“Good afternoon,” Siles greeted Marchioness Austin.
Siles needed to accompany the Marchioness to the banquet venue, so he arrived early at the Austin Estate in the northern suburbs. He wore a crisp suit, draped with a heavy overcoat on the outside. Despite this, his ankles, left uncovered by the coat, were already stiff with cold. He could not help but admire the courage of the ladies wearing long dresses in this weather.
The Austin Estate was not particularly crowded at the moment; the overall atmosphere could even be described as peaceful. Although Marquis Austin was dead, the matter was kept strictly secret because the investigation was still ongoing. Apart from the eyewitnesses of that day, not many people knew about it.
The Marchioness looked in much better shape. Though still visibly gaunt, the gaze she directed over had become remarkably steady. She said in a low voice, “Thank you for coming, Professor Noel.”
Siles nodded to Millicent at her side—Angela and Dorothea were not here; they would travel to the banquet with their respective families.
He then said, “Miss Austin is my student. This is simply what a professor ought to do.”
“And it is precisely because of that that I am all the more grateful to you,” the Marchioness said. “Over the past month, I have long since seen through the true faces of these nobles. I am not afraid to make a fool of myself, but in the past, I used to look down on commoners.
“Both my family and my husband’s family are noble houses with centuries of heritage. The nobles and ladies we interacted with daily were all the same. This is the facade of the upper crust of the Duchy of Konst. Our relationships are linked into a tight network.
“Yet in reality, no one was willing to stretch out a helping hand to me and my daughter when my husband went mad.
“Because my husband was so powerful and influential, they believed he had the right to go mad, and that I was naturally meant to be the ‘price’ of his madness, even to the point of dying along with him. My poor Millie was treated the same way.
“They feared my husband’s authority, feared that mysterious power, and believed we deserved it, that we had deliberately provoked those bizarre things… But we are just ordinary people. Who could have imagined this would suddenly happen to us?”
Siles comforted her, saying, “You have already distanced yourself from that shadow now.”
The Marchioness gave a pale smile and said, “Indeed.”
As they were chatting, another guest walked over. It was Jon the detective. He had also received an invitation from the Marchioness, preparing to participate in the evening banquet. He looked toward Siles, smiling slightly as he nodded.
According to the Marchioness, Elder David would also participate in the banquet tonight. Furthermore, Angela and Elder David seemed to have found other reinforcements from the Historical Society.
The Marchioness clearly knew of the existence of Awakeners, but was not entirely clear on the structure of the Historical Society, so she did not explicitly state who those reinforcements were. Regardless, tonight seemed destined to be a stage for covert operations and secret confrontations.
Siles and Jon followed Marchioness Austin and Millicent toward the royal palace.
Siles noticed that in just a few days, a large portion of the servants at the Austin Estate had been replaced, and even the butler was a new face. From a certain perspective, the Marchioness was truly becoming the actual ruler of the Austin family.
Before setting out, the Marchioness explicitly reminded the two guests of some precautions for the banquet, such as trying not to make noise while eating and taking care not to wander into forbidden areas.
Of course, the Marchioness also mentioned that since the two of them were invited guests, the nobles would usually display a relatively “tolerant” attitude and would not care too much about their unconventional behavior—after all, they wouldn’t have been able to come here otherwise.
When she said this, her tone was quite sarcastic. She must have been thoroughly infuriated by these nobles recently due to her late husband’s affairs.
The banquet officially commenced at seven o’clock in the evening. They arrived at the Atherton Central Square at around five-thirty, subsequently entering the royal palace of the Duchy of Konst.
Along the way, Siles noticed that the atmosphere inside the East City of Lamifa seemed incredibly enthusiastic. Crowds were surging and rejoicing—tomorrow was the Day of Divine Birth, so this was only normal. However, perhaps his nerves were simply too sensitive. He always felt that beneath this enthusiastic, celebratory atmosphere, something terrifying and unsettling seemed to be hidden.
