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No Escape[]

4-1 Chance Encounter[]

With Shadowbind's help, we managed to intercept the frequency the thieves were using to communicate. We also spotted someone who might be Flint making a move.
Eager to catch up and recover the stolen gem "Aurora," we said our goodbyes to Shadowbind and rushed off to the station mentioned in the transmission.
We finally made it back... Why do we all look so out of breath?
I'm really not cut out for physical activity...
Same here—just a desk job for me. If Flint really is Frank Dawson and a former athlete, he's definitely got us beat when it comes to stamina.
Come on, let's not sell ourselves short!

By the way, Mr. Iridescence. You're a desk worker too, so why did you insist on staying behind to cover us?
I just had some self-defense tools on me. Given the situation, I was the best fit for the job.
(That's true. I remember Mr. Iridescence pulling some kind of vial out of a case while fending off the attackers.)

(Not that it matters now. What's important is following up on the intel from the radio and catching up to that person who might be Flint.)

(I was scanning the area, trying to pick a direction, when suddenly an unexpected figure stepped into view.)

Mr. Gold Foil, what are you doing here?
Me? I've got a deal to discuss face-to-face. But what happened to you three? You look like you've been through hell.
Oh, we're just chasing someone...
I see. Sounds like you've made progress in your investigation.

You all seem to be in a hurry, so I won't hold you up. Good luck with your case.
In the narrow tunnel, Mr. Gold Foil stepped aside to let us pass.
Alright, we'll get going. Hope your deal goes well too!

(But just as we brushed past Mr. Gold Foil, I caught a barely audible whisper from him.)
Be careful who you trust.
What?
I instinctively turned around, but Mr. Gold Foil didn't even slow down—he disappeared into the shadows.
Something wrong, Lady Truth?
No... it's nothing. Let's keep moving!

4-2 Underground Pursuit[]

Underground Station
There's no one else at the station now. Looks like Mr. Flint—let's call him that for now—already moved on before we got here.
(Faint sounds come from the radio...)
Unknown Female: Don't stick around here. You got the supplies, right? Too many eyes—head for the abandoned area.

Flint: Got them! There's so much stuff—you really are thorough!

Unknown Female: Hmph. This is just basic logistics work.

Unknown Female: Keep moving. I packed painkillers in this batch—patch yourself up if you need to. There's still a long way to go, so don't let it slow you down.

Flint: Don't worry, I've never lost a stamina contest!
The channel's still buzzing, and we're standing at a fork in the road. Which was should we go?
Head West or Head East
Deserted Warehouse
(I push open a rusty metal door. My flashlight cuts through the floating dust, revealing piles of wooden crates inside. Some are so rotten you can see straight through them.)

(The floor is covered in dust and crisscrossed with messy footprints. Hard to tell how old they are, but clearly, people still come here after the warehouse was abandoned.)

(I edge forward, trying to study the footprints, but accidentally bump into a half-tilted create.)
The rotten wood crumbles at a touch, and the whole stack of crates starts to sway.

As the crate teeters and casts a shadow on the floor, we all back up to the doorway. Only when the crashing and splintering finally stop do we go back in, and the place is a mess.
Let's clean up a bit before we leave...
While sweeping through the wood shavings, I find a crumpled note, the handwritten all shaky. It says: "The new doctor know their stuff (the rest is smeared with blood)... If you want to keep your eyes, mind your own business."
(A doctor... Could it be Miss Antimony?)
(I push open a rusty metal door. My flashlight cuts through the floating dust, revealing piles of wooden crates inside. Some are so rotten you can see straight through them.)

(Unexpectedly, there's someone here. When he sees us, a young man ducks behind a crate, only his wary eyes peeking out.)

Uh... hey there! Did you see anyone else come through here just now?
(Silence.)
Alright then, looks like you're not in the mood to talk.
(The young man keeps a close eye on us, but eventually edges closer, snatches up the food we offer, pauses for a moment, then points us in a direction.)
Young Man
Young Man
That guy didn't even bother to cover his tracks.
(With us here, the young man probably won't come out again. To help him relax, I quickly check the room for clues, then lead Mr. Iridescence and Mr. Nether Pact away.)
(I push open a rusty metal door. My flashlight cuts through the floating dust, revealing piles of wooden crates inside. Some are so rotten you can see straight through them.)

