37. Signature For The Fans

Randy left the room with Cecilia and exited through the same door he had entered. The line of people remained outside, but it seemed shorter than when he had arrived.

Was it because the sun was now setting?

Or had the initial rush of customers already passed?

Either way, the queue had shrunk. Looking up at the sky now tinged with orange, Cecilia said, "Quite a bit of time has passed, hasn't it?"

"What will you do now, Lord Randolph?" she asked.

"Well, let's see…" Randy replied, gazing up at the sky, just as Cecilia had.

"Oh my, no plans? In that case, shall I escort you to the inn?" Cecilia offered, pointing to her personal carriage.

Randy shook his head. "Nah, it's a bit early to head back to the inn. I'll pass."

Cecilia nodded in agreement as Randy smiled. 

Since Randy didn't live in a dormitory like Cecilia, he had no curfew. 

Returning early to his room wouldn't give him much to do anyway. If Liz were around, he could chat with her or do crafts, but Randy's limited magical power made it hard for him to accomplish anything alone.

Besides, something was weighing on Randy's mind.

"Are you sure it's okay for you to go back alone?" he asked.

"With my carriage, and since we're still in the city, it's perfectly fine," Cecilia reassured him with a smile.

"Alright then," Randy replied.

Standing by her carriage, Cecilia gave a polite curtsy.

"Well then, Lord Randolph, I bid you farewell."

"Yes, farewell," Randy replied, waving like a schoolteacher shooing students

Cecilia frowned slightly at his casual gesture before stepping into her carriage. 

Randy wondered if he had been a little rude but decided it was something he'd wanted to try at least once.

As Cecilia's carriage disappeared into the distance, Randy let out a small sigh.

"Now then…"

Turning his gaze to a nearby rooftop—or rather, to a presence he could sense— then, Randy shifted his eyes back to a nearby alley.

(If they're not following Cecilia, then their target must be Liz or her brother…)

While remaining mindful about the presence, Randy began walking toward the alley. As he moved, the two figures on the rooftops also moved, keeping pace with him.

He couldn't tell whether their primary target was Liz or someone else, but it was clear they were also after him.

With that in mind, Randy deliberately headed deeper into quieter, less populated areas. He wanted to draw them out and observe their response.

The pursuers seemed to realize Randy was baiting them. They stopped momentarily on the rooftop before quickly retreating.

(Huh. This is a pretty organized group.)

Though Randy's ploy had been obvious, he hadn't expected them to back off so easily. He'd imagined a scene straight out of a movie, luring them into an alleyway for dramatic confrontation. Their retreat left him disappointed.

"I won't let you get away—ha!"

Randy accelerated to full speed in an instant, kicking off a wall to leap onto the rooftop.

Landing ahead of the shadows, Randy turned to face them with a smirk.

"Hey, you guys are my fans, right? Where are you going without asking for my autograph?"

In front of him stood two suspicious figures. Cloaked in black robes and hoods over their heads, they looked every bit like assassins. The sight of their dark attire against the still-blue sky was almost surreal, and Randy couldn't help but chuckle at how conspicuous they were.

The men said nothing in response to Randy's teasing, instead drawing daggers and lowering their stances.

"Not much for conversation, huh? Guess I'll have to get rough—"

With a powerful leap that shattered roof tiles, Randy closed the distance in an instant.

"—What the—"

One of the men gasped as Randy's right arm lashed out in a devastating lariat, striking his neck.

Randy slid across the roof to reduce the momentum, while the man spun twice in the air before crashing headfirst into the roof behind him.

"Sorry, I don't have paper or a pen, so you'll have to settle for this—oh, wait a minute."

Rolling on his right shoulder, Randy noticed the roof tiles he'd flipped while sliding. He quickly picked them up and restored them using his production magic.

"Whoops! Over there too," he muttered, spotting more broken tiles from his earlier jump. Damaging an innocent person's house was definitely a no-no

"Phew. That was close. Good thing I had [Craft]."

With a satisfied nod, Randy surveyed the scene. The remaining man on the rooftop edged cautiously closer, as if calculating the optimal distance to strike. He seemed to be gauging his preferred range. 

For a while, he shuffled forward with small steps, then stopped abruptly. 

The two glared at each other on the rooftops across the alley

"So, who are you guys anyway? If you're really my fans, that 'autograph' should be enough, yeah?"

Randy grinned and gestured toward the man, referring to his earlier "signature"—a mark delivered with his fists. The man crouched even lower, apparently understanding Randy's metaphor.

"Still silent, huh?"

The instant Randy narrowed his eyes, the man vanished. 

In a flash, he appeared behind Randy, leaping across the alley. With a dagger gripped in reverse, he thrust toward Randy's back.

