The city of Galaza was not kind to the weak.

  It was a place of smoke-choked streets, hungry-eyed men, and whispers that turned to screams in the night. It was the kind of city where a person could vanish without a trace, swallowed by the underbelly, and no one would ask questions.

  And tonight, beneath the cloak of darkness, Evelyne Thorn and Prince Alaric were walking straight into it.

  The docks were alive with activity despite the lateness of the hour. Ships rocked lazily in the harbor, their dark silhouettes rising against the moonlit sky. The stench of salt, rotting fish, and human desperation hung thick in the air. Crates were being unloaded by men with tired faces and calloused hands, their movements quick and silent.

  But not everyone here was a simple dockworker.

  Evelyne had been watching long enough to know the difference between a man hauling cargo and a man watching for trouble.

  And there were too many eyes here that weren’t focused on their work.

  She leaned against a wooden post, arms crossed, pretending to watch a drunken brawl unfold near the fish market. The fight was all for show—one man shoved the other, a bottle was smashed, curses were thrown—but it was a distraction.

  She could feel it.

  Alaric stood beside her, his hood pulled low over his face. He had barely spoken since their encounter at The Pit, and she couldn’t blame him. His lip was still swollen from where his opponent had gotten in a lucky punch, and bruises were beginning to form across his ribs.

  He hadn’t expected to be dragged into an illegal fighting ring tonight.

  Evelyne smirked to herself.

  But then again, Alaric had never expected her.

  He exhaled, glancing sideways at her. “What now?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she watched.

  The crates. The men moving them. The ones who were pretending to be workers but carried themselves with the ease of cutthroats.

  And then, she saw him.

  A man near the water’s edge, half-hidden by the mist rolling off the ocean. He wasn’t carrying anything. He wasn’t giving orders. He was simply watching.

  His stance was too rigid, too controlled. Not a smuggler, not a laborer.

  Something else.

  A watcher.

  Evelyne straightened, pretending to adjust her cloak. “That man,” she murmured, tilting her chin slightly in the direction of the figure. “By the last row of crates. Do you see him?”

  Alaric followed her gaze. “The one in the hood?”

  She nodded.

  “What about him?”

  “He’s not here for cargo. He’s here to make sure certain things stay unseen.”

  Alaric’s frown deepened. “You think he knows about the missing children?”

  “I think he knows something.”

  And that was all Evelyne needed.

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  Without waiting for a response, she began moving, slipping between the stacks of barrels and abandoned fishing nets. She could hear Alaric mutter a curse before following her, but she didn’t slow down.

  She had spent enough time in places like this—back in her world, back when she had still been Ari Kang, a Korean Detective.

  Some places were the same no matter what world you were in.

  And the docks at midnight, with too many secrets and too many shadows, were one of them.

  The man started walking.

  Not quickly. Not like he knew he was being followed.

  But with purpose.

  And that was enough to tell Evelyne that he wasn’t just some dockworker heading home.

  She and Alaric followed at a distance, careful to keep to the darker parts of the docks. The wooden planks creaked underfoot, but the sound was swallowed by the distant crash of waves and the low murmur of business still being conducted in the main area.

  The man turned a corner, disappearing behind a row of abandoned shipping crates.

  Evelyne didn’t hesitate.

  She followed.

  The alley was narrow, walled in by stacks of cargo that hadn’t been touched in what looked like weeks. The air smelled damp, thick with mildew and rust.

  The man had stopped.

  Evelyne came to a halt just a few paces away.

  Alaric tensed beside her.

  The man didn’t turn around. But when he spoke, his voice was low, quiet—too calm.

  “I know you’re there.”

  Alaric’s hand twitched toward his hip, where he had a concealed firearm that was giving to him by my butler.

  Evelyne placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

  “No need for dramatics,” she said smoothly, stepping forward. “We’re just curious.”

  The man finally turned.

  And in the pale moonlight, Evelyne could see the sharp angles of his face, the scar running along his jawline. His eyes were dark, calculating—taking her in, measuring the threat she posed.

  He wasn’t afraid.

  That, more than anything, told her she was dealing with someone dangerous.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” the man said simply.

  Evelyne smiled. “That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing to you.”

  The man’s gaze flicked to Alaric. “And you brought a prince.”

  Alaric stiffened. “You know who I am?”

  The man chuckled. “Of course. Hard to miss a royal, even when he tries to dress like one of us.” His eyes returned to Evelyne. “But you… you’re the interesting one.”

  Evelyne arched a brow. “You flatter me.”

  “You’ve been asking questions.”

  “That I have.”

  The man exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “That’s dangerous.”

  Evelyne’s smile didn’t waver. “And yet, here I am.”

  The man studied her for a moment longer.

  Then, his expression shifted—just barely.

  Not quite fear.

  Not quite anger.

  Something else.

  Something close to reluctance.

  Finally, he said, “You don’t want to get involved in this.”

  Evelyne’s eyes narrowed.

  “I think I already am.”

  The man sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Walk away, Lady Thorn.”

  Ah. So he knew her name. Well, giving that she was on the news for the case she solved, it was given I suppose.

  That was interesting. Why interesting? It means he can read, that means he has some form of education. Giving Evelyne gleams at something.

  Evelyne tilted her head. “That’s not going to happen.”

  The man hesitated.

  And then—

  "Warehouse at the end of the docks," he murmured. "Go there. But if you’re smart, you’ll turn back before it’s too late."

  And before she could press further—

  He was gone.

  The alley was silent in his absence.

  Alaric let out a breath. “I don’t like this.”

  Evelyne turned to him, a slow smirk forming. “Good.”

  Alaric scowled. “Evelyne—”

  “We have a lead.” She started walking, back toward the main path. “Are you coming?”

  Alaric groaned, muttering something about reckless women and terrible ideas, but he followed.

  Because no matter how much he complained—

  He was just as invested as she was now.

  And the deeper they went, the clearer one thing became:

  This wasn’t just a case of missing children anymore.

  This was something far, far bigger.

  And Evelyne intended to find out exactly what it was.