Northern Central Falano, Flottes. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮 It was a bright, clear day in Flottes. In a suite at a high-end hotel not far from the city center, Dorothy, dressed in a warm, padded house dress, sat cross-legged on a sofa, using spiritual threads to maintain her remote control over her corpse marionettes. These marionettes were gathered in a room elsewhere in Flottes, and under Dorothy’s control, they were flipping through one ancient dossier after another, pulling yellowed documents from file folders and examining them. To the unknowing eye, they might have seemed like a group of scholars conducting a joint study. What they were reviewing were still the materials provided by Samson—records from the late Bourbon period of Falano. Specifically, they focused on the Falano Chancellor during Robert’s reign: Dibois. These documents included historical accounts, decrees issued by Dibois himself, and handwritten letters. As she browsed these century-old records, Dorothy began to form a general psychological profile of this greedy, cunning, and sinister last chancellor. While reviewing the materials, she also began using her ability to construct a personality sketch of Dibois. Although over a hundred years had passed—and it was quite possible that Dibois was no longer alive—Dorothy’s personality profiling could still be applied to the deceased. While it could not hypnotize ghosts, it could still extract fragments of a person's behavior, especially personality and habits, which Dorothy believed might provide clues to locating him. After going through a substantial number of documents, her personality sketch finally began—but it didn’t take long for Dorothy to frown. This sketch was progressing unusually. It was slow. Very slow. Despite having abundant source material in the form of letters and documents, Dorothy had never encountered a profiling session this sluggish. Even after reviewing nearly all of Samson’s materials on Dibois, her sketch had only advanced slightly—still far from completion. This visibly deepened her expression. To put it in perspective, the volume of information provided by Samson would normally be enough for Dorothy to complete full profiles of two or three White Ash-rank Beyonders. Yet when applied to Dibois, the sketch had only budged a little. Dorothy knew exactly what this meant. “I suspected before that Dibois must be tied to some hidden mystical organization and was a Beyonder, but I didn’t expect him to be directly being a Crimson-rank… Then again, it makes sense. A person holding the office of Chancellor and orchestrating the theft of an entire nation's treasury couldn’t be some average figure. It’s not unreasonable that he’s a high-ranking member of a mystical organization…” So thought Dorothy. Given this situation, she wasn’t too surprised. She had already mentally prepared for the possibility that the profile might fail. Fortunately, it wasn’t a complete failure—the sketch had progressed just enough to leave a faint trace. If Dorothy were to see Dibois again in a crowd, she would be able to recognize him at a glance. It was little—but better than nothing. “If Dibois really is Crimson-rank, then he’s probably still alive… That makes things trickier. A Crimson-rank backed by a hidden organization… and a failed personality sketch… How am I supposed to track him down?” Sitting on the sofa, Dorothy murmured while absentmindedly stroking her chin. After a moment of thought, she silently took out her magic box, opened it, and retrieved the Literary Sea Logbook. Lowering her legs and sitting upright, Dorothy placed the familiar mystical book on the coffee table and began flipping through its pages. She paused on a certain page, picked up a pen, and began to write. “Hey, are you there?” Not long after the words appeared on the page, they faded into the parchment. A moment later, neatly printed letters surfaced before Dorothy’s eyes. “You ask knowing the answer, of course I’m here. Long time no see, you brat. Ever since you advanced to Crimson-rank, I see you’ve gotten too important to bother contacting me.” The reply from a certain automaton appeared in Dorothy’s vision. She smiled softly and replied in kind. “Please, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not about being ‘important’ or not. I just really didn’t have anything to bother you about lately. You’ve looked so busy fiddling with your inventions at home every day—I didn’t have the heart to disturb you. But if you’re feeling lonely, I can come hang out when I get back.” Dorothy replied playfully to Beverly, who responded almost