Hidden passages might sound mysterious,
But in truth, they weren’t all that rare.
After all, they were made for people to use.
Aiwass brought Lulu and Sherlock to a dilapidated warehouse not far from the Pelican Bar—
It had once stored stone materials, but was now filled with dust and rubble.
Exiting through the back door, they stepped into a desolate and decaying field.
Not a soul in sight.
A small creek formed by sewage and stagnant water blocked their way forward.
The far bank was piled high with household garbage and thickets—
Faded and rotting after repeated exposure to the elements.
But the moment Aiwass saw it,
He actually sighed in relief—
As if he had found his landmark—
Then strode across the creek without hesitation and headed toward the trash-littered slope.
"Keep walking from here,
Climb over that mound,
And we’re there."
"…I see."
Sherlock followed behind Aiwass, mumbling as he carefully leapt over the water without dirtying his shoes,
"They’re using the imagery of ‘filth,’ ‘abandonment,’ and a sense of finality to make people subconsciously believe there’s no way forward.
Not exactly a sophisticated concealment tactic—
But for ordinary people, it’s more than enough."
"Because this really isn’t a high-end secret passage.
It wasn’t even manmade, strictly speaking."
Aiwass took the lead as he spoke, glancing back to explain:
"It leads to an old chemical factory that was abandoned two decades ago.
"About seven or eight years ago, a group of Lohe District kids discovered and took over this tunnel.
They later became the 'Sweater Brotherhood'—
A small-time strangler gang."
"…Strangler gang?
Isn’t that the name of a faction?"
Lulu—holding up her skirt and barely keeping pace—asked in confusion,
"I thought that was the biggest gang in the Lohe District."
"Not quite.
While all members of the Stranglers are gangsters,
That doesn’t mean there’s a singular organization called The Stranglers."
It was Sherlock who answered her this time:
"Any gangsters who rob and kill using strangulation tactics
Are referred to as stranglers.
Ironically, it's the smaller gangs that rely on that method to make money."
"Then who is the biggest gang?"
"That would be the Lohe Society—no contest."
Aiwass replied,
"The Lohe Society was founded over two centuries ago
By Prince Lohe back when he was still a merchant.
To this day, it’s still around.
"It’s a large-scale syndicate that deals in insurance, usury, long-distance intelligence, and corporate secrets.
In a sense, they’re the only legitimate gang in all of Avalon."
"…But isn’t usury illegal?
How can there be legal loan sharks?"
"Because they don’t charge excessive interest on paper.
Instead, they sell subscriptions to outrageously expensive copies of the Lohe Weekly.
That’s how they collect interest."
As he spoke, Aiwass gave Lulu a helpless glance.
"My dear…
You didn’t really think five red candles for one issue of a weekly newspaper was normal, did you?
"It’s a weekly, after all.
Which means most of its content is just old news already reported elsewhere.
"In journalism, they say, ‘This morning’s paper is tonight’s waste.’
A bit extreme, maybe—
But weeklies are supposed to be cheaper than dailies."
The newsboy Aiwass had met earlier in front of the Pelican Bar
Was precisely one of the Lohe Society’s employed “paperboys.”
Back then, Haina had noticed something fishy about the price of the Lohe Weekly,
But she didn’t understand who it was really being sold to.
And Aiwass hadn’t wanted to explain.
Given her blunt and straightforward personality,
It was probably better that she didn’t know.
She thought the papers were sold to sailors, fishermen, and laborers…
But how could they afford such a thing?
Even if they had the money,
They’d rather spend it on meat and beer.
The tired and impoverished lower classes couldn’t afford to buy newspapers—
They got their news for free in the pubs.
Beside them, little Sherlock sighed and patiently explained the layers of deception to the naïve princess:
"Anyone who borrows money from the Lohe Society in the Lohe District
Must regularly buy a required quota of the Lohe Weekly as part of the interest payment.
When debt collectors come to inspect,
They’ll check how many copies the borrower owns,
And cut a corner from each paper as proof of payment.
"The same goes for the intelligence they sell.
Factory owners and company directors order batches of Lohe Weeklies from the Society,
And with each paper,
A verbal message is also delivered.
"They even run target investigation services.
They once invited me to join.
I know some private investigators who take their jobs.
When the Society delivers the intel,
They also do it by delivering the agreed quota of Lohe Weekly as ‘payment.’"
"…Because newspapers are taxed, right?"
Lulu caught on immediately.
"So the Minister of Finance and the Minister of Taxation are protecting them?"
It was her first time hearing about this sort of gray-market operation hidden behind newspapers,
But she immediately grasped how clever it was.
It meant the Lohe Society publicly reported all their income to the Crown
And paid a large amount in ‘protection taxes.’
If the Crown was taking their money but not arresting them,
That had to mean it was allowed.
No wonder—
They were Prince Lohe’s own creation.
Despite lacking experience,
Princess Isabel had a sharp mind.
Her education came from the highest echelons of society,
Which had sharpened her political instincts:
"Using newspapers to collect interest payments is the Lohe Society’s way of showing respect for the Path of Authority, isn’t it?
