Chapter 460: The Town

“Ah, beautiful moon, why do you rise from behind the clouds, shine through the window, and cast your pure light upon my pillow?”

“Ah, beautiful moon, you...”

Before dawn arrived, the fluttering of wings disturbed that melodious song.

A robin perched upon a branch, gazing down at the singer beneath the tree.

It was a wandering poet—or at least someone with the air of one.

His face, covered in a long, unkempt beard, showed a sorrow so deep it seemed bottomless.

His clothes were shabby, and all his belongings amounted to a single worn-out cloth bag. Sitting beneath the tree, he stared at the moon that had just risen at the edge of the sky and would soon fade in the approaching dawn, singing a melancholy poem to the tune of his wooden lyre.

“The Council of Li can fulfill your request.”

The robin hid its disgust and contempt deep within its eyes, fluttered its wings, and spoke coldly:

“But in return, you must complete the task we assign to you.”

“Ah, beautiful moon...”

The singing continued. The poet acted as if no one were there.

Until the first light of dawn outlined the distant mountain ridge—and when the robin’s patience was nearly spent—the wandering poet finally opened his lifeless eyes.

They were gray eyes, as though incapable of seeing light, yet he turned his head unerringly toward the robin’s position.

“How much?” the poet asked.

“All of it.”

The robin flicked its wings, and a small identification card appeared in the poet’s hand.

“This is your new identity—wandering poet Marvin Strelimor.”

“All of it? Heh, all of it!”

The poet looked at the ID in his hand, lifted his head, and with joyful exaggeration declaimed:

“Ah, merciful noble lord, generous noble lord, how shall I praise you, how shall I sing your name? Please accept Marvin’s song of gratitude, please accept—”

“Put away your act. What we need is for you to finish the job.”

The robin spread its wings and dissolved into a shadow as black as ink, vanishing into the sky, leaving only one final instruction:

“Remember—be quick. The guests will arrive soon.”

“Of course, of course. Entertaining guests is what I do best, hehe, entertaining guests.”

The wandering poet removed his tattered hat and made an absurd imitation of a noble’s bow toward where the robin had disappeared.

After the robin left, the morning woods returned to calm. The poet stopped singing, and only the sound of insects lingered peacefully through the trees.

“Spring has come. How nice... hehe, how nice indeed.”

The wandering poet slung his ragged pack over his shoulder, used a stick he had found somewhere as a walking staff, and followed the muddy, uneven path toward the little town just waking in the morning mist.

“Hello, I’m the wandering poet Marvin... Marvin Strelimor. Would anyone here like to hear a song?”

...

...

“Ugh... Senior, in broad daylight—this isn’t good.”

Muen grimaced, catching the teasingly extended long leg in black stockings that had reached across from the opposite seat—but instead of letting go, he carefully savored the smooth, silky warmth that came from the black fabric.

As expected, nothing compared to stockings. Though the snake tail certainly had its own... exotic charm, it wasn’t exactly within his XP system; it could only serve as the occasional diversion.

A serpent demon was fine to suppress once or twice—but too often, and one might go bald.

When it came to that sort of play, nothing beat black, white, flesh-colored, or leopard-print stockings...

“Oh my, oh my, you can still get excited? That little girl didn’t drain you dry before she left?”

Anna propped her chin on her hand, her alluring face adorned with that familiar wicked smile.

“I even went out of my way to give you two some privacy. How disappointing.”

“Senior, that’s not fair.”

Muen straightened «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» up at once, chest out, head high.

“You think a mere single person could possibly drain me dry? Isn’t that looking down on me just a bit too much?”

“Oh? Then does that mean...”

The long black-stockinged leg slipped free of his grasp and began to draw slow, teasing circles somewhere sensitive.

Cough cough cough cough... “Let’s not, let’s not...”

Muen cleared his throat forcefully and refused Anna’s provocation with righteous solemnity.

“We’re on the road. Not the right place... not appropriate.”

His gaze turned toward the window.

Beyond the swaying curtains stretched fields, forests, and mountains sliding backward.

Though most of the jolts were suppressed by special magic arrays, one could still faintly feel the vibration while sitting on the soft couch.

It was a carriage racing along at high speed, heading toward the capital of the Empire of Leopold—Belrand.

Of course, Muen didn’t exactly mind a bit of playful intimacy with his senior even in a carriage, but the problem was...

“Lady Anna.”

Suddenly, a square-jawed, bronzed face with upright, righteous features leaned in at the window. His sharp eyes flicked toward Muen with wary scrutiny before quickly turning respectful toward Anna.

“I heard strange noises just now. Has something happened?”

“Nothing at all—you’re far too tense, Jinze.”

