Was he saying he and Crowley were colleagues, or that he and Elias were?
If it were the former, that would be normal. After all, they were both eating from the same Wayland Shipping pot; they were both just employees.
But if it were the latter...
Then things were about to get very interesting.
Had the other man already seen through his disguise?
No, that didn't seem right either.
Perhaps he was just being paranoid, overthinking things.
After staying in this deathtrap of a place for too long, even the stray dogs on the street started looking like spawns of an evil god.
Regardless, the show had to go on.
“If you put it that way, Mr. Weaven, what more can I say?”
Elias shrugged, his lips curling into a perfectly calculated expression of helplessness.
He tapped his cane lightly against the floor, letting out a crisp click.
“Since you’re willing to pay, I’m certainly happy to accept.”
“Who would turn down gold coins, wouldn't you agree?”
He leaned forward slightly, a hint of well-timed regret flashing in his eyes.
“However, I still wish to see Old Crowley.”
“After all, the two of us haven't met in quite some time.”
“I’d really like to sit down and have a proper drink with him.”
His words were seamless, perfectly portraying the image of a sentimental creditor.
“Regrettably,” Marcus shook his head gently.
“Old Crowley went out to sea a few days ago.”
“As for when he’ll return, I haven't the slightest idea.”
He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
“Since you know Old Crowley, you should be familiar with his temperament.”
“He’s a creature of habit—specifically, the habit of doing whatever he wants.”
“I have no idea which patch of ocean he’s currently drifting on.”
It was a non-answer, pure filler.
But then, Marcus’s tone shifted.
“However.”
“If he returns to port, he usually visits a certain place.”
“The ‘Siren’s Song.’”
Siren’s Song?
Elias’s brow furrowed instantly.
Did that name... sound lucky? It certainly didn't sound very reputable.
But on second thought, considering the local customs here, it actually seemed quite reasonable.
Elias nodded, committing the name of the place to memory.
Intelligence gathered. Now, it was time for the main event.
He pretended to casually shift his gaze away from Marcus, glancing toward the wreckage he had just locked onto with 【Moon Vision】.
A second later, he raised his voice without warning.
“Oh!”
“Finally!”
Elias let out a cry of pleasant surprise, instantly transforming into an overjoyed owner finding his lost property.
He dropped into a crouch.
Before Marcus could even react, Elias’s hand had already accurately reached into the gap between the charred wooden boards.
He grabbed a handful of the messy dust on the floor.
And nestled within that dust was the metal dog tag.
The moment he grabbed it, he mobilized the spirituality within his body, saturating the dog tag at maximum speed.
Then, he pulled his hand back smoothly, naturally tucking it into the inner pocket of his trench coat.
In reality, that wasn't an inner pocket at all. It was the Gluttonous Stomach disguised as a pocket.
“Gulp—”
The moment the dog tag fell into the stomach, Elias could almost hear a faint, greedy sound of swallowing in his mind.
He stood up and brushed the dust off his hands.
“I’ve found my item.”
He gave Marcus a slight bow.
“Mr. Weaven, thank you again.”
Having said that, he looked around at the horrific scene and let out a long sigh.
“However...”
“I am truly sorry for what happened here.”
He shook his head with an air of compassion, as if he truly were just a kind-hearted citizen passing by.
“It’s quite alright,” Marcus said, waving it off dismissively.
“These cultists are always like this.”
“One gets used to it.”
As he spoke, his gaze lingered inconspicuously on Elias for half a second before naturally drifting away. He waved his hand at the employees clearing the corpses from the wreckage.
“Carry on.”
“Make it quick.”
The employees resumed their busy work.
Meanwhile, Marcus turned around and pulled a checkbook from his pocket.
He uncapped a fountain pen, scribbled a string of numbers with a flourish, tore it off, and held it out to Elias.
“We have already notified the Seventh Agency.”
“They will be here shortly to handle the case,” Marcus said with a smile.
“This is the money Old Crowley owes you.”
Elias reached out and took the check, which smelled faintly of fresh ink.
He looked down.
“Three hundred gold crowns?”
He had clearly stated two hundred earlier.
“I am truly sorry,” Marcus said, clasping his hands together with a sincerity that was impossible to fault.
“That you encountered such an event here today and were subjected to such a fright.”
“The extra hundred gold crowns is a modest compensation from Wayland.”
“I hope you won't mind.”
Good lord, Elias thought. A big corporation is a big corporation for a reason.
“Very well.”
He nodded impassively and tucked the check into his pocket.
