Edward didn't know how to split himself into multiple bodies, nor could he keep watch over all the ports and harbours twenty-four hours a day. What he could do, however, was visit various ports, take control of a few people, and have them keep watch for him. Once they spotted a ship called Laurel preparing to set sail, they would recite the three-verse prayer to notify him.
Of course, there was also the possibility that when the Laurel sailed, it wouldn't use an official port. The Abraham descendants might even employ a sealed artifact to conceal their tracks. In that case, there truly would be nothing he could do.
Still, what had to be done, had to be done.
The thought gave him a headache. He rubbed his temples. This is going to be a massive amount of work.
——
After leaving the palace above the grey fog, Edward went to find Dubois and told him to procure a map marked with every coastal city's ports.
Dubois hesitated.
"Boss, when you say every…do you an that literally?"
"That's right."
"Then it'll be rather troubleso. Such maps are rare in the market. I might need so ti to have one specially made."
Edward nodded. "Mm. I understand, just do your best." He paused, then added, "Oh, for now, buy one with as many ports marked as possible."
"I'll get right on it!"
"Wait."
Edward picked up a portrait from his desk and asked, "Have you seen this man before?"
The painting was of the young man he had divined a few days ago. Judging from the clothes and the fact that he had access to a high-ranking bishop of the Church of Steam and Machinery, the fellow was certainly soone wealthy or noble. Dubois might recognise him.
Dubois studied it carefully, then shook his head.
"No, I haven't. May I ask who he is…?"
"I don't know either, but he's likely so kind of noble."
"Understood. I'll make so inquiries."
"Good."
Once Dubois hurried away, Edward poured himself a glass of water and leaned on the terrace railing, staring absentmindedly down at the garden. He wasn't really looking at anything—just letting his mind drift.
That was when a cacophony of awful piano notes slamd into his ears, pounding rcilessly through his head.
"…"
That was when he rembered—Bernadette was still taking lessons in one of the other rooms.
But…
Didn't smart people pick up new skills quickly?
With Bernadette's intelligence, it was impossible that she could play the piano that badly.
Edward shifted into spirit form and entered the room where Bernadette was taking her lesson. Sure enough, she wore a mischievous grin as her fingers danced chaotically over the keys, while the piano teacher's face twisted in suffering.
Confird!
The brat was deliberately trying to play as horribly as possible!
That was a talent in its own right—like filling out a multiple-choice test with nothing but wrong answers. To score zero, you first had to know every correct answer, then deliberately avoid them all.
What a child. All that cleverness wasted on mischief.
Edward snapped his fingers lightly, casting False Reality.
Bernadette, of course, thought her playing was awful too, but when she saw the three tutors suffering more and more with each note—yet forced to feign patience as they explained over and over—her pride outweighed her discomfort.
Hmph! Let's see if you still dare to teach after this! Let's see how Mama handles now!
Just then, her fingers suddenly felt the keys grow soft, sticky, and faintly warm.
She froze, staring down. Her face went pale.
The piano before her had beco a monstrous maw, full of jagged teeth and a crimson tongue. Countless blood-red eyes bulged across its head, and foul-slling fluids oozed from its body.
"…"
Bernadette's mind went blank, pupils locked wide with terror.
The next second, the monstrosity lunged at her, jaws gaping wide. She scread, stumbling backwards, only to trip over the stool and crash to the floor.
The creature drooled as it crept closer and closer. Panic-stricken, she scrambled back, shrieking, "Ahhhh!! Help !"
Then, in the blink of an eye, the monster vanished.
All that remained were the three ho tutors staring at her in shock, the piano still sitting neatly in place—no monster, no attack, no pursuit. As if it had all been a hallucination…
No!
Not as if!
It had to be Mr. Sparrow!
Bernadette quickly pieced it together. She puffed up her cheeks, ready to shout out Mr. Sparrow's na, but when she caught sight of the three bewildered tutors beside her, she rubbed her sore backside, scrambled to her feet, and bolted for the door.
Mr. Sparrow is too awful!
Not only did he team up with Mama to bully , he even used illusions to turn the piano into a monster just to scare !
Hmph!
Today he must take out to sea again to look for a rmaid—or this won't be over!
Bernadette ran out and began searching for Edward. Unfortunately, in spirit form, even if he stood right before her, she wouldn't be able to see him.
