Edward furrowed his brow and asked, "How do you think this matter could possibly implicate me? After all, Akasha is just my hired housekeeper. Whatever she did outside shouldn't have anything to do with me, right?"
Dubois shook his head.
"When power reaches a certain level, one can ignore many laws and regulations. For the sake of venting anger, Count Clair could fabricate any reason or charge."
"For example?"
A rapid series of footsteps sounded, and soon the door was flung open with a loud bang. A person dressed in Trier police uniform entered, holding a paper, and declared loudly, "Klein Sparrow, I am the chief of the Quartier de la Maison d'Opéra Police Department. You are hereby arrested on suspicion of murdering the previous owner of the villa at 7 Rose Street, resulting in the deaths of 18 people!"
"Dubois, you're coming along as an accomplice!"
After saying this, he waved his hand, and the officers behind him lunged forward like wolves.
Edward and Dubois exchanged a glance: Now they knew what fabricated charges were being pinned on them—must admit, it was…ingenious.
———
Bang!
Edward and Dubois were harshly shoved into a prison cell—without any interrogation or trial.
Edward gazed at the dark, damp, and foul-smelling cell, feeling that justice had arrived far too quickly: just last night, he had arrested Roselle in the name of the Space-Time Police, and now he himself was being arrested.
At present, the only way to leave by legitimate means seemed to rest on Roselle.
Edward waved his hand to clean the prison cell and transformed two sofas, though to outside eyes, under the veil of [False Reality], the place still appeared filthy and damp.
Although it wasn't unfamiliar for "Mr. Sparrow" to possess such abilities, seeing it with his own eyes still left Dubois quite astonished.
Edward sat down on a sofa and asked, "What's the next procedure? Await a trial, or a direct conviction?"
"I suspect…they'll just make us 'commit suicide out of guilt.'"
Seeing Edward remain composed, Dubois calmly analysed the situation. "You're a newly arrived nouveau riche in Trier, and I've offended many people. They won't need any formal legal procedures to deal with us; making us 'suicide out of guilt' is the simplest way."
"Is Akasha being held here too?"
"Probably."
Edward tossed a coin, the side facing up indicating negation.
"She's not here."
Dubois instantly showed signs of anxiety. "In that case, Count Clair must have ordered special treatment for her. If so, she's probably in serious danger right now."
He blamed himself, "I was so foolish back then! Why did I advise her to surrender peacefully?"
"Whether she surrendered or not doesn't change the outcome. Do you really think the official Beyonders organisation of Trier would play by the rules?"
"And where is she now...?"
"I'll go check."
"Huh?"
Edward left the False Reality in place to maintain the illusion of the cell, but in fact, he stepped out in spirit form, quickly using his Dowsing Rod to locate Akasha's position. Unhindered in spirit form, he swiftly made his way there.
Soon, he arrived at the dungeon of a villa several kilometers away. This seemed to be a privately established prison by some noble family, but the defences weren't particularly official.
However, since it was designed for common criminals, it was utterly meaningless against someone like Edward—a Sequence 4 with various methods at his disposal.
Akasha lay bored on a bed inside the cell, staring blankly at the ceiling with bright red eyes. She didn't look like she had been tortured for interrogation.
She had indeed swapped yesterday's pants for black stockings. At first glance, it gave off a hint of "uniform temptation". Combined with her fiery figure, it wouldn't be hard to imagine any man being blinded by lust.
As soon as Edward stepped in, she jumped up, her red eyes flickering with surprise. "Mr. Sparrow, you're dead?!"
"..."
Edward lightly flicked her forehead with an invisible hand. "Who told you that spirit form means you're dead? Don't you know some Pathways allow one to become a spirit or even a wraith?"
Akasha tilted her head, puzzled. "But you're clearly not from one of those Pathways."
"Isn't a sealed artifact sufficient?" Edward crossed his arms. "Hey, I have to say, you're quite unconcerned about this, still finding time to ask these nonsense questions."
Akasha replied matter-of-factly, "What would I have to worry about? I know you're definitely coming to rescue me. Otherwise, when Arlde comes back and finds out you abandoned his beloved sister, would he still help you 'investigate' the things you're curious about?"
Edward sat down next to her. "Do you know that Dubois and I were arrested and thrown into prison because of you?"
"???"
She was genuinely surprised. "Why?"
"Because the person you injured…" Edward revealed Count Clair's identity. After listening, she nodded and clenched her fist. "So that's how it is. In that case, we'll have no choice but to escape. Let's go."
Without hesitation, she jumped off the bed and went to kick the door, but Edward quickly pulled her back. "Escape what prison? If we escape now, all my prior efforts will have been for nothing."
"Ha, I knew it. How could a demigod powerhouse waste time pretending to be some nouveau riche desperate to mingle with nobles?"
Akasha nudged Edward's shoulder with interest. "You're up to something big, aren't you? Is it some higher Sequence promotion ritual—you need to cause a disaster or something?"
