Chapter 63: Figure It Out Yourself!

While Glen was busy with his business, two figures watched him from a distance.

"Is that him? Zamat?" asked a bald, burly man to his companion.

"Should be. I remember him. Fang drew his lot yesterday. Maybe..." The reply came from a wiry man with sunken eyes, looking like a shrewd monkey.

They were members of the Hunter Mercenary Group. They'd noticed Glen entering the town and had followed him here.

Understanding his companion's implication, the bald man said uncertainly, "He doesn't look particularly strong. And if it is him, would he dare show his face here again?"

"Maybe he just doesn't give a damn about us? After all, managing to snatch someone like Fang right out from under our noses, with so many of us around... that takes real strength."

"Should we test him out?"

"Are you stupid? Of course not! We report back first! You wanna be cannon fodder? I don't!"

The bald man choked back his retort, annoyed but unable to argue. "Fine! You're so smart! We'll do it your way! Happy?"

Grumbling at each other, the two men left.

Amidst the bustle, Glen spared a glance towards the spot where the mercenaries had lingered, a slight curve forming on his lips. With his counter-surveillance instincts, he'd noticed the tails long ago. He just hadn't bothered to acknowledge them.

Time passed quickly, and evening approached. Because Glen had started his stall later than usual today, he was packing up later too. The customers' enthusiasm had been high; he should have finished near dusk, but he was waiting for someone.

Finally, a figure came jogging up from the distance.

Glen had been listening to Tia recount some amusing things she'd seen while exploring nearby. Sensing the familiar presence approaching, he gently cut off the little maid's story.

"Is he the person you were waiting for, Mr. Glen?" Tia asked, looking at the approaching man.

Glen nodded.

"Panting... Mr. Glen... I rushed over as soon as... I heard someone say you were selling meat here... Is there any left?" Old Cat gasped for breath.

"Don't worry, saved some just for you. See if it's enough." Glen smiled and gestured towards the remaining meat.

He'd only planned to sell today specifically because of Old Cat's request. Naturally, he'd reserved some.

Old Cat looked at the "silly deer" meat on the cutting board – all prime cuts from the haunches. A wide grin spread across his face. "Plenty! Plenty! Now I don't have to buy that overpriced stuff from Im anymore! What's the total? I'll take it all!"

"Fifteen behrs total. That's sixty copper coins. But I'll give you a discount. Fifty-five copper will do." "Fantastic! Could you wrap it up? Much appreciated." Old Cat paid promptly and without fuss.

Hefting the substantial bundle of meat, Old Cat finally noticed Tia standing beside Glen in her maid's uniform. "And this is...?"

"A maid from a noble friend's household," Glen explained, glancing at Tia.

Old Cat looked genuinely surprised. He leaned closer to Glen, lowering his voice. "You have noble friends!? How'd you manage that?" "Long story, complicated. Hard to explain in a sentence or two," Glen deflected. "I see," Old Cat didn't press. "Just be careful. I've heard of nobles befriending commoners, but sometimes... they have other motives." This last part was practically whispered into Glen's ear to avoid Tia hearing. "Don't worry, I'm not deeply involved with them," Glen replied equally quietly.

Old Cat nodded, clapped Glen on the shoulder, then turned to Tia, who was watching with polite curiosity. "Greetings, fair lady! Delighted to make your acquaintance. I'm a friend of Mr. Glen's. Name's Desrodman. Or you can just call me Old Cat."

Tia smiled, rose slightly, and performed a small curtsy. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Desrodman. Please call me Tia." "Very well, Miss Tia. Next time, we'll have a proper chat. Must dash for now." Old Cat then turned back to Glen. "Heading home, my friend." "Next time."

Watching Old Cat hurry away, Glen reflected on the man's smooth greeting and manners towards Tia. He's definitely been around, he thought with some admiration. Practiced that somewhere, no doubt.

After packing up the stall, Glen and Tia prepared to head home as well. ——— In the tavern serving as the Hunter Mercenary Group's base, the scar-faced man sat hunched in a dim corner, fingers steepled against his forehead. He'd held this position for a long time, barely acknowledging his subordinates' reports.

The loss of the "merchandise" forced him to contemplate how to face the wrath of the young master from the Punk family. Since the Hunters served the entire Punk clan, the young master wouldn't likely have him killed. But the scale of this loss—three second-tier mages and a mercenary with second-tier knight strength—was colossal. Lord Punk would be furious.

"Only way is to find the culprit first... divert some of the Punk family's anger," he sighed under his breath.

Just then, the door opened again—the third interruption for reports of suspicious individuals. "Boss, we found—" "Enough." The scar-faced man cut him off sharply. "If you found a lead, follow it. If you found a suspect, keep watching. Only report back if you get a chance to move!"

The bald man and his wiry companion swallowed their words and retreated, crestfallen.

As they turned to leave, however, the wiry mercenary seemed struck by an idea. He turned back. "Boss, that guy... he came from outside the town, right? He'll probably leave town again. We could just wait till he's somewhere isolated... then we can have a proper... chat with him."

The scar-faced man stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then made a decision. "Fine. Take a few men. Test him."

The wiry mercenary's face instantly fell. "But Boss... if he is the one who hit us last night... wouldn't we just be walking to our deaths?"

The scar-faced man's expression twisted into sudden, terrifying fury. He slammed a fist on the table, roaring: "THEN FIGURE IT OUT YOURSELF! AM I SURROUNDED BY A BUNCH OF USELESS IDIOTS?!?"

The blast of anger nearly knocked the two men off their feet. Too scared to utter another word, they scrambled out the door.

Silence reclaimed the room. The scar-faced man ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself, "Maybe... maybe just cut ties with the Punks? Their pay is miserly anyway..." ——— Back at Glen's cottage, the elven girl awoke slowly, her eyes opening to the dark room. Memories of the previous night surfaced piece by piece. Understanding where she was now, she sat up and stretched languidly, her slim yet perfect silhouette clearly defined in the gloom.

Pushing the door open, Gotaya found the cottage empty. She frowned, whispering softly to herself, "Where did they go?"

Confirming she was truly alone, Gotaya decided to step outside and look around.

However, the moment she pulled open the front door, she froze.

A strangely dressed man with an unnervingly gloomy aura stood motionless just outside, his eyes fixed intently on her.