Chapter 123: The Porter Who Knew Too Much

Mikhail Dragunov had always considered himself a reasonably fortunate man.

He had survived his first experience inside a dangerous Dungeon, earned a respectable amount of money without losing any limbs, and returned to Zenith City with a renewed appreciation for comfortable beds and properly cooked meals.

Unfortunately, his good fortune appeared to have expired.

It had started three nights earlier, when Mikhail returned to his apartment building carrying two bags of groceries and a large container of fried chicken.

He had spent the evening wandering through a wholesale market, taking advantage of discounted food while congratulating himself on surviving the White Dungeon raid.

He was halfway across the street when he noticed something unusual.

Two unfamiliar men stood outside his apartment building. Both wore dark clothing, and neither appeared interested in entering or leaving. One was examining the surrounding windows while the other spoke quietly into a communication device.

Mikhail slowed down.

He might have dismissed them as ordinary visitors if he hadn’t noticed another man standing on his balcony.

His third-floor balcony.

The stranger was examining something inside his apartment through the open sliding door.

Mikhail stopped walking.

"What the hell?" he muttered, staring at the balcony. "Did someone break into my apartment?"

His first instinct was outrage. He had worked hard for his belongings, and the thought of strangers rummaging through his home made his blood boil. However, that anger disappeared when the man outside the building shifted his coat, briefly exposing the handle of a weapon.

Mikhail swallowed.

He was an ordinary human who made his living carrying supplies for Awakeners. He had absolutely no intention of confronting armed strangers, particularly when there were three of them.

Without attracting attention, he turned toward a nearby convenience store and pretended to examine the advertisements displayed outside.

A few moments later, one of the strangers raised his communication device.

"Nothing useful so far," the man reported. "Keep searching. He might return."

Mikhail felt his stomach tighten.

He had no idea who these people were or why they had entered his apartment, but he wasn’t foolish enough to wait around for an explanation.

He walked away at a normal pace until he reached the next intersection. Then he hurried down a side street, flagged down a taxi, and climbed inside before the driver could finish asking where he wanted to go.

"Take me to a hotel," Mikhail instructed, glancing anxiously through the rear window. "Somewhere far from this neighborhood."

The driver frowned. "Do you have a particular hotel in mind, sir?"

"Any decent one," Mikhail replied impatiently. "Preferably somewhere that doesn’t have armed lunatics wandering around the entrance."

---

For the next two days, Mikhail lived in a state of increasing anxiety.

He changed hotels twice, avoided returning to his neighborhood, and repeatedly checked whether anyone was following him. His savings were disappearing at an alarming rate, and the expensive accommodation was beginning to hurt almost as much as the uncertainty surrounding his situation.

He considered reporting the incident to the authorities, but the possibility that the intruders were Awakeners frightened him. Even if he filed a complaint, he had no guarantee that anyone could protect him afterward.

Worse, he couldn’t think of a single reason someone would want him dead.

He wasn’t wealthy, influential, or particularly important. His work as a Porter occasionally brought him into contact with dangerous people, but he had never stolen anything from a client or deliberately offended a powerful Awakener.

At least, not seriously.

By the morning of the fourth day, Mikhail was sitting inside another rented hotel room, staring miserably at the remaining balance in his bank account.

"This is ridiculous," he complained, adjusting his glasses. "Three nights of hotel bills because some bastards decided to invade my apartment. At this rate, I’ll be bankrupt before they even find me."

He needed help.

Unfortunately, most of his acquaintances were ordinary people who couldn’t do much against armed intruders. The few Awakeners he knew professionally were clients rather than friends, and Mikhail doubted they would appreciate receiving a desperate call from a Porter they barely remembered.

Then he recalled two young Awakeners he had met during the White Dungeon raid.

Jet Saint-Clair and Frey Valentin D’Aubigné.

They had only known each other for a day, but Mikhail remembered that both were surprisingly approachable. More importantly, they were powerful enough to survive dangers that would have killed an ordinary Porter.

He hesitated before opening Jet’s contact information.

"Well, it’s better than calling someone who’ll charge me just for answering," Mikhail muttered, pressing the call button.

---

At Adesewa’s concealed safe base, Jet was resting in a common room when his phone began vibrating.

Frey occupied a reclining chair nearby, his injured left arm secured in a brace while additional bandages covered his chest. Although the treatment he had received was helping, he still couldn’t move comfortably without aggravating his fractured ribs.

Jet glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering.

"Hello? Who’s calling?" he asked.

"Jet! Thank goodness!" Mikhail exclaimed, his relief immediately evident. "It’s Mikhail Dragunov! The Porter from the White Dungeon! Please tell me you remember me!"

Jet straightened in his chair.

"Mikhail?" he repeated, surprised. "Of course I remember you. What’s wrong?"

Frey looked toward him curiously.

"Who’s that?" Frey asked, before recognizing the name. "Wait, the Porter who kept complaining about how much food cost during the raid?"

Jet nodded, but his attention remained on the call.

"Listen, Jet, I know we barely know each other," Mikhail continued hurriedly, "but I seriously need help. Some armed strangers broke into my apartment three nights ago. I saw them searching the place, and I’ve been hiding in hotels ever since."

Jet’s expression changed immediately.

He rose from his chair, ignoring the discomfort in his injured ribs.

"Did they see you, Mikhail?" Jet asked sharply.

"I don’t think so," Mikhail answered, sounding nervous. "I left before they noticed me. I haven’t gone home since."

Jet exchanged a glance with Frey.

