Leaving the count's manor and walking down the street, Lacey's mood was not as light as one might expect after a successful negotiation.
This alliance with Leinia was akin to asking a tiger for its hide.
He could see the ambition and cunning in that woman's eyes as clear as day.
They were allies now only because they had a common enemy and temporary mutual interests.
The moment the external pressure vanished, this tigress would turn and devour him without hesitation.
But he had no other choice.
The Workers' Party was like a seedling that had just broken through the soil—seemingly full of life, but in reality, incredibly fragile.
He needed a great tree like Leinia to shelter him from the wind and rain, even if its branches were covered in poisonous thorns.
He walked at a measured pace, his mind racing as he reviewed their recent conversation and deduced the various possibilities for the future.
The chessboard in Salem had been stabilized for the time being. The next move was the olive branch extended by Miss Gertrude—Wischeim.
Assassinating a noble heir was undoubtedly a risky gambit, but the reward was equally immense.
A county controlled by the Workers' Party, a stable rear base... It was a temptation he couldn't refuse.
Just as he was lost in thought, the sound of a cello—melodious yet strangely unsettling—drifted from a small square around the corner.
The music was beautiful and the technique superb, but the emotion it contained made Lacey frown.
It was a very strange emotion, not just a single feeling, but something deeper—a power that seemed to want to draw out the most hidden secrets of one's heart.
Of the passersby, some stopped to listen, their faces rapt with fascination, while others hurried away as if fleeing a plague.
Lacey followed the sound with his eyes and saw a black-haired girl sitting on a bench in the center of the square, dressed in a short-sleeved white uniform top and a black lace skirt.
She held an ancient-looking cello, her eyes closed, completely immersed in her performance.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, dappling her pale cheeks and outlining a beauty that was at once sickly and saintly.
Her? Arturia?
Lacey's pupils contracted slightly.
Fragmentary memories flashed through his mind—impressions left over from the game he had played before he transmigrated.
A Sankta from Laterano, an artist who influenced people's hearts with her music, a... madwoman?
He remembered her codename was 'Heart Sculptor,' but the players preferred to call her 'Tutu,' or 'the psycho beauty.'
He couldn't recall the specific plot details, only that this woman had a paranoid, almost twisted pursuit of 'truth.'
He never expected to run into such a significant character at this time and in this place.
Just as he was pondering this, the music came to an abrupt halt.
Arturia opened her eyes. She didn't look at the audience captivated by her music, but stared straight at Lacey.
'Your heart shows no ripples,' she said.
'My music cannot stir you.'
A chill went down Lacey's spine.
Is this... her Originium Arts?
To perceive, and even influence, the hearts of others through musical resonance?
It seems somewhat similar to Serafina's Originium Arts.
He walked over expressionlessly, stopping a few paces away from her.
'Your music is beautiful, but if it's merely to show off your technique, it would be a bit of a waste.'
'I am not showing off,' Arturia said, rising to her feet. Cradling the cello that was almost as tall as she was, she slowly walked toward Lacey.
'I am searching for 'truth'.'
'I can hear the voices in their hearts—the truest emotions, wrapped in lies, cowardice, and desire.'
'My music helps them break free from their shackles and face themselves.'
She paused, tilting her head as she studied Lacey with curiosity. 'But you are different.'
'Your heart is like a fortress cast from steel. My music cannot penetrate it.'
'I was in the crowd during your trial. I heard your cries, and I heard the emotions you ignited in those people.'
'But you alone, at the most passionate moment, were perfectly calm deep inside.'
'What... are you?'
Lacey couldn't help but chuckle at her words.
Calm?
No, he hadn't been calm at all. He had been affected by his own speech, his heart racing with excitement.
But it seemed the girl before him couldn't see into his heart.
Was it because of [United We Stand]?
Lacey spread his hands. 'Perhaps what you call 'calmness' is my truest state.'
'Every word I say, every action I take, stems from my own will.'
'I don't need to find truth through your music, because I, myself, am truth.'
'No.' Arturia shook her head stubbornly. 'Everyone wears a mask, and you are no exception.'
'You've just welded the mask to your face and started to believe it's real. I will make you see what your heart truly desires.'
Listening to her mystical theories, Lacey couldn't help but mock her internally.
Good grief, don't tell me you also want to create a world without lies, where everyone understands each other?
Are you trying to pull an Infinite Tsukuyomi?
Is collecting the Tailed Beasts next on your agenda?
'Human beings are inherently complex and contradictory,' he said, deciding to debate this philosopher for a moment.
'They have a bright side and, naturally, a dark side. They have firm ideals, but also wavering selfish desires.'
'Forcibly tearing away all falsehoods to expose everything to the light is not the kind of truth they need.'
'If a person lives a lifetime of virtuous hypocrisy, can they not be considered a good person?'
'A world of absolute truth would only be more chaotic and cruel than this current world full of lies.'
'That is because you are not yet ready.' Arturia's eyes shone with a saint-like fanaticism.
'I will guide them, teach them to embrace the truth, and create a pure world.'
Lacey gave up arguing with her.
Reasoning with a madwoman was, in itself, a mad endeavor.
'Alright then, I wish your grand cause swift success.' He turned to leave, but then paused. 'So, Miss Artist, what is it that you want with me?'
'I want to follow you,' Arturia said without a moment's hesitation.
'Follow me?' Lacey stopped and looked back at her.
'Yes.' Arturia's gaze was locked firmly on him.
'You are a contradiction.'
'You use the most sincere words to incite the emotions of the masses, yet your own heart remains unmoved.'
'I want to know where your truth is truly hidden.'
Lacey was so amused by her declaration, which was so blunt it was almost offensive, that he laughed.
'The Workers' Party doesn't support idlers.' He looked Arturia up and down, taking in her slender yet curvaceous figure and her hands that had clearly never seen a day of hard labor, and shook his head.
'We need doers who can carry their weight and fight, not some artist who doesn't know hardship.'
'You will need me.' A smile appeared on Arturia's face for the first time, but it was both innocent and eerie.
Lacey was silent for a moment.
He had to admit, the madwoman had a point.
Her Originium Arts, if used in the right situation, could indeed have an unimaginable impact.
Whether for boosting morale, intimidating enemies, or even launching psychological attacks against specific targets...
'Fine.' He finally nodded. 'You can follow me.'
'But you must abide by the discipline of the Workers' Party and obey my commands. If you do anything to jeopardize our cause...'
Lacey didn't finish his sentence, but the warning in his eyes was self-evident.
'Deal,' Arturia replied cheerfully, like a child who had just gotten a beloved toy.
And so, a new scene unfolded on the streets of Salem.
Lacey, the leader of the Workers' Party, walked ahead, followed by a girl in a gothic skirt carrying a cello, maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far.
________________________________________
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