The plan

Karso woke up from his bed, clutching his sword when he heard footsteps approaching his room's door. He was ready for an intrusion, but the knocking was merely an announcement for breakfast. Opening the door, he found a girl with golden hair and bright eyes standing before him, carrying a tray of food. She wanted to step inside, but Karso cut her off by taking the food and shutting the door quickly after a brief word of thanks.

The waitress's face showed signs of surprise and bewilderment; who would reject her beauty and avoid speaking to her? 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 returned to her work.

Meanwhile, Karso was ensuring the food was free of poison. Despite his limited wealth, he had chosen to stay in an expensive hotel, as his nature refused to settle for anything beneath his standards. He quickly finished his breakfast and picked up his pen.

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

"The Nobles' Manuscripts… A forged map…" he whispered to himself, his voice resembling the scrape of a blade against stone. His eyes, like cold steel, moved between names, even his sighs measured with calculated precision.

"The important thing now… The invitation piece will be the only key to entering the castle without bloodstains on me."

He lifted the pen slowly, staring at a dried bloodstain on the notebook's corner—blood that wasn't his—before drawing a circle around "The Thousand-Year Book" with a line thinner than a spider's silk.

"The game is like chess… and the surprise is that they don't know the entire board is my pawn."

He smiled—a smile that never reached his eyes—just as, outside the window, a sudden scream erupted as a man was dragged toward the guillotine.

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

"Stealing from a noble… A convenient crime," he murmured, tapping the pocket of his coat where the invitation piece was hidden like a smoldering ember.

"Murder here… is cleaned up like a plate of rotten fruit. But blood… leaves stains on documents too."

He bent over the notebook again as the man's dying screams faded behind the cracked windowpane, writing in slanted script:

"Today's hanged man is a silent witness… He who steals the shadow is executed in broad daylight."

Shaking his head with cold disdain, he closed the notebook.

"Only fools find death surprising."

---

Karso walked through the narrow street like a cloud creeping stealthily toward the moon, where torches flickered against the castle walls like tongues of fire licking at the night's darkness. The scent of expensive incense choked within the smoke of heated iron vats from the nobles' kitchens, and their laughter seeped from the high windows like the cough of a sick man concealing his pain.

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

"Welcome, honored guest…" the guard murmured in an oily voice.

Karso didn't reply. He was counting the man's breaths.

One… Two… Then he stepped inside.

Inside, thick smoke spread like ghosts draped in silk, and the sound of the oud trickled through the air like venom. He saw "the pig" sitting on a throne of flesh and bone, tossing gold coins to the courtesans as carelessly as one would throw scraps to dogs.

"You…" the noble suddenly straightened, his bloated face reddening like a spoiled fruit.

"You don't have a familiar face…"

Karso smiled—a smile folded like a secret map.

"Many faces disappear… And you, my lord, own the greatest treasure."

He flicked a stolen gold coin onto the floor, where the courtesans pounced on it like swarms of chameleons.

The pig laughed reluctantly, his laughter slicing through the air like the shatter of glass under a boot. Karso's gaze remained locked onto the pig's—only ten breaths separated him from being the next corpse hanging over the city walls.

His eyes slid toward the noble's embroidered waistcoat, where a thin golden chain dangled like a venomous scorpion, holding the family's seal. The sound of the coin still echoed on the marble floor like a serpent's hiss as he subtly lowered his stance, preparing like a predator sharpening its claws.

"The greatest treasure requires the smallest key…" he murmured internally, brushing his fingers lightly along the edge of the table, where droplets of wine clung to his palm like fresh blood. He waited for the moment the "pig" became distracted—mocking a limping servant—before swiftly vanishing like a shadow, slipping the golden chain free with a single movement as smooth as vapor's touch.

But the seal wasn't there.

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

"Could he… be keeping it elsewhere?" His hidden smile faded the moment he heard the unmistakable sound of a sword sliding from its scabbard behind him.

Turning, he saw a young guard advancing toward him, his eyes red from wine and suspicion.

"My lord… perhaps you were looking for this?"

The guard held up a dirtied invitation piece smeared with grease… and in his other hand, the noble family's golden seal.

Karso didn't move. The scent of death suddenly mingled with the heat of sweat.

"You… are faster than a mere servant should be," he whispered, his voice smooth as a blade's edge.

The guard smiled as if he knew a deadly secret.

"And you… are too smart to think all guards are fools."

On the word "fools"… everything ended.

A small dagger vanished into the guard's throat from an unseen place, while Karso caught him in his arms like a drunken friend.

"The lion of the story never narrates its own end," he whispered into his ear before dropping the corpse behind an embroidered curtain.

The noble family's seal now pulsed in Karso's palm. Along with it—the real invitation to the next nobles' gathering… where he would be—