The outskirts of Los Santos.
Sephirot stepped out of the sedan and looked up at the sprawling private estate before him.
The Victorian-style architecture was half-concealed by the night, with a massive fountain sculpture spraying water into the air.
He curled his lip: "Damn rich bastards."
Walking to the entrance of the banquet hall, Sephirot intentionally paused and waited for a moment.
It wasn't until an attendant noticed he hadn't moved for some time and proactively approached to respectfully lead the way that Sephirot sighed with a hint of regret:
"A pity."
He had been wondering if some blind security guard or an arrogant rich kid would jump out, look down on him, and start a provocation.
If that had happened, he could have logically extorted a sum of emotional distress compensation to fill his thinning wallet.
Unfortunately, this attendant had clearly received instructions in advance.
He didn't even check Sephirot's invitation before leading him all the way into the banquet hall.
The dinner was currently in the pre-meal cocktail hour phase.
The lights in the hall were dimmed low, playing soothing classical music while guests drifted through the venue with wine glasses, engaged in conversation.
As soon as Sephirot appeared, the chatter in the hall died down.
High-ranking figures who could usually only be seen on the news all turned their gaze toward him.
Among those looks, some held curiosity, others concealed scrutiny, but most held a deliberately hidden wariness.
Sephirot picked up a glass of Champagne and swept his gaze across the room.
To his surprise, Black people made up a significant proportion of the guests at this dinner.
When these individuals met his gaze, they would subconsciously shrink back, as if he were some kind of demon.
In contrast, a small portion of white guests looked at him with eyes full of fanaticism and greed.
Moreover, these guests all carried more or less a scent of demons on them, and a few even emitted a faint holy aura.
This happened to confirm his previous suspicion: quite a few high-level individuals had indeed made contact with demons or angels.
But Sephirot thought about it and realized this was only natural.
When you reach a certain position, even if you keep yourself clean and possess a firm will to resist the temptations of demons and angels, can you guarantee that your competitors or your arch-rivals won't throw themselves into a demon's embrace?
To avoid dying a mysterious death or having your family become bargaining chips, you are forced to enter the fray and seek the protection of equal supernatural power.
Seeing that no one took the initiative to approach him, Sephirot was happy to be left alone.
Since the other party had gone through the trouble of using Papa Midnite to invite him, they would eventually lose their patience and come find him themselves.
Until then, he might as well eat something so the trip wouldn't be a total waste.
He walked toward the buffet tables laden with food.
Looking at the various meat dishes on the plates...
Sephirot thought for a moment and decisively took his plate to the dessert and pastry section instead.
"No wonder there are so many militant vegans..." Just then, an elegant white man carrying a glass of red wine walked up to his side.
He watched the waiter carving a piece of slightly bleeding roasted meat and said unhurriedly, "It's still a bit underdone."
"When hunting top-tier ingredients, the adrenaline can make the texture of the meat much firmer if you can keep it in a state of just the right amount of terror."
The man's voice was magnetic and pleasant to the ear.
He turned his head and looked at Sephirot:
"What do you think, Mr. Sephirot?"
Sephirot hadn't been able to find the strawberry sundae he wanted on the buffet table, so he just picked out a macaron and glanced at the other man.
*Hannibal?*
*Hasn't this guy been locked up yet?*
However, Sephirot didn't sense the aura of any demons or angels on him.
"Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself."
The man elegantly raised his wine glass. "My name is Hannibal Lecter. I am a psychological consultant here in Los Santos."
"I personally think it tastes better charred a bit, it's clean and safe."
Sephirot gave a casual reply.
The smile on Hannibal's face stiffened slightly, but he quickly recovered. "It seems Mr. Sephirot has his own unique ideas when it comes to dining."
"I hope I'll have the honor of inviting Mr. Sephirot to dinner another day so we can have a proper exchange."
He gave a meaningful smile, toasted him, and turned to leave politely.
Sephirot watched Hannibal's departing figure with curiosity.
The fact that an ordinary human with no supernatural power whatsoever could thrive in a high-society circle surrounded by demons and angels proved he was anything but normal.
