Just as he was about to go there, he noticed that two green dots have been following him since earlier.

The mini-map confirmation made his stomach tighten. He didn’t need to look behind him to know. That knowledge was worse sometimes, too clean, too certain. He clicked his tongue, annoyed more than panicked. Being followed on a community floor was like being sniffed by dogs in a butcher shop. Expected. Still disgusting.

He didn’t break stride. Instead, he angled toward the masks like it was always his plan.

"Give me one.’

"That’ll be two cores, grab whichever you like."

Kael didn’t care about the mask’s decoration and grabbed a plain white one after dropping two cores on the man’s table. He didn’t pick a demon face or a smiling fox or anything that screamed "personality."

White was boring. Boring was safe. Boring didn’t get remembered.

The mask smelled like cheap paper and lacquer. It fit snug with a string that tugged behind his head. The world narrowed slightly, vision framed, breath warm against the inside.

He then moved as he merged in with the crowd and walked inside the building.

The interior was brighter than outside, lit by lanterns and some pale mana lamps that made everything look slightly unreal. Booths lined the walls in rows like a bank, each staffed by someone wearing a similar mask shape, uniform anonymity. The sound here was controlled: low voices, quick exchanges, the soft shuffle of paper. No shouting. No chaos. The kind of quiet that said: rules are enforced even if you don’t see who enforces them.

Inside, there were dozens of people wearing the masks moving about, and a brave few who didn’t seem like they needed to hide their faces

Kael looked at the booths where several workers also wore similar shaped maskes to each other were waiting for clients.

So instead of heading in first, he got closer and listened.

He didn’t want to walk up clueless and ask something that screamed "newbie." He’d learned that lesson too many times already. On the first floor, ignorance got you killed by monsters. Here, ignorance got you killed by people.

"Give me an advanced book..." he heard from one of the people in front of the boots.

And from one next to Kael, one of them asked for a "Newbie Book."

Others asked for maps of strange-sounding locations, others asked for guides or parties that were heading to upper floors.

Kael let the words pass through him and stuck to the patterns. The terminology mattered. "Newbie Book" was a thing, not an insult. That meant the guild was used to fresh meat coming through. That also meant the workers would have a script. Scripts were good. Scripts didn’t get suspicious.

This place was full of knowledge, and it seemed that secrecy was highly valued here. Since most people inside this building had only the symbol of their guilds on their chests visible, but not their faces. One can know their allegiance but not who they are. Making it harder for listeners to go and ambush them in the dungeon they requested information on.

A sudden cough made a number of people turn to Kael.

Kael stiffened, jaw locking. The sound was too loud in a room like this. Too human. Too weak. He held his breath like that could rewind time.

’The fuck is going on?’ he questioned as another cough followed immediately.

This one clawed its way up his throat like a hand. He tried to swallow it down and failed.

’I’m going down with a cold? Really, here...’

He took a couple of deep breaths, and the coughs stopped.

His lungs felt raw. Not "dust" raw. Something deeper. Something that didn’t belong. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, tasting metal for a split second, then nothing. He pretended that didn’t happen.

Once the booth next to him was empty, "Newbie book, please," Kael said to the person.

He kept his voice flat, casual. Like he belonged. Like he wasn’t wearing a paper mask to stop himself from becoming prey.

"Ten Cores," the person said, and waited for the cores first.

Kael gave them without hesitation and grabbed a small pamphlet that the worker handed him.

The pamphlet was thin, but it felt heavier than it looked. Information always did. He didn’t open it here. Opening it here would mean standing still, and standing still meant letting people decide you were worth watching. He pocketed it and moved out of the way.

Going outside the building, Kael moved past the green dots that had followed him earlier.

He didn’t look at them. He didn’t acknowledge them. He just walked like he didn’t care. The mask helped, white face, blank intent. If they were amateurs, they’d lose him in the crowd. If they were professionals... then the mask was just stage dressing, but stage dressing still mattered.

They couldn’t recognize him not only due to his mask, it was because of what he wore.

Though his armor was rather rare, it wasn’t unique. Many other climbers had the base version of the Journeyman’s Leather armor. For someone who isn’t very keen and observant, he’d have a hard time noticing that Kael’s armor was reinforced using basilisk scales, so unless they were to have the leather in their hands, they would be hard pressed into recognizing him.

Kael kept moving, aiming for distance. Not running, running drew attention. He took steady steps, letting the boots’ small speed boost turn into quiet advantage rather than obvious movement.

However, only after a few other steps away from the two, another fit of coughing caught Kael by surprise.

This one was rather violet.

It hit him like a punch from inside. His chest compressed, his throat burned, and suddenly there was warmth behind the mask that didn’t belong.

Enough that his white mask turned red from the inside.

For a second, Kael didn’t understand what he was seeing. He blinked hard, felt something wet slide against his lips, then drip down his chin. When he exhaled, the inside of the mask stuck slightly like damp paper.

"Fuck..." Kael cursed as blood dripped from inside his mouth and onto the floor.