"Don't ask about things you shouldn't."
"Tch, must be nothing good anyway."
Edward's eyes narrowed. "That kick you gave…did you cripple Count Clair's grandson?"
She scratched her cheek. "How should I know? I was pissed and kicked him, that's all. Didn't measure my strength. But, well…he did scream pretty miserably."
"…"
Edward asked again, "Since you were locked up here, has anyone come to see you?"
He had assumed Count Clair brought her here to torture her for revenge. But was it that he simply hadn't had time yet—or was there something else?
"Yeah. But I don't think it was Clair's men."
"Oh? Why?"
"Because the guy said he'd create an opportunity for me to kill Clair. Then he'd help me escape."
Edward clicked his tongue. This development…it felt like someone deliberately wanted to use Akasha to assassinate Count Clair.
The Twilight Hermit Order's handiwork?
"And you agreed?"
"Of course not! Only an idiot would fall for that. I'd rather sit tight here and wait for you to rescue me. At least that's reliable."
Edward thought for a moment. "I see."
Just then, his spirituality stirred—something was happening elsewhere. He said, "Stay here for now."
"Huh? Aren't you worried the Count will take his revenge on me, kill me or worse?"
His figure faded away. "If that happens, I'll personally avenge you."
"Hey! Hey!"
Akasha chased after him two steps, fuming. "I'd rather live than be avenged after death! Ugh, I hate you high-Sequence types—never straightforward, always roundabout! Infuriating!"
She threw herself back on the bed, swinging her long pale legs, restless with both boredom and anxiety.
Time passed. Footsteps approached. A voice echoed outside her cell—the same man from earlier.
"Kill Count Clair, and we will help you ascend to Sequence 4—become a demigod."
"…"
Akasha froze.
Even someone as careless and free-spirited as she was couldn't deny the temptation. From Sequence 6 straight to a demigod…it was enough to stir her heart.
But she quickly steadied herself and sneered, "Tch. Our Sanguines' advancement isn't the same as you ordinary Beyonders."
The voice outside said coolly, "Over the years, countless Vampires have died out in the world. What we hold are those unclaimed, unretrieved characteristics."
"…!"
Akasha's crimson eyes narrowed, her fangs flashing. "Do you have any idea how insulting that is to us Sanguines?"
"I'm only stating facts. Whether you accept them or not, facts remain facts."
After a long silence, Akasha asked, "Why choose me? I'm only Sequence 6."
"It is not we who chose you…It is the trend of the times."
——
Edward had barely returned to his own cell when the iron door swung open.
Roselle swaggered in, his tone arrogant and domineering as he addressed the guards:
"You know me, I always speak bluntly, so no offence intended. What I'm about to say isn't personal. But Clair's brat got what he deserved. This whole matter was of his own making and has nothing to do with my friend!"
Anyone who'd dealt with his nonsense before knew exactly what he meant: Release him.
"Why are you still standing there? Hurry and release Mr. Sparrow!"
"Y-Yes, sir."
The guards scrambled to bow and gesture. "Sir, you…you may leave now."
Before they finished, Roselle shoved them aside. "My apologies, Klein, for letting you suffer this indignity."
He didn't even glance at Dubois.
"Ah? No, no, it's us who should be thanking you," Edward replied politely.
"No!"
Roselle's face carried a flicker of restrained fury. "This whole scheme of Clair's was aimed at me! The coward couldn't touch me directly, so he went after my friend. That old bastard!"
Huh?
Did Roselle think Count Clair targeted me because of him?
…What a convenient misunderstanding.
Edward thought for a moment, then decided to explain softly, "Actually, what happened was…"
He recounted Akasha's clash with Clair's grandson. Roselle was first stunned, then burst into raucous laughter.
"Hahahahaha! Excellent! Brilliant! That housekeeper of yours, I simply must thank her!"
"That damned Wells always tried to steal women from me. Now his grandson's been kicked where it hurts—ha! Let's see if he dares challenge me again!"
Roselle leaned in, voice lowering mischievously. "No, no. I should send him more women! Hahahaha!"
"…."
After his fit of laughter, Roselle's face turned thoughtful, his hand stroking his chin.
"No wonder that old bastard Clear suddenly lost his mind, throwing you in here with such a flimsy excuse. He's trying to cut off his line."
"In that case, your housekeeper's situation is tricky."
Edward immediately said, "I can hire the best lawyer in Trier to defend her."
Roselle waved it off. "Lawyers won't help in a matter like this."
He pondered for a moment. "Let's get out of here first."
He clapped Edward's shoulder, and the two of them strode out of the cell. Dubois hurried after them.
Roselle glanced back in surprise. "Who let you out? I came to bail out my good friend Klein. Who the hell are you, tagging along?"
Dubois: "…"
"Oh, I remember now. Isn't this the darling of Trier, the heartthrob of countless noble ladies and young misses alike—Dubois? Tell me, why didn't any of your lovers—no, true loves—come to rescue you?"
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.