(The floor is covered in dust and crisscrossed with messy footprints. Hard to tell how old they are, but clearly, people still come here after the warehouse was abandoned.)
There are some scattered gold coins here, and they look brand new.
That's odd... This place should have been picked clean ages ago. There shouldn't be anything left.
Let me see... There's no dust on these coins, and the footprints around them are sharp and fresh. Maybe someone left them here on purpose.
Underground Workshop
The tracks end here, blocked by a few rusted train cars. These cars aren't dark or silent, though—inside, the crackle of lanterns and the sounds of people laughing echo through the old steel shells.

Warm lights fill the train cars, illuminating the "passengers"—a jumble of old machines, turning the place into a tiny workshop. Outside, there are makeshift stalls run by hand.
(Amid the busy crowd, I spot a girl struggling with a stubborn machine—no matter how she hits it, it just buzzes and won't work.)

(Should I offer to help? If I get on her good side, it'll be easier to ask if she saw anyone pass by.)
(I volunteer and step up first. Maybe she can tell I mean no harm—or maybe she's just desperate—because she lets me take a look at the machine.)

Don't worry, leave it to me!
......
Hmm... Mr. Iridescence, want to take a look too?
(I remember the radio he gave me was modified. He should know his way around gadgets like this!)
I'll give it a shot.
Mr. Iridescence quietly fiddles with the machine—presses a few buttons, listens to it buzz, then shuts it off. After watching this cycle a few times, I realize... maybe he's not as good with machines as I thought.
(Thinking back, he did say a friend modified the radio for him. No rule says you have to be good at what your friends good at.)
Snow White on Mr. Iridescence's shoulder seems interested too, poking its head out to watch, only to be gently nudged back by his finger.
Sorry, looks like we can't fix it either.

(Head hanging, I sheepishly hand to the broken machine back to the girl. She sees my awkwardness and just laughs, waving it off.)
Young Girl
Young Girl
It's nothing. I'll find someone at the Market to fix it next time.
There are repair folks over there?
Young Girl
Young Girl
If I really can't find anyone, I can always ask Hermes for help. Their boss is a pro, and most of the crew know a thing or two.

Enough about me—what about you guys? You're not here to shop, so what brings outsiders to a place like this?
Yeah, we're looking for someone.

I left out the confidential parts and just gave a simple description of Flint.
Young Girl
Young Girl
What a coincidence! That's the guy who wrecked this machine. I remember he ran off to the south—didn't matter how much I yelled, he just kept going.
(Maybe I should drop it. Folks here are pretty wary. If I rush in, I might just be able to spook them.)
(Hmm... another fork in the road up ahead. Which way should I go?)
The tracks end here, blocked by a few rusted train cars. These cars aren't dark or silent, though—inside, the crackle of lanterns and the sounds of people laughing echo through the old steel shells.

Warm lights fill the train cars, illuminating the "passengers"—a jumble of old machines, turning the place into a tiny workshop. Outside, there are makeshift stalls run by hand.
It's like a mini marketplace! Rather crowded here... Maybe someone who just passed by?
We'll probably need to offer a little "compensation" first.
I'll cover the expense. I'm the client, I shouldn't let you guys pay for anything out of pocket anyway.
(Mr. Nether Pact seems to have a knack for spotting the right people to talk to. With just a few words, he brings over a young guy who was just cleaning his shoes.)
Young Man
Young Man
I saw a stranger run by just now. A pretty fast guy, right?
(The young man stops, wipes his hands on his shirt, then hold out his palm. Mr. Iridescence gets the hint and pulls out enough cash to make even me do a double-take.)
(The young man grins, clutches the money so tight it almost spills out, and stuffs it into his pocket.)
Young Man
Young Man
That big fella—built like a bull—knocked over our goods. At least he left some cash, but the way he tossed it over his shoulder without even looking back, he nearly started a riot—I didn't get a thing!

Now, you folks are real gentleman, kind and generous. Good luck catching him! I remember clearly, he ran off to the south.
Black Market
We rounded a corner, and bright lights hit us. Turns out we'd wandered back to Mr. Gold Foil's market again.

