While the city was still picking up the scattered pieces of its fragmented routine, a certain pallum girl was busy capitalizing on the resulting chaos.
In the shadowed alleys and bustling thoroughfares, panic was a merchant's best friend, and distraction was the finest tool of the trade.
To the average civilian, preoccupied with checking the foundations of their homes or adventurers counting their losses due to the dungeon blockade, a missing pouch or a misplaced heirloom went entirely unnoticed.
It was dishonest, yes, but in Orario, survival often wore the cloak of opportunism.
In another corner of the city, far removed from the chaos, Lili's latest venture was reaching its conclusion.
"Please have a look."
"All right."
A green jewel-encrusted amulet clinked softly as it was placed upon the aged, polished wood of the counter.
The owner of the store...an old, stout male gnome sporting a long, flowing white beard and a signature red hat that drooped over one ear...picked up the trinket.
Without another word, he turned and made his way through the cluttered threshold into the back room, disappearing behind a faded velvet curtain.
At The Gnome Trader, a remarkably...perhaps suspiciously.....simply named antique shop, a small transaction was once again taking place.
A male pallum stood at the front of the counter, waiting patiently for the owner to return.
He was surrounded by a chaotic, dizzying assortment of odds and ends: ornamental daggers, beakers filled with strange liquids, faded tapestries, enchanted weapons, trinkets and armour pieces.
This, of course, was Lili in disguise, her features altered, her voice subtly pitched, and her true identity concealed beneath the flawless execution of her skill.
A few moments later, the heavy velvet curtain parted.
"All finished. Sorry to keep you waiting."
"What's the result?" the disguised pallum asked, keeping her tone brisk and entirely unbothered.
"Looks like it's got some sort of status boost effect....and a decent resistance to poison attached to it. Very good, very good. So… how does forty-nine thousand valis sound to you?"
The pallum nodded slowly, a very satisfied look washing over his fabricated features.
The price was fair, factoring in the gnome's cut and the undeniable quality of the stolen item.
A deal had been struck.
"Is today's payment in cash?" the gnome asked, his hands resting on the counter.
"No, the usual."
The two finished the transaction at a brisk pace, exchanging unmarked envelopes without drawing unnecessary attention.
Around them, the heavy air of the shop was punctuated by the steady, unyielding sound of a grandfather clock in the corner, ticking off the seconds of the evening.
As the final item exchanged hands, the old gnome didn't immediately turn away.
Instead, he lingered, his fingers nervously fiddling with the amulet he had just appraised.
Slowly, he opened his mouth to speak, his voice dropping an octave.
"It might not be this geezer's place to say this, but…"
Fiddling with the green jewel, the owner gazed at his customer with a quiet, genuine concern in his aged eyes.
Lili tilted her head, maintaining her facade of casual indifference.
"Go on."
"Wouldn't be a good idea to stick your neck into dangerous situations. Might already be too late, I know…" the old man said cryptically, his gaze piercing through the dim lighting of the shop.
Lili's heart skipped a beat, though her posture remained rigid and unyielding.
"There's a rumor going around in some adventurer circles," the gnome explained, leaning forward.
"Not too well known yet, but out there just the same. Talking about a pallum with sticky fingers pilfering their valuables. Sometimes even cleaning out a whole party at once."
For a fraction of a second, the ticking of the clock seemed to deafen her.
But Lili forced her eyes to narrow, injecting a healthy dose of skepticism into her voice.
"What are you trying to say?"
"No, no, my friend. I'm not suspecting you," the gnome quickly clarified, holding up a wrinkled hand.
"The pallum in question is a lady, and has been stealing for a while by the sound of it. Suspecting a man like yourself would be barking up the wrong tree, I know. It's just…"
The old man trailed off under his breath, his thick white beard twitching with unease.
"I've seen some of the valuables reported stolen with my own two eyes… yes? This geezer thinks you should keep an eye on your company and keep your nose down."
The owner's mood suddenly turned sour, the warmth of the business transaction evaporating into the heavy, dusty air.
Lili could see the weight of the warning in his eyes, and though her breath hitched sharply in her throat, she knew she couldn't afford to hesitate.
Any sign of panic, any break in character, and the old man might connect the dots.
Swallowing the lump of fear in her throat, she forced a confident, arrogant smile onto her face.
"Sounds like there's a bad pallum out there. But then again, are the words of most adventurers all that reliable? I mean, many of them do exactly the same kind of stealing and blackmail when they think no one is watching," Lili said, letting out a dismissive scoff.
"That is… true…" the old man replied, blinking in reluctant agreement.
"If you ask me, they should all get off their high horses," Lili continued, her lips curling into a nasty, cynical grin.
"It's harsh, but the fact is that it's their fault for being tricked."
"Hmm?" the owner replied, a flicker of anger returning to his eyes at her callousness.
But before he could voice his displeasure, his retort was completely drowned out by the deep, resonant chimes of the grandfather clock striking the hour.
With her business finished and the tension in the room threatening to snap her nerves, Lili turned on her heel and left the shop, stepping back out into the city streets with a deeply sour mood.
