Moonlight Tavern’s Secret Passage

Behind Moonlight Tavern, Julius emerged from the void.

"Damn it… No matter how much I try to get used to this pain, it's still unbearable!" Julius cursed inwardly.

He quickly pulled out the Violet Elixir from his coat. As soon as he uncorked it, a pungent, almost rancid smell assaulted his nose. Without hesitation, he downed it in one gulp. The taste was unbearable—so bitter it made his stomach churn. He nearly gagged but forced himself to keep it down.

As the elixir settled, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. The searing pain in his body dulled, his limbs felt lighter, and a strange warmth spread through his veins. "This thing actually works…?" He murmured in disbelief, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. The Forbidden Throne's power truly was remarkable.

Straightening up, he dusted off his coat, took a deep breath, and approached the tavern. His right hand slipped into his coat, fingers wrapping around the hilt of his Shadowfang Dagger, prepared for anything.

Reaching the entrance, he paused. The heavy wooden door loomed before him, the muffled sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and drunken chatter seeping through the cracks.

He exhaled sharply. Fear gnawed at his gut. He was stepping into the unknown, into a place where a single mistake could cost him dearly. But there was no turning back.

With a steady hand, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The air inside was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and cheap tobacco. The dim glow of lanterns barely illuminated the smoke-filled room, casting flickering shadows on the rough wooden walls. The tavern was packed—drunken patrons slumped over tables, murmuring in hushed voices or laughing boisterously over their mugs.

Julius moved toward an empty table near the corner, his presence barely drawing attention. He sat down, his keen eyes scanning the room.

At the center of the tavern, a group of men huddled around a barrel, taking turns downing shots from chipped mugs.

"Did you hear?" a burly man with a thick beard muttered, his voice slurred. "The mayor doubled the patrols near the East Gate. Bastard's scared stiff ever since those disappearances started."

A wiry man beside him scoffed, tipping back his drink. "Like guards are gonna do anything. People vanish, and no one finds a trace. It ain't normal, I tell ya."

Another man—his face red from drink—snorted. "It's just thieves and cutthroats. The slums have always been dangerous. Mark my words, this has nothin' to do with curses or spirits."

Julius leaned back, listening intently. Disappearances? That could be worth looking into.

A barmaid passed by, balancing a tray of drinks. Julius raised a hand to get her attention.

"What'll it be?" she asked, barely looking at him.

"Just the cheapest you've got," he replied.

She smirked. "Ah, you want a 'Beggar's Mercy' then? Two Arden."

Julius dug into his coat and placed two silver coins on the table. She swiped them up and disappeared behind the counter.

He exhaled slowly, resting his hands on the table. The whispers, the rumors, the shifting atmosphere of the tavern—it all fed into the grand scheme of Oksenheim's secrets.

For now, he would drink, observe, and wait.

At some point, Julius sensed something unusual. A man approached the barmaid and whispered something into her ear. A moment later, they both disappeared into the washroom together.

A minute later, the barmaid returned—alone.

Julius narrowed his eyes. If they intended to do something indecent, she wouldn't be back so soon…

Suspicion gnawed at him. He kept his gaze fixed on the washroom door, waiting for the man to return. Seconds passed. Then minutes. But the man never came out.

That was enough reason to investigate.

Rising from his seat, Julius moved toward the washroom with a casual but purposeful gait. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The dim lantern overhead flickered, casting long shadows against the damp stone walls. There were only a few stalls, a washbasin, and a small mirror. The space was empty.

His brows furrowed. Impossible. I never took my eyes off the entrance. He should be here.

Something was off. There had to be a hidden mechanism somewhere. He considered searching the room but hesitated. If this was tied to the organization he was investigating, openly snooping around could get him killed.

Then, an idea formed. A risky but effective one.

Julius could use one of his Shadow God's abilities—the power to listen in on surface thoughts.

Feigning a drunken stagger, he exited the washroom and approached the barmaid. He let his body sway, then suddenly leaned onto her, as if struggling to maintain balance.

"Ahh, my lovely lady… when I was in the washroom, I swear a man just vanished! Hic—D-Don't tell me there are ghosts in there, buahahaha!"

For a brief moment, her face twisted in irritation. Her brows furrowed before she quickly forced a smile. "You really can't handle your drinks, huh? Just your imagination, sir," she said smoothly.

But Julius wasn't paying attention to her words. He was focused on her thoughts.

"No way… When I took the client into the washroom, no one else was there. Could he have figured out that the washroom is a secret passage to the organization? No… that's impossible. No one can enter without the password… 'Roll the dice, and glory will answer.'"

Checkmate.

She had just handed him everything he needed.

Julius pulled back, rubbing his temples as if struggling to stay conscious. "Ah… forgive me, miss. I really can't handle my liquor. Had a rough day, needed to forget," he muttered, then stumbled away, swaying as he made his way back to the washroom.

The moment he disappeared behind the door, the barmaid's eyes locked onto the entrance, her brows furrowing again.

A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. "Paula, is something wrong?"

She turned to see Mister Rober, one of the tavern's managers.

"It's nothing, Mister Rober… just something that man said. It bothered me for a moment."

Rober's expression darkened. "What did he say?"

Paula shook her head. "I might be overthinking. Forget it." She turned away and resumed her duties.

Julius locked the door behind him. The lantern above cast a dim glow over the cracked tiles and stained walls.

'Roll the dice, and glory will answer,' huh?

He stepped toward the mirror, examining its edges. If there was a hidden passage, it would likely be here. The organization wouldn't risk using an ordinary stall for something this important.

