Willow Alley

The so-called "Willow Alley" was the most infamous red-light district in all of Bratia—arguably the entire northern Dazilet Empire. Though the Empire's laws officially prohibited such trades, the district thrived under the shadowy protection of high-ranking officials and nobles, becoming a pleasure haven for the wealthy and powerful. Even the Emperor himself turned a blind eye to it.

Having once served in the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Nordhausen had heard of this place before. One of the Ministry's assassination operations against a rebel leader had taken place here. But no matter how vividly his colleagues had described it, nothing quite prepared him for experiencing it firsthand.

As twilight settled over the city, the dimming sky was lit up by garish neon signs on the low-rise brick buildings. Bold, saturated colors—red, yellow, blue, green—glowed on the damp cobbled streets, their reflections forming dreamlike auras on the wet stones. Behind the windows beneath those signs stood scantily clad women in provocative poses, their heavy makeup and flirtatious gestures clearly designed to lure in passersby. One of them noticed Edwin's casual glance and responded with a sultry smile, tapping the glass with her bare fingers.

Laborers, soldiers, and even decently dressed middle-class men made up the bulk of the clientele here. On the streets, drunkards stumbled about, couples kissed pressed up against crumbling walls, and in the darker corners, the muffled sounds of debauchery could just barely be heard.

"Strip show starts in fifteen minutes!"

A sharply dressed man shouted from outside a cabaret, his booming voice instantly drawing a crowd scrambling for tickets.

"You southerners really don't hold back, huh…"Inaya clicked her tongue in mock amazement.

It wasn't just the sensory overload of all those dazzling lights—this kind of upfront, no-nonsense advertising simply didn't exist in the North. The few brothels that did operate up there were hidden away, with customers strictly vetted. Of course, that only applied to commoners. Behind the doors of the powerful, things were a very different story.

"Hmph. Our troops are bleeding on the front lines, and these pigs are out here partying like it's peacetime…"

Edwin was stunned by what he saw, but what really blew his mind was that a place like this could even exist in Dazilet—and remain totally unaffected by the war.

"Congratulations," said Inaya, patting Edwin's back like a seasoned guide, "you've just met the real world."

"Number 43. That's the one."

Nordhausen, silent until now, stopped walking. The rest followed his gaze to a modest-sized bar. Its neon sign simply read "Bar," but next to the word was a glowing outline of a curvy woman, a heart pierced by an arrow, and other cheap decorative flair.

Inside, the smell hit them all at once—a pungent cocktail of alcohol, cigarette smoke, cheap perfume, and mold. It almost seemed alive.

"Right this way, darlings~♡"

A woman who was, by most definitions, barely dressed, sauntered up with exaggerated sways of her hips. She raised a tray and offered them drinks, but no one took one. Even Inaya sniffed the air, wrinkled her nose in disgust, and turned away.

The greeter backed off without complaint. She could tell they were military, but had no idea they were Night Knights—she'd never seen one before, let alone four.

"Urgh—"

Inside the main hall, the smell was even worse. Inaya gagged, nearly retching.

Patrons turned to look as the four newcomers entered. The rowdy atmosphere slowly died down when they noticed the uniforms.

"What's with that look on your face?""They're Night Knights…""Night Knights? What the hell are they doing here?""No idea. But something's definitely about to go down…"

Nordhausen scanned the layout of the room quickly, noting exits and keeping an ear out for the whispered chatter.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please!"

A loud voice rang out, drawing every eye in the bar—even Nordhausen's squad turned their heads.

"Behold! The legendary Night Knights—the guardians of our Empire! I had the honor of fighting alongside them once, and let me tell you, they're exactly what the rumors say—unreal!"

The speaker, a slightly drunk man with a cup still in hand, looked to be an army platoon leader. The soldiers at his table wore standard military uniforms as well.

"Let's raise our glasses to these heroes!"

He drained his glass of what was clearly some bottom-shelf liquor, slamming it down as the table erupted into cheers. Others followed suit, hoisting their glasses toward Nordhausen's group. A few hostesses quickly brought over four drinks, but Nordhausen waved them away with a polite nod before leading the team toward the bar counter.

"We're looking for Vichy Neganova," he said, getting straight to the point.

"Understood, I'll get the boss right away."

The bartender had picked up on what the army officer had said earlier and was now treating them with extreme caution. He slipped upstairs without another word.

Before long, footsteps echoed on the wooden stairs—measured, unhurried. A man in a black coat appeared, a cigar clamped between his teeth.

"Well, well. Never thought I'd have Night Knights in my bar. What an honor."

Unlike the factory foreman earlier, Vichy seemed completely unfazed. His posture, his eyes—everything about him said he wasn't intimidated.

"Your turn," Nordhausen said, leaving it to Arcia. After all, she was the one who came to find him.

"Where's Alice?"

As always, Arcia cut straight to the point. But Vichy just blinked at her in confusion.

"I'm sorry, lovely lady, but... Alice who?"

He leaned against the bar, watching her with an amused grin.

"Worker at the glass factory. Alice."

"Glass factory…"

Vichy scratched his chin, eyes closed in thought. A moment later, something clicked, and he pointed at her excitedly.

"Ha! You're that little girl who killed Barkin!"

The others, including Nordhausen, were a bit confused. No one knew who this Barkin was. But judging from Vichy's reaction, he clearly recognized Arcia.

"…"

Arcia showed no reaction whatsoever to Vichy's sudden outburst.

"Oh my god, if that idiot knew you became a Night Knight, he might finally rest in peace! Hahaha…"

Vichy laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. Only when he caught his breath did he finally answer her question.

"Alright, now I remember which Alice you're talking about."

He removed his gloves, dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief.

"Where is she?"

He stopped mid-sentence. Arcia's expression darkened.

"Easy now. Let me tell the story."

He theatrically folded his handkerchief and took a sip of the drink the bartender had handed him.

"After the army took you away, Alice kept working for me a while longer. I treated her well, you know. Especially after I heard what Barkin did to her—disgusting bastard. Gave her some compensation too, for emotional damage. You won't find a better boss in all of Bratia…"

He gestured dramatically, like an actor in an over-the-top stage play.

"Where is Alice now?"

Arcia wasn't buying a word of his self-praise.

"Don't rush me."

Another sip.

"One day, some bigwig came by the factory for inspection, saw Alice, and took her with him. As for where she is now…"

That glint in his eye said it all. He had no intention of giving a straight answer.

"You trying to bargain with us?!"

Edwin snapped, grabbing Vichy by the collar.

"Well, I'm the only one who knows where she is."

Vichy smiled, completely unbothered. If anything, he seemed entertained.

"What do you want?"

Nordhausen tapped Edwin's arm to calm him down. With only four days of leave, they couldn't afford to lose this lead.

"Excellent. I admire your professionalism."

Vichy stubbed out his cigar and finally looked serious.

"I've always heard the Night Knights are the Emperor's chosen warriors, gods of death on the battlefield. I bet you're all incredibly skilled. So here's what I want: help me with something you're really good at. In return, I'll personally take you to Alice."

He looked at the three armored figures in front of him, waiting for their answer.

"What is it you want us to do?"

Nordhausen finally asked.

"Kill Satorodino for me."