Lord of Mysteries: The Assassin's Dark Path

Around 8 p.m., Varina returned to the Eastern Balam Shipyard in the dock district.

Tonight, his target was the Dockworkers' Union.

Under the crimson moonlight, the union's two-story building had shed the daytime hustle and noise, emanating a quiet serenity.

Several mildly inebriated gang enforcers stood guard, having recently rotated in from the Workers' Union Tavern nearby.

Some leaned against the lampposts powered by gas, while others sat on wooden crates used for cargo packaging. Occasionally, they would glance lazily at the empty streets, their vigilance more an illusion than a reality.

This wasn't negligence but an acknowledgment of the symbolic nature of night guards—they were more ceremonial than functional.

Varina crouched in the shadows of a wall, carefully observing the guards' routines and searching for vulnerabilities. Combining this with the knowledge he had gathered earlier in the day, he began to map out his infiltration route.

Such an endeavor would have been unthinkable for him in the past, let alone attempting it. But now, not only was he doing it, but he was also making swift progress.

With the aid of his enhanced night vision, Varina's gaze shifted from the streets to the union building itself, eventually settling on a half-open window on the second floor facing the street.

The route was clear.

He retraced his earlier observations, meticulously reviewing and refining his plan.

The first pass focused on feasibility—whether the path was physically possible. In theory, even if it required acrobatic feats like a triple aerial twist followed by a handstand split, it would count as viable.

The second pass, however, emphasized practicality. This time, Varina factored in his physical capabilities, aiming to minimize obstacles and simplify unavoidable challenges.

Time passed as the guards exchanged idle chatter. Finally, Varina pieced together an excellent infiltration route.

The true adventure was about to begin.

The scenario stirred memories of another life, evoking a thrill that curled his lips into a grin.

"Heh, Phantom Stealth—challenge initiated."

Following his plan, Varina carefully maneuvered through the shadows cast by lampposts, debris, and shop signs, quickly closing in on the yellow, two-story building of the Dockworkers' Union.

Avoiding the front entrance, he moved to the side of the building. A one-meter-wide gap separated it from the adjacent structure, where a large iron dumpster was stationed.

Testing its stability, Varina found it sturdy enough and climbed on top. Using a well-placed wall kick, he propelled himself upwards, grabbing onto the building's external gas pipe. With a controlled effort, he pulled himself up.

For an ordinary person, such movements would have been almost impossible to execute silently. Even for Varina, it was only his supernatural enhancements that made it barely feasible.

Once securely perched on the pipe, Varina exhaled softly.

"What was that?"

A guard sitting on the front steps perked up, scanning the area.

"What else could it be? Damn rats," another guard spat disdainfully. "Filthy rodents only fit for the trash."

The first guard nodded and abandoned the idea of investigating further.

Squatting on the pipe, Varina felt his entire body tremble slightly—not just from the fear of being discovered, but also from the adrenaline-fueled excitement of the experience.

"This beats any game!"

He steadied his breathing and carefully inched closer to his target—the half-open window.

Soon, he reached the windowsill and heard the soft scratching sound of a pen gliding over paper inside the room.

Varina hesitated, unsure of the room's layout, and refrained from peeking inside. Instead, he crouched beneath the window, listening intently for any signs.

Moments later, the tolling of a bell echoed from a nearby clock tower—nine chimes in total.

"Ah, it's already nine," said a female voice inside. She sounded like she was stretching.

"Is your bookkeeping done, York?"

"Today's records are a mess. I need more time," replied a steady male voice—York, presumably.

"I've still got some work too," the woman said before suggesting, "How about we grab some coffee and take a break before finishing up?"

"Good idea. Let's go."

Amid the sounds of chairs scraping and retreating footsteps, the room fell silent.

Varina waited several more minutes before cautiously peeking inside. As expected, the office was now empty.

"What a disgraceful waste… Don't they know to turn off the lights?"

Seeing the brightly burning modern gas lamps illuminating the office—an item he had long coveted—being squandered so carelessly filled Varina with indignation. He wished he could drag them back for a lesson on thriftiness.

Frustration aside, he refocused on the task at hand.

Varina slipped into the room, finding himself in a spacious office with over a dozen desks.

Just as he had observed earlier, the office's entrance was directly opposite, leading to a hallway. At the hallway's far end were the washroom and a wooden staircase descending to the first floor.

Navigating the spaces between desks, he decided to examine the rooms along the hallway first. Along the way, he skimmed through the bookkeeping records left on the desks.

As Susan had described, merely glancing at a few lines made his head spin.

The hallway doors bore labels indicating their purposes: President's Office, Archive Room, Storage Room, Break Room, and Washroom.

Among these, the President's Office was the largest and shared the right side of the hallway with the Archive Room. The other rooms, smaller in size, were on the left.

Clearly, the most intriguing target was the President's Office.

After circling each door, Varina confirmed his suspicions: the President's Office was locked.

However, he made some unexpected discoveries as well.

For one, the Archive Room wasn't locked as he had anticipated. This suggested its contents were even less valuable than he had estimated, rendering a key unnecessary.

The Storage Room, on the other hand, was a misnomer—it should have been called an armory.

Amid the household-like clutter, Varina discovered a variety of weapons: daggers, iron rods, wooden bats, and other cold arms, casually stored on shelves in the corner.

He pocketed a double-edged iron dagger before turning his attention back to the locked President's Office. It was time to figure out how to get inside.

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