch a single whiff of anything.” She turned to Loewe as though asking whether the orc had managed to find something out.

Loewe grunted before saying, “You too, then. Truthfully, I couldn’t find anything either. I even had my people check with the Black Guild, but nothing came up at all,” the orc chief said with obvious disappointment.

As the atmosphere turned heavier, Zenos kept his tone deliberately light. “I see. Well, don’t sweat it. I’m grateful you guys went out of your way.” He couldn’t help feeling slightly deflated, but he hadn’t expected this to be easy in the first place.

Zophia and Loewe frowned apologetically. “Sorry, doc,” the lizardwoman said. “If even with all that searching we couldn’t find anything, maybe your friend’s not in the capital anymore.”

“Or—and I hate to say it—maybe your friend’s dead somewhere.”

Lily cast a concerned glance at the healer. “Zenos...”

Carmilla, sipping her honey-sweetened tea, turned to the remaining demi-human. “What about you, Lynga? You have been quiet all this while.”

“I had the same results,” Lynga replied. “I had my guys investigate, but we found nothing. Except...”

“Except...?”

After thinking for a moment, Lynga continued: “The fact we couldn’t find anything at all seems off to me. It’s like someone intentionally covered all their tracks.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Zophia and Loewe could be right—maybe Sir Zenos’s friend left the capital or died. But there’s another possibility.” Everyone’s attention was locked on Lynga as she concluded, “Maybe his friend is hiding deep underground.”

Silence swept across the room.

After a moment, Loewe crossed her arms and muttered, “But Lynga, my people have already gone probing underground in the Black Guild.”

“Yeah, but probably only as far as an outsider can reach, right?” the leader of the werewolves pointed out. “The executives of the Black Guild, the top brass especially, rarely show their faces. If Sir Zenos’s old friend has risen to a position like that... Well, then it makes sense we can’t find anything.”

“You think Velitra is a top executive of the Black Guild?” Zenos asked, furrowing his brows as the kind, gentle smile of the child he’d used to know popped up in his mind. Now that he thought about it, Liz had mentioned there being someone with exceptional healing skills among the top executives of the guild. “Could it really be...?” he murmured to himself.

Zophia shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. “Makes sense to me. If that’s true, no wonder we didn’t find anything. But it’s gonna be pretty hard to investigate a top executive of the Black Guild...”

“True, there’s a limit to what an outsider can find out,” Lynga agreed. “But I have an idea.” After getting everyone’s attention once more, Lynga cleared her throat and continued, “We should ask the Black Guild’s information broker.”

“Right,” Zophia murmured in understanding. “The broker.”

“What’s an information broker?” Lily asked, tilting her head.

“People who make a living out of buying and selling information,” Zophia explained. “They have their own information network, and would probably have an easier time getting around than us.”

“There’s one problem, though,” Loewe pointed out. “How do we even find this broker in the first place?”

Lynga puffed out her chest proudly and chuckled. “I know where.”

“You do?”

“Yeah! One of the customers at the werewolves’ gambling den is a broker!”

“Huh. How unusually shrewd of you, Lynga!” Zophia exclaimed, clapping her hands in admiration.

Lynga laughed triumphantly. “Yes! Praise me!” She turned her beast-eared head to Zenos.

“Um, what?” Zenos asked.

“Sir Zenos! I would like some praise! And a headpat!”

“R-Right.” Well, the information she just gave us could be valuable, I guess.

As Zenos lightly patted her head, Lynga let out a muffled chuckle. A split second later, another head was thrust in front of the healer’s hand.

“Uh, Loewe? What’s up?”

Loewe glanced up at him, looking a bit miffed. “Damn. My plan to take advantage of the chaos and trick Zenos into patting me didn’t work...”

“What chaos, exactly?”

“Forget it, Loewe,” Lynga said. “Sadly for you, this win is all mine.”

Next to an annoyed Zophia, who was grinding her teeth in frustration, Lily was calmly clearing away the glasses. “When I can’t sleep, Zenos pats my head too,” she commented.

“What?!” the lizardwoman exclaimed. “Wait, no, that makes sense.”

Lynga groaned. “Just once isn’t enough for me!”

“I want to live with Zenos too!” Loewe added.

Carmilla chuckled in amusement. “Tea is best served with the ugly squabbles of women.”

“Why don’t we all just calm down?” Zenos said, holding out his arms.

Zophia collected herself and cleared her throat. “Right, right. We’re not here to argue. Anyway, if buying information on the underground from this broker is an option, then we should do it.”

“Yep,” Lynga agreed. “Last time, when we were looking into Zenos’s friend Liz, I bought information from this broker’s underlings.”

