At the closing time, the tavern's door was tightly sealed, but the secret agent, bringing with him the garrison, kicked open the tavern's door with a powerful thrust.
The tavern, not yet in operation, was engulfed in silence. The morning light pierced through the colorful glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
The agent's sharp gaze swept across the immaculately cleaned bar, with liquor bottles neatly arranged on the shelves, reflecting a faint light.
He suddenly reached out and pulled out a bottle labeled "Highland Whiskey," and behind it on the oak wall panel, a crow pattern deliberately scratched with a fingernail faintly appeared in the dim light.
"Search!" he commanded succinctly, his voice as cold as ice.
The following garrison soldiers immediately sprang into action, their heavy boots thumping on the wooden floor with a dull sound.
Soon, they found something unusual in the wine cellar—a cleverly concealed secret door behind a loose brick wall.