Anna had already withdrawn her leg and smiled serenely, pretending nothing had happened.

“Really?”

Jinze’s expression hardened again.

“If there is any trouble, please call for me immediately. As your deputy, I will ensure your safety at all times. I will not allow even the slightest mishap to occur!”

“In broad daylight, what could possibly happen to me?”

“It’s because it’s broad daylight that certain beasts might be stirred—”

“All right, all right. Nothing’s happening. You may go.”

“Yes, ma’am...”

Having achieved his goal, Jinze threw Muen a smug glance, then snapped the reins. His horse surged forward to the head of the convoy.

Muen’s mouth twitched.

“So he is doing this on purpose?”

That was the real reason Muen was able to remain “chaste” just now: he wasn’t sitting in a lone carriage but in an entire convoy. After all, Anna’s current identity was Acting Director of the Silent Bureau. Traveling to the Holy City for a meeting, she naturally brought subordinates along.

Among them was Jinze—the same man Muen had once worked with briefly. He’d since been promoted to Anna’s deputy and now seemed quite favored.

“What do you think?”

Anna shot Muen a sultry glare.

“Still holding a grudge over that punch you gave him last time for no reason?”

Muen: “...”

Right. That had happened.

He remembered—after the Silent Moon incident, trapped between three sides, he had to rely on Jinze to break the stalemate.

Unfortunately, Jinze hadn’t exactly risen to the occasion—he’d folded instantly when threatened simultaneously by Muen’s maid, the future Swordbearer, and an Imperial Princess.

Pathetic.

“A narrow-minded man with zero emotional intelligence—and you keep him as your deputy?”

Muen earnestly tried to poison the well against the man who’d ruined his fun.

“I think he needs to be sent to some harsh assignment for a while. Otherwise, how can he be of real use later?”

“What’s this—jealousy?”

“Ahem—how could you call this jealousy? I’m only thinking of your safety, Senior...”

“All right, all right, stop sulking. Jinze is only my deputy for this trip. He’s quite capable. Soon he’ll be sent to manage one of our branch divisions—which is exactly that ‘harsh assignment’ you mentioned.”

Anna tilted her head and laughed softly. “Besides, emotional intelligence has no value in the Silent Bureau. Here, only willpower and efficiency matter.”

“Fair point.”

Muen nodded gravely. “In that case, should I focus on efficiency when dealing with you, Senior? As for willpower—mine has always been—”

“...”

Anna rolled her enchanting eyes at his shameless chatter.

“Enough of that. We’re almost at the next town. Take a rest.”

Muen looked out the window again. Under the setting sun, the outline of a town gradually came into view.

It was a peaceful-looking little place. Along both sides of the slowing convoy, farmers were already beginning the first round of spring plowing. They looked up curiously, watching the carriages roll slowly toward the town center.

Some of the townsfolk even waved to him, calling out cheerfully with genuine smiles.

“Nice little town.”

“Yes.”

Anna’s eyes softened as she nodded.

“Very nice indeed.”

...

...

The Silent Bureau’s convoy wasn’t ostentatious, disguised instead as a merchant caravan. Apart from entering the town, it drew little attention.

As the Empire’s specialized anti–Evil God agency, the Silent Bureau had many branches and field offices, but in a town with fewer than a thousand residents like this, there was naturally none stationed here.

After all, the Empire’s territory was vast and its population enormous; setting up a branch in every small town would require a staggering number of personnel.

So, under Jinze’s lead, the convoy soon found a relatively clean, spacious inn to stay for the night.

“Though we don’t have a full branch here, towns like this usually have at least one of our local watchers. I’ll go inspect the situation first. Lady Anna, you—”

“I’ll just stroll around with Muen.”

“Mm, stroll around.”

“...”

Grinning, Muen clasped Anna’s hand, watching the unfortunate laborer’s face twist in silent misery before he went off to work overtime.

Muen and Anna wandered the streets.

“Strange. Why does the town feel so quiet?”

As they chatted, Muen glanced around, frowning slightly.

Even for a small town, the streets seemed... too empty.

“Maybe it’s mealtime?”

Anna narrowed her eyes as well.

“No... country folk eat later. It shouldn’t be that time yet.”

“Oh?”

She tilted her head, amused.

“Such knowledge from the duke’s son himself—since when do you know when rural people eat dinner?”

“Uh... heard it from the maids at home.”

Muen rubbed his nose, deflecting casually.

He couldn’t exactly say it was from his previous life experience.

Though, perhaps, those experiences didn’t apply in this world.

Still...

He looked up—and noticed something wrong.

There was no cooking smoke rising anywhere, none of that faint haze that should drift up at dinnertime.

In any countryside of any world, there should at least be a trace of that human warmth.