“Even assassinations are something you can pull off, so gathering intelligence should be a piece of cake for you, right? Isn’t that basic assassin training?”
Xiliya turned back and gave Ximo a cold glance. “Or are you unwilling to do this?”
Ximo’s hands, which had been massaging her back, trembled slightly. She forced a smile. “Of course I’m willing! Absolutely willing!”
Ximo was troubled deep down. She had just upset Xiliya the day before, and refusing her order now would undoubtedly be suicidal. She didn’t want to go through that painful experience again!
But even if she agreed, she had no idea how to gather intelligence as an assassin. The lousy System had put all her skill points into the Sickly Young Lady tree. She knew nothing about anything else.
“Fine then. I’ll give you the day off tomorrow. Go take care of it.”
Xiliya didn’t think a single day was too short. Ximo was an assassin skilled in disguise who had lurked in their home for over a month—her abilities had to be impressive. Asking if she could handle something as simple as gathering intel in one day was like asking an adult if they could do basic addition and subtraction—utterly redundant.
Xiliya only hoped Ximo would obey properly this time. If she dared to play any clever tricks again…
“Get out. And take the black tea with you.”
Ximo had brought in that cup of black tea earlier, but Xiliya had barely touched it since. It seemed her tea-brewing skills were as rotten as her assassin ones.
Ximo’s hand trembled slightly as she picked up the teacup. She hurriedly steadied her arm to keep the black tea from spilling onto Xiliya.
“Clumsy as ever,” Xiliya said, watching her movements. She suddenly frowned. “Put the tea down and let me see your hand.”
Grabbing Ximo’s hand, Xiliya saw several fresh wounds on those pale, tender fingers. They looked recent.
“No wonder your back massage felt so weak earlier. How did this happen?”
Ximo stayed silent, fidgeting for a moment before carefully pulling something out of her pocket.
Xiliya looked closely. It was a small Ceramic Doll—the one Ximo had shattered the day before. But now it seemed to have been glued back together, its aged ceramic surface covered in dense cracks.
Xiliya had told Ximo to clean up and dispose of these things yesterday, but Ximo had secretly taken the Ceramic Doll’s fragments back and glued them herself?
“Um, about yesterday… I’m sorry…” Ximo said, head lowered. “I tried for a long time last night, but I couldn’t make it look exactly like before.”
Some of the finer fragments weren’t glued securely, revealing dark gaps in the already worn doll, making it look even more dilapidated.
After learning the Ceramic Doll was a memento from Xiliya’s mother, Ximo had felt guilty. So yesterday, she had secretly kept the fragments and tried repairing it in her room that night.
Xiliya glanced at the wounds on Ximo’s hand again but said nothing more, just gesturing for her to leave. After Ximo departed, Xiliya picked up the Ceramic Doll and examined it closely.
Injured while gluing a Ceramic Doll? Xiliya didn’t quite buy it. What assassin would accidentally cut their hand on something like that? She suspected Ximo was putting on a deliberate show for her.
But whatever. Xiliya didn’t dwell on it. She carefully placed the Ceramic Doll back deep in the cabinet. She had to admit, this did lessen her resentment toward Ximo a bit.
Whether the little maid was sincere didn’t matter. The girl was just a tool for revenge—as long as she was obedient enough.
So, Xiliya hoped this small task wouldn’t disappoint her.
—
Ximo felt like she might disappoint Xiliya after all.
The next morning, standing on the bustling street, Ximo clutched the hem of her maid outfit, feeling at a loss.
Forget gathering intelligence—she didn’t even know which way to go! It was only now that Ximo truly felt the helplessness of being alone in a strange otherworld.
The street ahead was fairly wide, with carriages and pedestrians each keeping to their sides. The buildings lining it were all Western-style.
Camberlan City wasn’t exactly prosperous, but it was lively enough. The various shops and endless stream of people dazzled Ximo’s eyes. There were indeed plenty of merchant guilds in the city; just looking around, she spotted several guild signs.
This was because Camberlan City’s border trade was booming. Located in the Northern Border, it shipped local specialties to various parts of the Empire. Many guilds had outposts here.
Logically, cozying up to these guilds would mean plenty of profits for the Camberlan Family—not to mention the boost from the City Lord position. One could only say Xiliya’s father, Dos Camberlan, was a thoroughly mediocre and useless man to have mismanaged the family into its current state in a place like this.
But Ximo didn’t know any of that. She just wanted to figure out how to complete Xiliya’s task. “Gathering intelligence” sounded simple, but in practice, she had no clue where to start.
She even needed to buy a map of Camberlan City first, or she’d be lost on the roads!
Before heading out, she had tried asking the System for help, but the thingamajig said, “Things Darling wants to do are outside the plot development scope,” so it couldn’t assist. It only helped with plot-related matters.
Duh! Her current identity deviated from the System’s script, so of course her task wouldn’t align with the original plot!
Ximo had wandered the city for half the morning already. Xiliya hadn’t given her much time. If she kept this up… Thinking of the punishment for failure, Ximo shuddered.
Come on, think, you idiot!
But this was the normal transmigration situation: a modern person tasked with something totally unfamiliar in a strange world. Ximo could only draw from the anime she’d seen.
No choice—as an otaku, assassins only existed in her fictional works.
Infiltrating and eavesdropping? No clue. Black market dealers or intel brokers? She didn’t know any…
“Huh, wait…”
Ximo’s eyes lit up. She unfolded the map and scanned it carefully. Soon, her gaze locked onto a small tavern marked on it.
She might not know any intel brokers, but she could find some!
Didn’t isekai stories always have that trope? Info peddlers hiding in dingy little taverns, or you could just ask the barkeep.
Ximo patted her bulging little coin pouch. She had deliberately brought all her money before leaving—maybe she could leverage that!
