Half an hour later.
Edward returned ho. After washing up in the washroom, he erged, drying his wet hair as he sat down on the bed, sighing, "What a busy night."
Leaning back against the headboard, he used the Invisible Hand to return the towel to the washroom. Then, he cast a simple spell to dry his hair before pulling the covers over himself.
"Next up is a good night's sleep, and then wait for the news of the assassination of Count Clair to fernt by tomorrow."
Just as he closed his eyes, Edward suddenly sensed soone intruding into his False Reality.
The image of the intruders imdiately appeared in his mind:
Four n, riding in a carriage, dressed in similar uniforms. Their expressions were stern. Through the window, they observed his villa. One of them held a small jewellery box, carefully channelling spirituality into it—
mbers of the Machinery Hivemind.
As expected of official Beyonders, their reactions were lightning fast.
Edward made no unnecessary moves. Instead, he allowed himself to fall asleep further, patiently waiting for their next action.
Soon enough, he felt the surrounding environnt shift—blurring briefly before settling into sharp clarity.
He found himself sitting on the living room sofa, holding a newspaper in one hand, sipping coffee as he read.
Clearly, soone had entered his dreamscape.
Whether they were Nightmares from the Machinery Hivemind or using so sealed artifact of the Sleepless Pathway, he couldn't tell.
Before long, a young man with a lean build and a gentle smile pushed open the door and walked in, taking a seat opposite Edward. He asked politely, "Mr. Sparrow, may I sit here?"
Edward looked at him as though just noticing him, replying calmly, "Of course."
"May I ask if you know Akasha?"
"She's my housekeeper."
"Anything beyond that?"
"Beyond that? Nothing."
"Tell how you ca to know her."
Edward's tone was flat, devoid of emotion, like a normal person caught in a dream. "She ca to one evening last week and applied for the position of housekeeper. I thought she seed fine, and more importantly, very attractive. So I hired her…and her younger brother as well."
"Do you think there's anything strange about Akasha?"
"Yes, her eyes are red."
"And what else?"
"…"
"Why did her younger brother suddenly leave?"
"Arlde said he was going ho to visit his family."
"Do you know what Akasha did today?"
"Yes. She offended Count Clair's grandson in the marketplace district and was thrown into prison. Afterwards, my housekeeper and I were implicated and also taken by the police. Fortunately, thanks to Roselle's help, we were bailed out."
"Did you think of rescuing Akasha?"
"Of course, but Roselle said there was nothing he could do either. I planned to visit Count Clair's house tomorrow to apologise in person, try my luck."
"Did you see Akasha tonight?"
"No."
"Do you know that she attempted to assassinate Count Clair?"
"No."
"Very well. Thank you for your honesty. May you have pleasant dreams tonight."
"Thank you."
Edward once again lowered his head to continue reading the newspaper. The young man stood up, offered a slight nod, and turned to leave, closing the door behind him.
A mont later, the young man opened his eyes inside the carriage. Beside him, a colleague from the Machinery Hivemind placed a gemstone into the jewellery box the young man held, sealing it within a tal container.
"How did it go, Horamick?"
The question ca from an older team leader—a man with a buzz cut and an always-friendly smile.
"I just inquired within the dream, questioning a total of twelve people, including Klein Sparrow and Dubois. Initial assessnt indicates nothing suspicious."
"Hm."
The captain lounged lazily in the carriage. "Alright then, let's withdraw."
Horamik was stunned. "Ah? Just end it like this?"
The captain shrugged. "What do you expect? The assassination happened several hours ago. Do you really think the killer would foolishly wait around for you to dream-investigate?"
"Then…"
The captain picked up a notebook and said, "Based on the current clues, report it truthfully:
Akasha is suspected to be a Sequence 6 vampire. Although she didn't kill Count Clair directly, her actions created the opportunity for the assassin."
"The murderer used a variety of Beyonder Abilities—Faceless, Devil, Psychiatrist, and others—strongly suggesting they were either a Shepherd or a Scribe."
"For now, we can preliminarily designate the two as accomplices. The rest depends on what the higher-ups decide. Who knows? Maybe they'll even hand us so powerful Sealed Artifact to track the real culprit directly."
"Yes, sir!"
Edward opened his eyes on the bed, his expression tinged with surprise.
"A powerful Sealed Artifact? One that can track people? Don't tell it's…Arrodes?"
If that were the case—should I just snatch it away when the ti ca?
Heh. Who would've thought?
An assassination attempt, and yet there was an unexpected bonus windfall.
———
Early the next morning.
When Dubois got hold of the latest newspaper, he was utterly dumbfounded.
What the heck…I just slept for a bit, how did sothing this huge happen in Trier?!
Count Clair assassinated?