Maybe because we kept a low profile this time, nobody greeted us, but at least we weren't being avoided.
(Mr. Gold Foil wasn't around, but there were still Hermes members keeping watch.)

(The guard was still patrolling, and Miss Antimony must've finished her shift—she was nowhere to be seen.)
Two people were chatting quietly nearby.
Unknown Passerby
Unknown Passerby
Gold Foil's gone! Go on, tell me—how come I never pegged him as a wild kid?
Informant
Informant
Heh, you gotta go way back to before he started Hermes.

You ever wonder how a businessman ended up with that nasty scar near his eye?
Unknown Passerby
Unknown Passerby
Business isn't always smooth sailing, especially in a place like this.
Informant
Informant
He may have gone legit now, but he used to be a hitman!
Unknown Passerby
Unknown Passerby
Wait, really? I heard he used to be a scholar...
Informant
Informant
No way. The academic world doesn't turn out guys who settle thing with knives!
Unknown Passerby
Unknown Passerby
But—
Informant
Informant
No buts, just listen!
Unknown Passerby
Unknown Passerby
But the guard's coming this way!
Informant
Informant
Uh, what are we doing? Just chatting, nothing much... Hey, don't drag me—ow, easy!
(Just when the story was getting good we got interrupted... What a shame.)
We rounded a corner, and bright lights hit us. Turns out we'd wandered back to Mr. Gold Foil's market again.

Maybe because we kept a low profile this time, nobody greeted us, but at least we weren't being avoided.
(Mr. Gold Foil wasn't around, but there were still Hermes members keeping watch.)

(The guard was still patrolling, and Miss Antimony must've finished her shift—she was nowhere to be seen.)
Unknown Passerby
Unknown Passerby
Looking for the doc? Antimony's already left.
Unknown Patient
Unknown Patient
That's exactly why I'm here now! No way I'm letting that woman get her hands on me.
Unknown Passerby
Unknown Passerby
Wait, isn't she the doctor Hermes recommends?
Unknown Patient
Unknown Patient
She just pulled some strings lately, that's all. Rookie, haven't you heard her old nickname?

They call her the "Bloody Quack." Her methods are savage, and whether you live or die is none of her concern. She studies specimens with more passion than she ever gives her patients.
Unknown Passerby
Unknown Passerby
As long as she's good, who cares?
Unknown Patient
Unknown Patient
You don't get it! If I have a choice, I want someone who actually care about me!
......
(Looks like two people are having a heated argument over there. Nobody's throwing punches, but maybe we should steer clear.)
Pump Station
(Steel pipes twisted along the walls and ceiling. The station was supposed to be abandoned, but the broken instrument panels still flickered with indicator lights. The whole floor vibrated from the machinery—someone's restarted the equipment!)

(Someone must've opened a valve somewhere—there's the sound of rushing water in the distance.)
Where are they drawing that water from? Can we shut if off?
No way... You need a key to get into the control room, and there's no way to open it quickly.
(They even planned for this? Or did they already have this place under control?)

We still don't know how high the water will get—let's make it across now!
Ruins
(Maybe we took a wrong turn. We ended up in an unfinished area—bare buildings and tunnels in their rawest, roughest states. Piles of rubble lined the narrow passage, like the work could start up again any time.)
(It was pitch dark—our only light came from our flashlights. The air was thick and dusty, and I couldn't help coughing a few times. I stumbled over some loose stones at the side.)

(I didn't fall, but my foot scattered some rocks, revealing something buried underneath.)

Huh, looks like there's something here?

(I bent down for a closer look. Under the rocks was a battered, dog-eared notebook.)
(It was covered in dust—must've been here ages. I flipped through it quickly, but there wasn't anything valuable, not that I expected it. If it was worth something, someone would've taken it by now.)

(It looked like a vocabulary book. The yellowed page were filled with two kinds of handwriting—one elegant, one clumsy. There were even some charcoal doodles in the margins.)

