Chapter 25: The Sll of Heresy!
“Stop talking! If we are not going, then we are not going,” Vivian snorted stubbornly, her fingers unconsciously clutching the hem of her skirt.
She did not look at Eve. Her gaze fell to the tips of her shoes. “This place… I am not interested in going there anyway.”
Seeing she had been persuaded, Eve understood that with Vivian’s personality, reasoning alone was useless. The consequences had to be placed plainly before her eyes.
“It is good that Young Miss understands. We may continue forward. Perhaps there will be sothing more… normal,” she said, offering her a graceful way out and redirecting the topic.
“I do not need your reminder. Hmph.”
This ti Vivian did not object, nor did she glance again at Victoria Charm. She simply walked beside Eve.
But she did not forget the boy from the Perry family. If she encountered him again, she would certainly use this matter to crush his delusions once and for all.
As they proceeded, passersby could not help casting glances at them. Their refined and immaculate clothing made them far too conspicuous in the Black Street.
Beyond that, Vivian noticed sothing else. A few individuals did not move hurriedly like ordinary pedestrians, but instead leaned against doorways or stood upon steps.
Their clothing style was nearly identical to the mafia mbers she had seen earlier, and their gazes made her far more uncomfortable than those of the crowd.
“Are those also?” she asked.
Eve confird her suspicion. “They maintain order as well. Another part of the mafia.”
Vivian pressed her lips together, maintaining her noble posture and straightening her back, as though silently competing with the gang mbers.
As they passed a small plaza before a tavern, another symbol of order appeared.
The gathered crowd stirred, scattering hurriedly as if avoiding a plague.
Several figures erged from an alley opposite them, their steps synchronized.
All wore black high-collared coats and black gloves. Even their faces were wrapped in black masks. Silver-white weapons hung at their waists, faintly emitting a pale green chill.
Most striking were their pale golden eyes—without exception identical, as though born of the sa mother. Even their heights were nearly the sa.
“Move, move…”
“Are you blind?! You stepped on !”
During the commotion, a particularly unfortunate-looking man accidentally bumped into one of them.
He was instantly seized by the collar and lifted off the ground, causing him to beg frantically, “Sorry, brother! I did not see! I am very sorry!”
From the beginning to the end of the small incident, Vivian watched intently. She stopped walking and curiously examined the black-clad figures. “What are they?”
She did not even call them people—by instinct, they did not feel human.
“The Central Church’s cleaners,” Eve replied faintly. Her gaze remained casual as she held the parasol steady, adjusting its angle slightly.
Tch… unfortunate luck to encounter them here…
“Cleaners?” Vivian repeated, puzzled.
She knew the Central Church well, yet the concept of “cleaners” was sothing she had neither seen nor heard of.
Unable to resist, she asked, “Do they appear here often?”
“Not often. Even though the Black Street is a gray area, the Church does not deploy them lightly,” Eve said. Instinctively, her previously relaxed posture straightened slightly.
Normally, unless there was a clear mission, in Vosini—being a special administrative district—only standard Church patrol units could be seen, and mostly in the outer districts.
Before Vivian could ask further what they did, the cleaner squad stopped. The man being held was released, and he fled imdiately.
The one who appeared to be the captain rapidly scanned the surroundings with his golden eyes until they stopped in the direction of Vivian and Eve.
Not only the captain—the other mbers did the sa, turning their heads slightly and focusing their gazes.
After rely two and a half seconds, they began moving.
Maintaining a loose formation, they walked straight toward Vivian and Eve. Each step was heavy, stirring dust. Wherever they passed, the onlookers withdrew, afraid they might be seized next.
Eve’s grip on the parasol tightened slightly. Her face remained expressionless, but she lowered the parasol further, hiding most of her face—especially her red eyes.
“What do they do?”
No reply.
“I am asking you!” Vivian had just turned toward Eve when several heavy footsteps arrived before them.
She turned back in confusion. Seeing the cleaners stop in front of them and block their path, her brows furrowed in displeasure.
Without fear, she t the captain’s cold gaze, lifted her chin, and spoke loudly with clear irritation. “What do you want?”
Hearing her arrogant tone, the captain’s golden pupils grew colder.
Under the authority granted by the Central Church, cleaners possessed temporary enforcent rights during missions. When necessary, they could even use force.
Noncooperation often invited harsh consequences.
He was clearly unaccustod to such an attitude, especially from a finely dressed woman. He was about to speak.
However, Vivian acted first.
She had never intended to reason. Instead, impatiently, she opened her handbag and took out an object—small, yet clear enough for him to see.
A badge.
An emblem set with a ruby, engraved with entwined thorns, and at its center a simple family symbol—a red rose.
The mont the captain saw the emblem, his brow twitched. Instinctively, he raised his right hand sharply and clenched it into a fist.
The squad mbers behind him, previously forming a loose encirclent, froze in place and imdiately stepped half a pace back, though their vigilance did not entirely fade.
The captain forced out a deep voice, uncertain, “Hatherin…?”
Vivian kept her chin raised. Raised in privilege and status, she could not tolerate re Church hounds blocking her path.
“You know it and still block ? Move aside for this Young Miss!”
The captain’s gaze beca complicated.
The Church’s power was formidable, yet in a special district like Vosini—where many nobles resided—especially a deeply rooted top family like the Hatherin Family—
Direct conflict was not the intention of their patrol.
The young lady held an official family crest. Forgery was impossible unless one had a death wish.
As for the silent maid behind her whose face could not be seen…
His judgnt beca uncertain under the pressure of the Hatherin emblem.
More importantly, there was no concrete evidence—only that peculiar scent of blood in the air.
If he took coercive action against a mber and attendant of the Hatherin Family based on that alone, the consequences would not be sothing a re squad captain could bear.
After a brief silence, the captain slowly lowered his raised hand and stepped aside.
He glanced at Vivian. “Apologies. Routine inspection. No offense intended.”
Though his sincerity was questionable, his posture was clearly lowered.
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