"Welcome to the black market, Mr. Azrael Vandey."

Azrael stiffened at the old man's words.

"H-How do you know my name?" he asked hesitantly.

The old man walked over to his chair, clasping his hands behind his back. As he sat down, he leaned back slightly, studying Azrael with an unreadable expression.

"This is the black market, Mr. Vandey. You can buy anything here… even information."

Azrael tensed, but before he could respond, Hafa stepped in.

"Relax, kuya Az. He’s not a bad guy. He’s the one who raised me."

The old man gestured to the chair across from him. "Why don’t you sit?"

Azrael hesitated but took a seat, with Hafa settling beside him. The boy looked almost excited, a grin playing on his lips.

Folding his hands together, the old man introduced himself. "My name is Qedue. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Vandey. It’s not every day I get a client of royal blood."

Azrael’s mind raced. Just how much did this man know? He forced himself to remain calm. If Hafa trusted him, maybe he should too.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Qedue," Azrael said, then met his gaze seriously. "Since you’ve already made it clear that information can be bought here, I’ll get straight to the point. I need to know about the Kent Family."

Qedue’s expression shifted slightly, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "That’s quite the request, Mr. Vandey. I’m afraid that kind of information doesn’t come cheap."

Azrael clenched his fists in his lap, lowering his gaze. "I… I don’t have anything to offer," he admitted, frustration evident in his voice. Then, looking up, he added in a quiet but desperate tone, "But please… help us."

Hafa, seeing the distress in Azrael’s eyes, turned to Qedue and pressed his hands together in a pleading gesture.

"Sir Qedue, please! Azrael and his friends saved my life. If it weren’t for them, I would’ve died of hunger in the forest."

Qedue rubbed his chin, tilting his head slightly. "Hmm. Information is valuable… and he knows that." He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. "I can’t give it away for free, but…" He let out a slow breath. "Hafa’s life is worth more than money."

Both Azrael and Hafa perked up.

"You’re really going to help me?" Azrael asked, hope flickering in his voice.

Qedue smirked. "Ask what you need to know before I change my mind."

*

"Oh? So you're wondering if the Kent family has anything to do with Hafa’s missing friends?" Qedue mused, leaning back in his chair. "To be honest, I don’t have any information on that." He shrugged. "You see, I don’t have people working for Kent, nor do I know anyone on the inside. If you really want answers, you’ll have to infiltrate their group yourselves."

"Group?" Azrael asked, intrigued.

"The organization that runs the Kent family’s business in the North Continent is called 'White Knight.' They own the only ship in Tancki Valley." Qedue rubbed his temple, deep in thought. "Hmm, if I’m not mistaken, the one in charge of White Knight is Dabric Kent."

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Dabric... huh." Azrael repeated the name, committing it to memory. "Where can we find him?"

"You’ll need to go to 'The Lost House.' It’s near the plaza. You can’t miss it, it’s a massive place, easy to recognize."

"The plaza? Where exactly is that?"

"Hafa knows the way. He can lead you there," Qedue said, nodding toward the boy.

Azrael smiled in relief. "Thank you. This information helps a lot."

Qedue’s expression turned serious as he looked Azrael straight in the eye. "Listen, kid. This mission is dangerous. If you can help it... don’t drag Hafa into this mess. If you really want to save his friends, do it without putting him at risk."

Azrael glanced at Hafa, then met Qedue’s gaze again. "Don’t worry… I won’t let anything happen to him." His voice was steady, his smile reassuring.

Qedue sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, a small smirk appeared on his face. "I have an idea."

Azrael raised a brow in curiosity.

The old man reached for a small cabinet in his desk and started rummaging through it. Azrael and Hafa exchanged glances, unsure of what he was looking for.

"Aha! Here it is." Qedue pulled out a small white card with a name and tiny numbers written on it. He handed it to Azrael. "Take this."

Azrael examined the card. "Uh… what is this?"

Qedue smirked. "A card, obviously."

Azrael chuckled awkwardly. "R-right, I know that. What I meant is… what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Go to the place written on it." Qedue leaned back. "The owner is a friend of mine. They’ll help you get into The Lost House. Just tell them I sent you, and you won’t have any problems."

Azrael read the name on the card. "Sharn? I hope this guy can actually help us."

Hafa suddenly burst into laughter. "Guy? Oh, you’re in for a surprise."

Azrael gave him a confused look but didn’t press further.

*

The black market was bustling with activity as Azrael and Hafa made their way through the crowded streets. Stalls lined both sides, selling all sorts of rare and unusual items.

Magical scrolls containing spells and abilities were displayed behind glass cases. Weapons of different grades gleamed under the dim lantern lights, ready to be sold to the highest bidder. Herbs and strange artifacts were stacked in neat piles, their purposes unknown to the average person.

After several minutes of navigating through the chaotic market, the two finally arrived in front of a wooden house. It looked simple, almost as if someone had drawn it on paper, hastily colored it in, and somehow brought it to life.

‘Who in the world built this place? It looks like it’s about to collapse.’ Azrael thought to himself, unimpressed.

Hafa knocked on the door. For a moment, there was silence. Then, with a loud bang, the door swung open, nearly blasting them with a gust of wind.

"Welcome! To the house of the mighty Fern!" A cheerful voice rang out.

Azrael’s eyes widened at the person standing before them. A short woman with doll-like features, curly hair, pale skin, and striking pink eyes beamed at them in a fancy dress.

Azrael blinked twice. ‘Wait… this guy is not a guy?’ His mind struggled to process the contradiction. ‘Then why the hell is her name Fern?! That sounds like a man’s name!’

"Hi, Fern!" Hafa greeted her with a wave.

"Oh! Hafa!" She squealed, rushing forward to scoop him up. "You’ve grown soooo much!"

The two laughed before Fern’s gaze landed on Azrael. Her eyes sparkled with interest. "Oh? Is this cute guy your friend?"

She set Hafa down before he could answer.

"Yes! He’s helping me with something important," Hafa replied.

"Oh? Is that so?" Fern eyed Azrael playfully. "You have pretty good taste in choosing friends."

Azrael felt a bit overwhelmed by her energy but managed a polite smile. "Hi, my name’s Azrael. Nice to meet you, Ms. Fern."

"Oh, enough with the formalities! Just call me Fern." She grinned.

Before Azrael could respond, Hafa snickered. "By the way, he totally thought you were a guy earlier."

A visible vein popped on Fern’s forehead. Her smile turned sharp. "Wh-what did you just say?"

Hafa immediately raised his hands in surrender. "H-he didn’t mean anything bad! He just saw your name and assumed... th-that’s all!"

Fern slowly turned her gaze to Azrael, who was now bowing his head repeatedly, mumbling apologies under his breath. She crossed her arms, watching him with an unreadable expression.