'Seems like I need to be a little more careful,' Lili scolded herself internally, pulling the hood of her cloak lower over her brow as she wove through the evening crowds.
Normally, she wouldn't have been this desperate, wouldn't have taken such reckless risks so close to home.
But the recent, inexplicable spike in monetary demands from the Soma Familia had broken her fragile routine.
Just when she thought she had finally scraped together enough to clear her ledger, her debt had mysteriously increased once more, pulling her right back down into the mire.
Though she strictly targeted cruel or arrogant adventurers....those who viewed supports as disposable tools....it didn't change the cold, hard reality of what she was.
She was a thief.
'I am so close to leaving,' she whispered to her own reflection in a rain-slicked window, clenching her small fists inside her pockets.
'I can't stop here. Not now...'
With her eyes fixed firmly on the horizon of a future where she was finally free, Lili plunged back into the bustling crowds of Orario, carrying the heavy burden of her secrets alone.
.........................................................
Shwaaaah! Rumble! Flash!
The deafening sound of torrential rain enveloped Orario, an aggressive symphony accompanying the violent rumbling of thunder and blinding flashes of lightning that periodically fractured the obsidian sky.
It was late in the night, a time when the labyrinth city usually transitioned.
Tonight, however, the streets were mostly empty of the usual night wanderers.
The brave street vendors who typically braved the chill to sell warm skewers and spiced cider had long since closed their stalls, retreating to the safety of hearth and home.
Across the city, many civilians had returned to their families, eager to bask in the warmth of shared laughter, wrapped in thick blankets while the storm battered against their windowpanes.
As for the adventurers....the lifeblood and perpetual headache of Orario...they occupied the pubs, taverns, and inns.
Their loud, boisterous voices carried easily over the howling wind and drumming rain.
Inside these establishments, they clinked heavy wooden mugs filled to the brim with amber ale, tearing into hearty plates of roasted meat and stew.
They shouted over one another, broke into drunken tavern songs, traded crude jokes, and frequently tried their heavy-handed luck with the exhausted servers.
To the untrained eye, this looked like a standard, raucous night among Orario's elite thrill-seekers.
But today, the revelry felt forced, a thin veneer stretched desperately over a foundation of unease.
It was as though the entire drinking populace was trying to drown out their own racing pulses, desperately shouting and drinking to mask a lingering, heavy fear.
And frankly, it couldn't be helped.
The psychological fallout from the incident the previous night was simply hard to shake off easily.
Those unfortunate enough to have been in the lower floors when the anomaly occurred brought back tales that quickly metastasized through the lower-tier adventurers like a creeping rot. Whispers of exaggerated speculations, uncharacteristic monster behavior, and an oppressive, suffocating malice dwelling in the dark had hemorrhaged through the city, planting cold seeds of dread in the hearts of even the most seasoned fighters.
Compounding this psychological torment was the frustrating reality of the ongoing dungeon blockade.
The higher-ups had temporarily sealed off access, leaving thousands of eager, adrenaline-addicted warriors stranded on the surface with nowhere to pour their frustrations, no monsters to slaughter, and far too much time on their hands.
Naturally, they had chosen the oldest, most destructive method available: heavy intoxication and displaced aggression.
Yet, as exhausting as the tavern atmosphere was, those adventurers had it easy compared to the peace-keeping patrol teams who had been running themselves ragged all day long.
The Bahamut and Ganesha Familia patrol units in particular, had been forced to work thrice as hard as usual.
First came the immediate aftermath of the dungeon tremor...stabilizing panic, assisting the lost, and securing the perimeter.
Then came the darker element: the opportunists.
Crime thrived in the wake of chaos, and the city had seen an uncommonly high spike in petty theft, burglaries, and opportunistic mugging within the first few hours following the incident.
And finally, there were the adventurers themselves.
Adventurers were, by nature, a volatile, chaotic breed.
Gather too many of them in one place with pent-up energy, restricted movement, and bellies full of alcohol, and you had a recipe for total catastrophe.
Normally, these simmering rivalries and explosive disputes were worked out down in the dungeon.
In the dark, unforgiving depths, scores were easily settled; whether through murder, strategic blackmail, or convenient "accidents" involving monsters, all the messy evidence usually disappeared into the abyss.
Of course, not all adventurers were cutthroat degenerates, but a staggering number of them leaned that way.
With the dungeon gates locked tight, all those violent factions were suddenly trapped shoulder-to-shoulder within the city walls with zero outlets for their bloodlust.
One could only imagine the herculean effort required by the patrol teams to keep these ticking time bombs from tearing the city apart...and from accidentally killing innocent civilians caught in the crossfire.
Swish! Splash! Thud!
The wet, sickening sound of a heavy body being smashed violently against the mud-slicked cobblestones echoed sharply in the alleyway.
It was immediately followed by the crisp, authoritative swish of heavy boots stepping through standing water.
"Aaaaaah, this is so frustrating! Why can't these bloody lots just sit still for five minutes?!" Michalis yelled up toward the dark sky.
