Knock, knock, knock.
The study door sounded three times.
Edward looked up, and in his mind, he automatically pictured Dubois standing outside with a tray and a glass of milk.
"Come in."
Dubois pushed open the door softly, stepped inside, and placed the glass on the desk. "Boss, the milk you asked for."
"Thanks."
Edward downed it in one gulp, wiped his lips, and muttered under his breath, "Drink more milk, and you'll grow up faster."
Dubois: "…"
It had been three or four days now, and he still wasn't used to his boss's current appearance—especially the occasional flashes of childlike behaviour or speech.
You couldn't even say he was pretending to be cute—he really wasn't doing it on purpose.
He simply couldn't help it; it was the "curse" affecting his mind.
"Boss," Dubois said after a pause, "while you were away, I found two Beyonder gatherings in Trier through some connections. One is organised by unaffiliated Beyonders, and the other is one secretly managed by the authorities."
"Oh?"
Edward set down the empty cup.
It took him a moment to remember—right, he'd asked Dubois to look for gatherings earlier because he'd needed money to sell some Beyonder materials.
Although he'd looted quite a bit from pirates a few days ago, money always ran out eventually—especially when one had a whole household to feed.
"So, you've made contact with both gatherings?"
"Yes."
"Good. Once I need funds again, I'll have you handle some of the material sales."
"Understood."
Dubois picked up the empty cup, hesitated, then asked, "Do you…know what's going on with Roselle right now?"
"I do."
Edward looked up at him with a faintly amused smile. "Miss him already?"
"...Of course not!"
Dubois grinned awkwardly. "I just have some long-held questions I've been wanting to ask him—and I'd prefer he not die before I do."
Edward's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh? What questions? Tell me."
"Well…" Dubois paused for several seconds, then said, "Please allow me to keep it secret for now. Once I've asked him, I'll tell you."
"Tch, fine."
Edward waved a hand dismissively. "Go on then—ah, wait. How's your Telepathist potion digestion coming along?"
"Almost complete," Dubois replied. "While you were gone, I've been focusing entirely on acting every day."
"...You've really been working hard, huh."
Working hard, indeed—charming noble ladies every day was a kind of labor.
Edward propped his chin on one hand. "As before, I can give you the next formula for free. But have you figured out how to obtain the materials?"
Dubois smiled confidently. "Of course."
"Oh?" Edward raised an eyebrow.
"I was planning to use that as leverage to make you sell your soul to me. Congratulations—you've dodged that bullet."
Dubois straightened his posture solemnly. "Boss, thank you for your generosity. But I'm the type who values pride over comfort—I can't stand the thought of endlessly receiving favours. I already owe you too much."
"No, no, you misunderstand," Edward said with a chuckle. "In the world of mysticism, you should always remember one truth: every gift from fate has already been secretly priced."
He tapped the desk lightly. "So my 'gifts' come with a price too—just not one you'll pay today."
Dubois was silent for a few seconds before nodding seriously.
"I understand, Boss."
Edward watched him leave, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Sequence 7 is already mid-sequence…The ingredients alone would cost at least two thousand Felkin. Where's he getting that kind of money?"
He thought for a moment, then flipped a coin into the air.
"Dubois's method of making money is dangerous."
The coin landed numbers up—a no.
"Mm. That's good enough."
Edward tore out the notebook page he'd been using, crushed it into a ball, and flicked it into the air.
With a soft pop, it ignited into a burst of fire, turning to ash that drifted into the wastebasket.
Then he pulled out his pocket watch, glanced at the time, and murmured, "Almost time for the meeting."
Unfortunately, the Twilight Hermit Order's gatherings weren't as punctual as the Tarot Club's.
There was no fixed "3 p.m." schedule—other than the roughly monthly grand assembly, the rest were held whenever their members pleased.
That unpredictability was, in fact, their trademark.
———
At lunch, Edward had just taken a sip of his fruit aperitif when his spirituality gave a faint tremor—a feeling he knew all too well.
It was the familiar summoning signal that always preceded the Twilight Hermit Order's gatherings.
Grabbing a piece of roasted fish, he bit off a mouthful and spoke as he rose from the table: "The rest is yours. I've got something to take care of."
Once inside his room, he habitually hid the area with layers of protection, then walked four steps backwards into the Sefirah Castle.
There he drew out the silver cross that glimmered softly in his hand.
Amon was hanging upside-down in his cage again, apparently amusing himself with some new mischief.
"Oh, is it that paranoid zealot's gathering again?" the crow-faced angel asked lazily. "I've tried sneaking in a few times, but he always noticed and tossed me out."
He flapped his wings smugly.
"One day, I'll find a chance to parasitise him, hold the meeting in his place, and then—at the perfect moment—put on my monocle. Hahaha, wouldn't that be hilarious?"
Edward fell silent.
Oh, you really will do that, he thought.
According to Adam's words, Amon indeed had done so in the original timeline—and had even issued a commission through that very meeting, asking him to rescue Mr. Door.
