Caster walked toward the castle gates, following Alucard's instructions to the letter.
Spying on the castle should have been simple.
At least, that was what Caster thought.
Alucard had supplied him with nearly a hundred soul shards—far more than necessary. Staying in the castle only cost one soul shard per week, so the excess clearly wasn't generosity. It was leverage. Bribes, gambling, favors, information. Alucard wanted eyes everywhere, and soul shards were the fastest way to buy them.
Caster understood that much.
Alucard had also made one thing very clear:
The gambling den is your first stop.
But before that…
Caster ran a hand through his beard and grimaced.
"…Yeah. This has to go."
---
The interior of the castle was quieter than expected. No roaring monsters, no oppressive aura of death—just stone corridors, warm lighting, and the faint murmur of distant voices. At the entrance desk sat a young man who looked painfully out of place.
He was thin, pale, and visibly malnourished, with sunken cheeks and tired eyes. If not for his clean, well-kept clothes, Caster would've assumed he belonged in the outer settlements rather than inside the castle itself.
Caster didn't care much about the clerk as a person.
But information?
That was another matter.
"Hello there, my friend," Caster said with a polite smile. "I've come to stay for a while."
The young man looked up, startled.
"Oh—uh—hello! I don't believe I've seen you before?"
His voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
Caster resisted the urge to smirk.
"No, first time here," he replied smoothly. "What should I call you? And how much does it cost to stay?"
He already knew the answer, of course—but pretending ignorance was part of the act.
"Oh! I'm Harper," the clerk said quickly. "It costs one soul shard per week. You'll have access to food, protection, and… well, this is where most of the powerful people stay."
Caster nodded along, pretending to listen while mentally cataloging exits, guard routes, and blind spots.
"I heard there are shops inside the castle," he added casually. "Mind pointing a few out?"
Harper brightened and pulled a map from beneath the desk.
"Yes! Here's the memory shop—you can buy or sell memories for fair prices."
He pointed again. "This is Aiko's gambling den. You can wager soul shards, memories, or favors there."
Caster's interest sharpened slightly.
Harper continued, pointing out the cafeteria, a clothing shop, even a flower shop. Caster made a mental note of each location.
"Well," Caster said, "you've convinced me. I'll stay."
"That's great!" Harper said, visibly relieved. "Your room is on the second floor, near the gambling den."
Caster placed a soul shard on the desk. Harper slid a key toward him—engraved with the number 9.
"Would you like me to guide you to your room?"
Caster rolled his eyes internally.
"I'll manage," he said politely.
Just as he turned to leave, Harper hesitated.
"Wait—your name? I need to write it down."
"Caster," he replied. "Caster of the Han Li clan."
Harper scribbled quickly.
"Alright! Caster of the Ham Dih clan—"
Caster froze.
"…What."
"Ham Dih," Harper repeated, looking proud.
Caster very seriously considered committing murder.
"It's Han Li," he said slowly, smiling with visible effort.
"H. A. N. Space. L. I."
Harper flushed. "R-right! Sorry!"
Caster turned and walked away before he did something irreversible.
---
Up the stairs he went, counting doors.
"Room seven… room eight… room nine."
He slid the key into the lock.
It didn't turn.
He tried again.
Nothing.
On the third attempt, he slammed his fist against the door—
—and it swung open from the inside.
A petite woman with black hair stood there in pink pajamas, eyes blazing.
"For the last fucking time," she snapped, "the gambling den isn't open until seven! Stop knocking on my damn door!"
She planted her hands on her hips—then stopped.
Because standing in front of her wasn't the usual drunk or gambler.
It was a tall, muscular man with a confused expression.
Caster stared down at her.
She stared up at him.
They remained like that for a full minute.
Then she slammed the door shut.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" she yelled through it. "This is my room!"
"What do you mean your room?!" Caster shot back. "This is my room!"
"I paid extra for a room next to the gambling den!"
"Well my key says nine, and this is room nine!"
There was a pause.
Then the door cracked open just enough for her to peer at the key.
"You moron," she said flatly. "That's room six."
Caster looked at the door number.
Then the key.
Then the door again.
"…Ah."
"…I'll be leaving now," he muttered.
---
He finally reached his actual room and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
First he was called Caster of the Ham Dih clan.
Then he argued with a midget in pink pajamas—and somehow lost.
He summoned his emerald jian, shaved his beard in silence, and lay back down.
"…This mission is cursed," he muttered.
Unfortunately for Caster, that so-called cursed mission was far from over.
He still had to go to the gambling den.
More specifically, he had to talk to Aiko—the same Aiko Alucard had described as a reliable source of information. Whether that reliability extended beyond money remained to be seen.
Caster barely managed to haul himself upright and staggered out of his room, mentally preparing for whatever humiliation awaited him next.
Finding the gambling den was painfully easy.
There was a massive sign hanging above the entrance with the words GAMBLING DEN written on it in glowing letters, as if subtlety had personally offended whoever designed it.
Caster pushed the door open and stepped inside.
A guard stood near the entrance, arms crossed, eyes sharp—probably there to make sure no one tried to flee after losing more than they could afford.
The interior was dim, lit by colorful, luminescent memories embedded in the walls and ceiling. The atmosphere buzzed with quiet tension and excitement. Roulette tables lined one side of the room, which honestly impressed Caster—whoever figured out how to recreate roulette in the Dream Realm deserved some respect. Blackjack tables and other card games filled the rest of the space, each surrounded by murmuring gamblers clutching chips like lifelines.
Caster ignored most of it.
His eyes locked onto the counter.
People were exchanging soul shards for gambling chips there, and according to Alucard, that was exactly where Aiko usually stayed. She was money-driven, after all—so of course she'd haunt the place where money changed hands.
Caster joined the line and waited patiently.
Very patiently.
When it was almost his turn, someone bumped into him and stepped ahead.
Annoying—but fine. No need to cause trouble.
Then it happened again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, Caster clenched his jaw a little harder, forcing himself to stay calm. Finally, after the fifth person cut in front of him, his patience snapped.
He summoned his emerald jian with a quiet shing, gripping it tightly and preparing himself to stab the next idiot who dared skip the line.
Caster turned around.
There was no one there.
Not a single person.
Everyone had already skipped him.
"…Damnation," he muttered.
Suppressing the urge to scream, Caster marched up to the counter. And when he finally reached the spot where Aiko should have been—
—he froze.
Standing there was the same petite menace from earlier.
The midget.
Except now she wasn't wearing pink pajamas. She was dressed properly, hair neatly done, posture sharp and professional. She looked every bit like someone who ran an establishment that bled people dry for a living.
Their eyes met.
For a fraction of a second, silence reigned.
Then they both shouted at the exact same time:
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"
The cursed mission, it seemed, had only just begun.