Roselle's courtyard was brightly lit, filled with laughter and cheer. The air rang with music, chatter, and the crackling of fireworks.
Yet beneath that liveliness, deep inside the wine cellar, silence reigned.
"You got the notebook?"
The moment Roselle stepped into the dark room, a low voice spoke from within the shadows. It was the same middle-aged man as before—the Marionette of Zaratul.
"Yes."
Roselle walked over to a large oak barrel, pulled out its stopper, and reached an arm into the cool liquid inside. When he withdrew it, his hand was gripping a damp, tin-sealed box.
He opened it, revealing a pitch-black notebook—the Antigonus Family Notebook.
For an instant, a flicker of emotion rippled through Zaratul's eyes. Yet he restrained himself, making no sudden movements. Instead, he asked calmly, "How did you get it?"
When Zaratul had received Roselle's message earlier, his first reaction had been wariness. He was certain something about this situation must be wrong. But his divination results had shown no danger.
Of course, ever since he learned that Roselle was being watched by a being connected to the Sefirah Castle, Zaratul had grown far less trusting of his own divinations.
But still…
This was his hope—the hope of promotion he had sought for hundreds, even thousands of years. How could he abandon it over mere suspicion?
He had been stuck at Sequence 2 for far too long.
By his original plan, he should have waited—patiently, meticulously—conducting repeated divinations until he could be absolutely certain there was no danger before taking the risk.
But then his Marionette informed him that Roselle was preparing a surprise birthday celebration for his daughter today. His instincts told him this was a rare opportunity.
Given what Zaratul knew of Roselle, the man would never agree to do anything truly dangerous on his daughter's birthday.
"I feel like I just stumbled into a streak of ridiculous luck," Roselle said with a shrug.
Faced with an Angel of the Seer Pathway, he didn't bother to conceal anything. He recounted, in full detail, how he had "accidentally picked up" the notebook while visiting the Church, then spread his hands helplessly.
"To be honest, I thought the whole thing was way too easy. But I can't figure it out—it's not like the Church would deliberately give me the notebook, right?"
He frowned slightly, then continued, "Why would they do that? Could it be they already knew I'd agreed to help you steal it, and set it up as bait to lure you out?"
Then he asked curiously, "You don't happen to have a grudge against the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery, do you?"
Zaratul pondered for a moment before shaking his head.
That was precisely what he couldn't understand.
He was certain that the Antigonus Family Notebook had always been in the Church's possession—sealed beneath the cathedral in Trier. Unless someone was deeply trusted by the Church hierarchy, no one could even get close, let alone steal it.
If one wished to seize it by force…well, one would have to ask whether that god would permit it. Otherwise, how could the Zaratul of the original story have gone to such lengths, laying out his schemes and waiting twenty or thirty years for Roselle?
"Well," Roselle said, scratching his cheek, "I hesitated for a while, but in the end I thought—it'd be a waste not to take it. If the Church comes after me, I'll just say I didn't know what it was and brought it home thinking it was an ordinary book."
Zaratul gazed silently at Roselle. He didn't even need to use divination; his spiritual intuition alone confirmed the man was telling the truth.
Looking at the notebook now just within arm's reach, Zaratul felt calmer than he ever had before.
After a brief pause, he flicked his wrist. The notebook flew from Roselle's hand into his own. Then, murmuring softly, he leaned back into the chair and sank into a dream divination.
In the hazy, illusory dreamscape, Zarath saw a pitch-black mountain peak. He saw a hidden palace.
And then—he saw a man open his eyes.
That man's pupils were abyssal and ancient, his cheeks sprouting coarse, short black hair. There was madness swirling within his gaze—an ancient, endless insanity that seemed to devour light itself.
"!!!"
Far away, in a concealed chamber kilometers away, Zaratul's true body snapped awake in terror.
From his skin, countless wriggling maggots began to crawl frantically, desperately trying to escape his flesh.
He hastily summoned a historical projection of a high-sequence Spectator—and used it to placate and stabilise his mind.
Only after a long struggle did he manage to pull himself back from the brink of losing control.
As the last maggot retreated beneath his skin, Zaratul's eyes gleamed faintly.
"Finally…I've found it."
Back in Roselle's wine cellar—
The moment the middle-aged man—Zaratul's Marionette—began to convulse violently, Roselle instinctively took two steps back toward the exit. His hand flashed as he infused spirituality into the Beyonder item on his body.
"Hey! I didn't do anything, alright? Don't you dare try to frame me!"
After what felt like an eternity, Zaratul finally calmed down. He slowly opened his eyes and casually tossed the black notebook back to Roselle.
"???"
Roselle blinked, bewildered. "What do you mean by that?"
"I'm done with it," Zaratul said flatly.
At another time, he would have undoubtedly kept the notebook. But now, with so many unknowns and so much risk surrounding it, there was no reason to hold on to something so dangerous after achieving his goal.
"Ah?"
Roselle hurriedly protested, "Wait, I got the thing for you! You can't go back on your word now. You promised to tell me everything about that organisation—and that god."
He paused, then added, "And you'll still owe me assistance afterwards."
Zarath gave a slight nod. "Everything you wish to know, I will tell you—but not today."
"Why not?"
He didn't answer directly. His tone was calm and distant. "Next time we meet, we'll have enough time to talk. Oh, and remember to dispose of this Marionette for me. Farewell."
