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"Foolish simpletons," he thought, inhaling the damp, stale air thick with the scent of mold. "To them, this is just another stupid job. To me—it's a potential goldmine."
As the group stepped inside, the cold struck them as if they had crossed an invisible boundary between the world of the living and a dark void. Stone walls loomed high, draped with thin strands of moss and trickling droplets of water, their soft, eerie melody echoing in the silence.
With every step, the air grew heavier. The sound of their footsteps felt too loud, and the distant rustling from somewhere deep within made them tense.
— The faster we search this place, the less time we spend here, — said Gilbert in a steady voice.
Crane walked at the rear, silent, as if lost in thought. Yet his eyes shifted constantly, scanning the walls, the ceiling, every uneven surface in their path.
When they entered a large chamber, Crane noticed what the others had missed. On the far wall, partially hidden behind collapsed stones, was the outline of a concealed door. Only a faint glimmer of light, reflected off polished stone, revealed its presence.
Crane paused, narrowing his eyes, the corner of his lips curling into a barely visible smirk.
"This is what my source was talking about," he realized, a surge of excitement rushing through him.
The door was nearly impossible to spot without a trained eye. A soft shimmer of magical markings, worn nearly to nothing with age, betrayed its secret. No one else in the group had noticed — Martan was busy examining another tunnel, Amara idly played with her daggers, and Gilbert watched the ceiling with tense suspicion, as if expecting danger.
Crane quickly looked away, pretending to study the stonework.
"If I tell them about the door, I'll have to split the loot," he mused. "But if I get inside alone… all the treasure will be mine."
He stood there, as if admiring the patterns in the stone, but determination burned in his eyes. "I just need to pull this off quietly."