He had to admit, it was quite generous. No point in refusing free money.
Except...
Elias felt a nagging sense of oddity.
He glanced at the employees who were still working hard to clear the scene.
If the other man had truly called the Seventh Agency to handle this bombing, weren't they currently tampering with a crime scene?
The only explanation was that Wayland Capital didn't want the Seventh Agency to see certain things.
But that was none of his business. Even if he asked, the other man wouldn't necessarily tell him the truth, and it might even bring trouble upon himself.
Better to quit while he was ahead, take the money, and run.
“In that case, I won't disturb you further.”
Elias gave a slight bow, performing a flawless gentleman’s salute.
He turned and walked straight toward Ophelia, who was still slumped in the corner in a state of incapacitation.
She was currently sprawled on the floor like a puddle of soft mud.
Elias walked over, showing not a shred of chivalry. He simply reached out, grabbed Ophelia by the back of her collar, and with a bit of strength, tucked her under his arm like a briefcase.
Since Ophelia was wearing a sharp sailor suit today, the posture looked incredibly awkward. It was as if he were carrying a thermos.
As he passed the main doors, Elias didn't forget to tilt his head and give Marcus a polite nod.
Marcus seemed completely uninterested in Elias’s behavior. He simply watched him leave.
The two of them successfully left the scene of the trouble.
The moment they were out the door, Elias immediately ducked into a deserted alleyway.
He set Ophelia on the ground and canceled the 【Sleep Spell】.
The female reporter soon woke up from her deep slumber, looking dazed.
She snapped her eyes open, her pupils still somewhat dilated. Her vision gradually focused, landing on the familiar man standing over her, looking down.
“Where am I?”
Ophelia asked, her voice raspy as she propped herself up with her hands.
When had she fallen asleep?
There was a massive gap in her memory.
She had clearly been in the lobby of the Wayland Shipping office just a moment ago!
How had she ended up in this alleyway that smelled of urine in the blink of an eye?
The thought of that lobby made Ophelia’s face turn deathly pale.
The explosion, the shredded meat, the severed limbs.
Her stomach churned.
“Urgh—”
She instinctively covered her mouth, dry-heaving painfully, though nothing came up.
Wait.
She snapped her head up, her eyes filled with terror.
Was that a dream?!
If it was a dream, why was that heart-stopping feeling of impending death so vivid?
It was too real! Despairingly real!
What on earth was that!
While her mind was a tangled mess, Elias slowly crouched down.
The usual playfulness was gone from his handsome face, replaced by a grave expression.
In a low, raspy tone that sounded like a mournful echo of someone who had seen through life and death, he slowly spoke.
“Wake up, Knight.”
“We have a city to...”
“Burn to the ground.”
The wind in the alley blew the hem of Elias’s trench coat at just the right moment.
Combined with his cold gaze, the atmosphere was peak coolness.
Ophelia was momentarily stunned. But at the same time, she was completely shocked into full alertness by the terrifying implications of those words.
Her eyes widened as she looked at Elias as if he were a monster.
Burn it to the ground?!
What the hell was this man talking about?!
Had he gone mad?
Seeing the female reporter’s expression, which looked as if she’d seen a ghost, the gravity on Elias’s face instantly collapsed.
“Pfft.”
He couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.
“Ah, so you’re finally fully awake?”
Elias patted the dust off his knees and stood up with ease. He even took a moment to adjust his tie.
“It’s nothing.”
“You looked a bit out of it, so I just borrowed a famous line from a work back in my hometown to help clear your head.”
He waved his hand, looking completely unbothered.
“Don't take it seriously. I’m a law-abiding citizen.”
“...”
Ophelia sat on the ground, completely speechless. She took two deep breaths, forcing down the urge to scream at him.
As her mind cleared, fragments of what she had experienced while unconscious began to sharpen in her memory.
She quickly recalled that dream.
“Strange...”
Ophelia leaned against the wall, standing up with some difficulty. She rubbed her throbbing temples, her voice filled with confusion.
“I just had a nightmare.”
“In the dream, I talked with an old sailor for a long time.”
“What did he say?” Elias turned to look at her.
“He didn't know my brother,” Ophelia said, frowning as she tried to recall the details.
“But...”
“He revealed a very critical piece of information.”
She looked up, her eyes bright.
“He said that of the lighthouse keepers, quite a few survived.”
Quite a few?
Hearing this, Elias slowly narrowed his eyes.
Survived?
And quite a few?!
This old man is tricking you!
Rate on N.U.
