In a dimly lit room, faint strands of light slipped through a small cracked window.
Laurence lay on a worn wooden bed, bandages wrapping his shoulder and arm after the chase from the previous night.
The bitter scent of medicine mixed with dried blood filled the air.
He sighed deeply as his eyes slowly opened.
When he tried to sit up, something caught his attention near the window —
a small white envelope, pinned to the wooden frame by a knife.
Cautiously, he approached, pulled out the knife, and retrieved the envelope.
A neatly folded piece of paper slipped out, its writing tilted and uneven —
as if the writer had been laughing while scribbling the words.
Laurence>
You owe me a debt for treating your wounds,
so I expect you to keep your promise and come to the abandoned Piranha Manor
in the northern industrial district at 7:00.
I'll be waiting there.
Yours truly,
— The Clown."
Laurence muttered coldly:A clown? … Seems like the world's gone completely mad
He folded the note, slipped it into his pocket,
and gazed out through the window toward the dark city —
a faint spark of curiosity glinting in his eyes about who that "clown" could be.
At Night Flame Café, where the windows reflected the restless lights of Midnight City,
William sat at his usual table, silently watching the steam curl from his cup of coffee.
Casper approached, holding a small folded note.
Casper (calmly):
"Are you sure you'll go alone? The auction might turn… a little chaotic."
William (quietly, sipping his coffee):
"I won't be alone. I'll take Fenky with me — just in case."
Fenky, lying upside down on the chair beside him, raised his head with a wide grin.
Fenky (teasingly):
"Ah, finally, something to break the boredom.
I thought you'd forgotten I existed!"
Casper (light smile):
"With you around, no one could forget."
Fenky (with playful pride):
"That's because I'm the best —
at both jokes and vanishing acts."
William threw his coat over his shoulder and stood, then turned to Casper.
William (quietly):
"Don't tell anyone where I'm going — especially Liner.
It's not time yet."
Casper (softly):
"Is it that serious? You're capable of handling anything anyway."
William:
"Let's just say the people who'll show up there…
aren't the kind you want to meet in casual conversation."
Then he left with calm, deliberate steps,
while Fenky followed behind, humming a silly tune as his coat spun like a cape.
In one of the grand noble estates of Midnight, known as Arzenos,
dozens of guests filled the lavishly lit ballroom,
its crystal chandeliers shimmering against ivory ceilings.
The crowd was diverse — powerful merchants, mages, nobles,
and even faces from the underworld hiding their intentions behind polished smiles.
Everyone whispered about the night's highlight — "the final piece",
a relic known as Arthur's Watch, said to have been stolen and traded countless times.
Legends claimed it could "point toward what was lost in time."
Yet, to most eyes, it was merely an old watch — its only value being its mysterious history.
Among the crowd stood Artina, one of the heirs to the throne of Hantarz Kingdom,
and Reinhardt, accompanied by his emotionless, butterfly-like assistant.
Before that final item, several smaller auctions began:
rare jewelry, ancient daggers, a magical painting,
and a wooden staff once used by the leader of the Revolutionary Army.
Bids rose rapidly, voices clashing in excitement.
Then, the lights dimmed slightly,
and the auctioneer stepped forward, his voice echoing elegantly:
Auctioneer:
"Now, we present the Compass of the Old City's Ruler!
Starting bid — three gold coins!"
A hush fell over the room as the auctioneer lifted a glass case.
Inside it lay a compass whose needle spun restlessly, refusing to settle in any direction.
From the front row, Artina raised her number placard, her golden hair cascading down her shoulders.
Artina (coolly):
"Twenty gold coins."
Auctioneer:
"Twenty gold coins from our honored guest —
the Lady from Hantarz Kingdom!"
Soft applause rippled through the audience —
then William raised his placard calmly.
William:
"Forty gold coins."
Across the hall, Reinhardt, wearing a refined gray suit, smiled slightly.
Reinhardt:
"Fifty."
William (smirking):
"Sixty."
Reinhardt (relaxed):
"Seventy."
William:
"Eighty."
Reinhardt (with sly amusement):
"Ninety."
The tension grew heavy —
breaths quickened, eyes darted between the two men like spectators at a silent duel.
Before the auctioneer could declare Reinhardt the winner,
a calm voice rose from the side seats.
Sherlock Holmes:
"Add twenty more — on behalf of Mr. William."
Auctioneer (surprised):
"Then we have one hundred gold coins — sold to Mr. William!"
The audience erupted in murmurs, laughter, and disbelief.
Reinhardt stayed silent for a moment, sipping his drink slowly.
Reinhardt:
"Things are getting interesting tonight…"
William (lightly smiling, turning to Holmes):
"I didn't expect you to step in."
Holmes (coldly):
"Neither did I. But boredom kills faster than bullets in this city."
Meanwhile, Fenky had already slipped into the upper vents of the hall,
peering down from the rafters.
Fenky (whispering):
"The view's great from up here."
William (using telepathy):
"Good. Everything's going smoothly so far."
Fenky (telepathically):
"Agreed — but that Reinhardt guy…"
William:
"What about him? It's over."
Fenky:
"It's not him. It's the woman beside him.
She's been watching every vent I crawl through since the auction began."
William:
"You're imagining things, idiot. Stay sharp — we're leaving soon."
Suddenly, butterflies began drifting through the ventilation shafts.
Fenky:
"Uh… William? Is it normal for butterflies to be in here?"
William:
"Butterflies? What are you talking about?"
Fenky:
"They're everywhere!"
He looked down — the woman beside Reinhardt smiled faintly,
her cold amusement sharp as glass.
Fenky (alarmed):
"What the hell is happening down there—"
Before he could finish, the vents trembled violently —
dozens of butterflies burst out, flooding the hall.
William:
"What's going on?!"
Fenky (falling from the vents, using telepathy):
"I don't know! The butterflies — they're everywhere!"
The room filled with a storm of wings, blinding the guests.
Then, a faint blue glow shimmered —
Sherlock Holmes cast a dispersal spell, sending the butterflies scattering out through the windows.
When the chaos cleared, everyone noticed the glass case was open —
the Compass was gone.
Fenky had escaped just in time.
Holmes:
"There was going to be a theft… but fortunately, I was here."
William (grinning):
"Alright, I'll admit it — you're useful sometimes."
Holmes (shrugging):
"Come now, it's not the first time I've saved you."
After paying for the compass, William exited the auction hall.
Fenky waited by the carriage, leaning lazily against the door.
Just as William was about to step inside,
a light tap landed on his shoulder.
He turned — Reinhardt stood behind him.
Reinhardt:
"Congratulations on winning the compass.
I had my eye on it… but you beat me to it."
William:
"Money and luck rarely walk hand in hand."
Reinhardt:
"Maybe they do — with the wrong kind of magic."
William:
"Fair point."
Then Reinhardt's assistant appeared beside him.
Assistant:
"Sir, the bidding on the watch is starting."
Reinhardt (heading back inside):
"I wish I could've talked longer."
William:
"So do I."
William climbed into the carriage. Fenky flicked the reins.
William (sighing):
"He's insane.
I'm sure his assistant was the one who tried to steal it…
but at least that fool made things interesting."
Fenky (grinning):
"Couldn't agree more."
William:
"Stop eavesdropping, idiot."
Fenky:
"Yes, sir!"