Pritz Harbour, White Oak Street.
Fors sat quietly and obediently in Dorian's home, watching the old man busily concocting a potion. Her heart was both delighted and uneasy.
After more than two weeks of interaction, Dorian Gray had finally decided to take her on as his disciple, offering her guidance on the path of a Beyonder.
Fors was, of course, overjoyed. From their previous correspondence, she had already realised that Dorian possessed an immense wealth of mysticism knowledge—exactly the kind of help she, a completely self-taught 'wild' Beyonder, desperately needed.
But…
Every time she remembered that scene from not long ago—when she and her friends had "ganged up" on her now-teacher—her heart trembled with guilt. In any world, wasn't "beating up your teacher" one of the gravest of sins?!
In the pot, the Beyonder ingredients melted and merged into a shimmering liquid flecked with starlight. Dorian's face softened into a smile. He poured the liquid into a glass vial and handed it to Fors.
"Here. Drink."
"Th-thank you, Teacher."
Because she had revealed her Beyonder identity early on, Fors didn't have to repeat what had happened in the original timeline—where she had been forced to drink two different Apprentice and Trickmaster potions while keeping secrets. Instead, she was able to begin directly with the Astrologer's potion.
Tilting back her head, she drained the vial in one gulp. Almost instantly, a star-filled sky appeared before her eyes, her body trembling lightly under its brilliance.
Several minutes later, all the discomfort faded.
Fors opened her eyes, certain she had advanced to Sequence 7: Astrologer. Once again she bowed gratefully.
"Thank you, Teacher."
"Mhm." Dorian handed her a handwritten notebook.
"This contains the acting experiences I've accumulated over the years. You may use it as reference. But remember—each person's method of acting differs. This is only for reference."
"I understand!"
Dorian was about to add more instructions, but seeing the flicker of guilt in Fors' eyes, he chuckled. "I know—you're still bothered by that 'misunderstanding' from before. But you probably don't realise: it was precisely that incident that convinced me to take you as my student."
"Eh?" Fors blinked.
"Haha. If even I, the 'victim,' don't mind, then you needn't dwell on it."
Fors nodded heavily. "Yes, Teacher. I understand!"
Leaving Dorian's home, she hurried straight to Pritz Harbour's train station. She had to catch the earliest train back to Backlund, in time to buy divination tools—crystal balls, astrolabes, and the like—before the shops closed.
But as she approached the station entrance, she noticed a familiar figure stepping out of the crowd.
It was a sharply dressed, strikingly handsome man with vivid crimson eyes.
The vampire Emlyn—Mr. Moon of the Tarot Club.
Fors' first instinct was to hide. But then she remembered: in real life, he had no idea who she was. What was there to fear? Instead, she allowed herself to look more closely.
Soon, her imagination drifted—spinning into a story of a long-lived vampire count who fell in love with an ordinary girl. They came together because of love, only to be torn apart by their unequal lifespans. In the end…
But just as the tragic romance was taking shape, she saw a blond-haired man throw an arm around Emlyn with boisterous laughter.
Emlyn glared at him, trying in vain to push him away, only to be squeezed tighter. He rolled his eyes—beautifully expressive, full of exasperation.
What the—this isn't the story I wanted to see!!!
Fors howled silently in her heart.
Meanwhile, Danitz rubbed his chin, studying Emlyn.
"Emlyn, you look awfully nervous."
"What do I have to be nervous about?!" Emlyn snapped, trying to pry Danitz's arm off. "Let go—you're messing up my hair!"
"What's wrong? Reluctant to leave the home you've lived in for centuries? Or reluctant to part with your treasures?"
Hmph!
Of course I brought my treasures with me!
Emlyn clutched his suitcase tighter, then—still uneasy—wrapped his other arm protectively around it.
Danitz tilted his head curiously. "By the way, why did you suddenly agree to sail with me?"
"Didn't you say going to sea was a quick way to make money?"
"Uh…was it really just because of that?"
"What else would it be?"
"I thought…I thought maybe you couldn't bear to be without me."
Emlyn bared his sharp fangs with a snarl. "Don't make me hit you in front of all these people!"
"Hey, you say that as if you're the Sequence 6 and I'm the Sequence 7!"
"Tch."
The two had already fought several times at the Harvest Church, with neither gaining the upper hand. Danitz was a Sequence 6 Conspirer, but most of his advancement was in cunning, intellect and misdirection, not in raw combat strength.
Of course, they haven't fought seriously.
When they reached the docks and saw the colossal passenger liner waiting, Emlyn swallowed hard, then drew a deep breath—as if walking to his own execution.
Why was Emlyn boarding a ship with Danitz?
Certainly not out of his own desire. No—two nights ago, he had received a divine revelation directly from Ancestor Lilith!
Thinking of that, his gaze grew firm, his demeanour solemn, as though swearing an oath:
To resist the apocalypse, to save the world—I will risk it all!
———
Past, 1160.
By noon, Dubois had finished handling the rental paperwork for No. 7 Rose Street and returned.
"Boss, my Spectator potion is completely digested," he announced the moment he stepped inside, brimming with delight.
"Oh?"
