"One, an assassination must be arranged against Grand Duke Richmond. He fiercely opposes most of the technologies introduced from Intis, for they threaten his interests. Since he holds real power in Loen, his obstruction will inevitably hinder the nation's developnt."
"Two, we must take advantage of this wave of reform in Loen to support a series of erging noble houses."
The Hunter asked doubtfully, "So what if Loen resists? Isn't Intis fully supporting these new technologies?"
"The trend of the era is not confined to a single nation—it is a force that encompasses the entire world."
"Fine, fine. Your perspective's broader than mine—you win!"
Hers continued, "Three, it seems the conservatives of Intis are seeking an opportunity to move against Roselle Gustav…"
"The leader among them is Count Clair. He is not the most powerful within the Conservative Party, but he is certainly the most obstinate. For the sake of the Conservatives, if ordinary asures cannot suppress Roselle, he will not hesitate to use…extraordinary ans."
"I must stress again: Roselle's existence is crucial to the advancent of the era's trend. Anyone who obstructs him is obstructing the trend itself. His safety cannot be compromised!"
Hers did not say how to deal with Count Clair. Instead, he raised his voice slightly, tone firm:
"So then, I must trouble you all with these matters."
"All—" his eyes swept across the gathering, "—for the trend of the tis."
The next second, the Corpse Cathedral collapsed with a thunderous roar. The vision rapidly receded and faded into darkness.
Edward found himself back within the Sefirah Castle.
For a mont, he hadn't quite recovered. Was that it? The very first eting of the Twilight Hermit Order was already over?
Compared to each gathering of the Tarot Club, it all seed rather…rushed.
But he quickly understood the logic: the Twilight Hermit Order was highly goal-driven, existing solely to help Adam advance the trend of the era. Everything else was incidental.
Secondly, the mbers of the Twilight Hermit Order clearly had almost no trust in each other. On the contrary…they were constantly guarded, probing, even digging pits for one another, trying to extract information about each other's true identities.
Then how exactly had Adam managed to gather such a pack of foxes to work for Him?
Those slogans about the "trend of the tis" and "awaiting the resurrection of the Ancient Sun God" could never truly fool such shrewd old foxes into risking their lives. The only one who truly believed was Hers—the first and most loyal lapdog of Adam. That was why, when Hers later discovered that Adam was in fact the Ancient Sun God, and realised he had been deceived, he chose to betray Him.
In this light, Hers was actually rather pitiful.
As for the others, Edward figured only interests could keep them bound.
Right—at this point, Emperor Roselle had yet to create the Cards of Blasphemy. Which ant that aside from the ancient organisations shielded by deities, anyone who wished to access higher-sequence formulas had no choice but to go through the second Blasphemy Slate in Adam's possession.
So the Twilight Hermit Order was able to control its mbers by leveraging that slate?
"Also…" Edward tapped lightly on the table, thinking aloud. "At this mont, is Adam Himself acting personally, or is He already just a projected persona?"
He leaned toward believing it was His true body. After all, the Twilight Hermit Order was still diligently pushing forward the trend of the era. If Adam was already rely a split persona, already attempting fusion with the True Creator, then all these actions would be aningless.
Of course, it was not impossible that…He was simply performing for the trio of "Wind, White, and Wisdom." Those three would never sit idly by and allow the Ancient Sun God to revive, lest they be subjected to His judgnt.
Tch. Every one of them is an old scher, each more cunning than the last. Soone like could never sit at the sa table with them.
Forget it. No point in overthinking this. Best to check whether the villa I'm currently living in has any issues.
"Better safe than sorry—let's divine it first."
Edward flicked a coin into the air.
"The villa I'm staying in is currently under surveillance."
The coin landed with the number side up: negative.
———
Trier, 1160
The Old Beck Suit Shop.
It was an old, established tailor's in Trier that had been operating for many years. Ever since the royal family had popularised this attire—suits—as symbols of status and class, this shop had devoted itself to the craft.
Yet through the generations, the store had never expanded. Their craft was only ever passed from father to son, and so the business could never scale beyond a single shop.
Dubois pushed open the shop door.
The owner looked up with a smile. "Welco, may I…oh, it's you."
The instant he recognised the face, the shopkeeper's smile froze and his expression soured.
"No tabs!"
"Who said anything about a tab?"
Dubois pulled out a thick wad of banknotes from his coat. "Quickly, bring out the suit I ordered before. I need it today."
The owner hesitated, eyeing him suspiciously. "...This money—did it co by clean ans?"
"Heh. If it wasn't clean, I'd already be in prison by now."
Dubois sneered with disdain. "Relax. I, Dubois, would never commit a cri!"—Unless no one found out.
"That's true."
The owner nodded slowly. "But you'll still need to wait a few more days."
"Why? Didn't I put in the order more than a month ago?"
"…Placing an order without paying a single cent—does that count as a reservation?"
Dubois frowned. His gaze swept across the shop, and suddenly he strode forward.
"Wait—that set right there, isn't that mine?"