Even upon arriving at the royal palace, Siles could not shake this feeling.
He had previously glimpsed the appearance of the Konst Royal Palace from afar. It was a beautiful cluster of castles that found peace amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. The main castle was grand and towering with steep spires, while the attached buildings were exceptionally exquisite and unique. This time, they were heading to the main castle.
The sky gradually darkened. It was a gloomy day without beautiful sunset clouds, so Siles could only see dark, heavy clouds pressing down right over their heads… much like the artist’s painting at Atherton Central Square.
Yes, Siles suddenly realized. An almost identical scene.
“…Professor, it’s our turn.” Millicent reminded him softly from the side.
It was time to enter.
Siles could only collect his thoughts and quietly follow the crowd forward. He held a bag in his hand—and this era clearly lacked safety inspections. Thus, Siles smoothly brought his entire backpack of potions and Time Traces inside.
Servants separated the guests by family, leading them to different lounges. They could store their belongings here, tidy up their clothes and appearance, and proceed to the grand hall to await the commencement of the banquet amidst the atmosphere of conversation and dancing.
Siles noticed the near-brilliant, resplendent decorations inside the castle, as well as the exquisite scent of powder wafting from the surrounding guests. This was a confusing vanity fair, filled with hypocritical pleasantries and daggers hidden behind smiles of indulgence. Even the embroidered cushions in the lounge carried an expensive weight.
A subtle sense of discomfort arose in Siles’s heart, though it wasn’t very obvious. He quickly shook off the thought—this was the royal palace of this era; it was only natural.
They waited in the lounge for a moment, and very soon, Angela, Dorothea, and Elder David came over to join them.
Siles looked around at the six people before him, thinking that apart from the unaccounted-for members of the Church of the Past and the Historical Society, this was their entire force.
He took out the Suffocation Potions from his bag and distributed one bottle to each person, including Marchioness Austin and Millicent.
Angela looked at the liquid in the bottle with mild curiosity and asked, “What is this, Professor? A potion?”
“A potion that causes suffocation,” Siles explained in a low voice, detailing its efficacy and usage. He did not refer to it as a magical potion. “If any unexpected changes occur in a moment, you can use it as you see fit.”
Detective Jon played with the tiny glass bottle with great interest, saying thoughtfully, “Professor Noel, you continue to surprise me.”
Siles looked at him with a calm gaze, offering no response.
The ladies placed the Suffocation Potion into their handbags, while the gentlemen slipped it into their inner suit pockets. Siles adjusted the brooch symbolizing [The Silent Heart] on his lapel, then put on [Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame] which hung across his chest.
The blue glow of the Awakeners around him became significantly more distinct.
Siles discovered with mild astonishment that this unique eyeglass frame and his “cheat perspective” seemed to… complement each other? He subtly sensed that he could “see” much more clearly. Previously, he could only determine what purity of potion other Awakeners had consumed by observing the blue glow on their bodies. Now, he felt as though he could even perceive how much ritual time remained.
For instance, looking at the mysterious Detective Jon, he could see that the man had consumed a potion of 10% purity, and his ritual time would last for another 6 hours.
Under this perspective, the “game-like” sensation grew increasingly pronounced.
If I attempt a check while using this eyeglass frame, will I be able to obtain more information in my capacity as the Secret-Keeper? Siles pondered.
“We should head to the grand hall,” Dorothea reminded them. “If there really is an issue with the ingredients supplied by Greyson, then the desserts and beverages in the hall are highly likely to be compromised. Take care not to consume those things.”
They all nodded.
Subsequently, they left the lounge one by one, walking along the long, opulently carpeted corridor toward the central grand hall. Siles caught a glimpse of Atherton Square through the window, noticing that a considerable crowd seemed to have gathered out there.
His astonishment flashed and vanished, and he quickly moved past the corridor into the grand hall. Consequently, he failed to hear—and of course, could not possibly hear—that familiar roar of fury outside.
“Dammit!” Dominic cursed. “How can there be so many people?!”
