"Mr. F."
The moment Edward returned to the Aurora Order's safehouse, a servant rushed up eagerly. "That lady is still waiting for you in the parlour."
"Lady?"
Edward asked casually, "When did she arrive? How long has she been waiting?"
"Almost five hours."
Edward followed the routine—washed his hands in the basin, took the towel from the servant, and dried them slowly as he made his way to the parlour. At the doorway, he saw a woman in a dress and a veiled hat, seated on the sofa.
He quickly searched through Mr. F's memories and confirmed this was his first time meeting her.
"And you are, madam? What business do you have with me?"
As he spoke, he sat opposite her. The instant his gaze pierced the thin veil and caught her stunning features, Edward concluded that this woman was, nine times out of ten, also a witch.
So…she had come because of the previous witch?
"I'm Lina's elder sister."
Her voice was soft and alluring, enough to melt bone.
"Lina? Who?"
Edward wasn't feigning ignorance—Mr. F truly had no idea what that witch was called.
"The girl who commissioned you to assassinate Count Clair."
"Oh, her?"
Edward laced his fingers together and leaned back in his chair.
"Where is she? I already handled the matter, and the remaining payment should have been given by now, right?"
The woman placed a pouch heavy with coins on the table. "She couldn't come. This is the final payment. Where's the item?"
"What item?"
Edward frowned. "You can't mean the Count's head, surely? I don't have that. The commission was only to kill him."
"…"
She stared at him in silence.
"The item in the basement of No. 7 Rose Street."
"Oh."
Edward casually reached beneath the coffee table and "retrieved" a brass rod. "This?"
The woman froze. This thing had been hidden right under my nose this whole time? Then what on earth did I waste the last several hours for?
She reached out to take it, but Edward pulled it back. "First, the money you've paid is merely for the assassination of Count Clair. Second, I need to know what this thing is for."
"I can pay more," she said calmly, "but as for this item…I honestly don't know its purpose."
Edward's expression darkened. "Are you messing with me?"
"No!"
Her tone was earnest. "I only know my enemy desires it greatly. That alone makes it valuable to me. Its use doesn't matter—what matters is that my enemy cannot have it."
Enemy?
Wait a minute!
The way this is developing…doesn't quite match my expectations.
Wasn't this woman supposed to be Intis' agent, carrying out the Twilight Hermit Order's assignment to eliminate Count Clair and retrieve the brass rod?
So how had it suddenly become her enemy's possession?
Edward signalled to the servant with a flick of his hand. A goblet of wine was immediately placed before him. He tapped the rim, chilling the liquid inside, and took a slow sip.
The woman, unhurried, simply gazed at him through her veil.
"I've suddenly grown curious," Edward said with a faint smile. "Why exactly did you commission me to kill Count Clair?"
"Because someone wanted him dead. So I found you."
"Who?"
"Many people. Many who profited from the Son of Steam's inventions—including…Roselle Gustav himself."
Edward's lips curled upward. "You're telling me it was the Son of Steam who pushed you to hire me for Count Clair's assassination?"
"You can put it that way."
"Interesting."
Edward abruptly tossed the brass rod onto the table. "Pay up, then."
She seemed prepared for this. Producing a blood-red gemstone, she set it delicately upon the table. "A pleasure doing business."
Then she rose and headed for the door.
"See her out," Edward ordered.
Once the servant had led her away, Edward flicked a coin with a sharp snap.
"Tch. Not a single word of truth."
He donned his cloak of invisibility, shifted into spirit form, and activated Concealment. Slipping silently from the house, he shadowed the witch's carriage.
The coach rumbled north across the Iron Bridge, through Quartier de l'Observatoire, and down two bustling streets. It never stopped—but Edward noticed, when it crossed paths with another carriage, that she had slipped away, switching vehicles mid-motion.
So, she's cautious of being tailed too.
Edward watched her little performance with patience. She switched once. Then a second time. Then descended into the sewers, circling around until finally arriving at a rather ordinary townhouse in Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative.
The first thing she did inside was rush to the bath, evidently unable to endure the stench of the sewers.
Half an hour later, she sat at the vanity in a bathrobe, staring fixedly at her stunning reflection in the mirror, occasionally tracing her features lightly with her fingers, completely enchanted by her own beauty.
I admit you witches are beautiful…but do you really have to be so full of yourself?
At last, she slid open a drawer in the vanity, withdrew a human-skin mask, and placed it upon her face. The witch's radiant visage vanished—replaced by the face of a heavily made-up woman in her mid-thirties.
Edward's eyes widened.
Isn't that…Madam Marcia, the landlady who rented me No. 28 Emerald Street?
She's a witch?!
In that moment, Edward gained a deep appreciation of just how terrifying a Faceless could be. In the worldview of the mysticism system, aside from those on the Spectator Pathway, no other Beyonder—whether demigod or angel—could discern that someone at their side was an impersonator. (Of course, there were many ways to test for a Faceless, but you had to first suspect them before you could attempt such a check.)