(It was mostly words about industrial machines and how to operate them. On the last page, under the word "city," there were two totally different sketches: on the left, a dark, smudgy underground done in charcoal; on the right, a bright red sun painted high above.)
Construction Records Archive
(Faint sounds come from the radio...)
Flint: These damn metal lumps are killing my feet!

Unknown Female: Keep going left, take the smallest door, and turn on the machine.

Flint: How do I turn it on? What does it do?

Unknown Female: There should be a control panel in front of you. Don't overthink it, just do it.

Flint: Alright...
(The room was dead silent under the dust. Hundreds of folder sat quietly on the shelves. I couldn't resist reaching for one, curious about the stories buried down here. But as my fingers touched it, I realized it was trembling.)

(It wasn't the folder—it was the whole shelf shaking. The pipes in the room were vibrating too, as if something far away was rumbling and we were feeling the aftershocks.)
Mr. Nether Pact, Mr. Iridescence, do you guys hear that rumbling?
Sounds a bit like machinery?
Or rushing water... There's an old pump station nearby. It used to bring up water from the underground river, but it's been out of use for ages.
Maybe that's what just got turned on. Are we gonna get flooded!?
Probably not. There's a working underground river channel here, and it was reinforced when the sewers started draining this way.

But if the water rises, that stretch could get tough to cross.
(So the sewers drain here too? I pictured us wading—or maybe swimming—across that river and shivered.)

(Was it that woman giving the orders? They're both careful and reckless at the same time.)

Let's move, hurry!
How'd we end up back here again...
Mr. Iridescence grabbed a file from the shelf and flipped through it.
No wonder this stuff got left behind—it's all outdated public records.
Around here, even information is valuable. If it were useful, scavengers would've taken it already.
Are there a lot of scavengers here?
Most people who don't want to join a group survive this way.
Alleyways
(Ahead, the tunnel opens up into a decent-sized space. The scattered residents have piled their belongings around, giving the place a rough but cozy feel.)

(I made my way through them. People here seem friendlier than in other spots—some vendors even greeted us.)
(I overhead a vendor charring with a customer.)
Vendor
Vendor
Haven't seen you in a minute—thought you'd kicked the bucket. Why aren't you at the Market? What brings you here to shop?
Customer
Customer
Watch your mouth, I'm alive and kicking! Just trying to steer clear of those vultures in fancy shoes—they'll pick at anything, even the sewers.
Vendor
Vendor
You're scared of them?
Customer
Customer
Aren't you? Last time they showed up, they weren't after gems—they took people. No one's come back since. Did you forget?
Vendor
Vendor
If you can get out, who'd want to come back here? Anyway, I'm just an old fool—nobody important cares about me. Hey, hands off! Break it, you buy it.
Customer
Customer
What here isn't already broken? Come on, show me the good stuff you've got stashed away. I just made a killing!
Vendor
Vendor
Where'd you get so lucky?
Customer
Customer
Don't ask—just dirty work. There's always someone who want to use other people as tools.
(Ahead, the tunnel opens up into a decent-sized space. The scattered residents have piled their belongings around, giving the place a rough but cozy feel.)

(I made my way through them. People here seem friendlier than in other spots—some vendors even greeted us.)

New here? Check out my wares?
(Most of the stuff on display is dusty, handmade metalwork—pretty rough. But there's an oval badge gleaming coldly among them, totally out of place.)

Is this... a medal?

(I leaned in for a closer look and noticed the newspaper underneath was the Sports Vanguard.)

("A New Lightning! Unknown Dawson Stuns Everyone and Wins the Title!"... The yellowed paper told an old story about a young Frank Dawson, who made a splash as a rookie, outperformed his opponents, and got signed by a club.)

(Looks like this paper's from ages ago. How'd the vendor end up with it?)

I asked the vendor, and he said it came as a freebie from the guy who sold him the badge.
Vendor
Vendor
Said it was a "buy one get one free" deal. I thought I'd gotten a bargain, but look at me—four months and nobody's even asked about it!

Can't sell it, can't just toss it. The guy even acted like he was so heartbroken to let it go. I totally misjudged it!
(From his rant, I pieced together what Flint must've looked like back then—the guy who held onto that badge, but finally let it go.)
Vendor
Vendor
Total loss for me!
He hasn't been back since, has he?
Vendor
Vendor
Made a score like that—why would he?
(I felt a pang in my chest. It wasn't like quite pity, or curiosity, or sympathy. I just really wanted to know how that once-promising athlete ended up like this.)

