After thinking it through, Mozo immediately had the urge to slip away as fast as possible.
But the moment he turned around, he saw the elven master craftsman still kneeling at his feet even in death, as well as the black-robed leader who was dead beyond doubt.
If he just ran now, it would certainly save him a lot of trouble. But both the Empire and the elves would be left with problems piling up like a mountain. More importantly, the real mastermind behind all this, the faction of the black-robed man, would remain completely untouched.
So… I can't just leave?
Then what am I supposed to do?
What Mozo didn't notice was that while he was deep in thought, the girl behind him slowly regained consciousness.
At first, confusion filled her delicate face. Then came fear, as memories rushed back to her, though it might also have been the sight of the two corpses nearby and the massive, ruined puppet.
And on top of that, there was an unknown man in front of her, holding a firearm.
The fear on her face was unmistakable.
Yet she didn't scream. Instead, she covered her mouth tightly and began thinking rapidly.
At that moment, Mozo suddenly heard movement coming from the sewer passage.
Two black-robed men who had gone back to check on their leader stepped out.
At first, they didn't notice what was happening here and simply muttered:
"Boss, we need to move. Things upstairs have stabilized. If we don't leave now, the Bureau's people will swarm in. Boss?"
As they spoke, they saw the dead leader and the craftsman who had died kneeling.
Instantly, Mozo dropped to one knee, raised his gun, and took aim.
At the same time, he deliberately shifted his position, shielding the girl behind him.
That instinctive act of protection made the girl immediately understand the situation.
Friend, not foe.
Her eyes instantly filled with joy and a trace of admiration she herself didn't even realize.
Isn't this exactly like the operas I love?
And this isn't some scripted illusion, this is a real knight protecting a damsel in distress!
Oh gods above, please grant my knight victory!
The enemies reacted just as quickly.
The one on the left raised his hand, and the brightly lit room was plunged into darkness.
The one on the right moved silently, but Mozo could hear rapid footsteps rushing toward him.
Relying on instinct and memory, Mozo pulled the trigger.
A burst of fire flashed in the darkness.
It wasn't enough to seriously injure a Beyonder, especially one with the advantage of terrain, but it did force the opponent back.
Using the brief muzzle flash, Mozo barely caught sight of the enemy's position.
He immediately discarded the long gun, drew the revolver he had taken earlier from a soldier, and fired again toward the estimated location.
At the same time, he kept retreating, raising his arm to keep the girl protected behind him.
Mozo might hate that old Duke of Windsor for burning his treasured collectible puppet…
But the girl was innocent.
At that moment, a soft and pleasant voice sounded by his ear:
"Trust me. Shoot at the upper right corner!"
She's awake?
After a split-second hesitation, Mozo fired where she said.
This time, a pained cry rang out from the darkness, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the ground and scrambling away.
Immediately, her voice came again:
"Lower left! Shoot, quickly!"
Mozo adjusted his aim and fired again.
This time, it didn't hit, but it still forced the enemy to retreat once more.
Thankfully, the opponent didn't have firearms or throwing weapons.
And judging from his style, he was just a low-tier melee-oriented Beyonder.
But what about the other one?
That thought sent a chill down Mozo's spine.
Was he maintaining the darkness, or preparing some lethal move?
Before Mozo could think further, he heard the girl gasp behind him, her voice trembling:
"More people are coming?"
What? More?
Mozo's heart sank.
But he didn't give up. Lowering his gun, he prepared to draw the dagger hidden in his boot.
Before he could, the girl suddenly hugged him from behind.
"Miss Windsor?!"
Mozo was startled.
What is she doing now?
But at that very moment, he heard footsteps right next to him.
Without hesitation, he raised his gun and fired.
A voice full of frustration and helplessness followed:
"Kid, you shot the wrong person!"
At the same time, the girl spoke again:
"They're from the Bureau! We're safe now, Sir Knight!"
"What?!"
Mozo froze.
The darkness vanished, and the room was flooded with light once more.
The sudden brightness stung his eyes, but after blinking a few times, he adjusted.
Only then did he see the situation clearly.
One of the black-robed men was already down, either dead or unconscious.
The other was pinned to the ground by two men in trench coats.
More trench-coated figures stood around the room.
And not far from him, a middle-aged man clutched his shoulder, looking at Mozo with a mix of irritation and complexity.
Seeing this, the girl who had just been hiding behind him suddenly stepped forward.
She spread her arms, standing protectively in front of Mozo.
"I apologize for your injury. But Sir Knight didn't do it on purpose."
"And as a member of the Bureau, you failed to announce your presence beforehand."
"So I believe this accidental injury is entirely your responsibility."
"You have neither the right nor the authority to pursue this matter or retaliate against Sir Knight!"
The man's face darkened instantly.
Mozo, meanwhile, felt a headache coming on.
Miss Windsor… saying it like that is only going to make things worse…
But Catherine Windsor continued:
"Of course, since the injury was ultimately caused by Sir Knight, I am willing to offer compensation on humanitarian grounds."
"One thousand gold pounds, plus a high-grade healing potion. How about that?"
"One thousand gold pounds?!"
The moment that number was spoken, everyone present, including the struggling black-robed man, stared at her in disbelief.
Seeing their reactions, Miss Windsor looked around in confusion.
"Is that too little?"
"Then two thousand gold pounds!"
"Any more than that, and I'll have to report it to my grandfather!"
At once, the entire room collectively sucked in a sharp breath.
A walking treasury.
An absurdly rich lady.