He moved as if to grab it, but the owner rushed to block him.
"That was ordered by another custor. He paid in full, upfront!"
"I don't care. Haven't you heard of first-co, first-served? And the size clearly matches perfectly. Did you sell my suit to soone else?"
The shopkeeper's nose nearly twisted with rage.
"I worked night and day for nearly a week on that suit—how does it suddenly beco yours? Hand it back right now!"
Dubois slipped nimbly aside, slapped a few banknotes onto the counter, grabbed the suit, and bolted for the door.
"Dubois, you bastard!!"
The shopkeeper gave chase for a few steps, but seeing the thief's figure vanish into the distance, he could only unleash a stream of curses.
"Damn it! Damn it! That scoundrel—how am I supposed to explain this to the real client now?"
As he muttered and fud, a man and a woman strolled up. Both were strikingly good-looking, their presence almost unnervingly refined—especially their bright crimson eyes, beautiful in a chilling way. Clearly, they were vampires.
The woman, dressed in tight leather that showed off her voluptuous figure, folded her arms with an annoyed pout.
"Unbelievable. Just for a suit, you dragged us all the way to Trier? You must be out of your mind."
"Then why'd you co with ?" the man retorted.
"Because you said Trier is full of beauties. So? Where are they? Hmm? Show these so-called beauties!"
With that, she reached up and tugged rcilessly on her brother's ear.
"Let go, let go! Don't embarrass in public! Ow, ow—ah, there it is, the tailor's shop, we're here!"
The siblings stopped outside the suit shop, then walked in together.
Half a minute later, the male vampire stord back out, slamming the door behind him.
"Bastard!! I want to know who dared steal my precious suit!! Aaaaahhh!!"
———
Roselle Family Villa
Bernadette slept until nearly eleven in the morning. During that ti, both the maid and her mother, Matilda, had checked on her, but seeing she was only exhausted, they let her sleep in peace.
From opening her eyes to fully waking up took her five minutes—most of which she spent with her mind blank, so recalling the events of last night, and the rest doubting whether what had happened was real…or only a dream.
"It was real!"
After a while, she suddenly sat upright with a bounce, her blue eyes sparkling with excitent.
Last night, she had truly ridden a pirate ship crewed by fairytale characters into the depths of the sea, searching for rmaids!
"And then…did I find them?"
She scratched her head, then froze in horror.
"Don't tell …I fell asleep just when they were found!?"
Aaaahhh!!
Does that an I went for nothing?
Bernadette—how could you fall asleep at such a critical mont?!
Aaaaahhhh!!
She tugged at her hair and squird in frustration for quite a while, until her eyes lit up with a thought.
"Wait—since I didn't see the rmaid last night, doesn't that an I can ask that mysterious gentleman…Mr. Sparrow…to take again?"
Yes! That was it!
In fact, if she could go more than once, it would be far better than seeing the rmaid only a single ti.
"But…would the mysterious Mr. Sparrow still be willing to take out to sea?"
Grumble—
Her stomach growled.
"Let's eat first, think later."
Bernadette hopped out of bed, quickly washed up, and dashed out. The maid standing by the door imdiately ca forward.
"Miss, you're awake."
"Mhm. I'm starving. Is there anything to eat?"
"Yes, I'll take you."
The two walked toward the dining hall. But just as they reached its entrance, Bernadette spotted her mother crossing the garden alone, heading toward the villa's back gate.
"Huh? Where's Mama going?"
She hesitated, then hurried into the dining hall, snatched a piece of cake, and scampered after Matilda.
A few minutes later, Matilda unlocked the garden's back gate, stepped outside, and stood there scanning left and right, as though waiting for soone.
Bernadette wolfed down the cake in a few bites, mischief sparking in her eyes. She tiptoed closer, ready to jump out and give her mother a fright.
But just then—
"Matilda!"
A man's voice rang out. Matilda turned instantly toward it, her face breaking into a radiant smile.
"Long ti no see, Dubois."
———
No. 7 Rose Street Villa
After leaving the Sefirah Castle, Edward activated Spirit Vision and swept through every room one by one, finally making his way down to the basent.
Compared with the chaotic ss it had been before, the basent was now neatly organised. The clutter of bottles and jars had been arranged properly. Still, Edward imdiately noticed that two vases were missing—likely sold off by Dubois.
He found nothing overtly unusual.
He instinctively reached for his coin to divine, but in the mont of tossing it, he restrained himself. Instead, he left the basent, returned to his room, and re-entered the Sefirah Castle.
Here, he could both obtain clearer answers and avoid alerting anyone.
"The basent contains a hidden chanism."
He flicked the coin into the air, then caught it.
Heads up—affirmative.
"The thod of opening the basent chanism."
Edward leaned back, closed his eyes, and entered a dream.
In the hazy, unreal scene, a figure whose face he could not discern walked to a corner of the basent, placed a palm against the floor, and infused it with spirituality.
A series of creaks followed as the spot sank inward, slowly revealing a pitch-black passage leading further down.
———
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