Several other investigators from the Church of the Past stood beside him, currently struggling to maintain their balance. Someone responded to his confusion, “I don’t know either… The Greyson Company…”
Yes, everything they were facing right now—the surging tide of humanity on Atherton Square—was the handiwork of the Greyson Food Company.
Siles had gone to the cathedral in the morning to inform them that Greyson harbored malicious intent. Dominic and his colleagues had immediately commenced their investigation without a moment’s rest. Very soon, they unearthed more detailed and relevant information.
On this Eve of the Day of Divine Birth, the Greyson Food Company had launched an unbelievable discount campaign across all its shops, virtually giving food away under the claim of celebrating the birth of Antinamum. This matter had been advertised several days prior in newspapers, promotional flyers, and advertising cards. The scope of the activity encompassed Gourmet Town, the stalls at the October Fair, and the meat and dessert shops in the West City.
Furthermore, the Greyson Food Company would be distributing massive quantities of raw ingredients and prepared food for free at Atherton Central Square on the night of the Eve of the Day of Divine Birth.
This was precisely why Atherton Square was an absolute sea of people right now.
“The scene is going to spiral out of control,” Dominic muttered under his breath, desperately forcing a path through the crowd with his legs. “It hasn’t even started distribution yet, and people are already this frantic. Once the activity officially begins, the scramble for food will…”
He stared almost incredulously at the distorted, obsessed faces of the people around him.
The believers of the Church of the Past had their own sources of food supply and would not purchase food outside. Therefore, they did not know just how terrifyingly fixated the people who had tasted Greyson’s food would become.
Siles knew, but he was not here right now. If he were, he might have spotted a few familiar faces—Lorenzo, the Fern family, the Collins family, the street urchins of the West City… They were squeezed into the crowd, dazed and disheveled, exerting every ounce of effort to fight for the food that was about to be sold or given away for free.
Dominic calmly retreated to a slightly more open corner. The rest of the investigators gathered there.
One of them reported their findings within the city, “There are even more people over by the Arcade District than here! And that circus over there…” The investigator swallowed hard, almost instinctively gripped by fear—or perhaps some other emotion.
Dominic glanced at him, stopping him from continuing. He simply said, “Then get that area under control as well, don’t let the situation deteriorate any further!”
The investigator nodded slowly.
Dominic then turned to the other investigators, “Get the police officers over here to maintain order. Go find every single person from the Historical Society’s Third Corridor and Second Corridor, and tell them to unleash whatever rituals they have!”
“Then what are we going to do?” his companion shouted over the din.
Dominic said with near-fury, “Dammit! Find the culprits, of course! Locate their company address! Go burn down those bizarre foods and their processing factories! Also, we need to split off a group to dismantle that damn Torture Society and find the members of the Dwight family! They might very well be mingling among these people, waiting for their chance!”
His companion stared at him blankly. The surroundings were deafening with clamor; everyone was incredibly irritable.
Dominic took a deep breath and said, “Let’s go, it’s time to move. Trace Tracking?”
“Already prepared,” his companion replied.
Dominic nodded. Just as he was about to step forward, he suddenly stopped. He frowned, looking toward the people who were still rushing over, noting with particular interest that some of them seemed to be clutching a book in their hands.
…A book?
A faint sense of confusion flashed through his mind, but he had no time to pursue it now. The figures of those people quickly vanished into the crowd, so Dominic shook his head, casting the matter aside as he hurried to catch up with his companion.
Inside the palace, Siles also spotted a book—his own book, The Rose’s Revenge.
The familiar binding instantly made Siles realize something. Yesterday at the October Fair, he had looked toward Greyson’s dessert shop through the blurry window. There, his books had been on display. Siles hadn’t been able to see clearly back then; the glass of this era was simply not transparent enough. But now, the realization struck him all at once.
…Greyson’s shops are actually selling my book?
In the hall, a young noble lady was incessantly pitching this book to the people around her. The near-frenzied light in her eyes caused some onlookers to whisper among themselves.
