Ophelia gritted her teeth and, clutching the hem of her skirt, broke into a light jog to keep up with the tall, cold figure ahead of her.
She was willing to bet that this man was the most insidious, despicable profiteer in the world, one who knew exactly how to exploit another person's despair.
He didn't even bother with hypocritical pleasantries like “It’s fine, I’ll help you.”
He had gone straight for the jugular.
His target was the confidential documents she had risked her life to obtain.
“Kid, take a word of advice: with an attitude like that, you’re destined to die alone,” Old Ed’s voice rang in his mind, filled with the frustration of watching someone fail to live up to their potential.
The old man had thought that Elias, that perennial iron tree that never blossomed, had finally seen the light.
After all, the girl before them was beautiful.
In particular, those graceful curves that her linen dress could barely conceal were a rare sight in this world.
Who would have thought?
After all that buildup—saving her and knocking people out—the first thing he said was that he wanted to get his hands on her secret files for nothing.
“What do you know?”
Elias gave a cold snort in his mind, his tone dripping with impatience.
“Old man, is your spiritual head filled with nothing but the thoughts of animals in breeding season?”
“Do you realize the situation I’m in?”
“I have the company’s pendulum in my pocket, the dream demon curse over my head, and quite possibly the madmen of the Mist Veil Society on my tail.”
“The last thing I need right now is to bring along some dead weight.”
Elias leaned on his cane, his pace as steady as a lion patrolling its territory.
He added calmly in his mind:
“I’m not some heartless monster, either.”
“Even though she has nothing to do with me, I don’t intend to watch her walk to her death in Moon Bay.”
“Isn’t it better to make her realize the difficulty and back off?”
“Hmm...”
Old Ed let out a thoughtful hum of doubt.
“Then why didn't you just knock her out and dump her in the bushes at Krenter Station?”
“Wouldn't that have been more direct?”
“Old man, and you call me cold?” Elias couldn't help but retort.
“I have to at least give the woman the right to choose, don’t I?”
“Her brother is missing, and she wants to investigate the truth. From an ethical and moral standpoint, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.”
“Similarly, if she chooses to live as an ordinary person because she is intimidated by the cunning and sheer scale of Wayland Capital, that isn't wrong either.”
“If I were to use my status as a transcendent to casually strip an ordinary person of their right to seek the truth, then I would be the real scoundrel.”
Listening to Elias’s logically sound self-justification, Old Ed suddenly felt that the kid’s moral standards had somehow surpassed his own from a very strange angle.
This approach, while seemingly cold, possessed an underlying arrogance known as “respect.”
“I’ll give you that one,” the old man grumbled before going completely silent.
In reality, Ophelia, who had been following in silence, suddenly stopped.
She stood in the shadows of the platform, looking at Elias with a gaze filled with a self-punishing stubbornness.
“No.”
Ophelia raised her head. Her voice was still a bit raspy, but it was incredibly firm.
“Since things have already reached this point, and since there is no going back for me...”
“I will investigate to the very end.”
Elias stopped, turned around, and looked at her as if she were a fool.
“Idiot.”
He shook his head, spitting out those two cold words.
In Elias’s eyes, an ordinary person who knew nothing of the cruel reality of the supernatural world doing this was no different from jumping into a meat grinder voluntarily.
It was a suicide mission.
Purely throwing her life away.
In his view, there was a high probability that this girl’s brother had already died from the overflow of some supernatural power or had ended up in the stomach of some monster deep within Moon Bay.
Especially since he was someone who could stand in a photograph with an old viper like Edward Crowley.
It was very likely that he had already become a transcendent before his disappearance.
Elias’s thoughts raced.
He thought back to the chatter of the two security personnel he had heard in the corridor earlier.
The “Octowin.”
He suddenly remembered that it was the surname of the King of Velen.
A ship named after the royal family.
The political significance and supernatural existence level behind it were undoubtedly staggering.
So, what was Wayland Capital doing sending such a heavy hitter to the waters of Moon Bay at this critical juncture?
The answer was obvious.
It was for the “Fifth Element” that had sunk in the center of the bay.
According to the deceased Luke, the pendulum was required to obtain that thing.
But now...
The pendulum was in his pocket, and Luke was dead in a sewer.
Yet Wayland Capital was still pushing forward with its plan in an organized fashion.
This proved that these capitalists had likely prepared a so-called “Plan B.”
A method to trigger the Fifth Element even without the pendulum.
However, this seemed extremely contradictory.
If Plan B was viable, wouldn't Luke’s mission to sneak into Hope County to steal the pendulum have been redundant?
Unless... the cost of that Plan B was so high that even Wayland found it painful.
With their own separate thoughts, the two returned to the first-class carriage.
“Whistle—!”
The sound of the steam whistle once again pierced the silence of Krenter Station.
The train slowly began to move again amidst heavy tremors.
The atmosphere inside the compartment was an awkward silence.
Ophelia sat on the padded seat, incessantly stirring her cup of hot cocoa, which had long since gone cold.
It wasn't until the train finally entered the port city that was perpetually filled with the scent of salty sea air—Hastings Port.
It wasn't until the massive steel wheels made one last screeching sound against the tracks.
Only then did Ophelia take a deep breath and slowly speak.
“You...”
She looked at the man across from her, who was methodically tidying his cane.
“Sir, I haven't asked yet—how should I address you?”
Elias didn't even look up.
“Bruce.”
“Bruce Wayne.”
Elias gave a fake name that no one in this world would ever expose.
His tone was so sincere it was as if he truly owned a manor filled with bats back in Landon.
“I’m Ophelia. Ophelia Moore,” the journalist said earnestly.
“Even though you are arrogant... thank you for your help along the way.”
“If I need your help with the investigation later, how should I contact you?”
Elias thought for a moment, his gaze deep.
“Follow me.”
The two got off the train and didn't linger on the noisy platform, instead calling for a public carriage immediately.
“To the Bay Hotel,” Elias ordered casually.
When the public carriage slowly pulled up to the entrance of the Bay Hotel—an establishment radiating luxury that even offered a view of the distant coastline.
Ophelia looked at the magnificent lobby and the porters in their crisp uniforms.
The hesitation born of “poverty” finally began to sprout in her heart.
“Sir...”
She tugged on Elias’s sleeve and lowered her voice.
“This place is very expensive. I only have the small severance pay the editor-in-chief gave me...”
“I can just stay at a regular little inn, really...”
“I wouldn't want to trouble a great figure like you.”
Elias ignored her completely.
Without a word, he leaned on his cane and walked straight up the red-carpeted steps of the hotel.
Ophelia bit her lip and could only follow him with trepidation.
She realized with sorrow that if she lost track of this man, she might never find the old man who had taken her brother in the photograph.
Inside the lobby, the light from the crystal chandeliers was somewhat dazzling.
Elias walked expressionlessly to the marble front desk and casually slapped down a gold note of significant denomination.
“Give me a luxury suite on the top floor,” Elias told the receptionist, his voice as flat as if he were buying a newspaper.
Ophelia stood beside him, her mind racing with plots from those cliché melodramatic novels in Landon.
A lone man and woman. A suite late at night.
Had this so-called “Mr. Bruce” finally developed designs on her meager charms?
She had already begun silently calculating the odds of surviving a jump from the window.
Just as she was letting her imagination run wild—even preparing herself to resist to the death—Elias turned his head and spoke to the receptionist again.
“And while you’re at it, find her the cheapest room you have.”
“A windowless attic will do.”
The receptionist was stunned.
Ophelia, who was in the middle of imagining a tragic life drama, was also completely dumbfounded.
“?”
Rate on N.U.
