Lord of Mysteries: The Assassin's Dark Path

For a thief, what qualities make an ideal target?

Clearly, it's about being "wealthy" and "accessible."

"Wealthy" ensures that the risks yield higher rewards, while "accessible" minimizes the chances of failure.

Based on these principles, did Varina have any suitable targets?

One by one, potential targets surfaced in his mind, only to be dismissed immediately.

Workers?

Their lives were hard enough already.

The middle class?

They spent heavily on maintaining appearances.

Merchants?

They were promising. Even though most of their wealth was tied up in fixed assets that couldn't be stolen, the petty cash in their wallets and valuable items in their homes were often sufficient to be considered "wealthy." Furthermore, aside from the few wealthiest merchants, they were reasonably "accessible."

But there was a problem—these people lived in the Queen District and Hillsdon District, far beyond Varina's reach.

Factories?

Large transactions were conducted through banks, while smaller ones were limited to paying workers' wages. It wasn't payday, and even if it were, the amounts weren't large enough.

Shops?

Similar to factories, their cash flow wasn't enough.

Banks?

Definitely "wealthy," but nowhere near "accessible."

After running through these options, Varina found himself with a headache. Who knew being a thief could be so challenging?

He rubbed his temples and continued brainstorming. Were there any other options he had overlooked?

Eventually, Varina thought of a group he'd previously ignored—a type of organization almost unique to the East Borough: gangs.

The East Borough was home to over 1.3 million people—nearly a third of Backlund's total population! Its population was highly transient, full of all kinds of individuals, yet police presence in the area was sparse, rendering law enforcement nearly nonexistent.

In this vacuum of authority, numerous gangs of all sizes emerged. They occupied streets, carved out territories, and extorted workers for profit.

These gangs filled the void left by official authority and, to some extent, maintained order at the most basic level. With tacit approval from the authorities, they had become quasi-legitimate organizations.

Thus, they were sufficiently "wealthy" and relatively "accessible," making them ideal targets for Varina.

The next question was which gang to choose.

As he thought more deeply, the fatigue accumulated. Before finally heading to bed, Varina decided on one thing: to minimize risks, he would target a gang he was already familiar with.

---

The next morning, Varina munched on some rye bread, his mind full of schemes.

"Today, I must finalize my target. It'd be best if I could act tonight, and even better if nothing goes wrong and I hit the jackpot..."

"That way, I could afford to improve my meals."

As he mentally reviewed potential targets, he realized his options were severely limited.

This was primarily because his range of activity was too small; he hadn't ventured into many gang-controlled territories, nor had he sought work through the gangs like other workers. His understanding of them was minimal.

"I guess I'll have to ask John and the others for information later..."

After breakfast, Varina left his home just as the clock struck the hour and returned to his workplace.

Listening to his colleagues chat about trivial gossip and baseless rumors as usual, he felt a rare flicker of impatience.

It surprised him how much his mindset had shifted in just two days.

The transformation left Varina uneasy. What had caused it? Was it his exposure to the mysterious side of the world? Or was it... the other set of memories?

And was this change good or bad?

Fortunately, Varina had been at this job for over a year and was thoroughly familiar with the tasks. His unease didn't impact his work.

---

At lunch, Varina and two colleagues visited a nearby café. The older Pat, who rarely stayed in the office, was more distant from the group and didn't join them.

While waiting for their meals, John asked, "Varina, you've been unusually quiet today. Feeling down?"

"A bit, but it's nothing serious."

Susan chuckled and probed further, "So, why the gloomy mood?"

"It's those books my cousin borrowed for me," Varina said, having already thought up an excuse. "They're just so difficult!"

"At this rate, how am I supposed to self-study and become an accountant like Mr. Luca?"

It was a genuine thought he had once harbored but now used as a cover.

"Hah, I actually know a bit about Mr. Luca," Susan said, her interest piqued. "Maybe you could learn from his example."

"Mr. Luca earned his accountant certification at 25, bought a house in his hometown at 28 via a long-term lease, and got married. Now, he's saving up to fully pay for that house."

"Incredible..."

John exclaimed in admiration before asking, "But how do you know all this, Susan?"

"My aunt told me," Susan replied with a small huff, rolling her eyes. "She and Mr. Luca both have side jobs managing accounts for the Dockworkers' Association."

"I've mentioned this before; have you forgotten?"

John might have forgotten, but Varina hadn't. He had brought up Mr. Luca specifically to steer the conversation toward Susan's aunt and, by extension, the Dockworkers' Association. To his surprise, Susan had done so on her own, even revealing additional information.

Organizations like the Dockworkers' Association were either controlled by gangs or founded by gang members, serving as a legal façade for their operations.

"Here are your meals," the waiter said, setting their plates down in front of them.

Realizing the conversation was about to be interrupted, Varina quickly followed up.

"Susan, do you know how much that bookkeeping side job pays?" he asked in an envious tone.

"I'm not sure," Susan replied, shaking her head, "but it should be no less than three pounds a week."

"Wow, that's amazing!" John's eyes lit up as he exclaimed, "If only I could become an accountant... Hey, Susan, doesn't the Dockworkers' Association have its own accountants? Why would they hire Mr. Luca?"

"Of course not!" Susan said, setting down her wooden fork, clearly eager to share.

"Have you seen their record-keepers? Their handwriting is terrible, full of spelling errors—and sometimes even little doodles!"

"Goddess help me, if I had to organize those records, I'd go bald!"

Suddenly, an idea struck her. Her eyes brightened as she said, "Speaking of which, a shipment of textile materials is arriving at the docks this afternoon. Would either of you like to go receive it? You could see those absurd records for yourselves while you're at it."

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