“Huh,” Loewe said. “I have high hopes, then.”

Lynga crossed her arms, a little hesitant. “Just... The broker’s not an easy person to deal with.”

***

Three days later, the eventide shadows of Zenos and his companions stretched long in the back alleys of the slums. The daytime heat had subsided, and a cool breeze brushed against the backs of the group’s necks.

“I feel bad that you guys are spending time on dealing with my stuff,” Zenos said.

The demi-humans all shook their heads.

“What are you talking about?” Zophia asked. “I told you, a problem of yours is a problem of ours.”

“Yeah. You’re always helping us out,” Loewe agreed.

“It’s the opposite, really,” Lynga chimed in. “I’m glad I can be of use, for once.”

“Really? I owe you guys,” Zenos said in reply.

If Velitra was deeply involved with the Black Guild, trying to suss anything out individually would be difficult. And since Lynga, who herself was a bit of an oddball, had claimed the information broker was difficult to deal with, it suggested this person could be quite eccentric.

Regardless, nothing would change unless they met with the broker. And so, with Lynga leading the way, the group headed to the werewolf-owned gambling den.

“Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever been to the werewolves’ gambling den,” Zophia mused.

“True. Me neither,” Loewe said.

“It’s a first for me too,” Lily added. “It’s so exciting. Right, Zenos?”

“Yeah, it is,” Zenos agreed.

Visibly tense, Lily clutched an old-fashioned staff with both hands. It was well worn and engraved with intricate patterns.

“Hey, Lily,” Zenos said. “Is Carmilla in that staff?”

Since the sun was still up, the undead Carmilla couldn’t be out and about in her original form. However, as a spirit, she could inhabit objects she had an attachment to. This staff was an old belonging of hers, and so he figured she was currently inside it and had asked Lily to carry her.

“Yeah,” Lily confirmed. “Carmilla insisted on coming along. She said she’d end up a wandering spirit if I didn’t bring her.”

“She’s kind of already a wandering spirit.”

The staff vibrated slightly, and Carmilla’s voice came from within it. “Hee hee hee... I am itching to put my skills to use. ’Tis time to show all of you how lucky I am. The winds of gambling are blowing...”

“The winds of what, now? Also, you can talk while in the staff?”

“Hee hee hee... Where there is a will, there is a way.”

Truly, the longer one spent around undead, the less one understood their behavior. “Can you just, like, chill for once?” Zenos asked. “Actually, did you even need to be here?”

“Fool! Who else should go if not I, once called the Goddess of Gambling?!”

“What? Really?”

“No.”

“Ugh!”

“We’re here,” Lynga said, interrupting the pointless banter. She gestured at a worn-out house tucked away in the alley.

“This is the place?” Zophia asked, bewildered.

“It looks like an ordinary house,” Loewe pointed out.

“It’s designed to not attract attention from the outside,” Lynga explained as she pushed open the creaky door. “We have a few other dens too, but the broker often comes to this one.”

A musty smell wafted out as the dimly lit interior came into view. The twilight sun filtered in through the open door, illuminating the rotten floorboards and the numerous cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.

“How is this a gambling den?” Zophia asked. “It’s just an abandoned house.”

Lynga snorted. “Watch this, Zophia,” she said, rubbing her nose before placing a hand on a bookshelf at the back of the room. The werewolf took hold of a thick book the size of a dictionary and tilted it forward, causing the bookshelf to creak open like a door. Behind it was a staircase leading down into the basement.

Loewe whistled at the sight.

“Follow me,” Lynga said.

The group followed her down a dozen or so steps before being met with a sturdy metal door. Lynga slowly pushed it open with both hands, and a lavish space, unimaginable from the outside, unfolded before them. A wave of heat poured out from the room, pricking at the group’s skin.

“Whoa...!”

Multiple chandeliers hung from the ceiling, bathing the gamblers in a bright spotlight-like glow. Crowds gathered around the card tables and roulette wheels, and the sounds of laughter and conversation could be heard coming from the bar area in the back. The smell of tobacco and alcohol filled the air, and the heated atmosphere permeated every corner of the underground space.

“This is pretty impressive,” Zenos remarked.

Lynga chuckled proudly. “You can praise me all you like, Sir Zenos,” she said, her beast ears twitching atop her gray hair. “Now, pat me again!”

“No way, Lynga!” Zophia protested. “You can’t get headpats just from bringing us to a casino!”

“That’s right!” Loewe agreed. “Zenos’s headpats are reserved for much greater achievements!”

“What are you guys going on about?” Zenos asked.

