Good at reporting

Doug was bitten by stray dogs when he was young, and the hideous scars on his legs and hands still bear witness to that trauma. Because of this, he doesn't keep dogs and forbids gang members from doing so—he's terrified of them.

Hearing this from the bartender, Seth leaned back slightly.

"It seems I should bring a dog when I meet him, just in case."

Sanqi shrugged, choosing not to comment further, and continued, "Doug joined a gang in his youth and became its leader about ten years ago. Perhaps out of a desire to emulate the upper class, he wore formal suits and bow ties. He even made it a rule for his gang members to wear bow ties. That's how the 'Black Tie' gang got its name."

"He's involved in all sorts of illegal dealings and is notorious for his ruthlessness in dealing with rivals. Once, Doug chopped up a rival and threw him into the sea. He's the kind of guy even the police don't want to mess with."

At that moment, another bartender entered and whispered something to Sanqi. After listening, Sanqi nodded and looked at Seth.

"He's here."

On the tavern's second floor, Seth knocked on a door. It opened slightly, revealing a bearded man with a shaved head looking out warily before fully opening the door.

Seth walked in calmly and glanced around the room. The lighting was dim, and a stout man in a formal suit and black tie sat on a sofa. He had a cigar in his mouth, and beside him was a young girl, while a woman in a seductive dress offered him a glass of wine.

Behind the sofa stood two large men in cheap formal suits and bow ties. Their hands clasped behind their backs, they looked as rigid as statues.

The bald, bearded man stretched out his hand.

"Please hand over the pistol."

Seth, wearing a black iron mask, looked at him casually.

"That's impossible. A gun is a hunter's life, and I won't entrust my life to anyone else."

A smirk played at the corner of the bearded man's mouth.

"That's your choice."

He reached into Seth's trench coat, attempting to grab the gun by force. But Seth was faster. He grabbed the man's hand, then swiftly unbalanced him, causing the bearded man to stumble and drop to one knee. Seth slams the man's head into the wooden floor, dazing him.

Behind the sofa, the two men in formal suits immediately reached for their guns. But before they could react, they heard two sharp gunshots. Their revolvers jerked violently from their hands, knocked away by Seth's precise shots.

Amidst the hostess's screams, Seth pointed his golden pistol at the man on the sofa and said in a calm, indifferent tone, "The test ends here, Mr. Doug."

The pistol spun elegantly in Seth's hand before he holstered it under his arm. He removed his hat and sat down on the sofa opposite Doug.

The stout man burst into laughter and clapped his hands vigorously.

"Yes, you are the best hunter in town. Your skills fully live up to that reputation."

Seth crossed one leg over the other and leaned slightly toward the armrest.

"Since you think I'm qualified, we can discuss the task now."

"Of course." Doug spread his hands.

"The task is simple. Please meet me at White Beach around 11 p.m. the day after tomorrow. I'll be receiving some goods. Your job is to ensure the 'goods' and I get away safely. Mr. Duke, I'll pay you £300 for this."

Doug leaned forward slightly. "If anything goes wrong, I'll increase your fee depending on the difficulty of the situation. After seeing your skills just now, I assure you that additional compensation won't be less than £200."

Seth responded directly, "You're very generous, Mr. Doug. But what kind of 'goods' these are? I must assess the task's difficulty to ensure the reward matches the risk."

Doug let out a dry laugh. "Very well, I'll increase the reward to £500. As for what the 'goods' are—don't ask."

A flicker of a smile appeared in Seth's eyes. "Perhaps you don't know me well enough. It's not money I'm after—I'm more interested in the challenge. If the task isn't compelling enough, I might lack the motivation to take it on."

"Of course," he added, "it's entirely up to you whether to share the details. But I can only suggest you find another hunter."

Doug fell silent, puffing on his cigar. He exhaled thick clouds of white smoke, his eyes studying Seth through the lingering haze.

After a long pause, Doug finally removed the cigar from his lips.

"You've got personality, Mr. Duke. Very well. I'll reveal one thing—those 'goods' are people. They're individuals who've come to Loen from East and West Balam, seeking opportunities. And I'm simply providing them with one."

People? Human trafficking? Seth's suspicions were confirmed—this was precisely the kind of operation a gangster would run.

"Mr. Duke, now that you know, you won't be reporting me to the police station, right?" Doug laughed loudly.

"Of course not," Seth replied with a smile.

But he added in his heart that I've already reported you to St. Witt's Church because I can't be sure whether the police station is in league with you.

Doug stood up and extended his hand. "Then, here's to a successful partnership?"

This time, Seth didn't respond. He didn't shake hands with Doug but adjusted the hat on his head and said, "See you the night after tomorrow."

After leaving the tavern, Seth found a young boy selling fruit on the street. He bought the boy's entire stock at a premium, then handed him an envelope with instructions to deliver it to St. Witt's Church.

From a hidden corner near the memorial square, Seth watched the boy approach the church. A priest soon emerged with the envelope, opened it, scanned its contents, and quickly retreated inside.

Inside the envelope was the parchment Seth had taken from Mrs. Paris's house—the one inscribed with the evil spell.

Seth knew the church would initiate an investigation, but that was no longer his concern.

In high spirits, he returned to his mansion on Golden Champagne Avenue. He climbed over the garden wall at the back, slipping silently into his room through the window, concealed by the trees and the darkened houses.

As soon as he touched the floor, Seth detected a faint, almost imperceptible stench. The scent triggered a memory of the recent mountain hunt and the strange creature with black bristles on its lips and chin.

A chilling thought crossed his mind.

The monster was here, in his room! Had it tracked him that night and come for revenge?

Maintaining his composure, Seth showed no sign of alarm. He walked casually toward the closet, even humming a little tune.

As he moved, Seth focused on discerning the smell, trying to pinpoint the creature's location.

The monster made no move as Seth reached the closet. It seemed to be waiting for the perfect moment, hoping Seth would let down his guard.

Seth carefully placed his long coat, golden revolver, and black iron mask into a hidden compartment one by one. Then, with his back to the closet, he quietly drew his snake-scale revolver, using the cabinet door to conceal his actions.

With a steady heartbeat and calm breathing, Seth subtly adjusted his arm, pressing the revolver's muzzle against the cabinet door, aiming toward the lurking monster.

He squeezed the trigger!