Muen left the Campbell estate and rode one of the family’s carriages to a luxury boutique he often visited.

After ordering his escort to wait outside the storefront, he slipped quietly out the back.

Disguised just enough to avoid recognition, Muen followed the route from memory, navigating the maze-like city until he reached the riverside at the edge of the Upper and Lower Districts. Once he confirmed no one was watching, he leapt down into a sewer pipe embedded in the bank.

A faint smell of rot tickled his nose. Muen frowned, pulled on a mask, and threw on a massive black cloak that hid his entire frame. Then, he dashed forward into the dark.

“Halt.”

At the end of the tunnel, a tall figure blocked the path.

“Who are you?” the figure asked gruffly.

Muen paused, then replied, “A rat of the sewers.”

“What’s your business?”

“Searching for carrion.”

“Token?”

Muen held up a black token engraved with an intricately detailed rat.

“...Alright. Go on in.”

The figure stepped aside, revealing a narrower passage beyond.

Muen gave a small nod, put the token away, and slipped past.

As they crossed paths under a shaft of dim light from above, Muen caught a glimpse of the figure’s body—and immediately regretted it.

The guy was... rotting. Literally. His flesh was decaying like spoiled meat, and maggots squirmed all over his skin. The stench alone was enough to make Muen’s stomach revolt.

Ugh. Yep, this is definitely a fantasy world, alright.

Suppressing his nausea, Muen sped up and got the hell out of there.

****

Once he emerged from the tight corridor, the view opened up dramatically.

A vast underground market stretched before him. The stone walls glowed faintly from embedded luminescent crystals, bathing the space in soft light. The streets teemed with people, each cloaked in robes that masked their identities.

This was the underground black market beneath Bellrand’s Lower District. Rumor had it that with enough money, you could buy anything here—even anyone.

Good thing I still remember how to get here, Muen thought, relieved.

In the novel, the protagonist was a regular in this place, dropping by all the time. And each time, thanks to her absurd protagonist luck, she’d pick up some ridiculously powerful treasure from a trash pile.

Half of the god-tier loot she had by the end of the book? Probably still lying around here like junk.

But Muen hadn’t come to “intercept” any of that loot.

First, the descriptions in the book weren’t nearly detailed enough, and his memory wasn’t trustworthy. Second—who knew what screwing with the protagonist’s future stash would do to the timeline?

Let it go. I’ve already decided to live out my peaceful plebeian life. No need to stir up trouble.

He shook off [N O V E L I G H T] the greedy thoughts and began scanning the market for his target.

Technically, he didn’t need to come to the black market just to buy a sleeping drug.

But he wasn’t looking to knock out a normal person.

He was trying to drug Celicia, the Third Princess of the Empire. Also known as the Ice Witch.

Blessed by the goddess of snow at birth, Celicia had the innate ability to command extreme cold. On top of that, she’d been raised and trained by the royal family from childhood—her power was monstrous.

Even the protagonist wasn’t her match at this point in the story.

As for Muen?

He didn’t have a blessing, a system, or even decent stats.

No way in hell I’m letting the drug fail and getting one-shot by Celicia in bed before the plot even kicks off.

He chuckled bitterly.

Fortunately, he quickly spotted what he was looking for.

At the end of a gloomy alley stood a creepy little shop, its sign marked by a huge ram skull with curling horns—hard to miss.

Thanks to that eerie signage, Muen recognized the place instantly.

In the novel, the protagonist had visited this store several times. The shopkeeper was mysterious, always selling weird odds and ends. If anything had high-grade sleeping drugs, it would be here.

Muen pushed open the door. A wind chime above jingled softly.

“Oh my, a customer—finally. Do come in.”

The shopkeeper, too, was cloaked in a voluminous black robe. Their voice was raspy and ambiguous—could’ve been male, could’ve been female.

But the moment they saw Muen, two sharp glints flashed from inside the hood.

Like a big bad wolf spotting a lost little lamb.

“Looking for anything in particular, young master? My humble store may be small, but we lack for nothing~”

“I’m looking for...”

Muen originally planned to say he was just browsing, but time was short. No need to beat around the bush.

“I want a drug. A sleeping drug. The strong kind.”

“Oh~?”

He couldn’t see the shopkeeper’s face, but he felt the grin stretching under that hood.

“A sleeping drug, huh? I see, I see. Ah, you rich types really do love to play rough, don’t you? Hahaha. Actually—I know a few sellers who offer very compliant slaves, if you’re into that. I can recommend a few. Just a small finder’s fee—you’ll even get a discount if you drop my name—”

“...Do you have it or not? If not, I’m leaving.”

“I do! Of course I do!” the shopkeeper yelped, grabbing Muen’s sleeve. “I’ve got the best knockout drugs in the market!”

They turned around quickly and started rummaging through a pile of strange bottles and jars.

From Muen’s angle, thanks to the shopkeeper’s bent-over position, he couldn’t help but notice—

Damn. That ass is... kinda insane.

The black robe hugged the curves just right, and what it hinted at was dangerous in its own right.

Muen rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“That ass... could the shopkeeper actually be a babe?”

Unfortunately, there was no way to confirm it.

He hadn’t finished reading the original novel. Maybe the shopkeeper revealed their face later on—but by that point, it had nothing to do with him anymore.

Ding ding.

Just as Muen was lost in his depraved little theory, the bell above the shop door jingled again.

Another cloaked figure stepped inside, nothing particularly special about them—until you noticed their smaller stature, and the faint floral scent drifting in with them.

Probably a woman.

“Hello, excuse me—do you sell sleeping drugs here?” came a soft, clear voice.

“Welcome, welcome. Sleeping drugs? Of course we—wait, what did you say?”

“I said, do you sell sleeping drugs?”

“You’re buying that too?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Nope, no problem at all.”

The shopkeeper gave Muen a strange look out of the corner of their eye, muttering something about today being seriously weird, before turning around to rummage through their cluttered shelves again.

She’s buying sleeping drugs too? Muen’s gaze flicked briefly toward the cloaked woman beside him.

Women... need that kind of thing too?

Probably planning to do something shady to someone.

Not that I can stop her.

Let’s just hope her evil scheme fails.

...Sigh.

Muen sighed inwardly. What am I even thinking? Isn’t what I’m doing basically the same damn thing?

What right did he have to judge?

“Oh! Found it!”

The shopkeeper soon returned, cheerfully placing two delicate bottles on the counter—one for Muen, one for the cloaked woman.

Muen picked his up, inspecting the contents curiously.

Inside swirled a dark red, crystal-clear liquid.

“...The hell is this color?”

Muen was dumbfounded.

Red?

Why not just slap on a label that says "HEY I DRUGGED YOU"?

Like it was begging to be discovered.