The heavens offered no sympathy, replying only with another jagged flash of lightning that illuminated his exasperated, rain-streaked face.
"It's just how they are. You know this," Nikolaos replied smoothly.
With little effort, he hooked a groaning, unconscious brawler by the collar of his blood-stained shirt and heaved him carelessly into a growing pile of bruised bodies slumped against the damp brick wall of the tavern.
This made it the tenth bar fight they had broken up tonight.
"Guh, so frustrating," Michalis grumbled, picking up a sputtering, semi-conscious swordsman and adding him to the humiliating pile with a dull thud.
He shook out his aching wrists, his long, feline tail drooping low behind him due to mental exhaustion.
"Anyway, that makes it a total of twelve down. Should I call over members of the Ganesha Familia to, you know, actually throw them in a real prison?"
Nikolaos paused, wiping a splatter of rain and mud from his cheek with the back of his gloves. He cast a weary glance over the groaning heap of low-tier combatants who had, mere minutes ago, fancied themselves invincible kings of the street.
"Nah, just leave them here in the alley. With how hard we beat them up, I seriously doubt any of them will be standing upright for the next week, let alone causing trouble. Besides, we've made way too many arrests today as it is. The Ganesha Familia's holding cells are already overflowing," Nikolaos replied, a deeply tired expression settling across his features.
"Sigh... that is unfortunate. But what about the property damage?" Michalis asked, his ears twitching backward as a fresh gust of wind howled through the narrow street.
"How will the damages done to the tavern be paid for?"
Nikolaos didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he turned his head toward the shattered doorway of the establishment they had just cleared.
"Hey, miss," Nikolaos called out gently.
A timid, trembling head poked out from behind the splintered wooden frame.
A young bunny-girl blinked large, tear-filled eyes, cowering slightly against the doorframe.
She had been scared out of her absolute wits when the terrifying brawl had suddenly erupted inside her family's recently opened bar, threatening to tear the establishment down around her ears.
"Y… yes, sir?" she answered nervously, her long ears pinned flat against her head in residual terror.
"No need to be scared anymore. We're members of the Bahamut Familia patrol team. This is our job," Nikolaos said, flashing a warm, reassuring smile.
The charm worked instantly.
The bunny girl's cheeks flushed a soft pink, despite the freezing rain pouring down around them.
Seeing this interaction, Michalis smirked broadly, opening his mouth to deliver some biting, witty remark about his brother's charisma with the locals.
But before a single word could escape, Nikolaos shot him a sharp, warning glare that could have frozen boiling water.
Wisely deciding that self-preservation was the better part of valor, Michalis raised both hands in a mock gesture of surrender and took a slow step back, biting back his teasing words.
"Ahem. As I was saying," Nikolaos continued, clearing his throat and turning his attention back to the quivering girl.
"We already emptied their wallets out to cover the cost of the damages. It should be more than enough to fix the door and replace the broken tables. And don't worry about retaliation their respective familia won't be able to do a damn thing about it."
The bunny girl blinked in surprise, processing the rough-and-ready justice.
"If we had the jail capacity to arrest them all tonight, the official administrative fine processed through the guild would have been a much cleaner, more decent sum," Nikolaos explained with a soft sigh.
"Unfortunately, as you heard earlier, the system is completely bottlenecked right now. This was the fastest, most practical solution."
For a brief second, the bunny girl's long ears drooped in disappointment at the unorthodox method.
But the reality of a bankrupt tavern crashing down around her set in, and she quickly recovered, her expression shifting into one of relief.
She dipped her head deeply, bowing from the waist.
"Thank you... thank you so much for your hard work!" she said sincerely.
Her genuine gratitude caught them both off guard, prompting a pair of genuine, tired smiles from Nikolaos and Michalis alike.
It was a much kinder, softer response than they had grown accustomed to receiving.
Over the course of the long, grueling day, some civilians had actually blamed the patrol units for not arriving fast enough to prevent property damage, while others had sneered that the confiscated recovery money was too small to cover their actual losses.
Such entitled responses were remarkably foolish, considering the fundamental nature of their work.
After all, the entire peacekeeping operation was entirely voluntary.
It wasn't as though the Bahamut Familia had a binding legal obligation to act as Orario's personal babysitters.
They did it because it was necessary.
Yet, listening to ungrateful citizens complain that the volunteers weren't on time, or that they weren't doing enough to protect every single cobblestone, naturally made a person question the point of it all.
It forced the mind to wander to dark places, asking why they were breaking their backs in the freezing rain for people who barely appreciated their effort.
And yet, seeing the trembling bunny girl stand a little taller, safe within her damaged but standing tavern, washed away the bitterness.
Finished with their business for this particular block, Nikolaos and Michalis pulled the thick hoods of their dark cloaks back up over their heads, turning their backs on the warm light spilling from the tavern.
Without another word, they stepped forward, plunging back into the relentless, howling storm.
There was no time to dwell on ingratitude.
Somewhere out there in the sprawling, rain-drenched labyrinth of Orario's midnight streets, there were still people in desperate need of help.