Neither needed to say anything.

The timing was too suspicious.

The intruders had appeared on the same night as the coordinated assassination attempts, and Mikhail was someone who had recently accompanied Jet and Frey into a Dungeon.

Jet understood what that could mean.

Their enemies weren’t limiting themselves to the Palladium Tree expedition participants. They were investigating people associated with their targets, even those who knew nothing about the fruits.

"Mikhail, where are you right now?" Jet asked.

"At a hotel," Mikhail replied cautiously. "Why?"

"Tell me the name and address," Jet instructed. "Don’t leave your room until someone comes for you."

Mikhail hesitated. "Hold on. You’re making this sound even worse than it already is. Do you know something about these people?"

Jet glanced toward Frey before answering.

"I don’t know exactly who entered your apartment," he said carefully. "But I think you’re in danger, and I can help you get somewhere safer."

Mikhail released a miserable groan.

"Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful," he complained. "I survived a Dungeon, and now I might die in a hotel room. If I knew this was how my week would end, I would’ve ordered a more expensive dinner."

Despite the situation, Frey couldn’t suppress a quiet laugh.

Jet took down the hotel’s location and promised to arrange transportation before ending the call.

Frey’s amusement disappeared once the conversation was over.

"They’re going after people we barely know now?" Frey asked, frowning.

"That’s what it looks like," Jet replied grimly. "Mikhail doesn’t know anything about the Palladium Fruits. He wasn’t even part of the expedition into Beyond."

Frey leaned back carefully. "Then whoever’s behind this is casting a much wider net than we thought."

Jet nodded before leaving to find Adesewa.

---

Several hours later, a reinforced vehicle entered the base’s underground garage.

Mikhail emerged from the passenger compartment carrying a backpack, two travel bags, and a large paper bag containing his lunch. He looked exhausted, and his glasses had slipped halfway down his nose.

When he noticed Jet waiting near the entrance, relief flooded his expression.

"Jet!" Mikhail exclaimed, hurrying toward him. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you!"

Jet smiled faintly. "Glad you made it here safely."

"Safely?" Mikhail repeated indignantly. "Those people who collected me barely said a word throughout the journey! I thought I was being kidnapped until they mentioned your name."

Frey appeared behind Jet, moving carefully with his injured arm supported against his chest.

Mikhail blinked.

"Frey?" he exclaimed. "What happened to you?"

Frey glanced down at his bandages before answering with a crooked smile. "Had a disagreement with some unpleasant people. Unfortunately, they were better at making their point than I expected."

Mikhail stared at him.

"You look terrible," he remarked.

"Thank you for your concern," Frey replied dryly. "Your kindness is overwhelming."

Mikhail adjusted his glasses, looking between the two young men.

"Seriously, what’s happening around here?" he demanded. "First someone breaks into my apartment, and now you’re walking around looking like a hospital patient."

Jet’s expression became more serious.

"We’ll explain what we can once you’re settled," he assured him. "For now, you’re safe here."

Mikhail looked around the underground garage, noticing the reinforced doors, security cameras, and armed personnel stationed near the elevators.

"Safe?" he repeated skeptically. "This place looks like a military bunker."

"That’s rather the point," Frey remarked.

Before Mikhail could respond, Adesewa approached with Cassian beside her.

Jet turned toward them.

"Captain, this is Mikhail Dragunov," he introduced. "He’s the Porter Frey and I met during the White Dungeon raid. Mikhail, this is Captain Adesewa Afolayan. She’s helping us deal with the situation."

Mikhail immediately straightened, recognizing the authority in the woman’s bearing.

"Pleasure to meet you, Captain," he greeted politely. "And thank you for sending someone to collect me. Although, if I’m being completely honest, I would’ve appreciated a little warning about the security arrangements."

Adesewa offered a brief nod.

"You’re welcome, Mr. Dragunov," she replied. "We’ll arrange accommodation for you. Until we understand why your residence was searched, I recommend remaining inside the facility."

Mikhail’s shoulders sagged.

"How long are we talking?" he asked apprehensively. "Because I’ve already spent a fortune on hotels, and I still need to pay next month’s rent."

Frey grinned. "You’re worried about rent when someone might be trying to kill you?"

"Of course I’m worried about rent!" Mikhail protested. "If I survive this mess and end up homeless, what exactly have I accomplished?"

Cassian chuckled, while Jet shook his head in amusement.

Adesewa instructed a staff member to show Mikhail to an available room before turning toward Jet.

"Come with me," she said quietly. "There’s something we need to discuss."

Jet followed her toward a nearby corridor, leaving Frey to accompany their bewildered guest.

Once they were beyond Mikhail’s hearing, Adesewa stopped.

"Another person connected to you has been targeted," she observed. "And this one wasn’t involved in our expedition."

Jet nodded grimly.

"He doesn’t know about the fruits, the tree, or anything that happened in Beyond," Jet explained. "We only met him during a Dungeon raid."

Adesewa’s expression hardened.

"Then our enemies may be investigating everyone associated with the surviving participants," she concluded. "Friends, acquaintances, business contacts, perhaps even people who encountered us only briefly."

Jet looked back toward the garage, where Mikhail was still complaining to Frey about the price of hotel accommodation.

The Porter had no idea why anyone would want to hurt him.

And that was precisely what made the situation so disturbing.

Adesewa folded her arms, her voice becoming colder.

"If they’re willing to hunt an ordinary Porter who knows nothing about the expedition, Jet, then we need to reconsider just how many innocent people they’ve placed in danger."