It was a masked hell.
The commoners, especially the beggars and poorer families, had been scattered—not concentrated in one district where their presence could be overwhelming—but broken apart, divided, and placed strategically in random spots throughout the county.
Too small in numbers per area to draw attention.
A casual visitor would never notice them. An outsider might say, "There are barely any poor people here."
Julian closed his eyes and extended his senses. He could feel the uneven flow of mana in the air, the faint weakness in areas where the poor lived. It was like the city itself was absorbing their misery, suppressing their screams with grandness and order.
He opened his eyes again. "Cute," he whispered, a cold smile flickering on his lips.
Whoever had designed this city wasn't just clever.
They were cunning.
"They've hidden rot under a gold facade."
Eliz and the others from Easvil would arrive tomorrow, which meant Julian still had a full day to himself.
