Being the most talented person in a room is easy. What's hard is being the most talented person who actively pretends to be the most incompetent. It requires an absurd degree of concentration, precise energy management, and acting skills that would likely bring tears of pride to the eyes of theatrical deities. Arian Von Vallen, currently, felt more exhausted after a day of "failing" than he might after fighting a griffin.
He arrived at the door to his room in the noble dormitory.
This was the dorm for the son of a Count or lower-tier Duke. Not so luxurious as to attract attention, but not so squalid as to raise questions. Perfect for the image of a 'hard-trying, middle-class noble.' Truly, Arian felt he deserved an award for his dedication to detail.
Creak.
The door opened and closed with a soft sound. The room was tidy. A bed, a study desk laden with magic theory books (most of which he'd memorized by the age of ten), and a wardrobe. Standard. Boring. Perfect.
Arian locked the door, and for the first time since morning, the muscles in his face relaxed. The slightly pitiful, friendly mask fell away, revealing a flat, cold expression and eyes that seemed far older than his years.
He stood in the middle of the room, closing his eyes for a moment, savoring the silence and the freedom to be nobody.
Then, the process began. This wasn't cheap illusion magic that a perceptive mid-tier mage could see through. No, this was something far more fundamental. This was more like arguing with reality itself and winning.
He raised his hand, and the darkness in the room's corners untouched by the twilight seemed to stir, drawn to him. His pale blonde hair, the symbol of the illustrious Vallen family, receded like an exposed lie, replaced by an inky darkness that seemed to swallow light.
Strand by strand, its color shifted from sunset to a starless night. The same process occurred with his eyes. Their clear sky-blue darkened, becoming a deep, bottomless obsidian black.
He grew several centimeters—not an illusion, but an adjustment of posture and spinal compression he had maintained until now. His figure, which had been slightly stooped and awkward, now became upright, tall, and intimidating.
Lastly, from a hidden drawer beneath his bed, he retrieved three items: a perfectly tailored black cloak made of light-absorbing material, a pair of thin leather gloves, and a goggle-mask. The goggles were his masterpiece. Their dark lenses completely concealed his eyes, while their artistic frame covered his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, effectively altering his facial structure to anyone observing.
As he donned the final piece—his black cloak—Arian Von Vallen had completely vanished. Standing in the room now was Kayze.
On the wall opposite the bed hung an ordinary-looking silver-framed mirror. To a casual visitor, it was just a mirror. But if you knew the 'key phrase'—and the key phrase wasn't 'Mirror, mirror on the wall,' but a complex series of mana vibrations—its surface would ripple like touched water.
Kayze placed his gloved palm on the mirror's surface. No ripple. No light. Instead, his hand passed through the mirror as if it weren't there. He stepped inside, and the world behind him vanished.
He didn't emerge in a damp cave or a foul-smelling dungeon. That wasn't his style. He appeared in a minimalist room dominated by black and gray tones. A circular platform in the center, and around it, dark crystal panels floated in the air, displaying constantly changing lines of code and mana maps. This was the Invisible Sanctum, KeyFreedom's central headquarters, existing within a spatial fold isolated from the outside world.
He wasn't alone.
Another figure was already waiting for him, standing with perfectly straight posture. This figure wore a similar cloak, though its cut was slightly different, and a silver mask that covered her entire face, leaving only her long purple hair visible.
By day, she was Verina Von Hevora, the untouchable genius who wouldn't even glance at Arian. Here, inside the Sanctum, she was 'Nyx,' one of KeyFreedom's most efficient agents. And she reported to Kayze.
Oh, the exquisite irony.
"Lord Kayze," her voice, unlike her cold and distant academy demeanor, was now low and professional. There was no trace of arrogance, only respect.
"Nyx," Kayze replied, his voice a calm, authoritative baritone, distinctly different from Arian's slightly higher pitch. "Report."
"As you predicted. Viscount Marvolo will be auctioning off his information tonight," Nyx said, a crystal panel floating between them, displaying an image of a portly man with a ridiculous mustache. "Rumor has it the main item is a 'Corrupted Ledger'."
The narrator interjects: Viscount Marvolo was a man whose terrible fashion sense was surpassed only by his level of corruption. He considered leopard-print vests the pinnacle of luxury. Enough said.
"The ledger," Nyx continued, "contains detailed records of illegal mana drainage experiments he conducted in his territory. He sacrificed the vitality of the land and even some villagers to forcibly distill pure mana crystals."
Kayze's eyes behind his goggle-mask narrowed. This was more than just corruption. This was a crime against the balance of the world. "Auction location?"
"The 'Jade Silk' Bathhouse. Top floor. High security; he's hired Mercenary Knights from the Crimson Blade guild. The guests are minor nobles and black marketeers. All wearing masks."
