Lord of Mysteries: The Assassin's Dark Path

What is misdirection?

It's the art of steering people's perceptions toward the wrong conclusion through clever tricks.

How does one execute misdirection?

Simply put, it involves creating an obvious, false lead while concealing the true objective.

So, in Varina's operation tonight, what was the true objective?

Theft. His target was the gold pounds.

Concealing this target wasn't particularly challenging. Due to the unique nature of the gold pounds, they could easily pass as an incidental acquisition rather than the primary objective.

All that was needed was a more convincing, "realistic" target to serve as the false lead, masking the actual plan.

But what kind of target would fit the bill?

Varina pondered this question carefully.

Sitting at the desk like a "mastermind," he tried to step into the mindset of the chairman, searching for a striking target—someone the chairman would instinctively see as a scapegoat.

This wasn't easy for Varina.

After all, he wasn't the chairman and lacked in-depth knowledge of the Dockworkers' Union or the Dead Eel Gang. Most of what he knew had come from quickly scanning the documents.

Fortunately, the information he had was sufficient.

Varina's thoughts circled back to the contract.

Who else could provoke the chairman more effectively than Eugene, the leader of the Gray Rats Gang, who had already been targeted for assassination?

Was there a more perfect scapegoat than him?

"No need to overthink. I've decided. This blame is yours to bear, Eugene."

With his decision made, Varina began to set things up, ensuring Eugene's name stood out.

He didn't take any drastic measures, simply pulling out a black notebook from the desk's right drawer and opening it to a specific page. Then, he left it spread out on the desk.

He picked up the dark red fountain pen on the desk and placed it on the notebook. This was the final touch of brilliance.

After completing this step, Varina walked out of the chairman's office without looking back, retracing his path and exiting the two-story building.

Opening windows, climbing out, and closing windows.

He moved with seamless fluidity, completing each action with practiced ease.

His fake experiences in stealth, now paired with his very real physical capabilities, had elevated Varina to one of the finest thieves just shy of the supernatural realm.

"Heh. Ghost Stealth. Mission accomplished."

He climbed down the main gas pipe, dropping to the ground only after reaching a safe distance.

As he landed, a slight frown crossed his face. He realized he couldn't mimic a true assassin, who could lighten their body mid-fall to land like a feather.

"Well, I'm only half an 'assassin.' It's normal not to have abilities like Featherfall…"

He shook his head, stretched his tingling legs, and walked into the quiet midnight streets.

By midnight, Varina had returned to his humble dwelling.

Removing his coat, he unfastened the holster under his arm and gave it a pat, muttering, "I'm glad you didn't have to come into play."

He stashed the weapon under the bedboard, grabbed his pajamas, and headed to the shared washroom next door.

---

The Next Morning, 8:00 AM

Dockworkers' Union

A burly, slightly greasy-looking middle-aged man strode into the hall amidst a series of greetings. With sharp eyes, he scanned the room before heading directly upstairs.

His presence silenced much of the hall, a testament to his imposing demeanor.

On the second floor, he walked to the door at the end of the hallway and addressed a red-haired man standing there.

"Kirk, any news?"

"None."

Kirk had prepared for this question and quickly rose to respond respectfully.

"Everything's fine, boss."

"Hmph."

The man grunted, nodding slightly before pacing a few steps to the chairman's office door. Pulling out a key, he attempted to unlock it.

Something was off.

The key didn't slide into the lock as expected. Instead, it pushed the already unlocked door open.

The man's expression darkened, his features turning feral.

He shoved the door open and stormed in, quickly scanning the room. His gaze landed on the most conspicuous anomaly—his notebook, which had been left open on the desk, with his fountain pen resting atop it.

"This is provocation. Who did this?!"

Suppressing his anger, the man refrained from touching the notebook and continued inspecting the room.

It didn't take long before his eyes swept over the documents on the desk. He realized something was missing.

He rifled through the papers and confirmed his suspicion: the contract had vanished.

At this moment, another detail caught his eye.

The open notebook had a message written on the visible page. The content aligned suspiciously with his initial suspicions. Adding insult to injury, the fountain pen's cap had been removed, and its nib pointed to a single name:

"Eugene."

Enraged, the man bellowed:

"Kirk, get in here!"

"You call this 'everything's fine'? Someone's boot is on my neck, and you didn't even notice?! What the hell have you been doing?"

Kirk had relaxed after the boss left but scrambled into the office upon hearing the angry summons.

Before he could assess the situation, a resounding slap landed on his face.

Smack!

The sound was crisp, leaving Kirk's left cheek red and swollen in an instant.

Stunned and frightened, Kirk clutched his cheek and cautiously asked, "Boss, what happened?"

Another slap answered him.

Pain radiated from his left cheek while his right went numb. Only then did he hear the explanation.

"Someone broke in last night!"

"It has to be the Gray Rats. They stole an important contract and taunted me in the process!"

"And you, you idiot, didn't notice a damn thing!"

Kirk finally grasped the situation. He'd messed up.

"What are you waiting for?" The boss jabbed a finger at the door. "Go investigate! Question the guards from last night!"

"I want every detail."

Kirk nodded furiously and fled the office like his life depended on it.

---

9:00 AM, Sillen Textile Factory

A visitor arrived at Varina's small, flat-roofed workspace.

It was Quade, the man who had helped him deliver goods the previous day.

************************************

patreon(.)com/GodDragcell