The good news? I'm even more shameless than a Faceless.
The only question was whether this Madam Marcia had always been a witch using a Faceless-type mystical item to disguise herself, or if she had switched with someone else midway.
If it was the former—
Heh! Then Dubois had also experienced a demoness' "taste" firsthand—no wonder he and Roselle were true soulmates.
Since Marcia was a witch, and clearly had some connection to "Intis," the fact that she rented the house to me…could that really have been mere coincidence?
At that thought, Edward revealed himself, abruptly appearing in the room.
Almost instantly, Marcia's attack came. Razor-sharp spider silk shot out in every direction, filling the room and twisting toward Edward to tear him apart. Black flames and freezing icicles burst forth simultaneously, while unseen pathogens spread through the air.
But in the very next second, all of it vanished. Marcia realised she was still seated before her vanity, as though nothing had happened at all—that her frenzied attack had been nothing more than a hallucination.
Snap.
A withered hand pressed down suddenly on her shoulder. Through the mirror's reflection, she saw a bearded old man in a hooded black robe standing behind her.
The next moment, her body went limp with paralysis, her consciousness scattering as she slumped helplessly.
"Regression…truly a god-tier skill for bullying weaklings. Anyone below demigod level can easily be forced down by two whole Sequences, making it child's play to kill them with magic or supernatural abilities."
Even so, Edward didn't kill her.
Unlike the Aurora Order's Mr. F, the simple mercenary terrorist, through whom he could seize the Order's entire Trier network for himself, Marcia was more valuable alive
Edward swiftly set up a ritual and began spirit-channelling: "Your name. Your true name."
Marcia answered dully, "Marcia."
"Your affiliation."
"I am a member of the Demoness Sect."
"Why did you send people to Rose Street No. 7 to retrieve the brass rod?"
"For my Lord."
Hm? So this even ties back to Cheek…Oh, right. Cheek also needs the Conqueror Beyonder characteristics.
Still, for something so significant, entrusting the task to a mere Sequence 5 Demoness of Affliction seemed rather careless.
"What does your Lord want with this brass rod?"
"I don't know."
"What would you have done with it once you obtained it?"
"Wait for my Lord's messenger."
"When is this messenger supposed to arrive?"
"I don't know."
Edward folded his arms, frowning in thought, before continuing, "Why did you commission the Aurora Order to assassinate Count Clair?"
"I was only relaying the commission for someone else."
Oh? A new lead.
"Who?"
"Tarik."
"Tarik? Who is that?"
"He is a palace guard of Intis, working for one of Intis' great figures."
"Why did Tarik ask you to handle this?"
"He said it was inconvenient for him, but gave no further reason."
"How did you come into cooperation with him?"
"He and the person behind him had long maintained dealings with the Demoness Sect. The previous witch responsible for contact was killed, so I took her place."
"Give me Tarik's address."
"I don't know. He doesn't trust me. I can't even be sure Tarik is his real name."
Edward's brows furrowed.
After a pause, he asked again, "The witch who attacked during Roselle Gustav's banquet—was she one of yours?"
"Yes."
"Why did she attack?"
"To create multiple simultaneous murders, and in the chaos, kill Klein Sparrow, the tenant of Rose Street No. 7—so no one would associate his death with the so-called 'haunted house.'"
That answer genuinely shocked Edward. He had never expected that witch's true target back then had been him.
"Why did you want to kill Klein Sparrow?"
"On the surface, it was to 'help' Tarik remove the resident of Rose Street No. 7. In truth, it was a ploy to draw attention, forcing Tarik to relocate that item—and in the process, see if anything else hidden might also surface."
"And he never realised your true intention?"
"In his eyes, I am simply a madwoman who would stop at nothing for my Lord."
Edward suddenly spotted a blind spot, "Wait. If Tarik—and his powerful backer—wanted to keep people from moving into Rose Street No. 7, why not just buy or rent the place outright? Surely they can't be short of money?"
"Taric said that doing so would draw the wrong kind of attention. It would backfire."
"Whose attention?"
"I don't know."
Edward paced back and forth a few times. Some questions had been answered, but many more remained.
So he attempted another dream divination. The vision revealed Tarik's face: an utterly ordinary-looking blond man in knight's garb.
The real question now was how to handle Marcia.
Killing her was out of the question—he still needed her for more leads.
His hesitation was whether to erase her memory of tonight, or let her keep the impression of having encountered "Zaratul."
The former meant proceeding cautiously, step by step. The latter meant deliberately startling the snake out of the grass. Surely when they realise Zaratul himself is watching them, they won't remain idle, will they?
Looked at that way, the choice seemed clear.
Zaratul vs. Intis…and if I can throw in the Aurora Order as well?
Hehe...
I want to see rivers of blood!
———
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