It was a crumbling cavern, damp and treacherous. The acrid aroma of drugs hung thick in the air—the unmistakable scent of Hert. But this was no ordinary Hert; it was the purest Jasper had ever encountered. Not that Jasper himself was an addict; his sole addiction was to the melodies that flowed through Quirina, his violin.

Past midnight, and still, he hadn't returned to the side of his Lady. His mission: to track down the Hert supplier. It had become quite a concern in his Lady's eyes.

His shiny black leather boots squelched through the muddy path leading inward. He was dressed in black—a shirt and a tailcoat. His face was smeared with white makeup, which did little to conceal the wrinkles that made him appear as if he were seventy, though he was nowhere near that age. His dishevelled greying hair only added to the image.

[Broken strings]

Jasper possessed a unique skill as a violinist, one that could mute any sound made by him. It was a valuable ability, especially in an infiltration mission. As long as he remained undetected, anyone he targeted would also be rendered completely mute. It was perfect for his current task, as long as he avoided a confrontation with a full battalion of mutts. Not that it would be considered infiltration at that point.

He tightened his white gloves and summoned his violin bow.

Jasper moved like a spectre, keen on identifying every individual he encountered. His combination of speed and silence rendered him virtually invisible. Many of the faces he recognized belonged to the forsaken slums of Sangfroid. Some were disenchanted mercenaries, while others were urchins dissatisfied with the government. He felt sympathy for them—they were lost souls, ignorant of the benevolence of Lady Lancaster, and worst of all, they were cog to a system that tormented his Lady. The only reason he refrained from having a slaughter fest was due to his Lady's explicit orders.

Find the source, avoid fatalities, and if you must harm someone, keep it to a minimum. They are products of dissatisfaction, suffering, and desperation, and I alone am responsible for their plight. They are the outcome of my failure.

Such was the benevolence of a mother, never to lay blame upon her child, no matter how wicked they may become. Jasper, however, disagreed with his Lady on this matter. He believed that these individuals were a product of their own failures and the failures of previous generations, not hers. She need not shoulder the blame. But, having different views did not grant him the right to disregard her orders. Diantha Laurent's word was an absolute command, unless... unless it harmed her. Only then would he consider disobeying her instructions.

No one revealed the identity of the person behind the escalating Hert issue. Jasper had a strong suspicion it was either Laurent or Lambert. If something troubled his Lady, he could almost blindly point to one of them and have a fifty-fifty chance of being correct.

After another minute of silently gliding through the cavern-turned dome, Jasper paused to survey the area. It was no longer a mere cave; it had transformed into a massive chamber filled with machinery and plants. Hundreds of people moved about in an orderly fashion, handling crates and converting powder into liquid.

Jasper briefly wrestled with doubt about whether to continue forward or retreat.

"I need the name of the supplier," he reminded himself.

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He resumed his stealthy advance, scrutinizing the workers' faces. Their eyes were vacant, resembling the gaze of ghosts. They issued instructions with an eerie detachment. Not one of them matched any image in Gracia's records. These individuals did not belong to the state of Gracia; Jasper was willing to wager reaming black hair on that fact.

He came to a sudden stop. There was a prominent building at the centre of it all, standing out from the rest. Jasper knew this was the place where he would finally find something substantial after a day of cat and mouse.

With a swift leap, he grabbed the ledge and pulled himself up, peering through the window into the building. His eyes landed on an unassuming boy, and…! Jasper's eyes widened.

Ethen Roche—Third Level 5 of Laurent, a participant in the tournament. Jasper had found no information about him, making him as invisible as the ghostly figures below. He realized he had pushed his investigation far enough; any further, and he might stir a hornet's nest.

Just as he was preparing to withdraw, the unassuming boy whom Jasper had hardly paid any attention to suddenly locked eyes with him. Jasper's heart clenched in response. He needed to make a hasty escape.

Ethen Roche followed the boy's lead and turned his gaze toward Jasper, a smile forming on his face. Jasper's instincts screamed at him to flee, and he jumped back from the building. In the next instant, the structure erupted, and Ethen came hurtling toward him.

"Now, now, I can't allow Lancaster's little rat to escape so easily," Ethan shouted as he landed in front of Jasper. He was a genuine Level 5, unlike Benoit, who had fallen at Iris's hands.

Jasper briefly glanced at the uninvolved boy, who remained unbothered, observing them with indifference.

"Don't bother with him. I'm the one you should be concerned about," Ethen grinned as he summoned a hammer and conjured lightning. "Prepare to meet your end at the hands of the Thunder God, Runaway Bastard of the Mausies."

Jasper calmly adjusted his coat. If the boy had no intention of stopping him, there was no need for concern. "I see," Jasper replied, his voice composed and collected, devoid of panic. "You seem to know more about me than I do about you. But I would like to correct one thing: I am no longer associated with the place once known as Mausies. I am merely a humble violinist in the service of Lady Lancaster. Nothing more."

Ethen slammed his hammer onto the solid floor, sending a wave of lightning crawling across the ground, rising like a sea wave and crashing toward Jasper.

Jasper made a grabbing gesture, and a violin with a skull and horns at its base materialized in his hand. He placed the violin on his shoulder and began to play a tune.

A barrier materialized in front of him, intercepting the thunderous wave. Jasper chuckled, "If that feeble lightning makes you feel like a god, then you must have only ever fought Level 1 opponents."

"We'll see about that,".

"We would have, but my lady's orders are clear—no killing, no exceptions. You're safe," Jasper responded with a light chuckle, the panic that had come from the boy was going away as he saw no movement from him.

"For a bastard magician, you've got quite the mouth," Ethen growled, tightening his grip on the hammer as he charged at Jasper.

"Quirina," Jasper played another tune, his eyes closed, transported into his own musical world.

A white angel materialized behind him, seated on a chair with circular piano keys for an armrest and a Lyre for a backrest. The angel had four hands, each holding a different magical instrument. She gazed at Ethan, who didn't halt his charge.

"Farewell," Jasper whispered, followed by an explosion and a burst of white noise. Then, the world turned white.

When Ethan's vision cleared, Jasper had vanished. He sighed in frustration and turned to the unassuming boy. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"I'm not here," the boy replied in a nearly mechanical tone.

Ethen sighed; now, they would have to tighten their security.

…