The sound of hooves echoed sharply against the polished stone roads of the city.


    Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Clip-clop!


    A chorus of powerful snorts followed, punctuating the rhythm of eight galloping horses. Their muscles rippled with strength, their glossy coats gleaming in the faint light. These were no ordinary horses—they were purebred war steeds, bred for battle yet harnessed to pull a sleek black carriage. The carriage itself, understated in its elegance, was adorned with subtle, muted silver details, exuding an aura of power rather than ostentation.


    “Hmmm...”


    He let out a soft hum, his masked face betraying no emotions, but inwardly he felt utterly exposed. Riding into the city in such a grand fashion wasn’t what he had in mind. The carriage, the horses, the banners—it all felt like too much. Despite his outward composure, Seong’s mind raced with thoughts of embarrassment.


    “Allow me to formally introduce myself once again! I am Belmor Arcadius, branch manager of the Overpalace Pentragrid Division!” The man seated across from him bowed deeply, his voice brimming with reverence.


    “Understood, Arcadius,” Seong replied politely.


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