Eastern Tivian, near the Soaring Theater. Around noon, inside a classy bar on a main street, Adèle—sporting sunglasses, a stylish wide-brimmed hat, and a fitted dress—sat in a private booth by the window. On the table before her lay an open magazine and a small plate of elegantly presented dessert cake, while her hand swirled a glass of red wine. “My, my… It looks like I’m being asked for another favor…” she murmured quietly, reading the words that had just appeared on the magazine’s pages. Taking a small sip, Adèle mused inwardly. “I recall she asked for my help not that long ago. Now it’s happening again. This ‘Miss Detective’ sure has more than her fair share of trouble…” After a moment’s thought, she took a small pen from her purse and wrote on the magazine page. “I’m happy to help, of course, but it seems I’ve been doing quite a lot for you lately: smuggling supplies here, retrieving memories from my teacher… Perhaps you’d consider offering me a little something in return, Detective?” Smiling faintly, Adèle waited for the response. Before long, clear, precise handwriting materialized once more. “You can definitely have a reward. I have plenty of information about the cabal of the Goddess of Abundance. It’s connected to your teacher and relates to the secondary path of your mystical progression. Maybe it’ll help in your own exploration toward advancement. If you need it, I can pass it all on. “Of course, it’s under the effect of cognitive poison, but our society has a secret technique for withstanding that. I can request permission to share it with you, so you can safely read all sorts of mystical texts without trouble, and glean mystical knowledge quickly.” As these words appeared, Adèle paused to consider them, nibbling on her cake before picking up her pen again. “Information on the Goddess of Abundance’s cabal plus a technique for resisting cognitive poison? That’s indeed an enticing reward for me. But such a method must be precious to your society, no? You’re just promising that outright? Are you really sure you can convince your upper echelons to give something like that to an outsider?” “Don’t worry. If I’m making the offer, it means I’m confident I can convince them. Trust me.” Dorothy wrote back, penning her words from the distant hotel. At the bar, Adèle studied Dorothy’s reply, her eyes glimmering thoughtfully. She then wrote, “Well, if you’re that certain, I won’t push it. Fine, I’ll help you out. It’s a shame—if you couldn’t pay me properly, I actually had a little something else in mind for you…” This time, when Adèle finished writing, Dorothy’s puzzled question materialized. “‘Something else in mind’? What do you mean?” “Oh, nothing.” Adèle casually skipped over the subject as she continued writing. “We can discuss it if you ever end up with no other way to pay me back. For now, let’s focus on the favor you want—helping locate a few foreigners in the East District, right?” It wasn’t long before Dorothy’s next lines appeared. “Yes, a group of North Ufigans who must have arrived in Tivian recently. Last night they broke into a wealthy home in the Silver Orchid area, kidnapping someone. Since sea routes are the only way to travel from North Ufiga to Tivian, they definitely showed up at the eastern port district, and the Silver Orchid area is also in the east. You have a considerable network there, so I was hoping you’d help look into it.” Dorothy then listed out all the clues deduced from the Boyle mansion. When Adèle finished reading Dorothy’s summary of the suspects’ characteristics, she gave a slight nod and wrote, “A few desert thieves from North Ufiga, is it? Eastern Tivian does see plenty of foreign visitors, but North Ufigans are still fairly rare. You’ve given me enough details to go on, so if your info is accurate, I shouldn’t have much trouble tracking them down with my resources.” “Then I’m counting on you. I’m also mobilizing some police contacts to help find them, and I’ll let you know immediately if they uncover anything. Time is of the essence—we need to save a hostage.” Dorothy wrote in earnest. Adèle’s response came swiftly. “Of course. I’ll get right on it. The moment I learn something, I’ll inform you. Keep this line of contact open, Detective.” With that, Adèle stowed her pen, closed the magazine, finished her glass of red wine in one gulp, and tucked both the magazine and pen into her handbag before exiting the private booth. … Ivengard, Adria. Near the cathedral plaza, in the suite of a certain hotel, Dorothy exhaled in relief upon seeing Adèle’s final reply in the Literary Sea Logbook. With Adèle’s assistance, she felt significantly more at ease. In Eastern Tivian, Adèle was virtually a major overlord; behind many of the local gangs were her Crimson Heart network. Through those gangs, Adèle’s influence spread throughout the entire district. If you needed to find someone there, entrusting it to Adèle was undoubtedly the best approach. On another front, Dorothy also enlisted Gregor to mobilize some of the local police in Eastern Tivian to join in