Chapter 48

So, after waiting half a day in the jewelry district, the Azure Knights genuinely enjoyed the rare experience of such active cooperation.

Some of them even browsed the jewelry in earnest.

A few even bought accessories.

Despite maintaining vigilance, the act of shopping made them blend in perfectly, like natural customers.

Meanwhile, at the clock tower in Mirpol, Rodella and Aivert were stationed.

“Well then, enjoy your time.”

The clock tower keeper assumed they had come to enjoy a sweet, private date, away from prying eyes.

There was no need to inform unrelated civilians of the operation, so that made for a convenient excuse.

“Feel free to spread the rumor… starting tomorrow. Got it?”

Even in that moment, Rodella didn’t forget to cleverly seal the man’s lips.

Of course, it’s human nature to brag after spotting famous figures.

Rodella figured she couldn’t completely stop him—so instead, she persuaded him to wait just until the day ended, just until they caught the thief.

Naturally, she slipped him some cash to impress upon him the seriousness of their little “promise.”

Gossip was inevitable—but as long as it didn’t get out before the culprit was caught, it was fine.

It seemed her calculation was spot on—the tower keeper even hung a sign at the entrance:

[Clock Tower Out of Order – Under Repair]

He even lent them hard hats and technician uniforms used by real repairmen.

From a distance, they looked just like a pair of clock mechanics.

“Can we see the jewelry district from here?”

Their purpose was clear.

They had come to oversee the entire jewelry street from above.

The problem was the tower wall inside was built so high that Rodella had to stand on her tiptoes just to glimpse outside.

“Why would they build the wall this damn high?”

Rodella frowned.

Aivert, on the other hand, didn’t even need to tiptoe—in fact, even if he bent his knees, he could still see outside clearly. He was already scanning the streets.

“I want to see too!”

Rodella grabbed his shoulder and suddenly jumped.

It was a familiar move—a playful habit from their academy days.

Back then, he’d just sigh and shift his position slightly to give her a better view.

But this time, it went differently.

Without a word, he wrapped a firm arm around her waist and legs—

“Ah?”

—and lifted her right off the ground, raising her view up into the sky.

“Ahh!”

Startled, Rodella reflexively covered her mouth.

The chill of the high-altitude wind contrasted with the warmth surrounding her body.

Sure enough, the view was… spectacular.

“Can you see now?”

Aivert asked, still holding her up.

“Y-Yeah? I think so.”

Where was the jewelry street again? She had known just a second ago…

Her mind had gone completely blank.

“You can’t just lift me like that without warning!”

“You like high places.”

Aivert replied plainly, giving her a look that said: I know you.

That realization made Rodella falter for a second.

“You really think I don’t know you?”

Plenty of people had said that to her before—noble faction members, greedy suitors.

All trying to guilt her into marriage for her “worth.”

She’d heard it so much, her ears were practically calloused.

But this time…

Rodella couldn’t even tell how long she had been staring at Aivert.

A million thoughts had passed through her mind—and suddenly, she realized…

His words didn’t feel unpleasant.

If it were someone else, she would’ve snapped back somehow. But with him…

He’s right. He did know her.

“Yeah.”

A cool breeze swept past, brushing their hair.

Their eyes met and lingered longer than usual.

Aivert smiled.

“Now the tower keeper will definitely believe we’re on a date.”

“Put me down.”

Rodella flared up immediately.

Time, which had briefly paused, suddenly kicked back into motion.

As she felt herself being lowered, she thought—

It was only a few seconds, right? I didn’t look weird, right?

“In any case, since my dear childhood friend can’t see over the wall, I’ll keep watch.”

Aivert turned back to the view.

“It’s not like you could wear heels for this mission anyway.”

Rodella grumbled and busied herself pretending to look for another peephole to cool her face.

Meanwhile—

“….”

Aivert had also turned his face away from her.

Thinking back to those ten short seconds.

You were staring at me, completely spaced out.

What had she been thinking?

He knew it probably wasn’t the same thing he was thinking—but he couldn’t help tugging the hard hat lower on his head.

His ears were probably glowing red.

In this operation, Aivert was the last resort.

He was to step in only if it became clear that the knights couldn’t subdue the target.

The reason was simple: the moment he got involved, the expected damage compensation would skyrocket.

While Aivert usually participated in missions, this time he had readily agreed to Rodella’s suggestion to stay in the back.

Because he didn’t want to take even the slightest chance of her getting hurt.

As they watched from above—

A man appeared in the jewelry district.

It was him.

With his scruffy gray hair and murky dark-brown eyes, his face was sunken and pale.

At a glance, he looked like a wandering traveler—but there was something off in his expression: bloodlust and greed.

He didn’t have “armed robber” written on his forehead, but people still instinctively avoided him.

The large scar, stretching from his right ear to his cheek, wasn’t something even his robe’s hood could hide—and it gave his face a vicious edge.

“…!”

Some of Mirpol’s well-traveled folks recognized the scar and quickly slipped away.

But the man didn’t care.

He entered the jewelry district and casually scanned the shops before heading down an alley.

Inside the neatly organized alleyway, he spotted the shop he was looking for.

He wasn’t interested in high-volume stores that did lots of business.

After all, even if these were stolen goods, it wasn’t like they belonged to the royal family—and none of them were marked with tracking magic.

In fact, nobles who wore these kinds of accessories would never wear anything traceable.

Which meant, unless he tried to sell them by the sackful, it was nearly impossible to prove they were stolen.

Even so, the smaller shops refused to deal with him—too cowardly to take the risk.

“That’s why you’ll never make real money.”

The people who made big money had an entirely different mindset.

Grinning, the man stepped into the shop.

[Zarkan Atelier]

The name was classy. He liked that.

He glanced around.

As expected, the store didn’t display rows of flashy jewelry or cater to walk-ins.

There were only a few confident-looking pieces, with a small sign that read: [Please call the owner for custom orders.]

“Hmph.”

Not the kind of place that clings to every customer.

That just made him like the shop even more.

“Owner.”

He called out, and at last, there was movement from the back.

“Here to sell or to buy?”

A man emerged from the back, heat still radiating from the forge—clearly interrupted mid-crafting.

The man had a muscular frame, like a longtime artisan.

The thief found the sight reassuring.

“To sell. Do you buy in bulk?”

“Bulk?”

The shop owner—actually Azure Knight Marcel in disguise—casually studied the man’s appearance.

Though tense, Marcel’s performance was flawless. He had once belonged to a traveling theater troupe.

“How much bulk are we talking?”

“This. All of it.”

The thief dropped a heavy gray bundle on the counter.

Thud.

Marcel swallowed nervously and slowly opened the bag.

Inside, countless accessories had clearly been tossed in without care.

The thief studied Marcel sharply.

No one who handled fine jewelry could look at this and not realize it was stolen.

Now the question was—

Would he tell him to get out?

Or would he wisely take the deal?

Was he ready to die, or ready to make real money?