Chapter 42: Clue

Chapter 42: Clue

She isn’t dead? She escaped? She actually still wants to help Prince Edessak take revenge?

The instant he saw Trissy, Klein, standing behind the master bedroom curtains, nearly failed to control his expression.

Although he had already formed a vague guess from the earlier conversation, when the truth appeared before his eyes, he still found it beyond his imagination.

Even without dream divination, he could still recall part of the conversations he had had with Trissy before the Great Smog of Backlund. At that time, she had been desperate to break free from Prince Edessak’s control, to escape the manipulation of her fate by the mastermind behind the scenes, and had only felt that her everyday life was filled with pain.

A Witch who was originally a man would sell her soul to an evil god to avenge Prince Edessak? What sort of third-rate romance plot is this?

The corner of Klein’s mouth twitched. He “watched” as Butler Walter tossed a bag of food to Trissy, “heard” him remind her of a few things, then saw him turn and walk out of the hidden passage.

At that very moment, from Klein’s own point of view, a figure climbed out of Councilman Macht’s residence and rapidly approached the sewer entrance through the shadows along the street. It was Hazel, the young lady who possessed a mystical item of the Thief pathway.

She is going to run into Walter… This doesn’t look like a sewer entrance at all. It looks like the front gate of a bustling market!

Looking down from above, Klein nearly raised his right hand to cover his face.

Upon arriving beside the sewer entrance, Hazel cautiously looked around for several seconds. Only then did she move the manhole cover aside and climb down. The entire process was smooth and seamless, without the slightest awkwardness.

Stepping onto the somewhat slippery ground, she followed the rust-stained iron pipes and the slowly flowing river of sewage, moving rapidly forward with a clear destination.

Suddenly, her back went cold, a chill ran up her spine, and every hair on her body stood on end.

Immediately afterward, Hazel felt as if she had fallen into a river whose surface had frozen over. Large amounts of coldness swiftly invaded her body.

Terrified, she watched herself voluntarily step in another direction, walking straight toward the wall lined with iron pipes. None of this had anything to do with her own will!

Fear rapidly filled Hazel’s mind. She finally broke free from the stiffness of her thoughts and poured all the spirituality she could control into the necklace at her neck.

The necklace was strung with seven translucent emerald stones, spaced at equal intervals from one another. Around each stone lay a circle of tiny diamonds. Even in absolute darkness, they still flowed with faint light.

Suddenly, one of the stones lit up, emerald radiance casting Hazel’s beautiful face in a gloomy, eerie shade.

Her movement toward the wall instantly came to a pause. Her feet awkwardly stepped forward one after another, then withdrew in succession.

At that moment, Hazel felt the coldness within her body briefly freeze in place.

Without the slightest hesitation, she used her spirituality to light up another translucent emerald stone. Her right hand rose, aimed at herself, and her wrist twisted sharply.

At the same time, mysterious symbols and patterns appeared in her mind, and her spirituality and vocal cords underwent a certain temporary alteration.

She had stolen the Beyonder ability “Wraith Shriek”!

Hazel was just about to open her mouth and release a sound at all costs when she felt both her hands lose control once more. Viciously, forcefully, and rapidly, they clamped over her mouth.

Her shriek turned into a muffled whimper trapped only inside her mouth. Her feet moved lightly, carrying her several steps to the wall, around a fork in the passage, and into pure darkness, where she crouched down.

She struggled with everything she had, but it was utterly useless. She could not even activate the necklace at her neck again.

Hazel’s dark-brown eyes widened to their limit, filled with terror and unwillingness. Two crystalline tears began sliding slowly from the corners of her eyes.

At that same moment, Walter cautiously emerged from another side passage, returned to the sewer entrance, and swiftly climbed up.

Only after he silently vaulted into the grounds of Dawn Dantes’s residence at 160 Böklund Street did Hazel abruptly recover control of her body. She felt the terrible coldness vanish completely.

First, she lifted her hands in astonishment and, relying on her night vision, looked them over. Then she fearfully glanced left and right, as if the sewer’s darkness concealed countless unknown monsters.

Hazel then raised her right hand to touch the necklace before her chest. Cautiously, she stood and moved toward the entrance.

She did not run in blind panic. At every moment, she stayed on guard against an attack from deep in the darkness.

At last, she returned to Böklund Street and saw the iron-black gas streetlamp radiating light, illuminating the road still marked with traces of recent rain.

