The soft sound of Charles and Joseph's footsteps echoed faintly as they ventured deeper into the underground tunnel. The surrounding darkness was pierced only by the dim light from a small oil lantern in their hands. The stone walls were damp and emitted a musty odor reminiscent of wet soil. On one wall, a faded red cross marking—though dimmed with age—was still visible enough to confirm they were on the right path.
"This goes deeper than I expected," Joseph whispered, raising the lantern higher to peer into the path ahead. The labyrinthine drainage tunnels forced them to watch their every step with utmost caution.
Charles paused abruptly, bringing his finger to his lips to signal silence. He leaned down to listen to the faint sounds drifting from the end of the tunnel. It was the whispered murmur of something, the sound of footsteps in motion.
"We're not alone down here," Charles murmured softly.
Joseph responded with a silent nod, his eyes fixed on the moving shadows in the distance. The two continued forward carefully, measuring each step.
After walking deeper for a few more minutes, they came to a junction where several tunnels branched out. There were path markers for multiple routes, but what caught Charles's attention was the red cross mark etched into one of the walls.
"This way," he whispered softly, pointing to the mark. They turned into that passage.
Soon enough, the corridor gradually widened, and they saw a large man standing in the shadows, blocking an iron door encrusted with rust. The sound of their footsteps caused the man to turn toward them with cold, threatening eyes.
"What makes the rain fall?" the door guard asked in a low voice.
Charles took a deep breath before answering confidently, "Dust fades away after the rain."
The man stared at them intently for a moment, then gave a slight nod before stepping back to open the rust-covered iron door.
"Go on in," he said flatly, moving aside.
Once they passed through the door, the atmosphere changed dramatically. The dim light from oil lamps hanging on the walls revealed the hazy silhouettes of people moving about in hushed silence. The quiet sounds of bartering drifted through the air, accompanied by the smell of smoke and strange substances.
The black market lay before them. It wasn't merely a place but another world hidden beneath the city. Small stalls were discreetly set up in nooks and crannies, selling goods never seen in ordinary markets—forbidden weapons, ancient artifacts, and rare poisonous herbs that were difficult to obtain.
Charles and Joseph carefully surveyed their surroundings. Both knew that every pair of eyes here could pose a threat if they made one wrong move.
"How do we even start looking?" Joseph whispered.
Charles glanced around with cautious vigilance. "Let's split up—we'll be less conspicuous that way. If there's any trouble, we'll meet back here at this exact spot."
Joseph nodded, responding in a hushed voice, "All right," before turning away and weaving through the hidden corners of the market without looking back, carefully committing each of Charles's words to memory.
Joseph and Charles separated in the black market. They both understood that this place was dangerous and potentially full of watchful eyes. If they wanted to gather information about the person they were searching for, dividing their efforts would help them reach their goal more quickly.
Joseph chose to walk along stalls selling luxurious or rare items. He understood that merchants who sold such goods often knew a great deal about the people in the market. Most vendors here weren't honest, and obtaining information from them usually required both negotiation and bribery.
Joseph stopped at a stall displaying gemstones arranged on fine fabric. A faint scent of incense wafted from a small burner beside the stall. The merchant was a middle-aged man wearing a dark cloak, his sharp eyes studying customers with suspicion.
"Anything in particular interest you?" the merchant asked, his voice low and rough.
Joseph smiled slightly, casually flipping a gold coin in his hand without any sense of urgency. "Actually... I'm looking for information about someone who might have passed through your market. Could you help me?"
The merchant remained silent for a moment, his eyes reflecting deeper suspicion. But when Joseph placed the gold coin on the table, the merchant's expression clearly showed that negotiations were taking a favorable turn.
"Try the cloth seller," the merchant said, glancing toward one direction. "She sees many strangers come and go, and often knows where they head next."
Joseph nodded, thanked him, and continued on his way.
Charles navigated the shadowy recesses of the black market. His deep brown eyes scanned the surroundings carefully, each footstep silent as if part of the darkness that permeated the tunnels. He knew well that the answers he sought wouldn't be found in plain sight, but hidden in conversations unnoticed by others.
As he passed a stall filled with antiques, Charles paused to eavesdrop on two merchants speaking quietly.
"How long will the market stay open this time?" one whispered.
"No more than three days as usual. The soldiers are probably catching our scent by now," the other replied.
"Hmph. Then we'll need to pack up quickly. Where will we set up next time?"
"Word is we'll move to the brothel district. Might stay for two days, then vanish again for a while as usual."
Charles committed this conversation to memory before silently moving away without being noticed.
After gathering some preliminary leads, Joseph headed toward the cloth stall as the gem merchant had suggested. The cloth seller appeared to be a middle-aged woman whose face bore the marks of a difficult life. She was folding fabrics and arranging her stall with care. When Joseph approached, she looked up with wary eyes.
"I hear you see many strangers who come through the market," Joseph began cautiously. "Perhaps you could help me find someone I'm looking for."
"And what do I get if I help you?" the woman asked harshly.
Joseph took out a gold coin and handed it to the cloth seller without rushing, offering a slight smile that conveyed both gentleness and expectation.
"This is for basic information. If it proves accurate, I have more for you," he said in a measured tone that conveyed his seriousness.
The woman quickly took the coin. Her face relaxed slightly, though still maintaining a cautious demeanor.
"Who are you looking for?" she asked, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping.
