Adrian stepped inside the darkened guild hall, the silence broken only by the creaking floorboards under his boots. He moved with urgency but tried to stay quiet. It took him a while to find the right room—an old back office filled with dusty cabinets and overstuffed drawers.
The files were a mess. Some were stacked, others stuffed haphazardly, none in any real order. "Of course it's not organized," Adrian muttered, already regretting this plan. He began leafing through the folders one by one, scanning names, addresses, and titles.
After what felt like twenty minutes of digging, he finally found her.
"Misha... there you are."
Her file was like the others—barebones, but it had what he needed: an address scribbled near the top corner. A place only a few blocks from the guild.
He carefully slid the drawer closed and retraced his steps, making sure to lock the front door with the same matter manipulation trick—feeling the tumblers and resetting them into place with precise control.
The streets were mostly empty as he made his way to Misha's house. It was a small, modest home tucked between two shops. Light flickered through a window—warm firelight. She was probably still awake.
He walked up and knocked.
"HEY, MISHA!" Adrian called out, loud and clear.
Silence.
He knocked again, harder this time.
"MISHA, OPEN UP! IT'S URGENT."
Still nothing.
He waited a moment, then leaned in, trying to hear any sound from inside—footsteps, movement, even breathing. But the house remained still, too still for a place with a lit hearth.
Adrian frowned. "She wouldn't just ignore me. Not if she's awake…"
He looked around the quiet street, now growing suspicious.
"Oh well," Adrian muttered to himself as he reached out with his mana. The lock clicked softly, tumblers shifting under his precise control, and the door swung open. He stepped inside, closing it carefully behind him with the same matter manipulation, sealing it like it had never been opened.
The small home was quiet, its walls painted a dull white. Adrian moved down the narrow hallway, the floor creaking faintly beneath his steps. At the end, he slipped into the living room and spotted Misha—curled up asleep on the couch.
He crouched down beside her, reaching out to poke her cheek gently with his index finger.
"Hey, wake up," he whispered.
He kept poking, waiting for a response. Suddenly, Misha's eyes snapped open, and before Adrian could react, she punched him hard in the jaw, her scream piercing the silence. He stumbled back, landing hard on his ass.
"WHO ARE YOU?" she demanded, eyes blazing with anger. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?"
Adrian rubbed his jaw, biting back a groan. "You weren't answering. It was urgent." He winced, eyes squeezing shut against the sharp pain. "Ow... how are you so strong?"
Misha's tone stayed sharp, her frustration clear. "Well, sorry, but who the hell just breaks into someone's house to tell them something?"
"It was urgent," Adrian repeated, trying to justify himself.
She crossed her arms, still furious. "I don't care. And how the hell did you even find where I live?"
Adrian hesitated before admitting, "I… broke into the guild, went through the files, and found your address."
Her eyes widened in shock. "So not only did you break into the guild, you actually read through their files? I should report you for that. You'd go to jail if anyone found out."
Adrian shrugged, trying to shift the focus. "Well, that doesn't matter now. I came to tell you what I found at the church."
Misha's anger softened slightly as she regarded him for a moment. "What did you find?"
"Okay, so the church is some kind of drug factory," Adrian said, pacing a little. "They're making these crystals—refining them, grinding them down until they're the size of salt or sugar. You can't even tell what they are unless light hits them right."
"What?" Misha frowned. "They're making drugs? Then why are people joining the church? Are they addicts or something?"
"That's what I don't know yet," Adrian said. "But the people in there… something's wrong with them. Blank eyes, these huge fake smiles. They don't act normal at all. And I think the guy running it noticed I saw too much."
He paused, looking at her. "I didn't realize it then, but when I snuck back in later, I overheard him talking to himself. Said he'd sent assassins after me. Because I saw them—those people, or whatever they are. That's when it clicked."
Misha looked at him, alarmed.
"They never found me though," Adrian went on. "Probably because I went straight back into the church itself. Who the hell would expect that? I had a mask on, but I think my coat gave me away. Too recognizable."
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly still sorting through everything in his head. "That guy… he said something about needing to lower the potency of the crystals so the people would act 'more human.' So maybe the crystals are the reason they're all messed up like that. But I'm not sure. I'd have to test one."
"And there's more," he added. "During the day, the guy I talked to was this calm, older man. But when I broke in at night, he looked way younger. Talked differently too. More aggressive. I don't know if he's using magic to change how he looks—or if he's pretending to be two different people. Either way, it's weird."
He was about to keep going, but Misha raised a hand to her mouth, eyes wide.
"So… you found more questions than answers," she said slowly.
Adrian let out a tired breath. "Yeah. Pretty much."
"Wow. Talking sure is exhausting," Adrian muttered as he dropped onto the couch beside her, exhaling like he just ran a marathon.
Misha turned to him, raising a brow. "Can't you go back to your own place now? You said what you came to say."
"I don't have a place to stay," he said, letting his head fall back against the couch. "Been busy running your quest. Didn't even have time to find an inn."
"I don't care. Just leave," Misha snapped, clearly done with him.
"Fine, fine. I'll go… in the morning."
He closed his eyes—out cold before he even finished the sentence.
Misha stared at him, completely baffled. "What the hell…"
Misha slapped him across the face—but Adrian didn't even flinch. The only thing the slap did was roll him onto his side, his head now slumped against the armrest of the couch.
She let out a long, annoyed sigh and turned away, heading to her room.