Only then did Hazel quicken her pace and run toward her home. Halfway there, she suddenly doubled back and, nervous and flustered, moved the manhole cover back into place.

After finishing all this, she followed the shadows along the street, returned to her garden, and used the gas and water pipes to climb onto the balcony of her bedroom.

Only then did she truly gain the ability to think about anything else. Her eyes widened; she looked around instinctively, and her body gradually began to tremble visibly.

She lifted her left arm, wanting to use her clothes to wipe her face. Halfway through the motion, she paused and instead took out a handkerchief from her pocket.

…

Hazel still has some basic ability to respond. She isn’t a complete novice…

Inside the sewer, Senor, dressed in a dark-red coat and an old tricorn hat, revealed himself and silently muttered.

Then, under Klein’s control, he hid his figure once more and entered the concealed side passage where Trissy was hiding.

The moment the Wraith drew near, Trissy, wearing her black dress, raised her head. A smile containing both fragility and stubbornness appeared on her face.

“It seems you bear no ill will.

“That young lady’s luck was rather good.”

She actually sensed what happened to Hazel. She discovered the Wraith!

Senor’s figure instantly appeared. He gave a low laugh.

“Perhaps killing her would simply have brought greater trouble.”

To be honest, he very much wanted to report Trissy, because he knew exactly what evils she had committed. He knew how she had incited the passengers and crew of the Clover to kill one another at sea. He knew how she had caused one innocent life after another to end prematurely.

However, after discovering that Trissy was investigating the mystery of Prince Edessak’s death, Klein had made a new plan: drive this Witch to act on this matter and cooperate with her to a limited extent.

The mystery of Prince Edessak’s death was almost equivalent to the truth behind the Great Smog of Backlund!

Investigating this matter would certainly be extremely dangerous. Pulling others into it would make me feel guilty, afraid they might be harmed or even die because of it. But letting Trissy do it gives me no such burden. The crimes she committed long ago were enough to send her to hell! The only problem is that perhaps she is only using the investigation into Prince Edessak’s death to plan something of her own. I must guard against that, lest I be used and cause disaster…

As Klein thought, he made Senor take two more steps forward.

Trissy stared with dark, quiet eyes at the middle-aged man before her and gave a soft laugh.

“Since you do bear ill will, then act, Mr. Senor.”

In that instant, through his marionette’s senses, Klein perceived countless invisible threads drifting and spreading around Trissy. She herself sat in the center, face pale, dress black, like a spider lying at the heart of its web. Yet she was also filled with a temptation that made others pity her and draw closer.

“You know me?” the marionette stopped at precisely the right moment.

Trissy’s expression became somewhat dazed and bewildered.

“I once spent an unforgettable period of time at sea.”

Back then, you were still a man…

Klein muttered inwardly, then made Senor laugh.

“Why are you investigating Prince Edessak’s death? Was it not suicide?”

Trissy abruptly raised her head, and several traces of anger actually appeared on her face.

“Suicide and suicide are not the same. Some people do it willingly. Some are forced.”

No way. She really does seem to care about Prince Edessak’s death… Miss, have you forgotten that you used to be a man? Forgotten the pain you spoke of before? Is this the so-called Stockholm syndrome, where after long coercion, a little kindness shown by the other side receives several times—dozens of times—the gratitude and attachment? Mm, I’m not a Spectator, so I can’t tell whether this performance of hers is fake…

Klein made Senor chuckle.

“So you believe Prince Edessak was forced to kill himself?

“And you sought out William Sykes in order to investigate this matter?”

The anger on Trissy’s face vanished. She revealed a smile tinged with desolate beauty.

“Yes.

“He was the one who forced Edessak to kill himself. He used a bullet capable of extinguishing spirituality. But he was also following another person’s orders. Heh. In order to obtain the final pleasure, he confessed everything. Heh-heh. I still never let him truly touch me. I even showed him a photograph of who I used to be. He died in pain and despair…”

I cannot imagine what William went through… Trissy’s mind is still just as twisted as before… Witches at the Pleasure stage truly carry charm in everything they do. Every expression and every movement can draw others in… Still, it’s clear Trissy has restrained these things well and only uses them when necessary… Has she advanced? Or is it because of love?

As Klein lampooned inwardly, he made Senor ask, “Who was it?”

When he asked this question, Klein had not expected to receive an answer. Yet Trissy gave a soft laugh and said, “Viscount Stratford.

“The royal family’s Chamberlain.”