Lord of Mysteries: The Assassin's Dark Path

Though the gold pounds he acquired fell short of expectations, they still lifted Varina's spirits significantly.

He resumed his search and soon found a black leather-bound notebook in the first drawer on the right.

Flipping it open, he was greeted with a chaotic assortment of content—insights into interpersonal relationships, gang secrets, incoherent ramblings, and even praises for the True Creator.

After leafing through a few pages, it finally dawned on him—he had been too reckless.

This was the notebook of a True Creator follower!

Was that something he could casually read?

Hurriedly, he placed the notebook back in its original spot and used his right hand to draw four clockwise points on his chest. "Goddess, grant your protection."

For the first time since awakening the memories of another life, Varina offered a prayer.

He had avoided praying because he didn't want to expose himself to the gaze of higher entities. He didn't want to end up like Klein, constantly struggling within a rigid framework, moving forward only in the narrowest of margins.

But now, the situation was different—he had encountered an item connected to the True Creator.

While such an encounter was unlikely to attract attention, he thought it best to pray just in case. Though this impromptu, less-than-pious prayer was unlikely to be answered, it still brought him some peace of mind.

After praying, Varina continued his search. Having gone through the last two drawers, he turned his attention to the desk itself.

On the desk lay a neat pile of documents, mostly reports related to the day-to-day operations of the association.

Out of curiosity, Varina skimmed through several of them. Though his reading was brief, it deepened his understanding of the dockworkers' union.

In broad terms, the union signed transportation contracts with factories, received monthly commissions, and used a small portion of those commissions for immediate payments, directing controlled workers to complete the tasks.

It was precisely because of the month-to-month reconciliation process that there was a reserve of cash in the president's office.

As he flipped through the documents, one particular file caught his eye.

It was a contract—both professional and unprofessional at the same time.

At first glance, the document was well-structured, with clearly defined terms, evidently a template prepared by a professional lawyer. But upon closer inspection of the handwritten additions, anyone could see that the contract held no legal weight.

Why?

Because the contract's terms were illegal.

The agreement stipulated that Party A (left blank) would commission Party B (represented by a symbol) to "eliminate Eugene, the leader of the Gray Rats gang," with full payment upfront (250 pounds), to be completed within one month, along with several binding clauses.

Varina chuckled. This "Party B" certainly had some creativity—using a template contract for an assassination.

Amused by the absurdity of the situation, he had an epiphany. If he looked at it from a different perspective, didn't this imply that "Party B" was highly reputable, with a steady flow of business and a well-established process even for illegal activities?

This Party B wasn't ordinary.

With this thought, Varina turned his attention to the emblem on the contract, representing Party B—a simplified human head silhouette overlaid with two crossed daggers. At first glance, it resembled a circle with an "X" over it.

He made a mental note of this emblem and carefully examined the contract for hidden marks or clues.

He wanted to find this "Party B."

As for why? The reason was simple.

If Party B was a seasoned assassin organization, could it be hiding real Assassins within its ranks, individuals adept at both earning money and role-playing?

Or perhaps, this assassin group was an external arm of the Witch Sect.

Sitting at the desk, Varina stared intently at the contract in his left hand, while his free right hand rested on the table, tapping lightly with his index finger.

He had scrutinized the contract countless times but found no hidden marks or contact information.

Which raised the question—how was he supposed to find this "Party B"?

Unable to come up with an answer, Varina reluctantly turned his attention to another slip of paper that had been stored alongside the contract.

It was a voucher for exchanging chips at a casino—the only other item paired with the contract. He could only hope the two were related; otherwise, the trail would go cold.

The voucher indicated that the casino was located in the Boiling Blood Tavern on Greenfield Lane.

Varina happened to know where Greenfield Lane was—between the dockworkers' union and the Sirren Textile Factory. He had passed by it twice earlier that afternoon.

There was indeed a tavern there.

"I'll check it out after work tomorrow," he decided, folding the voucher and contract together and slipping them into his left trouser pocket alongside the 80 pounds he had obtained earlier.

With nothing else of interest in the office, Varina wandered around for a while before sitting down next to the coffee table.

Picking up Storm Manor from the table, he found the novel's ornate prose too cumbersome for his taste, failing to capture his interest.

Still, he continued reading.

Why? Because he had nothing better to do. As long as the two individuals in the adjacent room remained, his best option was to stay put. Besides, the author of the novel—Miss Forsi Wall, the Magician—was reason enough to give it a try.

The clock struck ten, its chimes echoing through the quiet space.

Shortly after, the two in the neighboring room finished their work and left, chatting as they walked away.

Once they were gone, Varina rose, unlocked the door from inside, and stepped back into the hallway, his movements natural and unhurried, as if he were the rightful owner of the office.

Only, this "owner" experienced a sudden break in composure upon exiting the room.

Standing in the corridor, Varina found himself at a crossroads—should he check out the records room? Search the main office? Or call it a day and leave?

All were viable options; the choice was his to make.

He froze for a moment before realizing he wasn't genuinely indecisive. Instead, his subconscious was nudging him—there was unfinished business, something he'd overlooked.

"Is this a spiritual intuition? Can someone like me—a 'half-Beyonder'—actually have one? Whatever it is, it's a fascinating feeling."

Returning to the office with a faint smile, Varina now understood his next step—cleanup.

He couldn't simply take the gold pounds and contract without covering his tracks. Leaving evidence behind could invite danger.

Cleanup was necessary to make it appear as though the incident had nothing to do with him.

If he were an Beyonder, the cleanup would've been much simpler. For instance, a Seer could use paper doll substitutes for anti-divination, a Reader could destroy clues, and an Assassin could incinerate any "connections" with black flames…

But he wasn't one.

So his only option was misdirection.

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