Chapter 135: It's Muelsyse's Fault, Really

Deep in the Victorian night, a middle-aged man draped in opulent aristocratic finery scowled. Beside him, a subordinate in a drab, unassuming suit leaned in, his voice a hushed, urgent hiss.

“My lord, you must act decisively. With that old fossil Angster meddling, if this Infected Bill actually passes, our capital chain will snap overnight. When the Grand Duke returns to investigate, even you won’t escape the fallout.”

The older man’s scowl deepened. He offered neither confirmation nor denial, his tone measured and cautious. “We will discuss this matter later.”

The subordinate’s pitch rose, edged with panic. “My lord, if we hesitate now, those fence-sitters will turn against us. By then, any countermeasures will be useless!”

The aristocrat’s expression darkened into a fierce sneer. “Hold your tongue! We share decades of history. How could they possibly…”

He trailed off, the heavy silence amplifying the sudden grimness settling over his features.

If Haze possessed even a shred of political intuition, she would have immediately recognized they were discussing the controversial Infected Bill currently tearing the city apart, and just how lethal her current position was.

But over eighty percent of Terra’s lesser-known denizens lacked the luxury of sipping tea while debating high politics, and she was no exception.

Haze only understood one thing: these men were plotting to murder a very important figure. She just had no concept of how important.

Driven by morbid curiosity, she pressed her ear against the freezing iron of the manhole cover, straining to catch the details of the conspiracy. Instead of retreating into the shadows, the Feline leaned closer.

“These past few days, that little brat under him has been so arrogant she’s practically turned the word Feline upside down. The second our council meeting ended, she weaponized our private conversations to rally that mob of sick wretches!”

The subordinate spat out a bitter curse. “What is she playing at? If she lacks the political capital, she’s going to drag all of us down to pay for those cheap, diseased ghosts! Those filthy things that bark today and die tomorrow have been swarming our streets. Since when does Victoria let dangerous elements call the shots?”

A soft clack echoed from the sewer below, a single loose pebble rolling across the damp stone. In the dead silence of the deserted alleyway, it sounded exceptionally harsh.

Both men snapped their heads toward the grate. Who goes there?!

They wrenched the manhole cover aside. The shaft below was empty, yet their expressions turned murderous. The rim of the sewer wall, which should have been coated in a thin layer of winter frost, had been melted by residual heat into the faint, unmistakable silhouette of a crouching figure.

“They won’t get far,” the aristocrat snarled. He slammed his cane against the cobblestones, his voice cold and absolute. “Pursue!”

Down in the suffocating darkness of the sewer, Haze sprinted for her life. Almost half of her slender body had dissolved into churning black mist. Relying on her innate Feline night vision, she handled the treacherous, filth-slicked tunnels without missing a beat.

‘Faster. Faster! They saw me. They saw me!’The moment those men had spat the words dangerous elements, a visceral wave of trauma from her days in the Victorian prison had violently seized her, making her tremble just enough to dislodge that damned pebble.’I only stole a tiny trinket! I never touched their wallets or their keys… I am not some shameless thief anymore! At least, not like I used to be!’

But there was no time for self-pity. The life of an Infected was like a torch soaked in Originium fuel; the agony of burning was excruciating, but the moment the fire stopped, you were dead.

The sharp cracks of gunfire and the heavy thud of combat boots echoed down the tunnel. The private soldiers were already swarming the underground network.

The stinging agony of her Originium lesions flared, a burning reminder of her infection. Her Arts, which had pulled her from the jaws of death countless times, sputtered wildly, threatening to go berserk. She bit her lower lip until it bled, locking her eyes on the sleek black cat darting ahead of her, pushing her legs to their absolute limit.

She could die here, but she would never let these aristocratic dogs parade her corpse around and brand her as a thieving eavesdropper.

As she rounded the next corner, the blinding glare of a military-grade tactical light swept over her. She was surrounded.

Haze gritted her teeth. Drawing on the very dregs of her vitality, she overcharged her Arts and lunged straight toward the muzzle flashes.

