Chapter 238: Heart of the Ice Dragon

He spotted her weaving through the market, steady steps, sharp eyes. Torchlight flickered across her light armor, and for one disorienting second he forgot how to breathe. The necklace was already in his hand. Now or never.

“Excuse me…”

She stopped cold, turning toward the voice. Her gaze locked onto him, trained, unwavering, and pinned him in place. For a moment, he froze. Then he forced his arm forward, offering the necklace.

“This… belongs to you.”

One eyebrow arched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I don’t want to scare you,” he said, struggling to keep his tone even. He raised one hand in reassurance while the other still held the necklace. “But I saw you from a distance and… I just knew. I felt like this was meant for you.”

Her eyes narrowed. She stepped back, suspicion plain on her face. “You must be confusing me with someone else. I’ve never seen you before.”

“I know,” he answered, forcing a faint smile. “But even so… it feels like it’s yours.”

She hesitated. He thought she was about to turn away, but she didn’t. She stayed.

“Do you always approach women on the street like this?” she asked. The tone was mocking, but the color rising in her cheeks betrayed her.

“Only you,” he shot back, quicker than common sense would have liked.

Her gaze darted away, nervous. Is this actually working?

“May I… put it on you?” he asked, lifting the necklace slightly.

A long beat of silence.

“If… that’s all… fine,” she murmured.

He stepped around her carefully, brushed her hair aside. His fingers shook badly, but he managed to fasten the clasp.

Click.

“You don’t seem nervous,” she said softly.

In reality, he was panicking. His heart thundered so hard he barely heard himself answer. She turned to face him again, her eyes meeting his. He didn’t blink. She didn’t know who he was, yet she hadn’t walked away.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“James. And yours?”

“Zoey.”

At that moment, a sound rolled across the square.

“The curfew bell… I have to go,” she said, glancing away. “If I don’t get back now, I’ll be punished. I can’t afford to be late again. But… I liked the gift.”

“It’s all right,” he said, brushing his fingers lightly against her hand. “I don’t want to cause you trouble. I just wanted to give you what was yours.”

Her face went red instantly, eyes wide. The bell tolled again, deep and heavy.

“U-unfortunate… that you said all this right at curfew,” she stammered.

‘Because the bastard timed it!’ Artemis screamed in his head.

He watched her vanish into the crowd, heading straight toward Bastion’s fortress. Zoey, one of the city guards, just about to switch shifts. Once she was gone, he slipped into an alley and dropped onto a crate.

“Holy shit…” His chest heaved, heart hammering.

He dragged a hand over his face. “Why is this harder than fighting a Beast Lord?”

“You’re a damn scoundrel,” Artemis spat. “I went through your memories, and all your little tricks are ripped straight out of spy movies.”

“Scoundrel?” He pushed himself to his feet. “My goal is to free everyone from this tutorial. I’m doing this for a good cause, for my plan.”

“Doesn’t change the fact you’re still a scoundrel,” she shot back.

Luke took a long pull from his canteen. “Lucky me… I’m James now. Blond guy with an eyepatch, nothing to do with Luke. If I had to pull this off as myself, I don’t think I could.”

“Does it get easier when you pretend to be someone else?” Artemis asked.

“A little,” he admitted. The truth was, even when he used his wraith form to terrify enemies, slipping into another role had always come naturally.

“Congratulations, scoundrel. You’ve discovered your hidden talent for acting,” she said with mock applause.

Luke ignored the sarcasm. “I sort of channel James Bond. Honestly, I think that’s the only role I’d ever be able to play.”

He lingered near the square, watching soldiers file back into Bastion as the curfew bell summoned them. The city’s rhythm was complicated: day-shift patrols being replaced by those who would keep watch through the night.

Over the past few days, Luke had made friends with several of Bastion’s soldiers… mostly women. It was the only safe way to build a convincing alibi while marking someone.

“You’re overly cautious. Just start branding random people,” Artemis teased.