"Hey, hold on—you—"
Before Roselle could finish, the middle-aged man crumpled to the ground, lifeless—a corpse.
"The hell…? He just discarded a Marionette like that? Talk about paranoid!"
He scowled, muttering under his breath, "Damn it, on my sweet daughter's birthday of all days, he leaves me with a corpse? That's just bad luck! Bloody hell!"
Grumbling, he snatched up a bottle of red wine, took a long swig, and strode out of the wine cellar. In the garden, he found Grimm, whispered a few quick instructions, and then, as if nothing had happened, joined the birthday celebration with a smile.
Edward, holding a glass of wine, watched Roselle thoughtfully.
Leaving in the middle of the party—right during the highlight—under the pretext of getting more wine? And being gone for so long?
What exactly had he been doing?
A possibility crossed Edward's mind: Could Zaratul have been here?
If so, did that mean Zaratul had already obtained the Antigonus Family Notebook?
I hope so, he thought.
Since no noble guests had been invited, the birthday dinner didn't last very long. It was, after all, a celebration centred entirely around Bernadette.
After presenting all the surprises, handing out gifts, and cutting the cake, the banquet drew to a close.
Just then, Roselle came out carrying a large, boxy contraption—his latest "invention"—and grinned.
"Come on, everyone! Gather around! Let's test out my new little toy!"
The "first camera of the mysteries world" that Roselle had invented was far smaller than the enormous early prototypes of modern cameras—though still a bulky device by any measure.
Once he had everything set up, he called over the sharpest servant in the house to handle the final step. Then he began lining everyone up, clapping his hands gleefully.
"In a moment, we're all going to shout 'Cheese!'"
"Cheese?"
Dubois frowned. "What strange nonsense are you saying again?"
Bernadette suddenly froze, realisation flashing across her face. She quickly turned her head toward Edward—just in time to see him press a finger to his lips and silently mouth the word: "Secret."
"Alright, enough chatter! Everyone look right at that thing. On my count—three, two, one—"
"Three! Two! One!"
SNAP!
With the thunderous flash of magnesium light, the first photograph ever taken in the Mysteries World (Polaroids didn't count) was born—capturing that single fleeting moment for eternity.
"Roselle, what in the world was that? I nearly went blind!"
"Heh heh! Country bumpkin—never seen the wonders of modern technology, have you?" Roselle beamed proudly. "Give me a few days, and when I develop the photo, you'll see what I mean!"
He clapped his hands. "Alright, folks—that's it for tonight! Go home, go rest!"
Bernadette turned to everyone, bowing gracefully. "Thank you all!"
Then she blinked mischievously at Edward. "Thank you too, Mr. Sparrow!"
Edward immediately understood she was referring to what had happened that morning at the sea. He smiled back, returning the gesture with a wink.
Roselle, however, smoothly stepped between them—a perfect embodiment of overprotective fatherhood. He placed a firm hand atop his daughter's head.
"Alright, off to bed. Staying up late is bad for your skin, young lady."
"Okay~"
Edward turned to leave, but Dubois approached quickly, leaned in, and whispered a few words to him. Edward nodded, smiling. "Got it. I'll head back on my own. You two best friends take your time."
Roselle grabbed another bottle from the table, tilted his head back, and downed a hearty gulp before walking over to Matilda. In a lowered voice, he said, "Matilda, I'm…going out tonight."
She blinked. "Where to?"
"Ahem, I made an appointment with Count Orsaya—we're supposed to discuss my enlistment. I'll probably be back tomorrow."
Matilda studied him quietly for a moment, then smiled gently. "Alright. Be careful."
"Hahaha, don't worry!"
Roselle laughed heartily, taking another swig.
He still didn't know why the Chairman above the grey fog had ordered him to steal the notebook and give it to Zaratul—nor whether the Chairman truly meant to take no action afterwards.
But he decided one thing at least: tonight, he wouldn't stay home.
Perhaps it wouldn't make a difference. But…it was better than doing nothing.
He turned, intending to wish his daughter goodnight—but just then, Dubois approached, holding a bottle of wine.
Roselle grinned. "What's this? You coming to drink with me?"
Dubois shook his head. His tone was calm, serious. "Roselle, I want to talk."
"Oh? In the middle of the night? Don't tell me you've developed feelings for me?"
"Heh. In your dreams."
Dubois smirked. "Come on. It won't take long."
Roselle clicked his tongue, following him with exaggerated reluctance. "Tch, so mysterious."
The two of them walked one after the other into the quiet back garden. Dubois went straight to a fruit tree, sat down at its base, and leaned against the trunk.
Roselle raised an eyebrow. "There are plenty of rooms in this place, and you pick here to talk?"
Still, he plopped down beside him. The two men sat shoulder to shoulder beneath the branches, gazing up at the starlit sky—their voices soft, as though murmuring to the night.
"If possible," Dubois said quietly, "I'd rather be back in the place where we grew up…to have this conversation again."
———
[Note]: Enjoy the Extra Chapter~ 1250 Powerstones for another one tomorrow! Go, VOTE!
And if you are like me and want to read 40 Chapters in advance of the current story right now, you can support me on my Patreon. Thank me later~
Link - (P)atre(o)n.c(o)m/ Iseeblack [Remove the brackets]