Chapter 9: Nightless City

  The bar was currently deserted; the attendant was likely busy delivering orders elsewhere. The three of them sat in a row, the silence between them filled only by the muffled echo of music from the hall.

  Ronen tapped his glass, looking around. "So, this 'Underworld' of yours—where exactly is the entrance?"

  Zoe was pressed close to him, their shoulders almost touching. She sighed. "Those nobles only said that if you want to see it, go to the bar. Something about 'the door opens for those with fate.'"

  "In other words, you have no idea how to get in?" Ronen rolled his eyes.

  "If I knew, would I be sitting here with you?" Zoe huffed.

  Ronen shot her a look. "Is this intel even reliable? Sounds like some lordling was just pulling your leg."

  "No way," Zoe lifted her chin. "They offered to take me down there themselves! If I hadn't stayed behind for Mary, I'd be down there already. And if I'd known you were here, well, we'd be halfway there."

  "That makes it sound even more suspicious..." Ronen muttered. He could already picture it: a naive girl led into a dark cellar by strangers, knocked out, and sold off. He looked at Zoe's carefree expression and shuddered. He had a feeling his dark imagination wasn't far from the truth of this city.

  "Apologies for the wait. May I help you with anything?"

  A soft voice intervened. The waitress had returned to the inner bar without a sound. She set aside an empty tray and smiled, rolling up her sleeves to wash the used glasses.

  Ronen recognized her—the elegant woman from earlier. She seemed to manage the entire bar herself. Up close, her features were finely carved, a hint of allure in her eyes and lips the color of dew-soaked roses. Her deep blue hair cascaded like a waterfall over her shoulders, making her simple uniform look strangely regal.

  Zoe didn't bother with subtleties. She leaned over the bar, her smile sweet. "Sister, I heard there are some... interesting places beneath this inn? Do you know the way down?"

  The waitress didn't answer immediately. She polished a crystal glass with slow, deliberate focus, as if reading an inscription only she could see. Only when the glass caught the light did she look up, her gaze sweeping over the three of them.

  "You three are new faces. Not regulars, I presume?" Her voice was like a feather on velvet.

  "We are investigators hired by the Lapsus Merchant Circle," Mary replied politely. "We're staying here as guests."

  "Investigators for Lapsus...?" A flicker of realization crossed the waitress's eyes before vanishing. She set the glass on the rack and asked casually, "Do you three like cats?"

  "Cats?" Ronen frowned. That was the second time today he'd been asked that. "What's with the cat?"

  The waitress maintained her faint, misty smile. "Just a curious thought."

  Her eyes returned to Zoe. "However, the Crimson Moon Inn does indeed house the entrance to the Nightless City. If you wish to go, I can open the door for you."

  "Really?" Zoe's eyes lit up, nearly jumping off her stool. "Then lead the way!"

  The waitress bowed slightly and pushed open an unassuming wooden door behind the bar.

  Behind it was a narrow storeroom, shelves packed with bottles and bitters. Boxes of fruit were stacked in the corners, making the cramped space feel even smaller. Yet, amidst the clutter, a clear path had been left, leading straight to a blank, featureless wall.

  The waitress stepped forward, a ghostly blue glow swirling in her eyes. Mana gathered at her fingertips, and as she touched the stones, glowing runes rippled across the surface. The wall dissolved like wet ink on parchment, revealing a stone staircase spiraling down into an abyss of darkness.

  She stepped aside, her smile professional. "Please, suit yourselves."

  Zoe didn't hesitate, grabbing a reluctant Mary and diving into the dark. Ronen stayed at the threshold, his eyes scanning the thick shadows. Years of mercenary work had taught him to be wary of any door that opened too easily.

  As he prepared to step through, the waitress called out softly.

  "The Eye of the Blizzard lies in the far North. Beyond that is the endless wasteland—treacherous weather, no souls for miles, and monsters that hunt in the white... If you go, ensure you are well-prepared."

  "Once you are below, look for a general store with a black cat on the sign. Their wares might be of use to you. If you are interested, pay them a visit."

  Ronen narrowed his eyes. "Is it dangerous down there?"

  From the depths of the stairs, Zoe's voice echoed: "Ronen! Are you coming or what? We're leaving without you!"

  "Coming!"

  Ronen gave the waitress one last look and nodded. "Thanks. I'll look for the shop."