However, as long as the man didn't bother him, he couldn't be bothered to investigate.
As time passed, the cocktail hour ended, and the guests began taking their seats at the dining tables.
Just as Sephirot pulled out a chair to sit down, a waiter approached him and whispered:
"Mr. Sephirot, Mr. Braddock is waiting for you in the study upstairs."
Sephirot paused. "Why didn't you say so earlier? Since he sent an invitation, what kind of host lets his guest talk business on an empty stomach? Tell him to wait a bit longer."
The elites sitting nearby froze.
In this manor, no one had ever dared to refuse the master of the house so bluntly.
But when they looked up and saw it was Sephirot speaking, they quickly lowered their heads again, pretending they hadn't heard a thing.
The waiter's face stiffened, and he stood there at a loss.
After a moment, he bowed slightly and said respectfully, "Very well. Please enjoy your meal."
Having dismissed the waiter, Sephirot picked up his knife and fork and began to deal with the food.
At the same time, he observed the people around him.
He felt that the behavior of some people here was quite strange.
For instance, when some drank wine, their mouths would be open for several seconds before the glass actually reached their lips.
In another case, someone carving a steak would have already skewered the meat with a fork before the knife even started moving across the plate.
It felt as if their bodies simply couldn't keep up with the commands issued by their brains.
*Demonic possession? Or the side effects of some drug?*
Sephirot kept this doubt to himself.
The long dinner drew to a close.
As Sephirot picked up a napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth, the waiter quietly approached him again, bowing slightly with a respectful tone:
"Mr. Sephirot, Mr. Braddock is waiting for you in the study upstairs."
"Lead the way."
Sephirot dropped the napkin.
The host certainly had plenty of patience.
—--
Following the waiter through the carpeted corridors, Sephirot was led into a spacious study.
On a leather sofa inside the room sat a slightly pudgy middle-aged man.
Sephirot didn't stand on ceremony and sat down directly on the sofa opposite him.
Meanwhile, he discreetly scanned the surroundings.
Soon, a miniature camera in the corner caught his attention.
He withdrew his gaze, leaned back against the sofa, and looked at the middle-aged man, waiting for him to speak.
The middle-aged man stared at Sephirot, his tone grim. "I am Richard Braddock. The state's largest medical device manufacturing plant and several private psychiatric hospitals are all my properties."
He was trying to use his background and seniority to suppress the other man's arrogance.
But Sephirot didn't care; whether the man had more or less money, he wouldn't be able to spend a cent of it anyway.
He gave a faint nod but didn't speak.
Seeing this attitude that completely disregarded him, the muscles in Richard's face twitched slightly. He took a deep breath:
"Also... I am Scott's father."
─────────────────────────────────────────
TL NOTES — CROSSOVER GUIDE
Some references in this chapter come from source universes that may be unfamiliar to some readers. The notes below provide the context needed to understand them without leaving the page.
SOURCE UNIVERSES
Hannibal — A franchise originating from Thomas Harris's novels: Red Dragon (1981), The Silence of the Lambs (1988), Hannibal (1999), and Hannibal Rising (2006). Most widely known through the Academy Award-winning film The Silence of the Lambs (1991) and the NBC television series Hannibal (2013–2015). The universe centers on Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a brilliant forensic psychiatrist who secretly leads a double life as a sophisticated cannibalistic serial killer.
CHARACTERS
Hannibal Lecter — A forensic psychiatrist and criminal profiler of extraordinary intelligence and refined taste in art, music, and haute cuisine. He is also a cannibalistic serial killer who targets people he considers "rude" and incorporates them into elaborate gourmet meals. He operated undetected for years before eventually becoming a fugitive. When Sephirot thinks *Hasn't this guy been locked up yet?*, he is reacting to Lecter's notorious status in his source universe. Hannibal's comments about hunting "top-tier ingredients" and keeping prey "in a state of just the right amount of terror" to improve the texture of the meat are a thinly veiled reference to his cannibalistic practice. His offer to invite Sephirot to dinner "for a proper exchange" follows a classic Lecter pattern: charming, deliberate, and deeply unsettling in hindsight.