I just sat quietly, watching Claire take a deep breath with a look of heavy sorrow on her face. She stared at the table for a moment before daring to look at all of us with eyes full of deep sorrow.“You may not know this, but one of our party members has been killed by Jack the Ripper,” said Claire.She paused for a moment, allowing the information to sink in for everyone at the table. I could feel the atmosphere around me change; the tension that had been there before now felt even more intense after they heard that an adventurer had died."Her name was Catherine, a Rank B adventurer who was a very skilled archer. If even a Rank B can die so easily without putting up a fight, it means that Jack is not a weak person," continued Claire.Hearing his leader's explanation, Leo, who I usually saw spreading his charm, now sat up straight. He folded his arms on the table, supporting Claire's statement to emphasize how serious the threat they were fa

I stood still as Oz stopped right in front of me. His eyes weren't focused directly on me, but seemed to be focused on something floating between us, something I couldn't see at all.His eyes moved in a very regular rhythm, glancing up and then slowly down as if reading a long, invisible document. He looked very serious, ignoring my presence for a moment in favor of the information in front of him.The strangeness peaked when he raised his hand in the air. His fingers repeatedly swiped upward, a gesture very similar to someone sliding a roll of paper or sorting through a pile of data at high speed.I could only stare at his hand moving in the empty air with a furrowed brow. Logically, his movements had no physical purpose, but the way he did it was so precise, as if he were controlling a transparent information board.(What was he doing? His hand movements, the focus of his eyes... he acted as if something was being read and scrolled in front of me, but t

Oz paused for a moment, his eyes turning completely to the woman who was still unconscious. He slowly knelt beside her body, a movement that seemed in stark contrast to the cold aura he had been radiating since earlier.With a very careful and gentle movement, Oz reached out his hand. His fingers touched her forehead, then slowly smoothed away a few strands of bangs that covered part of the receptionist's tired face so she could be seen more clearly.I watched the gesture without blinking. There was a kind of connection in the way he touched the woman, a concern that felt much deeper.(The way he touched her... was very gentle. Did they have a special relationship? Was this woman actually his lover?)My guesses kept spinning in my head. If it was true that they had a romantic relationship, then this woman's involvement in Moriarty's plan might be far more complex than just accidentally becoming a container for the stone fragments.However, Oz didn'

I stood silently, my face burning hot as last night's memories came flooding back. I remembered Oz sitting at the bar and leaving a secret message under his cup. His invitation to meet after the guild closed felt so romantic that my heart raced because I never expected such a mysterious man to do something like that.Nervousness made me busy tidying my hair and uniform repeatedly so I wouldn't look bad. When we finally met in the silence of the night, Oz suddenly took out a wooden stick from under his cloak. I just stared at him in confusion, not understanding what he was doing with that simple object.But surprisingly, a circle of light appeared and glowing objects like shooting stars suddenly fell from the sky. I was mesmerized by this absurd miracle, something I had never seen before in this world. The atmosphere felt very magical, as if time had stopped just for the two of us.(Remembering the moment he asked me out felt so romantic, even now I still remember it. But what did Oz me

I sighed deeply as I continued to stare at the man who was still flashing his broad smile with a look of hatred. He did not answer Claire's question properly, but instead continued to babble incessantly, mixing up ridiculous facts about the types of drinks at this inn with his absurd theories about human behavior and the tendency to hide. His long-winded sentences sounded like a pile of words deliberately thrown onto the table to obscure the real point of our conversation.(What a waste of space, he's just wasting my precious time with all the nonsense coming out of his filthy mouth)Leo, who had been enthusiastic until now, began to show anger on his face, his hands clenched tightly on the wooden table. He looked very disappointed because his support had been met with a string of nonsensical sentences that did nothing to clarify Oz's status as a murderer."Enough! Stop talking nonsense and just tell us what you know, or get your feet off our table