The black mist instantly thickened, swallowing her frail silhouette. Bullets tore through the vapor, grazing her neck with a searing heat, but ultimately finding only empty air.

Seizing the momentary lapse in their fire, Haze closed the distance. She channeled the dense mist into her right arm, throwing a desperate, full-body punch. At the exact same moment, several jagged black chains erupted from the concrete floor, violently binding the gunman’s limbs and pinning him in place.

The aristocratic private soldier, completely underestimating the sheer lethality of a cornered Infected, failed to mount any effective resistance. Haze’s strike connected. His eyes rolled back, and he slumped into instant unconsciousness.

Stepping over his body, she shattered their encirclement and vanished into the twisting tunnels, fleeing desperately toward the city outskirts.

Meanwhile, inside the warm, quiet interior of the Green Spark shop, a certain someone sensed a shift in the atmosphere. Resting his chin on his knuckles, the Doctor tilted his head, his gaze piercing through the frost-rimmed window.

“Why is there an anomaly with the patrol routes outside?”

Muelsyse followed his line of sight. Out on the open street, two Victorian police officers were strolling side-by-side. Their heads were held high, their pace unhurried as they scanned the alleys for any Infected causing trouble. To the untrained eye, it was a perfectly ordinary night shift.

“Those two already passed by fifteen minutes ago,” the Doctor noted, turning away from the glass. He stated the tactical facts with absolute, chilling certainty. “Standard police rotation in this district is every half hour. Not only did they skip the shift change, but they also rushed back to cover this specific route. Is it because a massive chunk of the local police force was secretly redirected somewhere else, somewhere off the books?”

The Grand Duke had taken the bulk of his military forces to lay siege to Londinium, taking his most trusted confidants with him. There were very few individuals left in the city with the authority to mobilize the police for private grievances, and even fewer who needed to do so under the cover of darkness.

Muelsyse was brilliant in her own right. Catching his subtle hint, the Rhine Lab Director’s eyes widened slightly. “I thought I heard gunshots earlier… Which councilor is doing dirty work to silence a loose end?”

“Whatever it is, it cannot see the light of day. They haven’t even triggered the city’s alarm network, which means someone is desperate to keep this quiet.” The Doctor’s hearing was nowhere near as sharp as an Elf’s. He hadn’t heard a single gunshot. But as a veteran gamer, his tactical intuition was screaming at him.

‘Wait. Gunshots. An encirclement. A controversial bill… Could it be that one of my future Operators has just stumbled headfirst into a massive political conspiracy? Is the world-line convergence really this strict?!’

The realization hit him like a truck. The Doctor suddenly found it very hard to sit still. Mentally scrolling through his roster of available Operators, a perfectly crafted, elegantly ruthless smile touched his lips.

“Muelsyse,” he began, his tone smooth and dripping with calculated intent. “If I recall correctly, the Ecology Section has been struggling to open up new sales channels here in Victoria, hasn’t it?”

He let the question hang in the air for a fraction of a second. “It seems a rather convenient piece of blackmail material has just delivered itself right to our doorstep.”

Muelsyse’s eyes instantly lit up with predatory corporate interest. Striking while the iron was hot, the Doctor fed her a few more carefully chosen words. It didn’t take long.

“Please, Doctor!” Muelsyse leaned in, her voice taking on a pleading edge. “Accompany me to take a look. Rhine Lab really needs this use!”

In the span of a single conversation, the dynamic had completely flipped. He had smoothly transitioned from the shameless rogue who kidnaps people to be Operators to the steady, reliable mastermind who goes out of his way to help his business partners.

And the best part? Muelsyse actually thought she owed him a favor.

[Rhodes’s Note: The raw MTL translated the character’s name literally as “Nightshade” (/), which is a common machine translation error for the Arknights Operator “Haze”. Based on the Feline race, black mist Arts, prison background, and thief lore described in the text, this has been corrected to her official English name, Haze.]

[Rhodes’s Note:

Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?

(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent! 🙇‍♂️):

Massive thanks for reading and supporting the operation!]