Knock, knock, knock.
The study door sounded three tis.
Edward looked up, and in his mind, he automatically pictured Dubois standing outside with a tray and a glass of milk.
"Co in."
Dubois pushed open the door softly, stepped inside, and placed the glass on the desk. "Boss, the milk you asked for."
"Thanks."
Edward downed it in one gulp, wiped his lips, and muttered under his breath, "Drink more milk, and you'll grow up faster."
Dubois: "…"
It had been three or four days now, and he still wasn't used to his boss's current appearance—especially the occasional flashes of childlike behaviour or speech.
You couldn't even say he was pretending to be cute—he really wasn't doing it on purpose.
He simply couldn't help it; it was the "curse" affecting his mind.
"Boss," Dubois said after a pause, "while you were away, I found two Beyonder gatherings in Trier through so connections. One is organised by unaffiliated Beyonders, and the other is one secretly managed by the authorities."
"Oh?"
Edward set down the empty cup.
It took him a mont to rember—right, he'd asked Dubois to look for gatherings earlier because he'd needed money to sell so Beyonder materials.
Although he'd looted quite a bit from pirates a few days ago, money always ran out eventually—especially when one had a whole household to feed.
"So, you've made contact with both gatherings?"
"Yes."
"Good. Once I need funds again, I'll have you handle so of the material sales."
"Understood."
Dubois picked up the empty cup, hesitated, then asked, "Do you…know what's going on with Roselle right now?"
"I do."
Edward looked up at him with a faintly amused smile. "Miss him already?"
"...Of course not!"
Dubois grinned awkwardly. "I just have so long-held questions I've been wanting to ask him—and I'd prefer he not die before I do."
Edward's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh? What questions? Tell ."
"Well…" Dubois paused for several seconds, then said, "Please allow to keep it secret for now. Once I've asked him, I'll tell you."
"Tch, fine."
Edward waved a hand dismissively. "Go on then—ah, wait. How's your Telepathist potion digestion coming along?"
"Almost complete," Dubois replied. "While you were gone, I've been focusing entirely on acting every day."
"...You've really been working hard, huh."
Working hard, indeed—charming noble ladies every day was a kind of labor.
Edward propped his chin on one hand. "As before, I can give you the next formula for free. But have you figured out how to obtain the materials?"
Dubois smiled confidently. "Of course."
"Oh?" Edward raised an eyebrow.
"I was planning to use that as leverage to make you sell your soul to . Congratulations—you've dodged that bullet."
Dubois straightened his posture solemnly. "Boss, thank you for your generosity. But I'm the type who values pride over comfort—I can't stand the thought of endlessly receiving favours. I already owe you too much."
"No, no, you misunderstand," Edward said with a chuckle. "In the world of mysticism, you should always rember one truth: every gift from fate has already been secretly priced."
He tapped the desk lightly. "So my 'gifts' co with a price too—just not one you'll pay today."
Dubois was silent for a few seconds before nodding seriously.
"I understand, Boss."
Edward watched him leave, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Sequence 7 is already mid-sequence…The ingredients alone would cost at least two thousand Felkin. Where's he getting that kind of money?"
He thought for a mont, then flipped a coin into the air.
"Dubois's thod of making money is dangerous."
The coin landed numbers up—a no.
"Mm. That's good enough."
Edward tore out the notebook page he'd been using, crushed it into a ball, and flicked it into the air.
With a soft pop, it ignited into a burst of fire, turning to ash that drifted into the wastebasket.
Then he pulled out his pocket watch, glanced at the ti, and murmured, "Almost ti for the eting."
Unfortunately, the Twilight Hermit Order's gatherings weren't as punctual as the Tarot Club's.
There was no fixed "3 p.m." schedule—other than the roughly monthly grand assembly, the rest were held whenever their mbers pleased.
That unpredictability was, in fact, their trademark.
———
At lunch, Edward had just taken a sip of his fruit aperitif when his spirituality gave a faint tremor—a feeling he knew all too well.
It was the familiar summoning signal that always preceded the Twilight Hermit Order's gatherings.
Grabbing a piece of roasted fish, he bit off a mouthful and spoke as he rose from the table: "The rest is yours. I've got sothing to take care of."
Once inside his room, he habitually hid the area with layers of protection, then walked four steps backwards into the Sefirah Castle.
There he drew out the silver cross that glimred softly in his hand.
Amon was hanging upside-down in his cage again, apparently amusing himself with so new mischief.
"Oh, is it that paranoid zealot's gathering again?" the crow-faced angel asked lazily. "I've tried sneaking in a few tis, but he always noticed and tossed out."
He flapped his wings smugly.
"One day, I'll find a chance to parasitise him, hold the eting in his place, and then—at the perfect mont—put on my monocle. Hahaha, wouldn't that be hilarious?"
Edward fell silent.
Oh, you really will do that, he thought.
According to Adam's words, Amon indeed had done so in the original tiline—and had even issued a commission through that very eting, asking him to rescue Mr. Door.