I'll take it.

I paid a little extra and bought the newspaper too.
(There's no clue for us here. We're running out of time—we must hurry.)
Drainage Passage
(Faint sounds come from the radio...)
Flint: Huff... huff... Are we there yet?

Unknown Female: Tired?

Flint: I've been slacking off lately—just a short run and I'm wiped out.

Unknown Female: Hang in there, you've lost the tails. The hideout is just ahead.
(Weird. Did they know we were following them? If so, they'd know we're not that far behind. If not, why say that?)

(The sound of water kept getting louder. When we reached the "shore," a rushing river blocked our way.)

That current's too strong—it's dangerous to just wade across. Is there a bridge nearby?
There is, but it's a bit of a detour. And the bridge is just something the locals threw together—if the water rises, it might get washed out.
That's probably what they're counting on. Lady Truth you decide which way we go.
Don't worry about me—I learned to swim from Officer Jose!
I'll go first, at least to check the depth. Plus, I still remember the old water channels here.
I'll bring up the rear.
(Mr. Nether Pact slowly waded in, only turning back to wave once he was halfway across.)
The current's not too bad.
(He made it across, and I got ready to follow. Sticking to his path, I felt pretty steady. But just as I neared the other side, the water suddenly surged, making me lose my balance.)
Careful!
Lady Truth!
(Good thing I was almost there—just as I struggled to steady myself, Mr. Nether Pact rushed over and grabbed my hand. With his help, I made it safely to shore. Only then did I remember Mr. Iridescence's worried voice.)

(I could really feel how concerned he was. Funny thing is, I haven't known Mr. Iridescence for long, and he's not exactly the emotional type. So why was he on edge?)

(I know even if I asked, he wouldn't answer. This client of ours sure has a lot of secrets.)

We lost a lot of time... We need to pick up the pace!
(We followed the river and finally spotted a bridge, just barely above the water.)

(It was a close call, but we all made it across before the water rose any higher.)

We lost a lot of time... We need to pick up the pace!
Catacombs
The old stone walls showed clear marks from mining days. Now, the carved rock was packed with bones.

This is where plague victims and drifters ended up, packed together into a silent, pale wall.
(I glanced around—there was no headstones. Maybe there were just too many names to carve.)

(The graffiti that pops up everywhere else underground was missing here. Maybe people agreed to leave this place in peace.)

(We kept our breaking quiet as we passed through this absolutely silent space.)
Continue
Flint's Hideout
(Faint sounds come from the radio...)
Unknown Female: Flint?

Fint: ......

Flint: What is it?

Unknown Female: It's just been a while since you said anything. I wanted to check if you're okay.

Flint: I'm fine, just tired. I made it to the hideout. Let me catch my breath, and I'll update you.

Unknown Female: Take care. Get some rest.
(I turned the radio down. Not far away, I heard a voice just like the one on the radio.)

Sounds like we've caught up with him!
Be careful—he might fight back.

4-3 The Lost Gem[]

We crept forward quietly and slipped into another place converted from an old warehouse.

Right away, I spotted a man dozing off in the shadows.
(Did he not connect us to those chasing him? Or did he just underestimate how fast we'd get here?)

(Flint didn't seem especially nervous—if anything, he looked sleepy.)

Are you Flint? Or should I call you Frank Dawson?
Who are you? What do you want?
(Flint shot up from the ground, suddenly wide awake!)
We'd already blocked the only exit.

I remembered Flint was injured, which probably helped Mr. Iridescence and Mr. Nether Pact pin him down before he could break free.

Realizing he wasn't getting away, he switching gears and started trying to bargain.

With the tension easing a bit, I took a moment to look around.
File:SecretTunnelInvestigateFlintsHideout.png
Desktop
A pile of gems, just left lying around. They look high-quality, mostly red, green, and blue. There's also an empty medicine vial nearby.
What do you want?
Like I said, Mr. Flint—I'm a detective. I was hired to recover the gem stolen from the bank.