Edward was somewhat surprised. "Just a few days ago, you still had nearly half left undigested. How did it finish so suddenly?"
Dubois shook his head with a look of puzzlement. "I don't know either."
"Where did you go just now? Tell me in detail."
"First, the market district's tooth merchant to process the lease transfer, then I took Henry's family to check the house at No. 7 Rose Street. After that I went to a gemstone shop, and then just wandered around the neighbourhood, staying in Spectator state and observing the passersby."
Edward thought for a moment, then chuckled. "Then it's nine out of ten that you must have brushed past some high-sequence Beyonder."
"Huh? But I didn't notice anyone unusual. Just Henry's son…he seemed a little too sharp for his age."
Hmm? Edward caught onto something. His tone turned light, "Don't be nervous. For you, this counts as a good thing."
Casually, he asked, "By the way, do you know where Henry's family is living now?"
"Just seven streets away, at 125 Montoguet Street."
Dubois hesitated, then asked, "So…can I advance to Sequence 8 now?"
"Of course." Edward smiled. "The formula for Telepathist, I can still give you for free. But surely you're not expecting me to provide the potion ingredients for free as well?"
Dubois very nearly said "yes" with a thick skin, but the moment he thought of the exorbitant cost of the ingredients, he swallowed the words.
"How about this—" Edward raised two fingers. "I'll give you two choices. First, you owe me the money. Two main ingredients plus four supplementary ones, let's call it a thousand Felkin. That's roughly sixteen years of your salary. With the occasional bonuses and rewards, ten years at least. But wait…" He clicked his tongue. "Doesn't that mean I'd be giving you both the Sequence 8 materials for free and ten years of employment in advance? That's a double reward."
Dubois laughed. "Then I should thank you in advance, Boss."
"The second option: help me with something."
"Helping you handle matters is my duty in the first place."
"If I'm bringing it up separately, naturally it's different." Edward fixed him with a serious look. "Through your particular channels, help me gather as much information as possible about the King of Intis. Or, if you already know enough about him, you can tell me directly."
Dubois's eyes widened in shock. "The King?"
He almost blurted out a question about what Edward intended—but restraining curiosity was the most basic requirement for a competent butler. Except this involved the King…and he couldn't quite hold back.
Luckily, he held his tongue. Almost without needing to think, he said, "I'll choose the second option."
When your superior offers you a great benefit, then asks you to choose between two tasks, you must take the harder one.
"Good." Edward drew from his leather pouch the Beyonder characteristic of a Telepathist along with some supplementary ingredients. "Then I'll await your good news."
That day, Bernadette did not come to play. No doubt her mother, Mathilda, had grounded her. After all, she was always running around outside, neglecting her lessons, constantly dropping by other people's homes—how could that be acceptable? The one Mathilda was truly familiar with was Dubois, not Edward himself.
Edward found the peace and quiet refreshing.
In the afternoon, Dubois returned with a small pouch of gemstones—rubies, sapphires, agates, crystals—two or three of each. The quality was mostly middling, but sufficient for ritual materials.
Now, the only thing missing for summoning Mr. Door was a lock of hair from an Abraham descendant. If only he'd plucked a few strands from Christine or Lawrence back then.
Forget it. Best to first investigate Henry's family. Edward didn't believe Dubois could just happen to stumble across a high-sequence Beyonder and digest his potion in one glance. Something was definitely off.
Back home, Edward altered his appearance into that of a random passerby and teleported into a deserted alley off Montoguet Street.
This street lay in Quartier de la Maison d'Opéra, a mixed commercial and residential area. Along it were all manner of shops frequented by local residents for daily shopping and socialising.
Before long, Edward reached No. 125. It was a spice shop, bustling with customers. Several attendants were busy weighing and packing spices while introducing the products.
Edward entered naturally, selecting two or three varieties, and brought them to the counter. There he saw Henry's wife seated behind it with a sturdy, bright-eyed boy. She was speaking to him with a smile.
Mother and son both looked cheerful. When she noticed Edward, Mrs. Onstine quickly turned to serve him. After tallying up, she smiled, "That will be 3 Felkins and 22 Copets."
"All right."
Edward deliberately pulled out a slip of paper, cast a Confundus Charm on it, and handed it over. "Here."
Mrs. Onstine frowned slightly, puzzled. "Sir, you gave me the wrong money."
"Oh, my apologies." Edward offered a sheepish smile. "One of the children at home must have stuffed that in my pocket."
He drew out another note, carefully checked it, and handed it across. "This one should be correct."
Then he glanced at the boy, who was peeking at him curiously with wide eyes. "Don't you think so?"
The boy shrank back behind Mrs. Onstine, seemingly wary.
"Here's your change, sir."
"Thank you."
At that moment Edward pulled out a deck of tarot cards, shuffled them quickly, then said, "Madam, I am actually a diviner. My intuition tells me that giving your child a reading will bring you good fortune. Would you like to try?"
Mrs. Onstine patted her son's head. "Of course. Will, go on and draw one."
"Oh."
The boy hesitated a moment, then quickly drew a card, covering it with his hand. He lifted it cautiously, inch by inch.
When his eyes landed on the card's face, he blinked, then turned it over.
"It's the Wheel of Fortune."
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.