the search. With both the “light” and “dark” sides of East Tivian working at once, Dorothy was confident they would sniff out those five foreigners whose appearance was so distinctive. In a sense, I’m pretty much using both lawful and unlawful avenues now… Seated on the sofa in her suite, Dorothy thought about this. She wasn’t worried about failing to locate the group; rather, she was concerned something might happen to Nust before he could be found. They had kidnapped Nust for the golden scepter and for the method of accessing the Boyle family’s secret chamber. If they had him in their grasp, they might torture him. But given Nust’s loyalty to Davis, normal interrogations wouldn’t make him talk easily, so it could potentially take a while. However, these were no ordinary bandits; they were Silence Beyonders. To extract someone’s most closely guarded secrets, Silence Beyonders didn’t necessarily resort to torture. Questioning the soul would be far simpler than interrogating a living person. Yes—Dorothy was worried they might just kill Nust and summon his soul. If the treasure thieves chose that efficient approach, it might already be too late. Nust could be dead, and the bandits could have learned the Boyle family’s secrets from his spirit. That was the worst outcome from Dorothy’s perspective. If Nust died, retrieving the rest of Davis’s notes would become far more difficult. “Well, for now we’ve at least made some progress. Let me fill Neph in on the situation…” Sighing, Dorothy reopened her communication page with Nephthys Boyle to inform her of the investigative progress so far. After all, she was working on the case, and the family deserved to be updated. In her message to Nephthys, Dorothy recounted everything she had discovered—about the identity and motives of the robbers, along with the leads and progress she’d gathered. Ever since receiving the distressing telegram from home, Nephthys had been pacing anxiously in her hotel room, eaten up with worry. But upon reading Dorothy’s reply—learning that the Rose Cross Order in Tivian was now involved—she breathed a slight sigh of relief, her concerns somewhat eased. Next, Nephthys wrote back to Dorothy, thanking her for the effort. She also gave her own opinion on the possibility that Nust might already have been killed to facilitate soul-summoning. Nephthys suggested Nust’s soul might not be so easy to summon. “What? You say Nust’s soul is protected?” Dorothy wrote back in surprise after seeing Nephthys’s statement in the Literary Sea Logbook. She had never heard of such a thing. “Yes. I saw it in Grandpa’s notes. According to him, North Ufiga treasure hunters frequently explore dangerous ruins and tombs, dealing with traps, creatures, undead, and curses… “Those four threats might all be lethal, but they vary. Traps and living creatures might kill you, but they usually won’t harm your soul; if a treasure hunter dies to a guardian construct or tomb beast, their soul typically sinks into the Netherworld, flowing toward the end of the Nether River—that is, as the New Continent says, returning to the Great Soul. But for undead and curses, it’s different. Both can torment or destroy a soul… “In ancient tombs, malevolent spirits often devour the souls of those they kill. Meanwhile, those who die under a curse have their souls enslaved by it, bound to the tomb as local undead forced to endure ceaseless torment. Add to that the common practice among rival treasure hunters of raising or enslaving each other’s souls. Hence, Silence-path treasure hunters have developed numerous ways to safeguard their own spirits. “They hope that even if they’re unfortunate enough to die, their souls won’t be tortured or toyed with, but instead pass on to the Netherworld like any ordinary person. My grandpa was an outstanding treasure hunter, so he definitely knew these methods. In his notes, he claimed he mastered a technique for creating a Soul-Guarding Sigil. Whoever bears that sigil will be protected upon death, sinking directly to the depths of the Netherworld where it’s difficult to summon them or subject them to servitude. “This sigil was designed specifically for treasure-hunting Beyonders, relying on the wielder’s own powers. It’s not very effective for ordinary or non-Silence Beyonders, but it’s extremely effective for Silence Beyonders. