Chapter 57: Interlude

Chapter 57: Interlude

After throwing away everything except his clothing, Ernest Boyar froze for a moment and completely woke up.

What am I doing? What have I done? This Sanguine viscount finally remembered what he had deliberately forgotten before. He remembered those green, clear eyes.

Psychological suggestion—no, hypnosis… Ernest Boyar looked left and right, half resentful and half unable to suppress his fear, instinctively reassessing his own situation.

His gaze then fell on that mountain-like figure, and he saw Father Utravsky, whose brows were sparse and pale.

In that instant, all kinds of thoughts turned and collided inside Ernest Boyar’s mind, swiftly bursting into one powerful intention.

He made no attempt to resist. He directly shouted,

“I will come here and do volunteer work for one month!”

Emlyn’s experience had long since spread through Backlund’s Sanguine circles. Ernest Boyar had heard of Father Utravsky for a long time. He knew that even if he resisted, he would not escape the fate of becoming a volunteer worker. In that case, it would be better to be straightforward, surrender on his own initiative, and choose conditions more favorable to himself.

At the very least, I cannot be suggested into converting to the Earth Mother… No sooner had that thought flashed across Ernest’s mind than he noticed that Father Utravsky was holding a lantern. Inside it rested a strange candle wrapped in human skin, with lumps protruding from its surface.

Under the dim and gloomy candlelight, Ernest’s pupils dilated again. Only one thought remained in his mind, echoing endlessly:

Psychological suggestion again…

At that moment, he felt the shadow within his heart had grown so thick.

“All right.” Father Utravsky nodded, agreeing to Ernest Boyar’s request.

Emlyn held back a smile mixed with pride and delight as he looked at the various items he had just caught, like a farmer who had obtained a rich harvest.

…

Saint Hielan Square, on the third floor of a Sivella-style restaurant, inside a private room.

The light suddenly dimmed, and a large patch of shadow appeared.

One tiny bat after another flew out from the darkness and rapidly gathered together.

With a sudden puff, smoke shot upward. Count Mistral, with pale-silver hair and scarlet eyes, appeared where the bats had gathered, and everything around him returned to normal.

His servant, the middle-aged man in dark formalwear, immediately stepped forward. Bowing, he asked,

“Your Excellency Count, shall we dine now?”

He could not tell from the count’s face whether the matter had gone smoothly or with difficulty, whether the final result was success or failure. But he did not dare ask.

Mistral nodded gently.

“Yes.”

With a calm expression, he walked to the dining table. As he sat down, he removed the dark-blue gemstone ring, not losing the slightest bit of bearing, as though he had merely gone out just now to feed some white pigeons.

…

“This flavor is rich and unusual, but not bad…” In the private room next to Count Mistral’s, Klein, wearing an ordinary face, was enjoying and evaluating a dish full of Sivella character—sheep’s stomach haggis.

Although this punishment operation was a cooperative attempt by several members of the Tarot Club and did not require The World, or even Mr. Fool, to intervene, Klein considered that Miss Justice and Moon Emlyn either lacked similar experience or had insufficient experience. Therefore, he had quietly come nearby as a final safeguard.

Earlier, he had made a marionette pray to The Fool beside the dining table, while he himself entered the private room’s bathroom and went above the gray fog. Through the corresponding light dot, he expanded his vision to the entire square and the surrounding region.

At the same time, he had been holding the Sea God Scepter throughout, prepared to bring down lightning the moment he discovered something wrong in order to stop it.

In the end, however, he had done nothing. The entire matter had…