Beneath the surface of Fieron City, inside a room shrouded in darkness, only a transparent tank filled with faintly glowing pale-blue liquid provided any light. It illuminated the silent figure of Fieron, seated before the tank, wearing a gas mask.
Inside the tank, a human brain was connected to nurous wires. Fieron’s fingers moved constantly across the nearby instrunts, sending varying levels of electric currents through the wires into the brain. With each flicker of light inside the tank, the recording devices beside it emitted rhythmic beeping as curves erged on the screen.
“Perfect, right here!”
Fieron’s magnetic voice rang out. He lowered his head to note the exact spot the electric stimulation had affected. Then he reached out and slipped on another tallic glove over his left hand. Silently, he gazed at the brain inside the tank before suddenly plunging his hand through the glass and grasping the fragile organ.
In the next mont, a shocking thing happened—the glove began to vibrate slightly, emitting the sa current that had been used monts earlier. The brain trembled, and when Fieron withdrew his hand, it looked as though he was now gripping a vague human silhouette. With a firm pull, he drew the phantom figure out of the small brain.
“The experint was a success, Nana...”
Fieron gently placed the ghostly soul into a small tal cylinder. As the container closed, a series of piercing screams echoed faintly. Fieron had reduced the subject to nothing but a brain, and yet the man was still alive—serving as a key part of the hypothesis Fischer had once ntioned.
By stimulating a specific part of the brain, it was indeed possible to create the right conditions for soul extraction.
From the shadows behind him ca murmured whispers and low growls. A minotaur girl in a dress quietly stepped out from the darkness behind Fieron.
“It worked, Lord Fieron?”
“Mhm. We can begin the preparations.”
Fieron returned the brain, now leaking blue blood, to the tank. His eyes glanced at the naplate beneath it: “Harry.” After a few seconds of silence, he looked away and removed the tallic glove from his left hand, also picking up the tal cylinder at his feet.
“But... what about Fischer? You brought back every soldier who had contact with him to keep his whereabouts secret, right? From what we saw at the dueling arena, the magic he used didn’t seem very strong. Couldn’t we just use poison or target his guards...?”
Fieron raised a hand to silence Nana.
“I saw over a hundred magical glyphs etched on Fischer’s cane. He barely used any spells against that Dragonkin, which ans he's already preparing for a possible conflict with us. Other tricks won’t work on him.”
His gaze turned contemplative, as if he was calculating sothing.
“And besides, Fischer is one of the few true geniuses of our era. I won’t kill such a brilliant mind unless I have no other choice... Let’s just finish this operation first. Once I’ve made all the necessary preparations, I’ll have a conversation with him.”
More than that—he still hadn’t gotten the answer he was seeking. That day at the opera house, Fieron had clearly seen the certainty in Fischer’s eyes. Fischer knew the answer, and Fieron desperately wanted to know it too.
“Yes, Lord Fieron.”
“I’m counting on you, Nana. I’ll need your help to make sure nothing goes wrong.”
“Understood...”
Nana said nothing more as she placed her hand on Fieron’s shoulder, gently massaging his muscles.
Before the tank, drops of blue blood fell one by one, blending seamlessly into the deep-blue floor.
“Miss Nana! I’m back!”
Just stepping down from Fischer’s carriage, Qiqi spotted the minotaur girl standing at the mansion gate, hands folded over her belly. She grinned and ran up to her, throwing herself into her arms.
“Welco back, Qiqi. How was your day?”
Nana smiled warmly, running her hands over Qiqi’s long ears. Qiqi nestled comfortably into her embrace.
“It was great! I t Angela! She’s a little taller than and even bought coffee. Her uncle was a bit scary, but luckily, Mr. Fischer helped out!”
“That’s wonderful,” Nana replied with a smile, turning to Fischer. “Mr. Fischer, this way please—we’ve already prepared dinner.”
“Thank you.”
Fischer nodded and followed her inside along with Raphaëlle and the others. The maids had already set the table. Fieron sat at the dining table too—this ti, joined by more than a dozen children he had taken in.
“Mr. Fischer, thank you for your help today.”
“It’s nothing, really. I just happened to be heading the sa way.”
“Haha, Qiqi, did you thank Mr. Fischer properly?”