  "If you need, you may give them my name—Sisti. Perhaps the owner will offer you a discount."

  Ronen turned and stepped into the darkness. The moment he entered, the entrance behind him sealed shut with a silent finality. He reached back to touch the wall—it was cold, solid stone, indistinguishable from the rest. The way back was gone.

  "How do we get back?" he asked sharply.

  "Don't worry, Ronen," Mary said, stepping back to his side. "It's a simple magic door, a type of visual illusion. Once you know the location, you just need a tiny pulse of mana to reopen it."

  "So anyone who's been here before can open it without a guide?" Zoe asked from further down.

  "In theory... yes."

  Relieved that they weren't trapped, Ronen gripped the hilt of his sword and followed them. The air grew heavy and stale—a mix of tobacco, alcohol, sweat, and the sharp tang of evaporating potions. The damp walls leaked a chill, while the distant roar of voices and music surged toward them like a subterranean river.

  Finally, a heavy oak door barred the end of the stairs. Light and sound leaked through the cracks, a wave of heat carrying the scent of unbridled indulgence.

  Ronen pushed the door open.

  In an instant, a world so vast it defied words exploded before him.

  This was no "cellar." This was a mirror-city buried beneath the foundations of Glory City. The towering cavern ceiling was enchanted with permanent Light spells; a fake sky of shifting stars and artificial auroras looked down upon streets and buildings that stretched as far as the eye could see. Shops, stalls, and taverns lined the avenues, their signs written in Common, Elvish, and even Ancient Dwarven runes.

  The crowd was a tide of humanity. Wealthy nobles in masks hurried into dark alleys with their paramours; scarred brutes roared over dice at roadside stalls; cloaked mages peddled glowing vials. In the shadows, non-human silhouettes moved—pointed ears, scaled claws, swaying tails...

  The air was thick with the scent of desire and decay. Sweet incense couldn't mask the smell of spirits and grime. Mad laughter erupted from one corner while dreamlike chanting drifted from another. Coins clinked, contracts were whispered, and weapons glinted—everything here was the definition of "Nightless": no distinction between day and night, only an eternal carnival of trade and vice.

  "Is this... the Nightless City?" Mary's voice trembled with a mix of awe and fear.

  Zoe's eyes were sparkling. "It's even better than the nobles said!"

  Ronen remained silent, scanning the layout. He noticed that despite the chaos, several main roads led toward different sectors.

  Suddenly, a patrol of fully armed guards approached them. Their armor glinted coldly under the artificial sky, their steps synchronized like an iron law in a city of lawlessness. The officer in the lead paused as he passed Ronen. His eyes were void of warmth, filled only with warning. He slowed his pace, his gaze scraping over Ronen like a blade—a clear, wordless threat.

  Just as the patrol passed, a figure stumbled out of a side alley.

  It was a man, nearly naked, his clothes shredded into bloody rags. Deep gashes covered his torso, trailing crimson smears across his grimy skin. He collapsed at the edge of the main road. Seeing the patrol, his clouded eyes flared with a dying hope.

  "Officer! Help... murder! They're going to kill me! Please..."

  Before he could finish, three brutes charged out of the alley. The leader held a blood-dripping cleaver. He strode up and swung without hesitation.

  The blade fell.

  A spray of blood erupted from the man's back. His scream cut short as he slumped like a sack of grain, twitching once before going still.

  The brutes casually grabbed the man's ankles and began dragging him back toward the alley, leaving a thick, jagged trail of red on the cobblestones.

  Only then did the officer turn around. "What's the situation?"

  the brute with the cleaver grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "Nothing much, Captain. This rat defaulted on a debt. The Master wants his organs as collateral. Sorry about the mess."

  The officer nodded expressionlessly, his voice as flat as a manual. "Be cleaner next time. Mop up this blood. Don't leave it on the main road."

  "Yes, sir! Right away!" The brute bowed as his companions vanished into the alley with the corpse.

  The patrol resumed their march, their boots stepping through the fresh blood. The crowd around them had already resumed its flow, as if the scene were nothing more than a trivial street performance.

  Mary turned deathly pale, hiding behind Zoe, her fingers clutching Zoe's dress so hard the fabric bunched. Even Zoe's excitement had been replaced by a sharp, cold fear.

  Ronen looked at the blood on the ground, then at the retreating patrol. He realized then that this wasn't just a "black market." It wasn't lawless—it just had a different law than the world above.