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚 “Granpa Nust was an Apprentice on the ‘Silence’ path as well. Since Grandpa knew how to use this sigil, it certainly wouldn’t be just on himself—he’d have placed it on his loyal retainer too. That means you needn’t worry: as long as the sigil remains, Granpa Nust’s spirit is protected. Killing him won’t let the bandits summon his soul. They’d have to remove the sigil first, then kill him, but that’s precisely one reason the sigil was created—to stop treasure hunters from enslaving each other’s souls after internal feuds. It won’t be easily undone. So I believe Granpa Nust is still alive! “If those criminals want the secrets of the scepter, they must either torture him for a confession or strip away his sigil before killing him. Either approach takes time. Miss Dorothy, I’m convinced we have enough time!” On the pages of the Literary Sea Logbook, Nephthys’s handwriting rapidly took shape before Dorothy’s eyes. Reading these words, Dorothy nodded inwardly, feeling considerably more at ease. “Soul-Guarding Sigil? Well, that makes sense. A Silence Beyonder skilled in manipulating others’ souls would certainly know how to protect their own. It’s hardly surprising there’d be measures like that… “If Nephthys is correct and Nust is still alive, I need to speed things up and find him. I have to get him out before they lift his sigil or break his will…” Dorothy concluded. However, since she was presently not in Tivian, all she could do was wait—wait for word from Adèle and Gregor. … Time slipped by. Soon, a full day had passed, day and night alternating over Tivian’s skies, the hours vanishing in the blink of an eye. Dorothy, who had planned on going out for a bit of fun, ended up spending the entire day cooped up in her hotel room. She continuously monitored the Literary Sea Logbook, juggling the steady stream of information arriving from both sides. Indeed, with both the authorities and the underground world on the job, the efficiency was remarkable. Within roughly a day and a half, Dorothy received numerous valuable leads about the robbers. First came the Eastern Tivian police. Acting on Gregor’s suggestion, they searched the port district for any sign of five North Ufiga men. Eventually, they found leads at the port district’s carriage dispatch station. According to a coachman at the port’s carriage depot, he had met foreigners matching that description five days earlier around noon. The five rented two carriages and hauled a large sack of tools to the Silver Orchid area. Most of them spoke in a language the coachman didn’t understand; only one could manage broken Prittish, and with a very heavy accent. The coachman complained that one of them was surly, loudly cursing about the air and temperature inside the carriage. Their tools even scratched the carriage door. But, seeing how large and aggressive they were, the coachman didn’t dare confront them and swallowed his anger. The police then followed the coachman’s tip to the neighborhood where those men had disembarked. After some door-to-door questioning, they discovered a clothing store where, sure enough, foreigners matching the description had come to buy warmer clothes. Near that clothing store, the police found the inn where the five men had stayed. But according to the innkeeper, they left two nights earlier—the same evening as the Coronation Day. The owner said that after checking out, they never returned. And it was on that same night that the Boyle family’s estate got robbed. Past that point, the local police couldn’t find any more leads. Dorothy wasn’t surprised. After kidnapping someone, these treasure thieves wouldn’t risk staying in an ordinary inn. Whether they were planning to torture Nust or undo his sigil, they needed a safe and hidden location—somewhere far out of public view. Also, since they hadn’t yet obtained the golden scepter, they wouldn’t have left Tivian. They were almost certainly hiding somewhere, waiting to wring the scepter’s details out of Nust before returning to the Boyle mansion to retrieve it. As the group’s trail disappeared, the police struggled to uncover anything further. Dorothy therefore passed the intel on to Adèle, so she could direct her own people to search the area where the men had vanished. Adèle had a far wider range of contacts. Through the local gangs, she soon pinpointed the bandits’ movements. In that same district where they had disappeared, there was a small outfit called the “Fast Car Gang,” which operated coaches not listed in the carriage company’s registry. Ordinarily, they hauled contraband or carried passengers to dangerous places that normal coachmen wouldn’t go, forming one small link in East Tivian’s vast smuggling network. Many such underground taxi crews existed throughout Tivian. Once Dorothy conveyed her suspicion that the men needed someone to transport a hostage, Adèle immediately sent her subordinates to have a more powerful gang intimidate the Fast Car Gang in that neighborhood. Frightened by a larger gang’s boss, the small-time members confessed all recent business dealings. Among them was a job two days prior, when a group of foreigners with darker skin hired them to move a “package” that was clearly struggling inside a sack. For a handsome sum, and out of professional discretion, the gang hadn’t asked questions. They simply ferried the five men and their writhing cargo to a place of their choosing: Blackwater Street in the South District. That particular corner of South Tivian already had poor security—and Blackwater Street was one of its most chaotic areas. A haven of shady dealings, it was a place where the law held little sway, and precisely the kind of spot one would go to hide anything illicit or conduct unsavory business.