Glancing around, although the surrounding area was filled with gentlemen and ladies dressed in formal attire, there was no sign of a young noble lady among them.
Lynch realized that Miss Valente was likely disguised again, watching from the sidelines with unknown motives.
This was already the third time Lynch had sensed this mystery relic.
The first time was when he ran into Miss Diana outside the city hall, right after the square incident had ended.
The second time was after the fire in the Hall of Order's archives, when the bearer had transformed into an old woman who went on to meet with the hillmen hiding in the abandoned factory.
Combined with its story—“May my makeup never fade”—Lynch guessed that this relic's effect was disguise. The old woman and Miss Diana were the same person, which neatly matched the intelligence that the Valente family had close ties with the hillmen.
And now, disguising herself in front of the city hall once again, her purpose was clearly identical to his own intention to infiltrate: preparing to act covertly.
He wanted to spy on Grant’s secrets; what about her? Did she want to set another fire?
Calculating in his mind, Lynch held the newspaper in front of his face, his eyes sweeping across the faces of the patrons within a three-meter radius one by one.
There were many people around. Not counting those passing through, seven were seated nearby.
Four men and three women, scattered around Lynch.
First, eliminate the men. According to theatrical knowledge, people rarely chose the opposite sex when creating a disguise; most stories featuring gender flips were pure nonsense. Men and women possessed too many different instinctive mannerisms. Anyone with a bit of experience could tell them apart, making it far too easy to blow one's cover, so almost no one did it.
That left the three women: one young, one middle-aged, and one elderly.
The young woman was quickly ruled out. She was full of energy, casually fanning herself with her hand. For the eldest daughter of a high noble, good breeding was ingrained as second nature; she would never naturally make such a crude gesture. Mm... eliminate.
The remaining two were noblewomen. Both their attire and deportment were impeccable, showing no obvious flaws. Lynch was momentarily in a bind—until his gaze swept over their coffee tables.
In front of the poised, elegant middle-aged noblewoman, an exquisite folding fan lay upon the table, suitable for any age.
In their previous two encounters, he had seen her holding a folding fan. Although he couldn't clearly recall what the fan looked like, its presence was a definite constant. Thus, seeing the folding fan again, Lynch focused his attention on the middle-aged noblewoman.
Dressed in incomprehensibly complex noble garments with undetectable, exquisite makeup, she sat alone at the table, attentively flipping through a novel. Occasionally resting her eyes, she would set the book down, touch the coffee cup to her lips, glance up toward the city hall a few times, and then immerse herself in the world of the novel once more.
《The Moriarty Case Files》—seemingly the most popular detective novel of the moment. The intelligence obtained from Cat Baron instantly surfaced in his mind:
Diana de Valente, eldest daughter of Count Valente, healing sister of the Church of Suffering, rank two Soul Severer. Skilled in pharmacology and first aid, accomplished in art appreciation and violin performance, fond of reading, especially fond of detective novels.
The match was growing stronger by the second.
Lynch inquired internally, ‘Neighbor, this person is a Soul Severer, right?’
【Mm.】
Although a low-ranking Soul Severer could not stimulate his mystery intuition into producing a special reaction, Lady Luna could actually distinguish them—just as she had when they first met Officer Natalie.
It seemed it really was her: Diana de Valente.
Behind the newspaper, Lynch licked his lips. After a moment's contemplation, he made up his mind, stood up, and walked over to her.
He had intended to use her as a stepping stone to learn about the hillmen's movements anyway, and now presented the perfect opportunity.
There was nothing to fear. She had official backing, but so did he. In this era with a city council, nobles could no longer decide the life and death of commoners at will. And in the supernatural realm, while she was backed by the elder hillman and the Church of Suffering, he had the backing of the legendary super-expert whispered about in elite circles. Judging from the elder hillman's reaction when they crossed paths that morning, they were still quite wary.
Therefore, as long as he handled the situation properly, Lynch was not worried she would suddenly turn hostile, or use some lethal occult technique against him from the shadows like Randall had back then.
Time to resolve the problem using the methods of the civilized world.
“Good afternoon, Madam.” Lynch took off his flat cap, bowed with a smile, and asked, “May I have the honor of sitting opposite you?”
The middle-aged noblewoman looked up from her novel, rested her chin on her hand, and appraised Lynch. A gentle, reserved smile appeared on her face, and her voice was slow and deep, conveying a soothing calmness:
“Apologies, sir, you do not.”
“What a pity.” Lynch's lips twitched slightly. Nodding with a faint half-smile, he moved the chair from across the table to her side and sat down with complete ease. “Then I'll just have to sit beside you, Miss Valente.”
Her gentle expression remained unchanged, but the noblewoman gently set down the detective novel, picked up the folding fan on the table to cover her mouth, and said softly, “How did you recognize me, Mr. Lynch Levive?”
Tsk, this woman isn't easy to deal with. Lynch waved for the waiter, casually ordered a cup of coffee, and only then said coolly, “You are challenging the observation and analytical skills a detective relies on to make a living, Madam.”
“Oh? Was there something amiss?” Toying with the folding fan, Miss Valente's gaze carried a hint of curiosity.
“Your attire and mannerisms are both standard noble etiquette, yet you have no maids, attendants, or stewards by your side. That violates convention. No attendant would dare abandon their mistress without authorization—unless they were shaken off. While shaking off servants isn't unusual for a young noble girl, doing so as a mature, dignified middle-aged noblewoman makes it fundamentally different, involving many troublesome questions of reputation. If you were truly the lady you are portraying, you wouldn't disregard your own and your family's reputation—unless this lady's reputation requires no consideration at all because she doesn't actually exist. So to me, you were practically shouting that your identity was fake.”
Lynch spoke faster and faster, yet Miss Valente seemed to follow along. She stopped toying with the folding fan, looking somewhat surprised, and nodded as she focused on Lynch. “And then?”
Seeing her interest piqued made things much easier. Lynch immediately went all out, fabricating a whole set of theories on the spot:
“Lack of attendants is one thing, but having no bodyguards or escorts either is truly peculiar. Traveling without servants might have other explanations, but not bringing bodyguards to a square where a massacre just occurred is no longer mere capriciousness—it's being irresponsible with your own life. It doesn't match the cautious nature of nobles, unless she doesn't need ordinary people to protect her at all because she is a Soul Severer herself.”
“Soul Severers among nobles are rare to begin with. Furthermore, you carry strange scents on you, reminiscent of occult ingredients used in compounding medicine, which reminded me of the traits of the faithful of Suffering... As for the rest, you'll have to pay to unlock it, Miss Valente.”
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