instantaneously with her usual speed. “Forget it, forget it. I was just saying. Do you think someone who can spend over a decade straight inside a lab gets lonely? Don’t kid yourself… Alright, let’s get down to business. You contacted me first—so what’s this about? Business? Or intelligence?” “Just a quick question. By the way, do you know someone named Armand Dibois? He was the final Chancellor of the Falano Bourbon dynasty. Should’ve been somewhat famous.” Dorothy wrote directly into the page. Soon after, a reply appeared. “Armand… Dibois? The final Chancellor of Feastwine? Interesting… If you’re asking me about him, then you must’ve dug up some of the Bourbon endgame scandals, huh…” Beverly’s immaculate handwriting quickly filled Dorothy’s vision, and Dorothy calmly picked up her pen again. “That’s right. I’m currently in Flottes. I got wrapped up in some business involving local Beyonders and the Afterbirth Cult due to a friend. I learned a few secrets about the Bourbons, and even found a clue related to the First Dynasty—but that lead ultimately pointed to Dibois. So I came to you for the details. I figure you must know at least something about him.” “Of course I do. That so-called Dibois is more commonly known by another name—Frederico. He’s one of the ‘Grand Stewards’ of the Dark Gold Society. Over a century ago, he scored big for them by orchestrating the theft of a nation. Among the current Grand Stewards of the Dark Gold Society, he’s one of the more influential figures.” Beverly’s reply was notably serious. Upon reading it, a flash of understanding passed through Dorothy’s eyes. After hearing what Samson had said about Dibois, Dorothy immediately picked out several key points: Dibois was born a merchant, entered Robert’s court through donations, rose from Minister of Finance to Chancellor, constantly incited Robert to plunder wealth, and eventually absconded with it—while even being able to provide Robert’s court with a certain degree of Shadow-attribute protection. Fraud, wealth, the mystical, merchant, Shadow… Upon hearing this string of keywords, Dorothy immediately thought of the Dark Gold Society. After all, aside from the White Craftsmen’s Guild, they were the only other organization so deeply intertwined with money. Realizing this, Dorothy decided to consult Beverly for more information on Dibois. After all, no one in the world understood the Dark Gold Society better than the Craftsmen’s Guild—and, as expected, her hunch was correct. “Frederico… So that’s the real name of that final chancellor? As I suspected, he was part of the Dark Gold Society. But for them to interfere in a nation’s internal politics like this—what exactly were they after?” Dorothy wrote in the pages of her book. Beverly’s reply soon followed. “Isn’t the motive obvious? Money, of course. Members of the Dark Gold Society operate all over the world, just like us—running all sorts of businesses, speculating, using all manner of methods to acquire wealth and accumulate assets. Honestly, when it comes to commercial expertise, the Dark Gold Society surpasses us. While we edge them out slightly in mystical trading, they dominate many other sectors beyond that.” “The Dark Gold Society bankrolls countless major corporations, acts as roaming global capital seeking opportunity, and operates as an invisible hand shaping the capitalist world. They embed themselves in layers, always hidden. Unlike our Guild, the Society seldom takes direct control of any industry. Instead, they roam the market, launching offensives when opportunity arises—profiting through all kinds of investment methods. Sometimes, when no opportunity exists, they simply manufacture one.” “The Society is led by the ‘Black Coin Patrons,’ with several Grand Stewards beneath them, each responsible for different regions and strategies. Some manipulate stock markets through shady means, disrupting markets and triggering financial crises to scoop up assets. Some deliberately stoke national conflict and war to destabilize economies for profit. Others oversee forbidden trades the Guild cannot touch—like mass human trafficking and various forms of slave training.” “And then… there are those who focus on infiltrating national governments, corrupting and co-opting key financial offices to siphon away national wealth. Frederico is one of those. A hundred years ago, he spotted the crumbling Bourbon dynasty of Falano and personally intervened—accelerating its collapse while earning the Society a massive haul.” Beverly’s meticulously written reply filled the page before Dorothy’s eyes. With a serious expression, she picked up her pen and