One of the assassins was Akasha?
The King is furious?
He stared at the headline again and again, unable to believe that the carefree, thoughtless woman could beco an assassin.
"Mr. Sparrow!"
The mont Edward ca downstairs into the villa, Dubois hurried over, holding the newspaper, and asked, "W-what…what is going on here?"
Edward took the newspaper, glanced at it, and said coolly, "Doesn't the newspaper explain it clearly enough?"
"I an…how is that possible? Akasha was locked in prison, right? How could she have broken out to assassinate Count Clair? Impossible."
"I don't believe it either," Edward said calmly, "but the newspaper is right in front of us. What else can we do?"
"But…"
Dubois was about to say more when he suddenly realised how unusually composed Edward's reaction was.
His mind went blank for a mont.
So he imdiately held his tongue, but his gaze toward Edward subtly changed, carrying an extra layer of suspicion.
"What's with the way you're looking at ?"
"Nothing!" He shook his head vehently and added without holding back, "It's just…it suddenly feels like the boss treats his subordinates very well."
Oh, so you think I'm the one who killed Count Clair, taking revenge on behalf of Akasha, right?
At that mont, a commotion arose from the villa's gate.
More than a dozen uniford people pushed aside the blocking servants and stord into the villa with imposing montum.
At the front, the commanding officer bore a cold expression and waved his hand lightly, "Search!"
Imdiately, the group of agents rushed into the villa, spreading out and beginning a rough, ransacking-style search.
The officer declared, "We are from The Special Services Bureau. Klein Sparrow, where were you last night?"
"I was…sleeping."
"Do you have proof?"
Edward replied, expression utterly stunned. "Eh? Sir, I was alone in my bedroom. What kind of proof could I possibly have for that?"
The officer glanced at the newspaper in his hand and said, "You must already know what your housekeeper did last night, right?"
"…Sir, she's just a housekeeper I employed. Whatever she did outside, it doesn't concern , does it?"
"Hah, whether it concerns you or not isn't your call."
The officer took a step forward, his tone laced with undeniable authority, "Did you see your housekeeper last night?"
Edward pretended to look frightened, "…No."
Then his gaze shifted toward Dubois. "How about you?"
"I…didn't see her either."
At that mont, the searchers gradually returned, several carrying sheets, combs, toothbrushes, and other personal items—all evidently confiscated from Akasha's room.
"For the next two days, stay ho and don't wander around."
Having said that, the officer turned and led his subordinates out of the villa at a brisk pace.
Inside the villa, servants and slaves were terrified, their faces pale, clearly shaken by the visit from the Special Services Bureau.
Dubois cleared his throat and muttered, "What are we waiting for? Hurry and clean up."
After the servants and slaves dispersed, he lowered his voice, "Those Special Services Bureau guys…didn't even bring us in for questioning. Really strange."
Edward thought for a mont, then said, "My guess…Roselle helped again." Official source is noᴠelfire
Dubois froze briefly before the realisation hit.
As Roselle's forr drinking companion, he knew Roselle was the type who hated owing favours to others.
And just a few days ago, Mr. Sparrow risked himself to save Bernadette, forcing Roselle to feel indebted.
So the previous night, after Dubois and Edward were locked in jail by the police, Roselle appeared imdiately to bail them out.
When Akasha beca the pri suspect in Count Clair's assassination, Roselle must've known the Special Services Bureau would show up, so he sent a heads-up in advance—a favour repaid.
"He's still as unwilling to owe anyone as ever."
Edward only smiled slightly.
Roselle wasn't necessarily averse to owing people…but simply unwilling to entangle himself too deeply with this world's NPCs, so as not to affect his 'ga ntality.'
Of course, perhaps that wasn't how he thought anymore, but deeply ingrained habits were hard to shake.
"Oh, by the way, Dubois, I have a task for you."
"Please say, boss."
"Every day from now on, send soone to check No. 2 Callia Street in Quartier de Noël.
If a callia appears in the second-floor window, co back and tell ."
Edward smiled.
"Don't get caught…It could be fatal."
"…"
Dubois' nerves tightened, but without hesitation he declared, "I'll accomplish the task, boss."
———
In the Roselle family's luxurious villa.
Bernadette noticed her father in an unusually cheerful mood that morning, seemingly delighted by so good fortune.
Even his breakfast intake far exceeded the usual amount.
At her age, questions could no longer be contained.
"Daddy, why are you suddenly so happy today?"
"Ah? Hahahaha—am I that obvious? Where do you see happiness? I'm mourning, Bernadette! Devastated by Count Clair's death! Can't you see? I'm so grief-stricken I can't even eat!"
Then he raised a hand and called out, "Another helping of breakfast for ."
———
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