He walked through the night market. It never really closed, hunters returning from the Wild Zone at dusk always needed to sell their spoils or restock before morning. As he drifted toward a cluster of merchants, he switched to silent thought.

I need to mark specific soldiers. Ones who move deeper into the fortress.

He pretended to browse a stall of trinkets, edging closer to Bastion’s looming gates. And I can’t risk drawing attention if someone notices the mark.

“So your master plan is just… play the charming rogue?” Artemis asked in his head.

He couldn’t deny it.

There were other options. Like telling a Bastion soldier the truth about the mechanisms and having him help me map the place. Trustworthy? Of course not. I could easily be betrayed. That’s why this is the safest alternative, both for me and for them. I can slip away and disappear into the Wild Zone, but a soldier has family here and on top of that, Bartholomew could kill him without a second thought. I’d rather take on all the risks myself.

Luke’s gaze rose to the fortress.

“How touching,” Artemis murmured. “You’ve found a noble excuse for being a scoundrel.”

On the walls, Zoey’s silhouette glowed faint red through his vision. Luke pulled a battered notebook from his pocket and started sketching quick, crude lines before anyone could notice.

Bastion and the second fortress are identical on the inside. That’s what Angelica told me before she died. This isn’t about flirting. It’s about my plan. I just need the map.

“No need to explain yourself. I won’t judge you… much. Maybe just a little more than usual,” Artemis answered. “And of course, I’ll make sure to tell Princess Charlie all about it.”

Hey! We agreed you wouldn’t tell her, as long as I kept feeding you.

He shoved the thought aside and focused again.

Bit by bit, Luke had managed to map Bastion through the female soldiers, who had greater access to different areas. But when he’d tried the same trick on a laundress by the river, he’d been met with an overwhelming wave of hostility. The women working there weren’t harmless servants, they were disciples of Erza Grimhart. They were assassin maids.

Those women wore classic maid outfits, they were supposed to be delicate, pure, and perfect. But they were murderous psychopaths… this world really is insane.

“Your fault, really. You and your maid fetish,” Artemis said dryly.

Stop digging through my browser history.

Once he finished sketching the last pieces of his map, Luke headed toward a different destination: an inn.

“Good evening, we have rooms avail…” The clerk’s smile vanished. “Oh. It’s you, James…”

“Hey, I can still come here as a paying customer. I’d rather you keep the smile.”

“My smile doesn’t come cheap,” she replied.

Luke leaned toward the potted plant sitting on the counter. “I wasn’t talking to you, Layla. I meant this little lady here. She’s kind of standoffish, but I have a feeling we’ll be friends soon.”

Layla ignored the remark and pointed toward a side door. “Your food’s ready. It’ll get cold if you dawdle.”

“Thanks, Layla.”

Luke was working under Eddie, a lumber merchant who also owned an inn in Bastion. The fruit vendor, the same one Luke had met on the day he’d tried to buy an arrow from Oswald, had been the one to recommend him.

He hadn’t taken the job for the pay. The real reason was information. Blending in. Being paid in Bastion’s own currency. And, most importantly, gaining Eddie’s trust. With Eddie’s recommendation, Luke would finally be able to buy the arrows he wanted, while maintaining the perfect cover: James, the man with the eyepatch.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The eyepatch itself was the centerpiece of his disguise. Odd enough to stick, yet believable. His alternative had been pretending to be blind, his perception allowed him to walk with his eyes closed, after all. A part of him loved the idea, some kind of super monk, blind but more capable than the sighted. Still, it was too much. Too theatrical. Better to just play the eyepatch guy.

Eddie’s business was close to Bastion’s fortress. Families who wanted the safety of its shadow often rented rooms for weeks or months at a time, and the place was busier than Luke had expected.

Bartholomew’s tribute had officially ended, but of course nothing had really changed. The only way to live near Bastion was to rent, and Eddie simply passed the cost down the chain. In the end, the tribute was still being paid, whether directly or not. Bartholomew’s protection covered the entire Safe Zone, but everyone knew that the fortress’s perimeter was the safest place to be during an invasion. That privilege came with a price.