"You two work together quite often," Edward said, "and you're…brothers. So why don't you seem to get along?"
"He's always wary of —just as I'm wary of him."
Amon folded his wings and replied in a singsong tone: "A Zealot like him, one who'll sacrifice even himself for his goal—if you ever trust him completely, then congratulations, you'll be the next sacrifice!"
Edward's eyes flickered. "Adam does all this for the sake of stopping the apocalypse, doesn't he?"
"That's true, but—"
Before Amon could finish, Edward interrupted, "So, he'd be willing to sacrifice himself to stop it, right?"
Amon tilted his head, perplexed.
"Then tell this," Edward pressed, "do you think Adam would cooperate with the True Creator—even give that being the initiative—just to fight the apocalypse?"
"Absolutely impossible!"
Amon laughed. "That Zealot…Adam despises the Hanged Man. He seems to bla that one for our father's death. Though I suspect there's so deeper secret I've never uncovered. Sha—no matter what I tried, I could never find it."
You'll understand once you reach the Giant King's Court and et the Dark Angel Sasrir yourself.
Amon's pupils flashed. "Wait—your expression just now…you do know the secret, don't you?"
"I do."
Edward narrowed his eyes with a sly smile. "But I'm not telling you."
"Unless you…"
"I beg you?"
Amon caught on imdiately. "Fine then—I'll beg you! Want to kneel and kowtow? I can do a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spiral kowtow! Seven-hundred-and-twenty if you'd like!"
"…"
Edward sighed. "I never said you had to beg . What I need is a Planeswalker's Beyonder characteristic. Do you know where I can find one?"
"Planeswalker, hmm?"
Amon made a mock gesture of rubbing his beak like a chin. "Only the Abraham Family would still have sothing like that. Oh, right—where did you get your Sequence 3 Wanderer characteristic, anyway?"
He gave a sly grin.
"I recall a Jacob-family descendant telling you about the internal feud within Abraham. You certainly move fast."
Edward thought for a mont, then recounted what had happened before he entered "Old Shanghai" at Bansy.
"I knew one branch of Abraham had a Wanderer's characteristic, but I figured I'd have to search for it eventually. Really, it was thanks to your dear brother that it fell right into my hands."
"Hahaha!"
Amon burst into laughter. "You're clearly leaving sothing out. There's no way that paranoid freak would hand you a Sequence 3 characteristic for free."
He paused, then added with feigned innocence, "By the way, you're on good terms with Lilith, aren't you? Yet Adam was one of the culprits behind her fall—why haven't you turned on him?"
Edward's tone was calm. "Because an arm can't twist a thigh. Until I gain the strength to oppose him, there's no point."
"That's fair."
Amon nodded. "So, you got so Abraham relics, yet you're still asking for a Planeswalker characteristic…That ans you haven't divined the whereabouts of the other branch, have you? Makes sense—they'd have moved the mont trouble arose, concealing themselves with specialised sealed artifacts to block all detection."
He chuckled.
"That'll be a problem. With how cautious they are, they could stay hidden for decades. Even if you asked that paranoid brother of mine for help, I doubt you'd ever find them."
Edward's small face tightened.
That was precisely what troubled him.
Did this an he'd have to wait until the future—until he could reclaim the Box of the Great Old Ones from Bernadette and ask the Evernight Goddess to shatter it into a characteristic—before he could advance to Sequence 2?
No…
Maybe he could try contacting Mr. Door again.
Didn't that being want him to digest his potion quickly and ascend to Sequence 2, so he could complete his advancent ritual among the stars?
If so…maybe Mr. Door would supply him with a Planeswalker characteristic.
But the last ti in the City of Calamity, that entity had already realised he was immune to corruption.
"Of course," Amon said suddenly, his voice full of mischief. "I do still have at least two thods."
He released his claws and dropped lightly to the ground, monocle flashing with silver light. "When you let go, I'll tell you what they are."
Edward t his gaze for a mont. "Another ti. I only just advanced to Sequence 3—I'm in no hurry."
A grin curved across Amon's avian features. "Good. I'm not in a hurry either. Honestly, being trapped in your little 'divine kingdom' isn't bad. Quite entertaining, actually."
Their conversation ended there.
Edward turned his focus back to the silver cross in his hand.
He flicked it gently—and a surge of spirituality poured into it like a roaring tide.
The faint glow flared into blinding white, flooding his vision with silver light.
Everything blurred and lted away, until he once again stood inside Adam's Corpse Cathedral.
Adam stood, as always, before the colossal cross.
On each side of him were three mbers—six in total—plus himself, making seven altogether.
Huh?
The number didn't add up.
The Hunter's dead, the Coward's dead, and Intis is sealed…so there should only be six left. Soone new must've joined this ti?
Just as he thought that, a familiar voice rang out:
"Hahahahaha! Surprise! Bet you didn't expect to still be alive!"
———
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