“What’s going on?”
“Who is talking about… a novel? What novel? Romance…?”
Siles heard someone say.
The young noble lady mentioned the book’s male protagonist, Ludwig, her face instantly turning flush with a near-infatuated expression. Nearby guests who had also read the book joined her conversation. It was a young man, who naturally brought up the female protagonist, a highly unseemly implication appearing in his eyes as well.
They spoke to themselves, yet suddenly drew even more people into their discussion. They mentioned the pursuit of free love in the book, brought up the incredible acts of revenge, and one after another displayed a look of yearning.
Siles frowned, sensing an entirely wrong vibe. He took two steps closer, intending to join their topic.
Suddenly, the young noble lady who had first brought up The Rose’s Revenge reached out, picked up a slice of cake from the dessert table, opened her vivid, lipstick-painted mouth, and took a large bite.
Siles’s gaze, along with everyone else’s, instinctively followed her movement, staring intently.
Through Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame, Siles saw the appearance of that piece of cake clearly for the very first time—the white cream, the pale-yellow sponge, the cool, sweet fruit…
No. No, no, no, that wasn’t it at all!
Rotting earth, foul-smelling fat, white maggots writhing amidst the yellow grease… She took a bite and chewed. The maggots squirmed between her white teeth before being bitten into halves.
Siles almost instinctively closed his eyes, opening them only after a moment. He clearly heard the sound of the people around him swallowing their saliva.
He drew a sharp breath, staring at the dessert table in shock. Only then did he violently realize that the desserts, which looked completely fine at first glance, were actually made of terrifying, disgusting materials. Yet the people ate them without a change in expression.
Siles even saw a noble whose body shimmered with a blue glow, smiling as he chewed a piece of “red velvet cake” that was clearly mashed together from fresh blood and meat, displaying an immensely satisfied and pleasant smile.
He could still smell the sweet aroma of cream, but what met his eyes was entirely a scene of such madness.
He looked toward the beverages—wastewater, sewage, dried-rat-infused water. The nobles elegantly held their glass cups, talking and laughing gracefully, sampling them from time to time.
…Siles stepped back two paces, expressionless.
By now, he naturally understood. He could see this scene because of the utility of Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame—perceiving the truth behind the illusion. Therefore, he could see the true face of these desserts and beverages.
Presumably, the food sold at low prices was also subjected to some kind of method through a special “ritual” to transform these “ubiquitous” materials into “delicious” food.
…That strange painting of a man wearing a chef’s hat pasted on the ceiling?
Siles thought to himself, Should I be glad that I have never eaten food from the Greyson Food Company?
…Forget it. Seeing this image, he should be glad his Willpower attribute had not decreased.
Although a long-standing question in his heart had been resolved—why Greyson’s food was both cheap and delicious because of the “power of the ritual”—the reason Siles had approached this group in the first place remained unsolved.
Why were they speaking of his novel, The Rose’s Revenge, with such an abnormal level of fanatical enthusiasm?
The young noble lady swallowed the cake, licked her lips, and recommended others to sample this “good-tasting” cake as well. Siles listened from the side, opening his mouth to speak but stopping himself, ultimately choosing to remove the glasses. Out of sight, out of mind.
Their mental state clearly possessed an abnormal kind of frenzy. Siles did not want to cause too much of a ruckus at this moment, so he just stood aside, listening quietly.
“Professor Noel is truly worthy of being a professor at Lamifa University.”
“Indeed. I am immensely fond of this novel of his.”
“No wonder it’s being so widely recommended…”
“True. It seems even a food company specifically recommended this novel, didn’t they?”
“Ah! What a coincidence, that’s exactly how I found out about it. When my family’s servant went to purchase ingredients, he noticed a dessert shop had procured a massive batch, placing them explicitly in the shop, which even attracted quite a few young female customers.”
“This is truly killing two birds with one stone! Desserts and The Rose’s Revenge sound incredibly well-matched!”
Siles: “…”
Incredibly well-matched?