"A masquerade to hide their rotten faces. Poetic," Kayze commented flatly. "Our plan?"
"Infiltration is the only option. A frontal assault would be too noisy. I've secured two invitations through one of our contacts. We enter as southern gem merchants."
Kayze contemplated for a moment. Pretending to be gem merchants with the most famous woman in the empire, who was also pretending to be someone else, to steal a book from a fashion criminal at a masquerade party. His life truly was never boring.
"Good," Kayze finally said. "We will take the book. And we will leave a message for the Viscount. Something that will make him think twice before he buys a new vest, let alone harms his people."
Nyx nodded, the crystal panel before her displaying a detailed floor plan of the bathhouse. "There's a complication. One of his personal guards is a rather capable sensory mage. He might not pierce our disguise, but he'll sense malicious intent or unnatural mana fluctuations."
"Then we won't use mana unnaturally," Kayze said. "We'll use theirs. And as for malicious intent… well, my intentions are always pure. Purely to make the lives of people like Marvolo very, very unpleasant."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Nyx's lips behind her mask. This was a side of her leader that few ever saw—a blend of cold justice and dark humor.
"Prepare the equipment. We leave in one hour," Kayze commanded.
"Understood, Lord Kayze." With a nod, Nyx turned and walked towards another part of the Sanctum, her cloak rustling silently.
Kayze gazed at the floating panels, his eyes tracing every detail of the floor plan, every patrol schedule, every contingency. Arian's "average" brain was now working at hyper-speed, processing thousands of variables, formulating strategies and contingency plans on top of other contingency plans.
The stage at Solaria Academy had closed for the day.
Now, the curtain was about to rise on a much larger, more dangerous stage: the city of Aethelgardia at night. And Kayze was ready to be both its director and its star.
An hour later, two figures descended from an unmarked carriage in the capital's upscale entertainment district. The cool night air was immediately greeted by the warm steam and exotic jasmine scent wafting from the entrance of the Jade Silk Bathhouse. This place was a masterpiece of Eastern architecture, with curved roofs, soft-glowing paper lanterns, and jade dragon carvings that seemed to guard its gates.
It was a place where nobles and wealthy merchants came to "cleanse themselves," which, ironically, often meant devising new ways to soil their hands in luxury and privacy.
The man—Kayze—wore a night-blue silk robe embroidered with silver threads, luxurious enough to signify wealth but understated enough not to draw excessive attention.
A plain white porcelain mask covered the upper half of his face, giving him the mysterious aura of a merchant from a distant land. Beside him, Nyx—Verina—was a vision in a jade-green gown that perfectly embraced her figure. Her mask was more intricate, shaped like a butterfly adorned with small jewels, and her purple hair was elegantly styled in an updo, pierced by a silver dragon-shaped hairpin.
They were Mr. and Mrs. Valerius, gem merchants from the southern port seeking investment opportunities. A lie so common it was almost a truth in a place like this.
Two muscular guards with the Crimson Blade guild emblem on their breastplates stopped them at the entrance. Their gazes were sharp and trained.
"Invitations," one of the guards growled, unimpressed by their appearance.
Kayze lazily produced two invitation cards from beneath his robe. The cards were made of thick paper with Viscount Marvolo's wax seal. The second guard took them, examined them under the lantern light, then gave a curt nod.
"Welcome to Jade Silk, Mr. Valerius," the first guard said, his tone slightly more respectful now. "The auction is held in the Lotus Pavilion on the top floor. Please enjoy the baths on the lower floor while you wait."
"We are here for business, not for soaking," Kayze replied with a feigned tone of boredom, as if all of this was a nuisance to his very important schedule. "Show us the way."
The guards exchanged glances, then one of them bowed and pointed to a spiral staircase hidden behind a mini bamboo garden.
As they ascended the stairs, the atmosphere shifted. The gentle gurgle of water was replaced by soft string music and the hushed whispers of conspiracy. The upper floor was a large room with small pools around its perimeter, adorned with floating lotus flowers. A thin mist hung in the air, creating a natural veil of privacy for the masked guests.
Kayze sensed his presence instantly. A subtle, constant mana pulse swept through the room like an invisible spiderweb. The sensory mage. He sat in a dark corner, disguised as an ordinary guest, but Kayze could feel his wary magical "gaze." This was like walking through a magical minefield. One wrong step, one surge of emotion or too strong an ill intent, and the whole place would erupt into high alert.
"The view is lovely, darling," Nyx said, her voice altered to be slightly more flirtatious and light. She tightened her grip on Kayze's arm. It wasn't a gesture of affection. It was a signal: 'I sense the mage. At seven o'clock. Be alert.'