(My eyes landed on the most dazzling spot in the room.)

(Even in the dim light, those sparkling, colorful "stones" were impossible to miss.)

Mr. Iridescence, want to take a look for yourself? Maybe your family's missing gem is here.
Hey, what are you doing? I collected all these myself—
Mr. Iridescence ignored Flint's protest, walked over, and carefully inspected the table. After a while, he shook his head at me.
(Mr. Iridescence was thorough—he even flipped through the stack of papers by the table...)
"Aurora" isn't here. But do you really want to deny where these gems came from?

We may not have found "Aurora," but a few of these gems are definitely listed in the Wightlow Bank's collection.
I traded for them at the Market. How others got them is none of my business!
Come on, Mr. Flint, nobody's buying that story...

(He's lying, but it really does look like "Aurora" isn't here. Maybe on of his partners took it?)

(The rest haven't been sold, and "Aurora" isn't particularly special except for its added value. It probably hasn't been pawned off yet.)

(We need to track down Flint's accomplices. Still, getting back some of the loot is a win.)

(I stepped closer for a look. The gems on the table came in all colors, and teardrop cuts were pretty common.)

(Most of the teardrop-shaped ones were sapphires.)

(The rubies were mostly oval or heart-shaped, with just one in a teardrop cut.)

(And as for the emeralds... the one that looked closest to "Aurora" was actually oval-shaped, not a teardrop.)

Could someone have recut the gem in just a week?
I don't know much about gem-cutting. Maybe we could ask Gold Foil? I think his team offers that service.
The Manager's list of stolen items was pretty vague—most of the gems didn't have detailed descriptions.

We should check in with her and see if an oval emerald went missing from the vault.
Hey! You're just going to walk off with my gems? Thieves!
Hey now, I'm just returning stolen property to its rightful owner.
I don't care what you call them. These are my hard-earned treasures—you can't just take them!
(Flint's voice suddenly shot up, and he sounded genuinely upset. This was the real him.

(His earlier story was about the gems was a terrible lie, but his attachment to them now was totally real.)

These gems... are they really that important to you?
Flint wobbled to his feet and snagged the bag of gems.

He clutched the bag so tightly that his knuckles turned white, as if it held more than just stones, but his lifeline.

4-4 The Crucial Item[]

File:ObserveFlint.png
Head
A sports headband, a little frayed at the edges, but still worn proudly.
Clothes
The patched-up tracksuit, but overall pretty clean. Only the spot where the number used to be is torn up.
(He didn't look rich, but he didn't seem desperate for cash, either.)
Of course they're important, they're—
The crackle of a radio interrupted him.

Flint's radio was going off... and so was mine.

Realizing we'd caught him because of the radio, Flint shot us a furious glare.

Mr. Iridescence pulled out a vial and waved it in front of Flint.
Drink this, then tell your partner everything's fine and you need to rest for a bit.
(With that tone and that look, you'd think he was holding poison!)

(I remember Mr. Iridescence saying earlier that this was just a homemade nutrient drink...)

(He said it was for staying alert at work, but now he'd passing it off as poison?)

(I trust Mr. Iridescence—he wouldn't give Flint anything dangerous.)

(But from Flint's point of view, it probably looks like a deadly poison.)
Flint started to resist, but Mr. Iridescence suddenly drew a dagger and pressed it to his throat.
Not keen on drinking it? Want to try another way?
!

(I held my breath, watching Mr. Iridescence's cold expression, trying not to show how shocked I was.)

(Can't let Flint catch on, or Mr. Iridescence's act will be ruined!)

(I yanked Nether Pact into a corner to whisper my surprise.)
Flint was so focused on Iridescence and the blade, he didn't notice us at all.
You don't think Iridescence would actually hurt him, do you?
I-I'm not sure, Lady Truth. But honestly, Mr. Iridescence does seem... pretty dangerous......
You think so too, Nether Pact?

For now, Mr. Iridescence is acting a little intense, but it makes sense since he's desperate to get the gem back. I'm still keeping a close eye on him, though, in case he really does cross the line.
While we talked, Flint grimaced but finally forced himself to swallow the drink.

He stared at Mr. Iridescence, clearly annoyed, but kept his cool as he replied to his partner on the radio.

