Bernadette stood inside the room, having watched her father make a complete fool of himself—yelling, flipping over, drawing his gun, crawling on the floor, then shrinking into a corner and screaming miserably.
For the first time, she felt a pang of pity for him. "Mr. Sparrow, what on earth did you make Daddy see? I…I've never seen him so scared before."
"Relax. It was just some monsters chasing him around the room."
"Oh…"
Only when her father finally collapsed into sleep on the bed did the little girl's anxious heart settle.
At that moment, Edward conjured up a thick stack of banknotes and scattered them all over Roselle, then patted Bernadette on the head. "Alright. That should be enough to teach your father a lesson. Come on, let's go see the mermaids."
"Okay~"
Bernadette glanced back at her father one last time before leaving the room with Edward, vanishing into the depths of the battlefield of the gods.
They spent two or three hours sailing the Fairy Tale through the Sea of Ruins, passing through two dreamworlds along the way. Unfortunately, they neither encountered an elementary school textbook nor found the mermaid.
What surprised Edward, however, was that even though he'd thought the Church had dispersed the Hidden Sage's gaze—making it impossible for Bernadette to remain lucid in dreams—she was still bouncing around lively as ever. Then he remembered: the future Queen Mystic was also someone who could remain clear-headed within dreamscapes.
Whether it was due to her unique constitution, or some kind of "residual effect" left behind by the Hidden Sage remained unknown.
———
The next morning.
At an inn on the Aurak Islands, Roselle jolted awake from sleep, bolting upright in bed.
Fragments of broken memory clung to his mind, like scraps of nightmare.
"Thank heavens…it was just a dream…"
He wiped his forehead in relief—only to notice his torn clothing, the random banknotes strewn over him, and the utter disarray of the room. His mind went blank with a loud buzz.
The broken memories pieced themselves back together into a coherent sequence: The honey trap. The two hulking men. His clothes being ripped apart. Being thrown onto the bed. The two brutes lunging at him—
"!!!"
Roselle's expression twisted into terror, his heart sinking into despair. He jolted upright like he'd been electrocuted—only to collapse back onto the floor with a heavy thump.
Wait!
Why does my ass hurt so much?
Was it from falling just now? Or…from what happened last night…?
No!!
No!!!
I, Roselle, a man destined for greatness, the protagonist chosen by fate—how could I…how could I have been defiled by two brutes?!
For a moment, he felt his Dao heart collapse.
Bang!
The door suddenly burst open as the Four Horsemen rushed inside.
Seeing the wreckage, they immediately surrounded Roselle, eyes sharp and alert.
"Captain, what happened?" Grimm asked anxiously.
"N-nothing."
Roselle scrambled to hide his true emotions. "Last night, I…did you hear anything?"
"No. You got drunk, those two women escorted you back, and not long after, they left."
"Just…the two of them?"
"Of course."
Roselle's backside throbbed even worse.
The Four Horsemen, satisfied he was unharmed, turned their worried eyes toward him. But in Roselle's state, their gaze felt like the judgment of a tribunal.
He opened his mouth, closed it again, hesitated several times. At last, he declared in a heavy tone: "From now until we return to Trier—no one is allowed to drink."
Grimm blinked. "Why?"
Roselle clenched his teeth, staggering upright with a limp.
"Because…when you drink too much…your ass hurts."
The Four Horsemen: "???"
———
Trier.
After Edward's divination revealed the young nobleman behind Tarik, the Aurora Order combed the city for information. Yet after days of searching, they uncovered nothing.
That wasn't surprising. The Aurora Order of this era was a shadow of its future self. With so few members scattered across a metropolis of over a million, tracking down one man was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
So Edward's life slipped into another quiet, uneventful week—until the next scheduled gathering of the Twilight Hermit Order.
Early that morning, fresh from washing up, Edward stepped out of his room to find Dubois waiting at the stairs.
"Morning, Mr. Sparrow. Someone wishes to see you."
Edward frowned. "Who?"
Aside from Roselle's family, he knew no one in Trier. Matilda certainly wouldn't visit without reason. As for Bernadette—that girl practically came over every other day already; it hardly counted as a 'visit.'
"A prospective tenant," Dubois explained.
"Hm?"
"They want to rent the villa at 7 Rose Street."
Edward froze. "Why are they looking for me—oh, right." He remembered that he had prepaid half a year's rent. Until the lease expired, anyone wanting to rent the place would indeed have to come through him.
"Any issues with them?"
Dubois shook his head. "Not that I could see. Just a young couple with a child. Their family supposedly produced a count in the past, but now all they have left is the empty title of baron."
Edward nodded knowingly. "Ah, just like you, then."
"..."
Dubois choked a little. "Boss, you don't have to hit below the belt like that."
"Uh, sorry."
He continued, "They used to live in the Opera District. But the house they were renting was sold off when the owner went bankrupt, so they had no choice but to move. Still, they didn't want to leave the Opera District, so they searched around… and eventually found No. 7 Rose Street."
"Didn't want to leave Quartier de la Maison d'Opéra, so they want to move into a haunted house?" Edward sneered. "Do you think I buy that?"
