Karso woke up from his bed, clutching his sword when he heard footsteps approaching his door. He was prepared for an intrusion, but the knocking was merely an announcement for breakfast. He opened the door to find a girl with golden hair and bright eyes standing before him, holding a tray of food. She wanted to step inside, but Karso interrupted her by taking the food and quickly shutting the door after a brief word of thanks.

The waitress's face bore signs of surprise and curiosity—who would reject her beauty and avoid conversation? Some even believed she was worthy of being the city lord’s concubine. But realizing she had been lost in thought for too long, she turned back to resume her work.

Meanwhile, Karso ensured that the food was free of poison. Despite his lack of wealth, he chose to stay in an expensive inn, as his nature did not allow him to live in a place that did not meet his expectations. He ate breakfast quickly and picked up his pen.

Karso hunched over his notebook like a silent shadow in the midst of a storm of anticipation, his fingers gliding over the lines with the cold precision of a commander rearranging his army before battle.

"The Nobles’ Manuscripts… A forged map…" he murmured to himself, his voice resembling the scraping of a knife against stone, his eyes like cold steel moving between the names. Even his sighs were calculated:

"The priority now… the invitation piece will be the only key to entering the castle without the scent of blood clinging to me."

He slowly lifted his pen, staring at a dried bloodstain on the corner of the notebook—not his blood—then circled the words "The Thousand-Year Book" with a line as thin as a spider’s thread.

"The game is like chess… and the surprise is that they don’t realize the entire board consists of my pawns."

A smile that did not reach his eyes formed on his lips, while outside the window, a sudden scream echoed—a man being dragged to the guillotine.

Karso didn’t raise an eyebrow as he watched the body being pulled like a headless corpse. He merely ran his thumb along the edge of his pen as if adjusting an internal clock.

"Stealing from a noble… A convenient crime." He whispered, his hand resting on the pocket of his coat where the invitation piece was hidden, burning like a restless heart.

"Murder here… is cleaned up like a bowl of rotten fruit, but blood leaves stains on documents as well."

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He bent over his notebook once more as the man’s cries faded beyond the cracked windowpane, writing in slanted script:

"The hanged man of today is a silent witness… Those who steal shadows are executed in the light."

He shook his head with cold disdain as he closed the notebook.

"Only fools are surprised by death."

---

Karso walked down the narrow street like a creeping cloud toward the moon, where torches flickered against the castle walls like tongues of fire licking the darkness. The scent of fine incense mixed with the acrid smoke from iron cauldrons in the nobles’ kitchens, while their laughter spilled from the upper windows like a sick man’s cough concealing his pain.

He approached the guards at the grand gate, slowly pulling out the invitation piece as if surrendering himself. The guard’s eyes locked onto the golden seal. A moment of silence… then the guard bowed with feigned reverence, like a pig kissing its master before slaughter.

"Welcome, honored guest…" the guard murmured, his voice thick with slime.

Karso did not respond. He was counting the man's breaths—one… two… then he stepped inside.

Inside, thick smoke curled like ghosts draped in silk, and the scent of oud dripped poisonously into the air. He saw "the pig" seated on a throne of flesh and bone, tossing gold pieces to the courtesans as one would throw scraps to dogs.

"You…" the noble suddenly stood, his bloated face reddening like a rotten fruit. "Your face is unfamiliar…"

Karso smiled a folded smile, like a secret map. "Many faces are lost… and you, my lord, hold the greatest treasure." He tossed a stolen gold piece at the courtesans' feet, and they lunged for it like swarms of lizards.

The pig laughed reluctantly, his laughter slicing through the air like glass shattering under a boot. Karso’s eyes, however, remained fixed on the noble…

Only ten breaths separated him from being the next corpse on the city walls.

Karso’s gaze slid toward the noble’s embroidered waistcoat, where a delicate gold chain dangled, carrying the family seal like a scorpion poised to strike. The sound of the gold piece he had tossed still spun on the marble floor like a snake’s hiss, while he leaned slightly, preparing his claws like a waiting predator.

"The greatest treasure needs the smallest key…" he thought, his fingers subtly brushing the edge of the table, where drops of wine clung to his palm like fresh blood.

He waited for the moment "the pig" became distracted, berating a crippled servant, and then—swift as a fading shadow—he pulled the golden chain in a single fluid motion, as soft as the touch of mist.

But the seal was not there.

For the first time that night, Karso’s heart skipped a beat.

"Could it be… he carries it elsewhere?" His folded smile vanished when he heard the sound of a sword unsheathing behind him.

He turned to find a young guard striding toward him, his eyes red from alcohol and suspicion. "My lord… perhaps you’re looking for this?"

The guard lifted a smudged, grease-stained invitation piece in one hand… and in the other—the noble’s golden family seal.

Karso did not move. The scent of death suddenly mingled with the warmth of sweat.

"You… are quicker than a mere servant should be." He murmured, his voice smooth as a blade’s edge.

The guard smiled, like a man who knew a deadly secret. "And you… are too intelligent to think all guards are fools."

At the word "fools"… everything ended.

A small dagger buried itself in the guard’s throat from an unseen place, while Karso held him in his arms like a drunken friend.

"The lion of the story does not narrate its end." He whispered into the dying man’s ear before dropping the corpse behind an embroidered curtain.

The family seal now rested against Karso’s chest, alongside the true invitation to the nobles’ next gathering… where The Thousand-Year Book awaited him.

But blood had already started seeping into the parchment.