Carmilla chuckled. “Ah, ugly squabbles.”

Zophia took a step forward, surveying the ample underground space. “So, Lynga, where’s the broker?”

“The broker usually comes around once a month,” Lynga replied. “Unless there was a change in schedule, today should be the day.” Getting on her tiptoes, she scanned their surroundings. “Not here yet, I don’t think.”

“What now, Zenos?” Lily asked, tugging on the healer’s sleeve.

“Well, we’re here anyway. Might as well wait a bit longer,” he replied, taking the elf girl toward the bar area.

Carmilla, who had already slipped out of the staff, was looking around restlessly. “Hee hee hee... Now, what game shall I try first...?”

“You do know why we’re here, right?” Zenos asked.

“Hmm? Of course I do.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

“Gambling! Why would anyone come to a gambling den, if not to gamble?!”

“So you have no idea!”

Zenos’s quip was drowned out by the lively chatter of the nearby gamblers.

***

The underground casino run by the werewolf faction was bustling with gamblers of all kinds. There were demi-humans, ordinary humans, and even some mixed-race patrons. Some looked influential, while others were pale and clung to a single chip like their lives depended on it. Cries of joy blended in with groans of despair, contributing to the unique atmosphere of the place, where people pitted luck and money against each other.

“For now, just relax until the broker shows up,” Lynga said before calling some of her men over and having them bring drinks to Zenos and the others, now all seated at the bar.

“They call to me... The winds of gambling are calling to meee...” Carmilla said as she floated toward the casino floor, drawn in by the excitement.

“Hey! Stop right there!” Zenos called out. “Look, sorry, but can you just keep a low profile this once?”

“Oh...”

“Don’t look so disappointed!”

Not everyone here was a regular at the clinic. The guests’ attention was focused on gambling so far, but if anyone noticed the presence of a wraith—the most powerful of all undead creatures—it would likely cause a commotion.

Carmilla snorted. “Fine. But surely I can observe quietly, no?”

“I guess,” Zenos conceded. “As long as it doesn’t cause a stir.”

“All right, then. I shall return to the staff. Lily, carry me, if you would.” With that, she dissipated into a puff of smoke and was absorbed into the old staff the elf was holding. “Onward! Perhaps I shall start by observing the roulette tables.”

“Huh? Oh! Okay!” Lily stammered, gripping the staff nervously with both hands before stepping deeper into the bustling casino.

“Guess I’ll go too,” Zenos said.

“Sir Zenos, Lily will be fine,” Lynga assured him. “All the employees here work for me, and they’re very familiar with Lily.”

“Well, all right...” He sat back down. Looking closely, Zenos recognized most of the werewolf staff on the casino floor. Indeed, with them around, there was no need to worry about Lily. Several staff members were already approaching her.

“Well, since I’m here, I might as well take a look around,” Loewe said, climbing from her seat. With a relaxed stride, she blended into the crowd of gamblers, leaving Lynga, Zenos, and Zophia at the bar.

“So, Lynga,” Zophia said, crossing her legs, “can we trust this broker?”

Lynga brought a finger to her forehead, looking a bit troubled. “Well, hmm... You could say the broker is trustworthy. And also not.”

“What? Are you sure this is a good idea, then?”

“It’s just, I think the broker does good work. Can’t be buying and selling information underground for years otherwise, you know?”

“That makes sense...” Zenos said, crossing his arms and nodding.

To an information broker, credibility was everything. If this person had been in the business long enough, the information they dealt in, if nothing else, had to be reliable. And a gambling den was a breeding ground for all sorts of shady information—the broker probably stopped by regularly to collect it.

“Anyway, doc, I hope we can find some info on your childhood friend,” Zophia said.

“Your friend has your master’s notes, right?” Lynga asked.

“Can’t know for sure, but it’s likely, yeah,” Zenos confirmed. He hadn’t seen Velitra since the orphanage fire, and that had been a long time ago. Back in the day, just exchanging glances had been enough for him to tell what had been on his friend’s mind, but now he didn’t even know where Velitra was.

As the trio chatted pleasantly about bygone days, a werewolf employee approached and whispered something in Lynga’s ear. She stood up slowly and turned to Zenos. “Sir Zenos, it seems the broker’s here.”

“All right. Let’s go meet ’em, then.”

“I’m coming too,” Zophia said.

Zenos and Zophia followed Lynga toward the casino’s entrance, but the person they were looking for was nowhere to be found. Lynga asked her subordinate at the reception, “Where’s the broker?”

“Oh, sorry, boss,” the werewolf employee said. “The broker was here a second ago, but just went inside.”