Taking a deep breath, he whispered: "Roll the dice, and glory will answer."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then—a faint click echoed through the room.

The mirror rippled like liquid before solidifying again. But this time, its reflection was gone. Instead, it showed a dark, spiraling staircase leading downward.

Julius narrowed his eyes. No turning back now.

Stepping forward, he passed through the mirror—his body slipping into the hidden passage like stepping through a veil of shadows.

The moment Julius' boots hit solid ground, a chill ran down his spine. The passage was narrow, lined with stone bricks slick with moisture. Dim torches flickered along the walls, casting eerie shadows.

He advanced cautiously, footsteps silent. The deeper he went, the clearer the sounds became—muffled voices, the clinking of metal, the distant hum of something mechanical.

After descending for what felt like minutes, he reached a heavy iron door. Faint whispers came from the other side.

Julius pressed his ear against it.

"The shipment arrived?" a deep voice asked.

"Yeah. Took a lot of effort sneaking it past the city watch, but it's all here. Ten crates of Whispering Dust, five vials of Black Veil, and the usual contraband."

Whispering Dust? Black Veil? Julius' mind raced. Those were powerful hallucinogenic drugs—banned substances that could be used for rituals or assassinations.

The sound of footsteps echoed beyond the door. Someone was approaching.

Julius barely had time to react. He pressed himself against the shadows of the corridor, activating one of his minor abilities—Veil of Night, allowing him to blend into the darkness.

The iron door creaked open.

A guard stepped out, scanning the corridor. His expression was sharp, suspicious. He held a dagger at his side, his grip tense.

For several tense seconds, he stood there. Then, with a grunt, he turned and walked away.

Julius exhaled silently. This was it.

Slipping forward, he placed his hand against the door, ready to infiltrate the organization's hideout.

"You underestimate me, boy."

A voice boomed from behind, sending an icy chill down Julius' spine. His instincts screamed at him—danger!

In a split second, he spun around, dagger in hand, ready to strike—

But he was too slow.

A powerful hand clamped around his throat, lifting him off the ground with suffocating force.

Damn it! My reflexes are too dull!

His fingers clawed at the iron grip choking the life out of him, but his strength was slipping fast. He couldn't breathe. His vision blurred. If this continued, he would…

No… not like this…

Darkness swallowed his thoughts.

...

In the grand estate of the Hall family, Lady Adrienne lay motionless on her bed. Her body, now free from impurities, bore no traces of the dark ritual she had undergone.

Beside her, her personal maid Millie stood watch, concern etched on her face.

Then—Adrienne stirred. Her lashes fluttered, her breath hitched, and her eyes slowly opened.

"Ah… my head…" she murmured, wincing. "I think I had the strangest dream…"

"Lady Adrienne?!" Millie gasped, eyes widening in shock.

"You've finally woken up! The Lord and Lady were beside themselves with worry!" Her voice trembled, a mixture of joy and lingering fear.

Adrienne pressed her fingers to her temples, struggling to recall what had happened. The pounding headache made it difficult.

"Millie… what happened to me?"

The maid hesitated, then spoke in a hushed voice.

"I found you unconscious on your chamber floor… Your body was covered in some strange, black substance. Even Doctor Shindor had no idea what it was…"

Black substance?

Memories surged back, crashing into her like a tidal wave.

That was no dream…

The Forgotten God, Zarthos, had brought her to that sacred, towering hall.

Yes—she remembered now. She had pleaded for purification, and the entity had granted it. A powerful force had flooded her body, overwhelming her senses.

She had blacked out.

Adrienne's gaze sharpened. She turned to Millie.

"You said my body was covered in black residue, correct?"

Millie nodded quickly. "Yes, milady. What… what exactly happened to you?"

Adrienne's mind raced.

Could it be… the impurities that blocked my energy pathways?

Her heart pounded. If that was true, then—she had been purified. She could become a sorceress.

Excitement flickered in her chest, but before she could dwell on it further, a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Adrienne… you're awake?"

The door swung open, and her mother rushed in, eyes brimming with tears. She embraced Adrienne tightly, as if afraid she would disappear again.

"The gods must have answered my prayers," her mother whispered. "You've returned to us safely… Truly, my prayers have been heard."

A god, huh?

Adrienne's lips curled into a knowing smirk.

If there was a true god, it wasn't the one her mother prayed to.

It was Zarthos—the one who had actually answered her plea.

Her mother gestured for Millie to inform her father. As the maid hurried off, Adrienne exhaled slowly.

Now… how am I going to explain this to my family?

...

Deep beneath the tavern, in a dimly lit chamber, a lone figure sat bound to a chair—Julius.

A man lounged on a creaking wooden chair before him, idly rocking back and forth.

"...An interesting young man," the seated figure mused. "No one has ever infiltrated our organization before. Did you identify him?"

A shadowy figure beside him nodded. "Yes, sir. His name is Julius Kors—a Silver Knight of the Cathedral. He's the same man rumored to be connected to the Shadow God—the one who saved that condemned criminal from execution in the last operation."

The man in the chair let out a low, amused chuckle.

"Hohoho… now that is quite the surprise."

Julius stirred.

Damn it… they already know who I am.

His instincts told him to remain still, to feign unconsciousness a little longer. But before he could gather his thoughts—

The rocking chair stopped creaking.

Then came a voice—low, knowing, and laced with amusement.

"So, Sir Julius…"

A pause.

"Why don't you wake up and tell me why you're here?"

Julius' breath hitched.

Damn it…

He knew.