“She totally didn’t! Qiqi, you didn’t even invite us to co along. Are we not friends anymore?”
“Yeah, exactly!”
With all the kids there, the room beca a noisy ss—like dozens of loudspeakers blaring at once. But Fieron didn’t scold them. Instead, he gently guided them.
“At the table, we should always behave. It's not polite to be so loud around Mr. Fischer. Boqi, stop squirming around.”
The kids pouted, made faces at one another, then obediently picked up their utensils and began eating.
After a relatively quiet dinner, Fieron didn’t send the children off to bed right away. Instead, he let them play in the living room for a while to digest. Soon, they were running around with toys, wrestling and laughing.
Watching this, Larr’s eyes sparkled with envy. She glanced at Fischer for approval. Once he nodded, she dashed off to join in.
“Ahh! That little dragon’s coming again! Hide your toys!”
“Boqi, it’s okay to let her play for a bit!”
“Qiqi, traitor! You’ve totally switched sides!”
As the noise grew louder, Fieron sat beside Fischer, watching the scene in silence. After a long while, he spoke softly.
“Every ti I see them, I feel like I’m looking at my younger self—and my brothers. We used to use apple tree branches as swords, pretending to be knights. Since I was the youngest, I was always the horse... Well, we took turns, so we all got to be brave and selfless knights at so point. Hahaha.”
His voice was magnetic and calm, and though his tone rose and fell naturally, it carried a certain emptiness that felt out of place.
“Is that so... I barely rember my childhood. I just recall enrolling in a church school that taught the Book of Genesis.”
“Oh? But you don’t seem particularly fond of the church. Why go?”
“Because the nun teaching the Book of Genesis was a young blonde woman with a very large chest, and she would teach us one-on-one how to write scripture.”
Fischer said it with a blank expression, and Fieron blinked in surprise before bursting out laughing.
“Sounds like Mr. Fischer was always destined to be a Saint Nary man. Hahaha.”
Actually, it was because the church school had a free library, free bread and jam, and warm dormitories with cozy blankets.
“Papa! I learned a new poem from Mada Lauffan today from Mr. Fischer—it’s about the love story between a swallow and a dragon!”
Qiqi ran over excitedly and threw herself into Fieron’s arms, recounting her day. Fieron gently stroked her ear and replied,
“Oh my, that kind of poetry is still a bit too mature for you... But writing skills are universal. As your emotions grow richer, your writing will beco more refined.”
“All right, Qiqi, it’s about ti.”
Fieron’s hand grew even gentler as he stroked Qiqi, making her squint with comfort.
“You should take your little brothers and sisters to bed. It’s been a long day—you all need rest.”
“Mhm! Qiqi’s the best!”
Qiqi crawled out of his lap. Behind her, Nana was already instructing the children to get ready for bed.
“Qiqi, co on, bedti!”
Several children spotted her still hanging around and called to her.
“Coming!” Qiqi stuck out her tongue at them. Then, after saying goodnight to Fieron, she ran off—but halfway, she suddenly rembered sothing and turned back, cheeks flushed, to quietly say to Fischer,
“Goodnight, Mr. Fischer.”
“...Goodnight, Qiqi.”
After hearing his reply, she skipped off with the others, chatting and laughing as Nana led them away. The door closed behind them, cutting off their figures. Only their fading voices echoed in the hallway.
Larr, still hugging her toy, didn’t look happy playing alone and returned to sit with Mir and the others. Now, only Fischer, Fieron, and a few others remained.
Fieron stood, getting ready to leave. As he picked up his suit jacket, he suddenly turned to Fischer.
“Thank you again for today, Mr. Fischer... By the way, do you drink?”
“I’ll admit—I’m better at pouring than drinking.”
Fischer could handle alcohol, but it was safer not to drink here.
“Haha, that’s fine. No harm in trying now and then. Tomorrow afternoon, we’re hosting a little cocktail party in the courtyard. I’ve prepared so fine liquor. I heard they serve champagne at academic conferences at the Royal Academy—thought it’d be fitting to enjoy so good wine while we talk more about academic matters.”
Fischer studied Fieron for a mont, then smiled and accepted.
“Thanks for the invitation. Goodnight, Mr. Fieron.”
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