Manpower Supply Center [2]

It was difficult to determine the identity of the noble who had visited last week. Over the past few days, numerous nobles from outside the Gwendolyn territory had come to call upon Young Lady Gwendolyn, using her recent near-fatal accident as an excuse to establish a connection with Marquess Gwendolyn—the Chancellor of the Magnolia Empire and the Emperor's closest, most loyal subordinate.

However, judging by the hesitant, almost cowardly demeanor of the cleaning boy, Eleanor deduced that he only approached customers who came alone, without companions. He likely examined the body shapes of those draped in black robes first to seek out individuals of a similar height and build to his own to minimize the risk of retaliation should he misstep.

Just like Eleanor—petite, unaccompanied, and bearing the same stature as the man. That was why he had dared to approach her.

With all these factors in mind, Eleanor could confidently conclude that the noble who had given him a bag of gold last week had been a woman.

A noble lady…

A shiver ran down Eleanor's spine as she muttered under her breath, "There's no way 'she' has arrived already, right?"

It was too soon. The main plot had yet to begin—spring was still in its midst, and the novel's original storyline was supposed to unfold in the summer.

But the thought that the Heroine hadn't just come to Selene City to visit her childhood friend, Eleanor, but had also ventured into the Lower District—specifically to this place—to submit a request like any other customer sent a chill down Eleanor's spine.

She frowned, forcing herself not to clench her teeth too hard.

No… could that have been her real purpose all along? Was visiting me just a diversion—an alibi?

The realization left Eleanor unsettled.

She had barely done anything since arriving in this world, yet information seemed to fall into her lap with eerie ease. First, she had access to Alger's information without much effort, and now, on her very first secret outing, she was already uncovering traces of whether the two had made a transaction.

Was this the work of her younger brother, the author? Had he—wherever he was in this vast world—bestowed upon her some unseen blessing, increasing her luck today?

Eleanor exhaled, attempting to relax the tension in her shoulders and legs. She settled into her seat, shifting her focus to the slip of paper she had received earlier but had yet to examine.

Number 9.

She glanced at the others waiting in the establishment. Six people sat in quiet anticipation, despite the early hour. Two had already ascended to the second floor, where they were presumably making their requests to the former knights.

Eleanor's thoughts drifted as she pondered the situation further. The cleaning boy's loose-lipped chatter, combined with the small pieces of information she had gleaned from Ralph, painted an abstract picture.

Her brother's last novel, [World For Her], had barely touched upon John Burbom's operations—almost as if he hadn't wanted to waste words elaborating on them. Instead, the story focused on glorifying the Crown Prince, showcasing his supposed competence as he rushed to correct a disaster, earning praise from the Heroine. Meanwhile, Duke Emmeline and Marquess Gwendolyn had burned with righteous fury, both infuriated that John Burbom had dared to exploit their daughters.

The three of them had tried to capture John, who had conveniently vanished just as the summer festivities began and the Crown Princess Selection was set to take place. Even though the Crown Princess Selection had reached the final stage, it was ultimately forced to disband due to the sudden return of the Crown Prince, who firmly opposed the event, rejecting it for being held without his permission as the directly involved party.

With the imperial capital overflowing with nobles and commoners alike, the streets had been far too crowded, allowing John Burbom to slip away unnoticed. No one had thought he would retreat to Selene City, let alone to an entirely different secret hideout somewhere in the Lower District rather than the well-known Manpower Supply Center.

It had been Alger Gwendolyn, Eleanor's second brother, who had turned the Lower District upside down upon returning early from the imperial palace. He had ferreted John Burbom out like a rat, uncovering stacks of incriminating documents detailing the secrets of countless nobles—not just those affiliated with Gwendolyn, but also the capital's elite and several border-region aristocrats.

John had been thrown into the palace dungeons, where he had faced the wrath of Marquess Gwendolyn himself. Under brutal interrogation, he had confessed everything. The Manpower Supply Center had merely been a facade. In truth, his true business had revolved around collecting information on his customers—nobles who naively believed their dealings were anonymous.

Eleanor also recalled how, in their fury over John Burbom's actions, the House Gwendolyn had swiftly erased every trace of the Burbom name from their territory, Selene City. Without hesitation, they expelled Baron Burbom and his family from their noble vassalage, confiscated their granted fiefs, stripped them of their titles, imposed a hefty fine, and ultimately exiled them to a remote area—showing no mercy whatsoever.

That was so scary... It gives me goosebumps when I read that.

Eleanor groaned, tired after recalling every scene that had led to the downfall of this third-rate villain.

John's cunning and deceit made her reluctant to extend him any mercy. But at the same time, it was a shame. His business was undeniably successful, and Gwendolyn's eventual closure of it would be a waste.

She couldn't let such a lucrative business slip through her fingers!

That's why she tried to reach him before John Burbom's crimes and greed deepened, determined to keep him from his destined future of rotting in prison. Whether he obeyed her or not was irrelevant—if necessary, she would use any means to ensure he didn't follow the original plot and punish him later if needed.

If it came to it, Eleanor wouldn't hesitate to threaten him with the cheat keys she knew from the novel—revealing the location of his future secret hideout, exposing the contents of the documents he had secretly gathered from his business, or even confronting him about his plans and the possible secret transaction he had made with the heroine.

The real question now was: How should she approach John Burbom?

Eleanor's gaze flicked toward the second floor. As another patron descended, the clerk at the counter called out the next number—three.

She frowned. If the wait dragged on any longer, she wouldn't be able to return to the Gwendolyn estate before eight, when breakfast was usually served.

With a growing sense of unease, she realized that her luck had run dry. John Burbom was nowhere in sight, and she lacked the money to commission a request under false pretenses. The last thing she wanted was a former knight secretly tailing her to uncover her identity. Causing a scene wasn't an option either—the three burly guards stationed nearby would undoubtedly toss her out without hesitation.

Revealing her identity as Young Lady Gwendolyn?

Absolutely not.

The thought of being publicly associated with a man who was destined to rot in prison was unbearable.

After carefully weighing her options, Eleanor chose to retreat for now. She had gathered enough information for today. She could strategize a new approach later.

Discarding her numbered slip into the trash, she exited through the side door rather than the front, slipping into a narrow street she assumed would lead to the General District.

She was wrong.

Where am I?!!

Minutes passed, and Eleanor found herself utterly lost. The labyrinthine streets of the Lower District were far more convoluted than she had anticipated.

Frustration gnawed at her. "How did I even manage to get lost here? The roads aren't that wide!" she muttered under her breath. Her grip on the hood of her black robe tightened—no matter what, she refused to expose her identity unless absolutely necessary.

As she debated retracing her steps, a sudden force yanked her backward. Strong, big hands clamped onto her wrists from behind.

Eleanor stiffened.

What—

Robbers?

Her stomach lurched as two sets of unfamiliar hands dragged her away from the road she had just traveled. She reacted instinctively, crossing her restrained arms over her chest to brace against the force. But her resistance was futile. She lacked the strength to break free.

Where are they taking me?

Her frantic gaze darted around, scanning the desolate alley for any sign of help. No one. The streets were eerily empty.

The morning breeze blew unexpectedly, nearly displacing her hood. She quickly secured it, slightly forcing her fingers—despite her wrists still being held by both of the stranger's hands—to keep it in place, ensuring her hair remained hidden.

"... Ugh!"

Her first day sneaking out, and this happened?

Damn it!

At that moment, her anger had a singular target.

Damn you, little brother! You'd better be ready to take responsibility for all the suffering I've endured since getting trapped in your shitty novel. Just you wait!