She hurried into the parlour, but he wasn't there either. After a mont's hesitation, her little shoes went tap-tap-tap up the stairs until she reached the study door.
Instead of barging in recklessly, she raised her little hand and knocked politely. "Mr. Sparrow, are you in there?"
Edward's voice ca through the door.
"No."
"…"
She imdiately pouted, twisted the handle, and pushed the door open.
"Are you trying to trick a child?"
Edward leaned back in his chair, replying with a perfectly straight face.
"Ah, you saw through . How clever of you!"
"…"
Bernadette stomped over, huffed, and said, "That piano turning into a monster just now—that was your doing, wasn't it?"
She plopped into the chair by his desk, cheeks puffed out. "I was scared!"
"So?" Googlᴇ search novel-fire.ɴet
"So, you have to take to find rmaids as compensation…Ow!"
Edward flicked her on the forehead, leaving a red mark.
"Your mother trusts —and Dubois—enough to let you co here every day. But you're not taking your lessons seriously. How am I supposed to explain that to Matilda?"
"Who said I wasn't?"
Bernadette looked very serious. "I already learned what the teacher taught today! But she still wanted to play it over and over. It's too annoying, too boring!"
She crossed her arms. "And painting…all the teacher ever makes do is draw lines, over and over. Even more boring!"
"You could prove to your teacher that you've mastered it, then ask her to teach you sothing new."
"No, that's wrong!"
She imdiately raised her voice in protest. "Isn't it true that once you've learned it, you should get to rest? Why should learning faster be treated like punishnt? Learning quickly should earn you a reward, not more work!"
Edward blinked.
"Huh?"
"Look, say two people are in class. One learns everything in an hour, while the other takes four. Isn't the faster one more outstanding?"
"Yes."
"And shouldn't outstanding students get rewarded?"
Edward nodded.
"Correct."
"So tell —should the reward be letting her rest, or forcing her to study sothing even harder?"
"Of course it should be—"
The words slipped to the tip of his tongue before Edward caught himself. His expression flattened.
"Of course it should be continuing with harder lessons."
Close. Nearly fell into this little girl's trap!
Bernadette glared at him furiously. "You're saying the opposite of what you really think!"
"…"
Damn it. If it were Lilith, a single little red flower would have solved everything. But Bernadette…she could argue into silence with "logic."
No!
I'll have to invoke the grown-up's exclusive arsenal against children: double standards sophistry denial it's for your own good!
"Eh?"
At that mont, Bernadette picked up the portrait from his desk. "Why do you have his picture?"
What a tily interruption.
"You recognise him?"
"Mm…"
She hesitated for a few seconds.
"If he really is who I think he is, then yes, I know him."
"Who is he?"
Bernadette's blue eyes flickered slyly. She curled her lips into a smile. "Not telling you! Unless you admit that 'letting the faster one rest is the real reward'!"
Edward stood up and made for the door.
"Then I'll go ask Matilda."
The little girl hurried down from the chair and grabbed his hand. "Fine, fine! I'll tell you!"
"I saw this man once at a banquet last year with my parents. Daddy said he's the most powerful man in Intis—the King of Intis."
"!!!"
Edward's heart lurched.
Though he had anticipated that the man from his dream-divination must be soone wealthy and noble, he hadn't expected this. He'd never even considered "king" as a possibility.
Damn. This really was a "big figure."
So "Intis" was actually the King of Intis?!
No wonder he chose that codena. In a sense, the entire nation belonged to him.
If "Intis" truly was the king, then it made sense that he used the puppet Tarik to handle things for him. Though his status was exalted, his movents would be heavily restricted. A puppet could accomplish what he could not.
Hmm?
Edward frowned. As the King of Intis, shouldn't he have had ten thousand ways to keep the villa at 7 Rose Street under his control, without renting or selling it out?
Even if it had been rented, shouldn't he have had ten thousand ways to investigate the tenants? Why did he have to commission the task at the gathering? Could it be…he simply wanted to use that map as a trap to swindle others?
And what about that brass rod that "amplified spirituality"—what was its purpose? Did he really skip the eting because of that?
Or…was it because I destroyed that puppet?
Previously, he and I both attended the Twilight Hermit Order gatherings through puppets.
So many possibilities.
Tsk.
Now the real question was—how does one take revenge on a king?
———
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