Moen left the duke's mansion and took a carriage from the residence to a luxury boutique he frequented. After instructing the guards to wait at the entrance, he slipped out through the back door.

In light disguise, Moen navigated through the intricate streets of the city based on his memory, eventually arriving at the river that separated the Upper and Lower City Districts. Taking advantage of the empty surroundings, he leapt into a large drainage pipe by the riverside.

A faintly rotten odor wafted through the air, causing Moen to wrinkle his nose in distaste. He quickly donned a mask and draped himself in an oversized black cloak that concealed his figure entirely before hurrying through the tunnel.

“Halt.”

A towering figure blocked the end of the tunnel.

“Who’s there?”

Moen thought for a moment. “A sewer rat.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for rotten flesh.”

“Show your pass?”

Moen lifted his hand to reveal a black token etched with the lifelike design of a rat.

“Hmm, you may enter.”

The tall figure stepped aside, revealing a narrower passageway behind him.

Moen nodded in acknowledgment, pocketed the token, and quickly passed by the imposing figure. As their paths crossed, a sliver of light from above illuminated part of the tall figure’s body, which caught Moen's fleeting glance.

It was a body resembling decaying flesh, crawling with countless wriggling maggots. Even the brief encounter was enough for Moen to catch a whiff of the gag-inducing stench of rot.

“Ugh, this truly is a dark fantasy world."

Suppressing the wave of nausea that surged through him, Moen hurriedly quickened his pace and left the area without delay.

After passing through the cramped passage, his view opened up.

A vast underground space came into sight, its walls embedded with glowing stones that emitted a soft light, illuminating the whole place. People moved to and fro, every one of them cloaked in mysterious black robes.

This was the underground black market located beneath the boundary between Belland's Lower City District. It was said that as long as one had money, anything could be bought here, even “anyone.”

“Thank goodness I still remember the way,” Moen let out a soft sigh of relief.

In the original novel, the protagonist was a frequent visitor to this market, often dropping by and somehow always managing to stumble upon valuable treasures, thanks to the almighty protagonist's aura. Many of the overpowered items she wielded later in the story were probably at this very moment lying unnoticed on some roadside stall, mistaken for junk.

However, Moen had no intention of "beating the protagonist to the punch" by purchasing those treasures before her. Based on the vague descriptions in the book and his own unreliable memory, it would be nearly impossible for him to identify those hidden gems.

Besides, he wasn’t sure if taking items meant for the protagonist would adversely affect the storyline or derail the world’s fate.

“Sigh, since I’ve already decided to live quietly as an ordinary civilian, I shouldn’t trouble myself with such things.”

Moen shook his head to dispel unnecessary thoughts, and started scanning the black market.

Normally, one wouldn't need a black market for a sedative. But the target Moen intended to incapacitate wasn’t just anyone—it was the Empire’s third princess, Cecilia, known and the Ice Witch.

Blessed by the Ice Goddess from birth, Cecilia possessed a natural affinity for controlling extreme frost. Combined with the royal family’s rigorous training, she was frighteningly powerful. At this stage in the story, she was far beyond even the protagonist’s capabilities, let alone someone like Moen, who had neither divine favor nor diligent training.

“I don’t want to end up dead, smothered by one of Cecilia’s icy slaps before the sedative even kicks in and the protagonist intervenes.”

Moen chuckled at himself self-deprecatingly.

Fortunately, he soon spotted his target.

At the end of the street was a grim and ominous little shop, its signboard decorated with the skull of a massive ram, its spiraling horns incredibly prominent.

Thanks to that distinctive skull, Moen immediately recognized the shop. In the novel, the protagonist frequented this store as well. The shopkeeper was a mysterious figure known to sell all sorts of peculiar items.

Surely, they would have sedatives in stock.

Moen pushed open the door, ringing a bell hanging above it.

“Well, well, we finally have a guest today. Do come in.”

The shopkeeper was also clad in a large black cloak, their voice raspy and indistinguishable between male and female. However, upon seeing Moen, a gleam of excitement visibly flashed from within the shadows of their hood—a predatory look, like a wolf spotting a lamb.

“What can I get you, young man? Though the shop is small, it has everything you could wish for.”

“I’m looking for…”

Moen initially wanted to say he was just browsing, but considering the urgency of his lone excursion, he opted for directness instead.

“I’m looking for a sedative. That kind of sedative.”

“Oh?”

Although Moen couldn’t see the shopkeeper’s face, he felt their grin grow sly in an instant.

“A sedative, huh? I see, I see. Ah, you rich folks sure know how to play, don’t you? Haha, by the way, I know a few sellers who deal with excellent slaves. Need a recommendation? It only costs a little commission. Mention my name, and they’ll even give you a discount…”

“... Do you have the sedative or not?”

“I do, I do! Of course I have! I stock only the best sedatives!”

The shopkeeper hastened to grab Moen by the hem of his cloak, preventing him from leaving.Then they turned around and dived into a pile of bottles and jars in search of the requested item.

From his angle, Moen inadvertently caught sight of the sensual curve outlined beneath the shopkeeper’s cloak, accentuated as they bent down.

“The hip… Quite full.”

Moen stroked his chin, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. “Could the shopkeeper be a woman?”

Regrettably, this question remained unanswered.

Since he hadn’t finished the novel, Moen couldn’t be sure whether the shopkeeper ever revealed their true self in later chapters. In any case, it had nothing to do with him now.

*Ding-ding.*

As Moen indulged in his thoughts, the bell above the shop door jingled once again, signaling the arrival of another customer.

Yet another figure cloaked in black entered quietly, this one noticeably more petite and accompanied by a faint floral fragrance.

Likely a woman.

“Excuse me, do you sell sedatives here?”

“Welcome. Sedatives? Certainly,we… Wait, what did you say?”

“I asked if you sell sedatives.”

“You’re looking for sedatives too?”

“Yes, is that a problem?”

“No, not at all.”

The shopkeeper shot a peculiar glance at Moen, muttering something indistinct about how strange they found this day to be before resuming their rummaging.

“She’s buying sedatives as well?”

Moen’s eyes darted surreptitiously toward the figure cloaked in black beside her.

“Could women have such intentions too?”

“Perhaps she’s planning to harm someone.”

“Regrettably, I can’t intervene.”

“I can only hope her nefarious scheme fails.”

“Sigh.”

Moen sighed inwardly. “What am I even thinking? Ain't I here for the exact same thing?”

Who am I to cast judgment on others?

“Oh, here we are.”

Before long, the shopkeeper triumphantly rifled through two delicate vials, placing one before Moen and the other in front of the cloaked woman.

Out of curiousity, Moen picked up his vial to examine it, only to find it filled with a translucent dark red liquid.

“That color…”

Moen was dumbfounded.

Red? Seriously?

Was it meant to make it so clear that the drink was drugged?