Even though they originated from Prince Lohe’s legacy,
They’d still be in trouble if they angered the Round Table.
"But by framing the ‘interest’ as taxable revenue from newspaper sales,
They avoid suspicion from the Inspectorate.
And compared to merchants who almost always evade taxes,
Their tax behavior is actually far more consistent and proactive."
She’d heard the Minister of Taxation complain about uncollectible taxes countless times.
He kept asking the Inspectorate to send tax agents to investigate suspicious companies.
Each time, he’d hand over a list so long it could rival her own hair—
The other end of the scroll practically dragging along the ground.
——Isabel understood clearly:
If the Lohe Society paid enough tax—
In large, stable, and consistent amounts—
They would be protected.
The fact they held a distribution license for the Glass Staircase Times
Said everything about where the Round Table stood.
The paperboy nodded.
"That’s exactly why the Inspectorate doesn’t go after them.
They also help maintain order in the Lohe District,
So the Ministry just turns a blind eye.
"They operate under the Path of Authority and respect its higher-level guardians.
In some sense,
They’re no longer a gang—
But more like a powerful, shady corporation.
"They don’t commit ‘stranglings’ themselves—
Such acts would draw too much attention.
"But by squeezing out the profit margins of smaller gangs,
They force those groups into using more dangerous tactics—
Strangling, robbery, burglary, kidnapping, and even assassination—
Just to survive.
"And that, in turn,
Gets them arrested by the Inspectorate.
Further shrinking the space other gangs can operate in."
"——That’s not all."
Finally spotting the back gate of the abandoned chemical factory in the distance,
Aiwass relaxed a little and added casually,
"After the Stranglers mug and kill people,
They still sell their stolen goods through the Lohe Society.
"Even some assassination and burglary contracts
Are issued by the Lohe Society themselves.
"Which is why I said—
There’s only one real gang in the Lohe District,
And that’s the Lohe Society."
"…They do that too?"
Even Sherlock looked surprised.
But the more he thought about it,
The more sense it made.
No matter how legal the Lohe Society looked,
They were still a gang—not a legitimate business.
And yet, Sherlock had never found any evidence of their crimes.
Maybe…
It wasn’t just that the evidence had been destroyed by the Inspectorate—
Maybe that kind of evidence never existed in the first place.
Because they no longer needed to get their own hands dirty.
Sherlock studied the priestly “Fox” carefully for the first time,
Suspicion beginning to grow.
He was very familiar with the Lohe District,
Knew about this hidden passage,
And even seemed aware of the Lohe Society’s secrets…
——Could this “Fox” not be a student after all?
Maybe he was a gang member?
Or a spy planted in the church by some organization?
Or a defrocked priest?
With that in mind, Sherlock cautiously asked,
"Mr. Fox…
If I were to investigate the Sweater Brotherhood—
Would that cause you trouble?
If it would, I’m willing to let it go.
As thanks for what you did for me during the ritual."
At those words, Aiwass paused mid-step.
He turned to glance at the newsboy,
A sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"If I brought it up in front of you,
Then I clearly don’t mind you looking into it.
"Once you’re done with ‘Bone Carvers,’
Go ahead and arrest the Sweater Brotherhood while you’re at it.
Consider it doing the people a favor.
"Don’t be fooled by their small size—
Each member has at least five confirmed kills."
Aiwass’s tone turned a shade colder.
"And according to my inside information…
They might be tied to the forces behind the Pelican Bar."
——And that wasn’t all.
Aiwass still remembered this hidden passage
Because it led to a main story dungeon.
He’d forgotten the setup,
But he did remember that the Sweater Brotherhood was involved with the Crimson Nobility Society.
The Brotherhood members in this dungeon
Had been heavily modified by demonic rituals—
Their bodies grotesquely enhanced,
Their minds driven to madness.
They even kept an entire horde of demonic hounds,
All made from corpses.
It was a disgusting dungeon.
Long, winding, and easy to get lost in.
The floor was covered in trash, mud, and sewage that slowed you down.
The demon dogs were worse—
Armored in jagged scrap metal,
Tough as hell,
And hit like trucks.
Worse yet,
They had linked aggro.
Once one barked,
All the nearby dogs would come running.
The boss was easy.
The mobs were a nightmare.
Aiwass had no intention of running that dungeon again.
Just thinking about those half-human, iron-clad, meat-eating monsters made his scalp tingle.
Better to let Sherlock clean them out now.
It would also keep Sherlock busy—
So he wouldn’t keep digging into the Pelican Bar’s secrets.
If that person started thinking Sherlock had found the letter,
They might begin destroying evidence or silencing witnesses.
If they cleaned up faster than Aiwass could investigate,
He’d be out of luck.
Even if the identity of “Fox” remained murky,
For someone as sharp and suspicious as Sherlock,
A clue given during a ritual—by someone met by chance—
Was always more trustworthy than a clue offered openly in real life.
He’d second-guess the latter’s intentions
And try to reverse-engineer the motive behind it—
Which wasn’t wrong.
That was exactly why Aiwass planted clues through “coincidences”—
To make sure Sherlock believed it was accidental.
——Because Aiwass knew what kind of person Sherlock was.