Joseph leaned in slightly, speaking in a lowered voice, "A man named Michael Berg. Forty-five years old... a physician."
He paused briefly, gathering his thoughts before adding more details to avoid any confusion. "He's tall, tan-skinned with black hair, and has a mole under his right eye... Have you seen him at all?"
The cloth seller frowned slightly while visualizing the description, but she didn't answer immediately.
"Perhaps..." she murmured. The pause made it clear to Joseph that this information would come at a higher price.
Joseph reached for another gold coin as he recalled another notice posted on the bulletin board earlier. The name of another man flashed through his mind. He handed the coin to the woman.
"What about another man?" Joseph continued. "Roland Bradford, forty-two years old. He's heavyset, pale-skinned, with light brown hair."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Are these two connected somehow?" she asked suspiciously.
Joseph smiled faintly, not answering directly. "I just need to be certain."
The woman narrowed her eyes, as if weighing her options, but eventually spoke. "One of these two was here about two weeks ago before disappearing."
Joseph frowned slightly. This timing pointed to Roland Bradford, who had gone missing two weeks earlier. But the merchant's information remained vague, so he needed to clarify.
"Which of the two men was it?" Joseph asked, watching her face intently.
The cloth seller paused briefly before answering quietly but clearly, "The tall, tan-skinned man with black hair... and the mole under his right eye."
Joseph froze momentarily upon hearing this description. The man she described wasn't Roland but Michael Berg, the physician who had disappeared only a week ago. This information complicated the situation.
'Michael...' Joseph thought to himself while processing this new information. He had vanished only a week ago, yet the merchant confirmed he had appeared here two weeks ago. This suggested that something in this market was directly connected to his disappearance.
"Do you remember what he came here for?" Joseph asked, maintaining a calm and friendly tone.
The woman glanced cautiously around before leaning forward to whisper, "Word is, he spoke with someone important in this market. Someone significant... and not long after that, nobody saw him again."
"And this important person... who are they?" Joseph pressed.
"The door guard knows about it," she answered, shifting her gaze toward the deeper part of the market.
Joseph nodded slowly. Though the information wasn't complete, it was still a valuable lead.
After obtaining this clue, Joseph hurried back to the meeting point to rejoin Charles. Upon arriving, however, he found that Charles had not yet appeared. He looked around cautiously in the gloomy atmosphere of the black market.
'He should be here by now...' Joseph thought to himself as he stood with his back against the stone wall, trying not to appear too anxious.
Meanwhile, Charles was moving through the market's various alcoves. His deep brown eyes scanned everything carefully. Each of his footsteps was silent, as though part of the darkness seeping through the tunnels. He knew that the answers he needed might not be in plain sight, but hidden in conversations that went unnoticed.
As he walked past stalls of antiques filled with ancient objects, Charles secretly paused to listen to two merchants whispering.
"How long will we keep the market open this time?" one man whispered.
"No more than three days as usual. The soldiers are probably catching our scent by now," another answered.
"Hmph. Then we'd better wrap things up quickly. Where will we set up next time?"
"I hear we'll move to the brothel district. Might stay for two days, then disappear again for a while like always."
Charles committed the conversation to memory before slipping away unnoticed.
After gathering some clues, Charles decided to return to Joseph, hoping his friend had made better progress. 'What a waste of time. Should have just waited for Humphrey at his house instead,' Charles muttered to himself before deciding to head back and find Joseph.
As he neared the meeting point, he noticed a figure moving suspiciously near where Joseph was standing.
The man wore a dark cloak that obscured his face completely and was carefully following Joseph from an appropriate distance. His movements seemed suspicious. Charles frowned, immediately recognizing that this man was shadowing Joseph.
Charles stopped at once and adjusted his route. He knew that if he walked directly to Joseph now, the stalker would realize he'd been spotted and might flee or, worse, attack Joseph. Charles therefore quickly turned into a side passage to circle around from another direction.
While taking the detour, he maintained his distance and stepped lightly to prevent his footsteps from alerting the suspicious man. His plan was to approach Joseph as naturally as possible without letting the stalker realize he was being watched.
Charles walked along the nooks and crannies of the black market. All the while, his eyes never left the man following Joseph. The stranger moved stealthily, maintaining his distance with expertise—not too close but always keeping Joseph in sight—until he stopped at a point where he could clearly observe Joseph.
Joseph stood nearby, seemingly waiting for his friend without any concern, completely unaware that someone had been silently tracking his movements.
Charles adjusted his posture to appear normal. He stepped out from his hiding place, allowing his footsteps to follow the path like someone casually browsing the market. Joseph spotted him immediately, and when their eyes met, Charles offered a slight smile as a signal that everything seemed normal.
"Let's go," Charles said with casual friendliness as he approached Joseph. "We can walk and talk."
Joseph nodded, responding without suspicion, and began walking alongside Charles. The two walked through the market paths while Charles used this opportunity to whisper quietly to his friend without anyone noticing.
"Someone's following you," Charles said softly but firmly enough for Joseph to hear.
Joseph showed mild surprise but quickly composed his expression, not revealing that he was now aware of the danger. "Where?" he whispered back.
"Not far behind us," Charles informed him. "Don't show any sign of alarm. We need to keep walking naturally."
Both continued walking calmly, neither rushing nor showing any concern. They understood that any suspicious movement or haste might alert the person following them—that he'd been detected. Charles and Joseph both knew that in this moment, they needed both composure and quick thinking to handle this unpredictable situation.