Chapter 52: Can Sleeping Dragon really meet Phoenix Chick?

Ina fidgeted, sneaking glances at Cynthia across the caravan carriage.
Since accepting the commission, Cynthia’s gaze had turned odd—distant, almost cold.
Now, leaning against the window, she stared outside, silent.

She’s mad, Ina thought, wracking her brain.
But why?

Not getting up early? No, that’s silly.
The commission? It’s well-paid, easy… what’s to be mad about?

A realization hit.
I didn’t ask what the caravan’s carrying!

Panicked, Ina leaned out to the client—a young man in lavish clothes riding beside the carriage.
“Boss, what’s the cargo?”

Cynthia’s body twitched slightly, her eyes flicking from the window toward Ina.

Got a reaction! It’s the commission!

Ina nodded to herself.
Cynthia’s mad because I took it without checking details. She’s always thorough.

She kept asking if I was sure… she was hinting!

Sighing at her own carelessness, Ina waited for the boss’s reply.

“Cargo?” he echoed, frowning.

He recalled the commission—30,000 Nar, with a catch: pose as the caravan’s boss in fancy clothes, or lose a chunk of pay if exposed.
The Guild hadn’t specified the cargo.
The caravan had three carriages—one for passengers, two for personal items.

Just make something up, he thought.

But a chilling glare stopped him cold.
Cynthia’s eyes bored into him, a silent threat: Speak wrong, and you’re dead.

“Uh… we’re escorting…” he stammered, sweating.

“Boss?” Ina pressed, suspicious.
“Dangerous goods?”

“No! It’s… a breathtaking work of art.”

His eyes hardened, convinced.
Cynthia’s beauty was art—nation-toppling, no less.
The cargo had to be in their carriage, right?
It fit perfectly.

Ina’s doubts eased at his conviction.
“Where’s it at?”

“As far as the horizon, yet as close as the eye,” he replied smoothly, smiling.

Ina grinned, catching on.
A small artwork, carried by the boss, with the cargo carriage as a decoy. Smart.

“Brilliant,” she said, nodding.

“You get it,” the boss laughed.
“You’re a big help.”

“Haha, you’re too kind…”

They traded compliments, lost in mutual admiration, while Cynthia stared, baffled.

What’s wrong with them?

Am I out of touch with humans? Is this… contagious?

Her brow furrowed, eyes closing in thought.
When they opened, Ina was inches away.

“What’re you doing?”

“Hehe, thanks to you, Cynthia-chan~”

“Huh?”

“I get it now~” Ina poked her cheek, grinning.
“I’ll check details next time. Don’t be mad~”

Cynthia blinked, stunned.
Did she figure out I paid the 70,000 Nar?

Ina’s goofy smile suggested otherwise.
Her gaze softened, and she sighed.
“I wasn’t mad… maybe.”

“So, you forgive me?”

“I don’t even know what you’re on about, but sure.”

Cynthia patted Ina’s head, a mix of pity and amusement in her eyes.
“Must be tough, surviving on your own.”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“It’s an illusion.”

“But—”

“Illusion!”

At Noin Mansion, an old butler hurried down a corridor, knocking on Noin’s door.

“What?”

“A letter from the human lord you’re cooperating with.”

“Oh? About what?”

Noin propped himself up, curious.

“His Highness.”

“What’d the princess do now?”

“Uh… read it yourself.”

Noin snatched the letter, scanning it.
His eyes widened, and he bolted upright, shrieking, “She charged him 100,000 Nar and billed me?!”

“Alicia! What kind of princess did you raise?!”

“Are you two cut from the same cloth?!”

Cynthia’s plan to lure Ina with a high-paying commission worked—too well.
Ina, oblivious to Cynthia’s scheme, mistook her silence for anger over her carelessness.
The “boss,” unaware of the real cargo, dodged disaster with a clever lie, spurred by Cynthia’s glare.

Meanwhile, Noin’s outrage revealed Cynthia’s audacious move—securing funds for her mission while pinning the cost on him.
The caravan rolled north, toward the capital, where the Blood Crown and the Church’s schemes awaited.
Ina, still hiding her Saint identity, remained unaware of the tightening noose, while Luofengte’s mystery lingered in the shadows.