Layla had originally wanted to ask Glenn when he had opened this shop, but the moment she accepted that strange device—and after listening to his explanation—all her attention shifted.

  “This… this is a magical artifact straight out of a bard’s tale, isn’t it?” she stammered.

  “It is—and I made it myself,” Glenn replied, brimming with pride and satisfaction.

  “Mr. Glenn… are you a mage?” Layla asked, bewildered.

  Glenn had anticipated the question. Ever since she’d come into contact with Bayek, she had surely spun countless fantastical guesses about his identity—and a mysterious mage was, naturally, the most appealing option to these excitable youths.

  Compared to a werewolf, a mage was far more acceptable. So Glenn nodded and admitted,

  “I’m only a mage apprentice for now. I can cast a few minor spells and craft a few simple trinkets, nothing more.”

  Layla’s expression said clearly: So it really was true.

  “All right, hurry—try contacting that noble girl,” Glenn urged.

  Layla immediately followed his instructions, gripping the device’s handle and holding it to her ear.

  A sensing component embedded in the handle linked with its holder. Under Glenn’s guidance, Layla began to recall in detail Pernas’s appearance, voice, mannerisms, and every nuance she could summon.

  The clearer the image, the faster the device could locate its target.

  According to Glenn’s calculations, the communication range of his magitek telephone should cover the entirety of the Bartsy district. As long as the blonde girl hadn’t left the area—and there was no magical barrier or interference—then even if she had already died, the connection would still be established.

  Yet only a few seconds passed, though it felt far longer.

  A soft chime sounded from the device— the signal that the call had connected.

  Glenn exhaled quietly in relief.

  Deep within the hidden estate in Bartsy.

  In a room without a single lamp, the only illumination came from the faint strip of light slipping through the gap in the curtains.

  Pernas sat huddled in a corner, hair a tangled mess, unsure how long she had been there. Even when a strange object materialized beside her, she failed to notice it.

  Until a familiar voice echoed through the suffocating silence:

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Hello? Pernas?”

  The blonde girl’s fingers twitched. She thought she was hallucinating.

  “No sound? Mr. Glenn…” Layla’s confused voice drifted through.

  “She wouldn’t have…” Another familiar voice murmured.

  The blonde girl jerked upright, scanning the dim room. When her gaze landed on the strange object beside her, she froze.

  “Wait—I heard something—”

  It was Layla’s voice.

  Pernas lunged forward, clutching the device in both hands as tears spilled freely.

  “Layla! Layla! Layla—is that you?!”

  “It’s me! Pernas, are you all right? Your voice sounds wrong—did something happen?!”

  Layla’s voice quivered with panic and concern.

  “Layla, please—please save me! I’m going mad! Truly—he’s a demon, he’s a real demon! I’m terrified—I can’t stay here another moment—”

  Her frantic words tangled into sobs, sending Layla into a flurry of dread.

  “Pernas, don’t panic—what happened? No, wait—tell me where you are first… we should notify the police, yes—the police!”

  Layla’s hands trembled as she gripped the device. She had already guessed that her friend had been kidnapped, and the thought sent her into a terrified frenzy.

  Glenn seized her just as she bolted toward the door. She struggled desperately. “Mr. Glenn! What are you doing—let go of me!”

  “Going to the police now is useless,” Glenn said calmly. “If she’s still somewhere near the capital district, the officers here will only be able to send a telegram up the chain. By the time it passes through every level and reaches Bartsy’s authority, it may already be too late.”

  His voice was unnervingly steady.

  Truthfully, Glenn suspected the Bartsy police had already mobilized. A noble gone missing in the royal capital would never be ignored. But the girl had been missing for days with no trace found—proof enough of how well hidden the location must be.

  “Then what do we do now?” Layla’s voice cracked as tears threatened.

  Glenn took the device from her, checked how much magic remained, then held it to his ear.

  On the other end, the blonde girl was still sobbing.

  “My haughty little noble lady—do you remember me? The commoner who gave you that wood carving.”

  Hearing Glenn’s calm, steady voice, Pernas choked out, “I… I remember.”

  “Good. Then listen carefully. I must tell you the truth: neither the police nor we can reach you quickly. The best thing you can do now is save yourself. We’ll keep searching for your location in the meantime.”

  The latter half was only to comfort her. In reality, the capital was far—too far. Even Glenn, running at full speed as a fifth-rank werewolf, wouldn’t make it in time. A seventh rank was out of the question—he couldn’t maintain the form long enough.

  “But I’ve tried so many times already… I can’t break down the door…” Pernas’s initial panic had faded, her voice clearer now.

  “Don’t rush. First, describe the room you’re in. I’ll tell you what to do,” Glenn said, unshaken.

  The noble girl took several long breaths, then described the chamber’s furnishings.

  The place was lavish—dressing table, ornate bed, wardrobe—everything a noble’s daughter would expect. The walls and windows were reinforced and sealed tight.

  To Layla, it sounded hopeless. A pampered girl like Pernas could never escape such a room.

  But Glenn smiled faintly.

  If it were him, with no supernatural abilities at all, there were many ways to leave a room like that. For a panicked girl, however, such tricks were unrealistic.

  But he had something even simpler in mind.

  “Lady Pernas—if I may call you that—describe the door lock for me.”

  In the dim room, the blonde girl forced herself upright and returned to the ornate door she had battered in vain.

  “It’s a long, vertical rectangular lock. Aside from being prettier than a common lock, there’s nothing unusual about it.”

  “Good—that’s all I need. Now go to the dressing table. There should be a nail clipper for trimming your nails, isn’t there?”

  “Yes—it’s in the drawer. I’ve found it.”

  In this era, nail clippers were far larger than the ones Glenn remembered from his previous life. Their tips were sharply pointed—and could be easily dismantled.

  Which was precisely why Glenn had asked her to retrieve one.