He glanced at the desserts on the table… then silently averted his gaze.
Having learned the ins and outs of this matter, he could no longer bear this bizarre atmosphere of conversation. He walked away with a cold, expressionless gaze—the Greyson Food Company was promoting his novel?
Siles had never noticed this point. It wasn’t surprising, since he hadn’t stepped into a Greyson Food Company shop for a long time, and those who did might not necessarily notice that the novel displayed on the side was authored by Siles.
Why did Greyson do this?
Siles only thought for a moment before suddenly realizing that his novel seemed to cater to certain needs of Greyson—or rather, the followers of Timiafa.
It was sufficient to trigger certain primal human impulses—love, was it not?
How many young noble ladies fantasized that they would become a young girl like Miss Gwynn, encountering a mysterious, powerful man, and embarking on a thrilling love story and journey of adventure? How many young men wished they could become a revenger like Ludwig, possessing gentle female companions, powerful strength, a lonely and mysterious past, and a thrilling adventure experience?
People wished to obtain what was described in the book; excessive wishing equaled greed.
The followers of Timiafa had clearly amplified the greed in people’s hearts through some method. Any desire was artificially magnified at this moment: appetite, lust, greed, the desire for knowledge…
Siles thought of countless topics related to “frenzied desire” that he had previously ignored. The Withered Wasteland Development Project—countless people had tried to grab a share of the profits, from nobles to merchants to prostitutes, none exempt. They desperately stretched out their hands, attempting to hook what they wanted to obtain.
And tomorrow, the Grand Duke would officially announce the contents of the project. Every exchange of interests would be finalized tonight. The desire for money and fame in their hearts was boiling.
In truth, human settlements naturally harbored all kinds of ambitions. However, an invisible pair of hands was currently tampering in secret, intending to make people even more frantic and extreme.
…No matter what they ultimately wished to do, everything would eventually culminate in a single “ritual.” A replicated fragment of the past. This was the only transcendent power left in this era.
What would that be?
Siles fell into deep thought, recalling the known information. He stood quietly in a corner of the grand hall, leaning against the edge of the window sill. After a moment’s thought, he put the glasses back on, though he tried his best not to pay attention to those terrifying foods.
Suddenly, an old figure shimmering with a blue glow appeared before him.
He took a closer look and could not help but be taken aback, “Director Bellow.”
Standing before him was precisely the former Director of the Research Department of the Historical Society, Edward Bellow.
“I am no longer the director of the Research Department,” Edward Bellow said to Siles. “I have left the Historical Society. You can just call me Edward, Siles.”
Siles wanted to say something, but in the end, he simply said, “I hope you get what you wish for, Edward.”
Edward smiled slightly. He shifted the topic, saying, “Some of my old friends in the Historical Society told me about what is going to happen today—this banquet. So I came to join the fun, perhaps I can be of some help to you.”
Siles nodded, looking toward the guests who were conversing in low voices. The sound of soft music consistently lingered around their ears. If not for those bizarre items on the dessert table that made Siles wish to pixelate them, everything appeared perfectly normal.
Siles asked, “What kind of ritual do you think they will use? To resurrect a deity…”
There were many legends regarding deities, but which part these frantic believers would choose was of critical importance. Searching for a possible ritual from that vast, boundless sea of data was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Edward said, “Timiafa? I don’t know much about this deity. However, I heard someone say that followers of Blancani are also mixed up in this matter?”
“Yes,” Siles said.
Edward nodded thoughtfully, and then he said, “Do you think… it has something to do with Clarence Dwight?”
Siles said candidly, “That is indeed my suspicion.” He countered with a question, “Edward, do you still remember telling me that Clarence Dwight personally led some research projects?”
It was only upon meeting Director Bellow at this moment that Siles recalled the very first time he had heard the name Clarence Dwight was from Edward Bellow’s mouth. At that time, Edward had mentioned that Clarence had personally led the execution of some research projects and maintained a very close relationship with the Research Department of the Historical Society.