Dubois shrugged. "As far as I know, it's precisely because you lived there for two or three weeks without incident—and walked away completely safe—that real estate agents are now proclaiming there's nothing wrong with the house at all."
"Oh, so now I'm their spokesperson, am I?"
"Spokesperson?"
"Cough, never mind, not important."
Dubois added, "They're still waiting in the parlour. Do you want to meet them?"
"Of course."
Edward had been fretting over how to track down the young man behind Tarik, and now someone was knocking on his door asking to rent No. 7 Rose Street? That was practically delivering the suspect straight into his hands.
He tapped his chest lightly, and his loungewear shifted into a casual but elegant suit. Taking his gem-inlaid cane, he strolled downstairs. Dubois watched with open envy. He might not have been as obsessed with suits as Arlde, but he still regarded them as his closest "companions." If only he could master such a trick—how satisfying would that be?
When they reached the first floor, Edward saw a young couple seated on the sofa. They looked to be in their twenties, with the distinct features of Intis citizens.
Both were sipping coffee with visible anxiety, their eyes occasionally flicking toward the stairs.
The moment the man saw Edward descend, he quickly stood up. "Are you Mr. Klein Sparrow?"
"I am. Good morning, sir, madam."
The man hurriedly removed his hat and bowed. "Good morning, Mr. Sparrow. Please forgive our intrusion. I'm Henry Onstine, and this is my wife, Camille. Your butler should have explained our purpose."
Edward gestured for them to sit back down and took a seat on the opposite sofa. "Yes, he did."
"So…does that mean…"
"I'd certainly be glad to rent out a vacant house," Edward said, idly turning the gem on his cane. "But I want to confirm something first. Before finding me, had you already looked into No. 7 Rose Street?"
Henry's expression faltered slightly. "Yes. In fact…we'd already looked into it even before you rented it."
He explained, "As your butler mentioned, we only need to move because the house we're renting was sold. That was nearly two months ago.
"The new owner gave us two months to find another place. At the time, we actually considered No. 7 Rose Street.
"But because of…what had happened there, we didn't dare rent it. So we kept searching. Then you moved in, lived there for nearly three weeks without incident, and eventually relocated here. That gave us confidence."
Edward nodded. "So now you believe there's no problem with the house?"
"Yes."
"Then have you ever wondered—if it's so safe, why did I leave all of a sudden?"
Both husband and wife froze.
"To tell you the truth, it was precisely because I discovered it wasn't safe that I went out of my way to move." Edward's expression grew serious. "Of course, if you still insist on renting it, I won't object. After all, the remaining five months' rent plus the penalty fee add up to dozens of Felkin—enough to cover my butler's salary for over half a year."
The couple exchanged uneasy glances, clearly wavering.
"Think it over carefully," Edward advised. After a pause, he asked casually, "By the way—why are you so set on staying in Quartier de la Maison d'Opéra?"
Henry sighed. "Because my ancestor once seized an opportunity, rose from humble origins to become a count, and established our family here in Trier. He lived at No. 7 Rose Street.
"According to family records, before his death he left strict instructions: no matter what happened, the house must never be sold, because it was the root of our family."
"But…as generations passed, a string of unreliable descendants squandered away the family's fortune. Eventually, the house was sold off."
He smiled bitterly. "By my time, the family had long since declined. To be frank, just a few years ago I was living in Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman and Quartier de Noël. Only after business picked up did I finally move back toward Quartier de la Maison d'Opéra.
"Last year, I finally saved enough to repurchase our ancestral home. But then, disaster struck—the warehouse caught fire, wiping out most of my savings. The plan collapsed overnight. Soon after, the murder case at No. 7 Rose Street happened.
"Sometimes I wonder—if the warehouse hadn't burned down, would my family have been the ones to die there instead?"
Edward and Dubois listened in silence until Henry finished. Then Edward spoke: "I see. So your plan is to rent it first, and eventually buy it outright, yes?"
"Exactly! Thanks to the 'Son of Steam's' new policy, tenants have the right of first purchase."
"I understand your feelings," Edward said. "But I've told you the truth of the situation. Please, reconsider carefully."
"I understand."
Henry and Camille rose, offered their thanks, and left.
Dubois saw them to the door before returning. "So, Boss, did you notice anything?"
"What about you?"
He spread his hands. "Honestly, nothing. From my perspective, Henry was telling the truth."
Edward chuckled. "He was indeed telling the truth—just leaving out a few things." After all, he hadn't relied on intuition but on Legilimency to peek into the man's thoughts.
"What did he hide?"
"He has this inexplicable belief that renting No. 7 Rose Street will bring him good fortune."
Dubois blinked. "What do you mean, 'inexplicable belief'?"
"I can't say for certain. But it feels a lot like the Psychological Cues of a psychiatrist." He added, "By the way, psychiatrist corresponds to Sequence 7 of the Spectator Path."
"So…a Beyonder's interference?"
Edward nodded. "Most likely."
Whether it was connected to "Intis," however, remained uncertain.
After all, the brass rod had already been removed and secured in Sefirah Castle. By rights, No. 7 Rose Street should now be just another ordinary house. So why go to the trouble of weaving yet another scheme around it?
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.