"Not as lovely as the gems we will acquire tonight," Kayze countered, his eyes sweeping the crowd. He saw several familiar faces behind their masks—minor nobles deep in debt, merchants with dubious reputations, even an alchemist expelled from the academy for unethical experiments. This was a collection of desperate and greedy individuals. Perfect targets.
They took a spot near an carved pillar, pretending to admire the architecture while mapping out the room. The auction stage was at the front, and on a private balcony above it, a corpulent figure could be seen laughing boisterously.
Viscount Marvolo, resplendent in a dazzling golden silk robe and, of course, that legendary leopard-print vest. Truly, the man was a walking crime against good taste.
A slender auctioneer in a fox mask stepped onto the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome! Let us begin this unforgettable evening with something… exotic!"
The first item was a Basilisk fang, still dripping with preserved venom.
The second item was a forbidden scroll rumored to contain rituals for speaking with restless spirits. Both sold for fantastic sums after fierce bidding wars. Kayze and Nyx remained silent, playing their roles as patient observers.
Finally, the awaited moment arrived.
"And now!" the auctioneer exclaimed, his voice echoing. "For our main item tonight! A most sought-after accounting artifact, a testament to its owner's power and ingenuity! A personal offering from our esteemed host, Viscount Marvolo… the Corrupted Ledger!"
Two guards carried a lacquered wooden box and placed it on the table. The auctioneer opened it dramatically. Inside, lay a black leather-bound book, tied with silver cord. The book emanated a subtle, unpleasant aura, an aura of greed and suffering that only those sensitive to mana could perceive.
Viscount Marvolo stood on his balcony, raising his wine glass. "As you can see, gentlemen! History belongs to those brave enough to write it! Opening bid… fifty thousand gold coins!"
The room buzzed. An exorbitant price, even for them.
Kayze leaned slightly towards Nyx. "The two most aggressive bidders. Baron von Strum to the left, with his wolf mask. And the silk merchant, Lady Zareen, with her peacock mask. Strum is arrogant, Zareen is cunning. We'll provoke them."
"How?" Nyx whispered.
"Everyone has vanity. And vanity has a trigger."
Baron von Strum bid sixty thousand. Lady Zareen immediately raised it to seventy-five. The bidding war began.
As tension peaked, Kayze very carefully channeled a tiny pinch of mana, not to attack, but to resonate. He targeted the wine glass in the hand of a passing servant near Baron von Strum. He made the glass vibrate at a very specific frequency, the same frequency as a small crystal in Lady Zareen's earring.
As the servant passed, Lady Zareen's earring suddenly emitted a brief, almost inaudible hum, and the wine in the servant's glass spilled, soaking the Baron's expensive robe.
"What in the blazes?!" the Baron roared, leaping to his feet. The servant turned pale.
"That's magic!" the Baron accused, his angry eyes immediately fixing on the only person nearby who had just raised the bid—Lady Zareen. "You tried to sabotage me, you snake-witch!"
Lady Zareen, utterly bewildered, took offense. "Watch your mouth, arrogant dog! Perhaps you're just too drunk to stand straight!"
The minor commotion immediately drew attention. Guards moved forward. The sensory mage in the corner shifted his full focus to the source of the disturbance, his mana web tightening in that area to detect any magic used.
That was the opening. For three seconds, all magical and physical attention in the room was centered on the quarrel of two arrogant fools.
Three seconds was an eternity for Nyx.
She moved. Not with superhuman speed, but with deadly efficiency. Her gown rustled as she glided silently through the distracted crowd.
One step, two steps. She was already beside the stage. Her hand slipped over the table, swift as lightning yet light as a feather. The black leather-bound book was lifted, and an identical replica—which she had concealed beneath her cloak—was laid in its place.
Three steps, four steps. She was back at Kayze's side, just as the guards managed to separate the Baron and Lady Zareen.
No one saw anything.
"A scandal!" Kayze whispered, playing his part. "Let's go, darling. This place is becoming far too common for our tastes."
Nyx nodded in agreement. They turned and walked calmly towards the exit, leaving the chaos behind them. The auctioneer tried to restore order, the auction continued, and no one realized that the night's grand prize had already changed hands.
As they descended the stairs, Kayze glanced at the book now safely tucked away beneath Nyx's cloak. Inside the fake book they left behind, on its first page, he had written a small note in invisible ink that would only appear when touched by its owner's mana:
"Thank you for your donation. Your money will be put to better use. P.S. Your vest is hideous."
Job done. Book acquired. And Viscount Marvolo would soon realize that there were worse things at night than losing a little money. For example, losing his reputation, sanity, and pride.
Especially his pride.