As the dagger neared, Randy turned just in time. Using his left hand, he deflected the man's arm, redirecting the dagger away from his right side.

As the attacker's right arm passed his flank, Randy trapped it with his arm and struck the man's right elbow with a sharp upward motion, cracking the joint. 

The man, now writhing in pain, leaned slightly to one side.

Randy's left hand shot forward, gripping the man's jaw. 

Holding him in place, Randy drove his left knee into the man's spine, shattering it.

As the man collapsed, Randy grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up.

"I don't think you'll talk… but maybe your buddies will."

Randy muttered to himself, then picked up the other unconscious man on the rooftop and left the scene.

The wind that blew across the rooftop was as calm as ever, showing no hint that two men had just been left half-dead there.

---

"You're back. How'd it go?"

Without a word, Randy dumped the two men he'd been carrying onto the rooftop with a loud thud. The three other men there, initially unaware of his presence, turned around at the sound, and they were startled.

"They weren't very talkable, so I brought them here."

Randy smirked, and the three men immediately assumed a battle stance, weapons drawn and knees bent.

"What's your objective? Why are you watching us?"

Randy's question was met with silence. The men gave no indication of responding.

"If you don't want to talk, fine… but I guarantee you'll regret not being honest to me."

Sighing, Randy gestured to the building he'd just left.

"It'd be better than dealing with that scary lady over there."

One of the men couldn't help but glance back, clearly startled. 

Through a window, a woman was watching them intently.

"Okay, time's up."

Before the man could react, Randy's fist came crashing down from above, a simple yet devastating hammer punch that knocked him unconscious instantly.

With the numbers now two against one, the remaining men split up, one taking the front while the other moved to Randy's rear.

(Professionals, huh…? Letting one of them escape would be troublesome.)

While Randy wasn't worried about defeating opponents of this caliber, he didn't want to risk them using civilians as shields.

(Guess I'll end this here.)

As the man in front charged, Randy kicked one of the unconscious bodies at him. The flying body caught the charging man off guard, and the two collided with a dull thud.

Seizing the opportunity, Randy spun and closed the distance to the man at his back.

"Let's get along."

Randy grinned as he grabbed the man by the collar.

"Ugh—"

Before the man could retaliate with an elbow strike, Randy yanked him down and stomped his face into the rooftop.

Confirming the man's unconscious state, Randy turned his attention to the last man, who had just recovered after pushing his companion off.

"…Who are you?" the man growled, glaring at Randy.

"That's your job to figure out, isn't it?"

Randy chuckled and slammed the man's head into the ground. Blood and broken teeth spilled as the man crumpled.

Surveying the rooftop, Randy noted the cracks he'd caused during the fight. 

"Guess I'll have to fix that later. [Craft] really do come in handy."

Just then, he caught sight of the woman in the window again.

"Mind handling this for me?" Randy gestured toward the unconscious men with a wry smile. The woman gave a small nod before disappearing from view.

"I'll take that as a yes."

As Randy exhaled, faint plumes of smoke rose from behind the building. The smoke signals were subtle but deliberate, fading quickly. 

Moments later, several figures approached the rooftop with impressive speed.

Men and women, dressed like ordinary citizens but clearly skilled, emerged.

"You're Lord Randolph, correct?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"We received a signal from Miranda…"

Apparently, the woman's name was Miranda, and the newcomers had rushed over in response to her signal. Randy quickly explained the situation, leaving the would assassins in their custody.

"We apologize for troubling you…"

Men and women bowed their heads in unison. They had been aware of the suspicious individuals but, given the fact that they were in the middle of a bustling town, had chosen to monitor them from a distance under Miranda's orders. It was true—against Miranda and Cedric, these suspicious characters wouldn't stand a chance.

"I'm the ones who acted unnecessarily."

It was possible that Miranda and her team had their own plan in mind—perhaps they intended to follow or capture the suspects later at night. Realizing that he might have disrupted their strategy, Randy bowed his head in apology as well.

"No, it's a fact that your help was invaluable."

"No, no. It's also true that you didn't need to intervene."

Their back-and-forth apologies became a meaningless exchange, akin to arguing over nothing. Realizing this would lead nowhere, both sides finally relented. Randy decided to entrust the suspicious individuals to their custody.

"Well then, until next time—"

The group disappeared, carrying the suspects over their shoulders. Randy muttered, "Hopefully, there won't be a next time," though his words failed to reach them.

Looking up at the sky, dyed completely crimson by the setting sun, Randy let out a sigh. 

"Ah, gotta fix the rooftop," he said, his voice swallowed up by the lively sounds of the bustling town.

——

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