"You two work together quite often," Edward said, "and you're…brothers. So why don't you seem to get along?"
"He's always wary of me—just as I'm wary of him."
Amon folded his wings and replied in a singsong tone: "A Zealot like him, one who'll sacrifice even himself for his goal—if you ever trust him completely, then congratulations, you'll be the next sacrifice!"
Edward's eyes flickered. "Adam does all this for the sake of stopping the apocalypse, doesn't he?"
"That's true, but—"
Before Amon could finish, Edward interrupted, "So, he'd be willing to sacrifice himself to stop it, right?"
Amon tilted his head, perplexed.
"Then tell me this," Edward pressed, "do you think Adam would cooperate with the True Creator—even give that being the initiative—just to fight the apocalypse?"
"Absolutely impossible!"
Amon laughed. "That Zealot…Adam despises the Hanged Man. He seems to blame that one for our father's death. Though I suspect there's some deeper secret I've never uncovered. Shame—no matter what I tried, I could never find it."
You'll understand once you reach the Giant King's Court and meet the Dark Angel Sasrir yourself.
Amon's pupils flashed. "Wait—your expression just now…you do know the secret, don't you?"
"I do."
Edward narrowed his eyes with a sly smile. "But I'm not telling you."
"Unless you…"
"I beg you?"
Amon caught on immediately. "Fine then—I'll beg you! Want me to kneel and kowtow? I can do a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spiral kowtow! Seven-hundred-and-twenty if you'd like!"
"…"
Edward sighed. "I never said you had to beg me. What I need is a Planeswalker's Beyonder characteristic. Do you know where I can find one?"
"Planeswalker, hmm?"
Amon made a mock gesture of rubbing his beak like a chin. "Only the Abraham Family would still have something like that. Oh, right—where did you get your Sequence 3 Wanderer characteristic, anyway?"
He gave a sly grin.
"I recall a Jacob-family descendant telling you about the internal feud within Abraham. You certainly move fast."
Edward thought for a moment, then recounted what had happened before he entered "Old Shanghai" at Bansy.
"I knew one branch of Abraham had a Wanderer's characteristic, but I figured I'd have to search for it eventually. Really, it was thanks to your dear brother that it fell right into my hands."
"Hahaha!"
Amon burst into laughter. "You're clearly leaving something out. There's no way that paranoid freak would hand you a Sequence 3 characteristic for free."
He paused, then added with feigned innocence, "By the way, you're on good terms with Lilith, aren't you? Yet Adam was one of the culprits behind her fall—why haven't you turned on him?"
Edward's tone was calm. "Because an arm can't twist a thigh. Until I gain the strength to oppose him, there's no point."
"That's fair."
Amon nodded. "So, you got some Abraham relics, yet you're still asking me for a Planeswalker characteristic…That means you haven't divined the whereabouts of the other branch, have you? Makes sense—they'd have moved the moment trouble arose, concealing themselves with specialised sealed artifacts to block all detection."
He chuckled.
"That'll be a problem. With how cautious they are, they could stay hidden for decades. Even if you asked that paranoid brother of mine for help, I doubt you'd ever find them."
Edward's small face tightened.
That was precisely what troubled him.
Did this mean he'd have to wait until the future—until he could reclaim the Box of the Great Old Ones from Bernadette and ask the Evernight Goddess to shatter it into a characteristic—before he could advance to Sequence 2?
No…
Maybe he could try contacting Mr. Door again.
Didn't that being want him to digest his potion quickly and ascend to Sequence 2, so he could complete his advancement ritual among the stars?
If so…maybe Mr. Door would supply him with a Planeswalker characteristic.
But the last time in the City of Calamity, that entity had already realised he was immune to corruption.
"Of course," Amon said suddenly, his voice full of mischief. "I do still have at least two methods."
He released his claws and dropped lightly to the ground, monocle flashing with silver light. "When you let me go, I'll tell you what they are."
Edward met his gaze for a moment. "Another time. I only just advanced to Sequence 3—I'm in no hurry."
A grin curved across Amon's avian features. "Good. I'm not in a hurry either. Honestly, being trapped in your little 'divine kingdom' isn't bad. Quite entertaining, actually."
Their conversation ended there.
Edward turned his focus back to the silver cross in his hand.
He flicked it gently—and a surge of spirituality poured into it like a roaring tide.
The faint glow flared into blinding white, flooding his vision with silver light.
Everything blurred and melted away, until he once again stood inside Adam's Corpse Cathedral.
Adam stood, as always, before the colossal cross.
On each side of him were three members—six in total—plus himself, making seven altogether.
Huh?
The number didn't add up.
The Hunter's dead, the Coward's dead, and Intis is sealed…so there should only be six left. Someone new must've joined this time?
Just as he thought that, a familiar voice rang out:
"Hahahahaha! Surprise! Bet you didn't expect me to still be alive!"
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.