wrote again. “The Dark Gold Society hoards all this wealth and accumulates assets—what are they ultimately trying to do? Most of this money is just mundane currency, right? Is it really that significant to Beyonders like them?” Dorothy posed the question, and moments later, Beverly’s response appeared again. “The so-called ‘mundane’ and ‘mystical’—those are just classifications made up by arrogant fools who think they’ve transcended the masses. In truth, there is no absolute boundary between the two. It all comes down to degrees of depth in the world, the liveliness and richness of spirituality. Just because something is part of the 'surface world' doesn’t mean it lies outside the world. Just because mundane items possess little spiritual activity doesn’t mean they are devoid of spirituality. Quantity becomes quality… And when the Dark Gold Society’s assets reach a certain threshold, their influence can reach divine proportions.” Reading this, Dorothy furrowed her brow, then quickly responded. “Influence at the level of gods… So you’re saying the Dark Gold Society is hoarding assets in preparation for something massive?” “Ah… That part, I can’t say for sure. That’s drifting a bit off-topic, isn’t it? What you should be focusing on right now isn’t the Society’s grand ambitions, but finding Frederico, right?” Beverly’s response appeared on the page. Dorothy, of course, didn’t believe for a second that Beverly truly didn’t know the Society’s broader goals—but since she clearly didn’t want to elaborate, Dorothy didn’t push. “Right. I’m looking for him. Your Guild has dealt with the Dark Gold Society for years—do you have any leads on him?” Beverly responded quickly. “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. Unlike the Church’s Archbishops, the upper ranks of hidden societies are notoriously hard to trace. The Dark Gold Society’s Grand Stewards are the most elusive of all. They have no fixed base, constantly change locations, and are nearly impossible to track. The last confirmed sighting we had of Frederico was twelve years ago, during the civil unrest in the Principality of Soko.” “You don’t know either? Then if I want to find him, I’ll have to do it myself?” Dorothy replied, frowning. Beverly’s next message didn’t offer much more comfort. “I’m afraid so. Even we don’t have any current leads on Frederico. If you do manage to find him and decide to take action, we might be able to lend a hand. And if you can cause him serious trouble without our help, we’ll even reward you. But all that depends on whether you can actually find him. Personally, I think you’ve got the skills. I believe in you.” “Easy for you to say…” Dorothy thought, grumbling internally. After realizing this conversation wouldn’t lead her any further, she exchanged a few more casual words with Beverly, then said goodbye. She closed the Literary Sea Logbook, leaned back on the sofa, and exhaled deeply. “Phew… Even the Craftsmen’s Guild doesn’t have a reliable lead. What do I do now?” With a puzzled look, she muttered to herself while leaning against the couch. Then she began thinking carefully—wondering how she might extend this tenuous thread to Frederico and find the long-lost Maria’s Light. After deep contemplation, Dorothy reopened her magic box and retrieved the golden base she had obtained from Samson. She toyed with it in her hands. As her fingers ran across its neat and intricate engravings, a thought surfaced in her mind. “This golden base, along with those four crystals, should form a combined version of a high-rank True-Sight Key. And the key’s defining trait is that it holds no innate mystical effect—it only reveals its powers after receiving authorization from the Grand Library.” “This base has shown no mystical signs for over a century—most likely because it was disassembled and thus couldn’t receive authorization. In essence, the key receives its spirituality remotely from the Grand Library. It’s a mystical item capable of accepting Revelation spirituality. But unlike other mystical items, it has extremely high conversion efficiency and leaves behind almost no residue. After use, it seems no different from an ordinary object. So… what happens if I try to substitute for the Grand Library and infuse it with spirituality myself?” Gazing at the golden base before her, such thoughts filled Dorothy’s mind. Without further delay, she began the attempt—channeling her Revelation spirituality into the item. As Dorothy’s spirituality flowed in, the open eye engraved on the base flickered with a faint violet glow—and in her eyes, a trace of its mystical properties began to manifest.