"Thank you," Max greeted as he and Jim alighted from the bus. The vehicle zoomed away, leaving them both standing in front of cracked grounds that stretched forward in every direction. Dust swirled gently around their feet as the wind carried the faint scent of the town.

"Huh? Why have you brought me to a tier three town?" Jim asked with a raised brow, glancing around at the worn streets and the buildings that lined them.

"Let's go," Max replied, and without another word, he began walking away, leaving Jim no choice but to hurriedly follow.

Quickly, they moved into the town, and contrary to how Max's town looked, this place appeared slightly better. No area seemed dilapidated, and there were no visible slums. It looked medium-class, almost like the better part of Max's town had been stretched out before them, with people walking around, smiling and chatting casually.

They didn't look distraught or tired. Walking further, the duo noticed men dressed in black with streaks of blue patrolling the streets. They moved with an authoritative air, almost like law enforcers, and occasionally entered shops, emerging with smiles, no doubt having extorted the shopkeepers.

The buildings in the town looked manageable—not too big and not too small. People seemed to have enough to live comfortably.

'Something smells off here. Despite being a tier three town, the people look kind of satisfied. They're being extorted, yet they act like it's alright? And I don't know why, but my senses are on high alert,' Max thought as he walked alongside Jim.

The duo wasn't in their hunter attire, wearing plain jeans, t-shirts, and hats, blending in just enough. Some men in neat suits carried suitcases, heading somewhere with purpose. Max stopped one of them.

"Sorry, excuse me. We are new in this town and were wondering if there's an inn we can probably lay our heads in," Max asked calmly. The man glanced at him from head to toe, shook his head, and walked away, leaving the dragon puzzled.

'Huh? That's weird,' Max thought, brow furrowed.

"I think I know this town," Jim suddenly spoke, glancing around suspiciously.

"How do you know it? Have you been here before?" Max asked, curiosity piqued.

"When Jake and I were planning our first operation, this town was on our list, but we scratched the plan. Two gangs control this town, and we don't know much about them.

One is so secretive even its name is unknown. Strangely, the gangs aren't at each other's throats—they seem to coexist, almost like they're cohabiting," Jim replied, his eyes scanning the streets carefully.

"Is that so?" Max mumbled, observing the humans around them. "Oh well, it's none of my business. Let's find an inn to settle in first."

"Agreed," Jim added, and the duo began asking a few residents for directions. After a short walk and several inquiries, they finally arrived at an inn.

«Clamon Inn and Bar.»

Walking inside, the duo were immediately hit with the loud hum of chatter. They shrugged off the noise and looked around.

The building was medium-sized and appeared to have two floors from the outside. The interior smelled faintly of cooked food and alcohol.

Wooden beams supported the ceiling, and tables were scattered throughout, each occupied by patrons chatting, drinking, or enjoying their meals. It looked cozy enough to rest and plan their next move.

The inn's lower floor was alive with sound and warmth. It was a bar area that stretched wide enough to fit a decent crowd without feeling cramped.

Wooden tables filled the room, some occupied by groups laughing over drinks, others by lone travelers nursing meals in silence. The soft hum of conversation mingled with the occasional clink of glasses and the laughter of patrons, creating a lively but inviting atmosphere.

The polished counter stood at the far end, lined with stools, behind which bottles and mugs gleamed in the lantern light.

The air was a mix of roasted meat, ale, and faint smoke, giving the place that familiar tavern comfort. A fireplace crackled in one corner, its glow dancing against the sturdy wooden beams that held up the ceiling, casting long, flickering shadows across the walls.

Walking forward, they sat at the counter, and Jim leaned in.

"Hi, we would like a room for three days, please," he said politely, his voice slightly unsure.

"Sure thing. That will be a hundred," the man at the counter replied without hesitation.

"Hundred? That is quite the amount for just three days. Wait, did I say three days earlier? I'm sure I didn't say a wee…"

"Here you go." Max cut Jim off before he could begin rambling, placing a crisp dollar bill on the counter with calm authority.

The man's eyes gleamed greedily as he snatched the money and pulled out a key, handing it to the duo. "Climb up the stairs. Go up, someone will look at the key up there and direct you to your room."

"Alright, thanks," Max replied coldly as he grabbed his backpack and began to walk away.

"You do know that we were ripped off, right?" Jim asked, frowning slightly.

"You earn five thousand dollars, and you are still stingy about letting go of a hundred bucks for three days? Sheesh," Max said, shaking his head.

Looking up, they saw a broad wooden staircase rising upward, its steps polished smooth from years of use. The railing was sturdy, carved with faint decorative patterns. The chatter and noise of the lower floor seemed to fade the higher they went, replaced by a quieter, more subdued atmosphere.

Soon enough, the staircase opened into a long corridor lined with polished wooden floors. The hallway was spacious enough for two people to walk side by side, its walls decorated with simple sconces holding flickering candles. A soft carpet runner stretched along the length, muffling footsteps and making each step feel deliberate.

Doors stood evenly spaced on both sides of the corridor—sturdy oak with brass handles, each marked with a small number.

Some doors allowed faint sounds to escape—soft laughter, snores, or muffled conversations while others remained silent, closed tight for privacy. The air up here was calmer, carrying the faint scent of polished wood, candle wax, and lingering traces of the tavern below, making the upper floor feel like a quiet sanctuary from the lively lower bar.

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