Unknown Female: How are you holding up?
I'm fine, just a little tired.
Flint chatted briefly with his partner, then ended the call.
(His partner didn't seem to notice how "tired" he sounded—she just reminded him to take his medicine.)

(She seemed careful and attentive. Good thing she didn't pick up on anything strange.)

Since "Aurora" isn't here, should we go after Flint's accomplices next?

(I'm guessing Mr. Iridescence was thinking the same thing, because he started questioning Flint.)

(Or maybe "interrogating" is a better word. Mr. Iridescence went all in, trying to get him to reveal where the other thieves were hiding.)
Hmph, so this is what you call "justice" in detective work?
A thief talking about justice? Now that's a surprise.

You've broken the law yourself—weren't you ready to face the darkness and chaos that come with it?
Tch! Even if I turn into a scoundrel, I won't stoop to dirty tricks. Don't think you can keep pushing me around just because I played along for a bit!
Is that so? You sure have some unnecessary principles. Well then, let's make a choice.

Either tell me where your partner is now, or die alone in some forgotten corner, completely worthless.
(Wait, wait... Mr. Iridescence's way of questioning is starting to sound more and more dangerous...)
You want me to betray my partner? Even if I'm down in the sewers, there are lines I won't cross!
No... no, hold on a second...
Oh? I'd like to see just how firm your resolve really is.
Wait—let's all just stop for a moment!
My interruption finally forced Mr. Iridescence and Flint to pause their escalating standoff.
Mr. Flint, I'm just a detective hired to look into a theft.

Mr. Iridescence is my client—he's anxious to get his property back, so maybe his words came out a bit harsh.

If you really did just buy these gems by chance at the market, then I sincerely apologize for any offense today.

Whether it's transaction records or witness statements... whenever something happens, there are always clues left behind.

I'm sure there will be plenty of evidence to prove your innocence—if you really are innocent.
......
Mr. Flint, I know you and your partner have a strong bond......
Tch, I don't have any partners here. The person you're asking about is just someone I worked with once, that's all.

But still, I get it—you don't just throw your crew under the bus, even if you're only working together once.
(Mr. Flint seems unusually attached to the idea of teamwork and loyalty.)

(What happened in his past? Did he have a falling out with his crew, or did something else shape his attitude now?)

Mr. Flint is clearly a man of principle, so you should be able to understand that others have their own duties and codes, too.

I have my own principles and sense of justice. I'll solve this mystery and tell my client the whole truth.
If you can figure it out, then you deserve it.
Then I won't hold back—like I said, if something happened, it'll always leave a trace.

Just from listening to your conversation with your "partner" earlier. I've already got a pretty clear picture of who she is.

First, unless you're pretending even around your own teammates, it's obvious your partner is a woman.

She knows the underground routes like the back of her hand—definitely not a newcomer.

She mapped out your path and even stashed supplies for you in hidden spots.

That says she's careful, sharp, and maybe a bit controlling.

And most importantly, she included something in your supplies that regular folks can't get their hands on.
Select Clue
Something ordinary people don't have access to...
Ulliel Family Investigation or Stolen Gemstones
No, this doesn't seem to be the answer.
Rare Medicine
Legitimate medical supplies are rare down here, tightly controlled, and only a few doctors or organizations have access.

And wouldn't you know it, we met a doctor at the Market who's supposed to be famous in the underground.

Funny enough, she's the one who told me how rare medicine down here.
Wh-what are you talking about? What does she have to do with me? Can't I just have bought the stuff from Antimony myself?
I never said it was impossible. Maybe you or your crew bought the medicine from Miss Antimony.

Even if that's the case, I could just ask her if she remembers who bought it, right?

(Seeing Flint's reaction, I was only trying to bluff, but now I'm seriously suspicious of Antimony.)

(He's right—his partner could have bought the medicine from her. But there's another possibility...)

(Maybe Antimony is his partner.)

(She can get medicine, knows the underground, and is based at the market—perfect for passing along information.)

(Flint is still glaring at me, clearly determined not to let anything slip.)

(But if his partner really is Antimony, and she's seen us, will she believe the lie Flint just told us?)