But what exactly were those projects?
Edward showed a rather subtle expression. He said, “Clarence’s projects… the most famous one is probably the project related to sealed artifacts.”
Siles caught himself for a moment, unable to help but ask, “Was the project related to sealed artifacts led by Clarence?”
“Led… actually, it can’t be entirely described that way,” Edward said. “But it was indeed he who first proposed it… or rather, he was the first to notice the existence of sealed artifacts.”
Siles said hesitatingly, “But… as far as I know, aren’t sealed artifacts first used by the followers of old gods, and subsequent research by the Historical Society only followed up on them?”
Edward gave him a meaningful look, then said, “Hence, Clarence’s reputation…”
Siles nodded thoughtfully. He thought, this did not mean Clarence’s reputation inside the Historical Society was equated with a follower of old gods. But at the very least, people would wonder why he was so knowledgeable about the items used by old god followers.
However, Siles thought again, since the Dwight family had already invested in the Torture Society, couldn’t they study sealed artifacts there? Why did they have to carry out this project within the Historical Society as well? Clarence’s behavior like this…
Edward lamented, “Regarding the projects related to sealed artifacts in the Research Department… I won’t hide it from you, for a period of time, the members of the Research Department were completely frantic. They did not understand why such sealed artifacts would appear, and thus conducted experiments with absolute madness.
“To this day… I think you might have heard people say that some researchers are near-frenzied. I cannot deny this matter either. They indeed suffer from poor mental states due to long-term exposure to mental pollution.
“This is exactly why I previously held expectations for your project. However, I have left that place now, so I no longer need to consider this matter. I believe Ms. Aston will study this project well.”
Siles also nodded.
From Edward’s words, Siles thought of a possibility—what if Clarence did this intentionally? What if his intention was precisely to trigger the frantic, intense desire for knowledge within these researchers’ hearts? He thought, this could also be said to be a part of Timiafa’s power.
…This city was enveloped by gluttony and frenzied desire.
Edward continued, “Aside from sealed artifacts, there were also some scattered research projects, such as replicating Time Traces… Clarence seemed to hope to use some method to allow Time Traces to be… replicated?
“This was a project Clarence proposed at the beginning of this year, but they failed to research a reasonable method, and it eventually fizzled out—you might not know, but the Research Department has many such projects that end up going nowhere every year.
“Furthermore… Siles, I don’t know if you are aware, but fourteen years ago, a young man proposed a strange project, intending to make Awakeners replicate the power of a deity.”
Siles snapped back to his senses and said in a low voice, “I know.”
Edward then said, “It’s good that you know. Although that project failed, for a period of time after that, discussions regarding the power of deities were quite popular within the Historical Society.
“In the past, whether in the Era of Faith or the Imperial Era, historical records contain accounts regarding the ‘Agents’ of deities; they were the messengers of deities upon the land. From this perspective, humans can indeed ‘borrow’ the power of deities, just like the Agents once did.”
Siles nodded slowly. He could not help but say, “Indeed, but I’m afraid the conditions must be different, right? Back then, the deity actively lent power, whereas now it can only be conducted through rituals by humans.”
“Ritual…” Edward murmured, “Yes. That is exactly how it is.”
Siles froze.
Edward said, “Do you think, when humans offer sacrifices to a deity, and the deity responds with power to grant human wishes, that counts as a ritual?”
Siles could not help but furrow his brows. He said, “Someone is attempting to replicate this process?”
Edward said meaningfully, “Indeed.”
Clarence Dwight, Siles thought to himself. This was likely the project this elder had once led, as Edward had mentioned.
Humans conducting sacrifices and praying for deities to grant them power—yes, that was exactly what humans used to do in the past. And when the deities still existed, many sacrifices were successful, despite being bloody, backward, and primal.
Edward said, “That project seems to have fizzled out, at least I haven’t heard of any definite results. But… I think you understand what I mean.”
Siles nodded.
Edward then lowered his voice, “If it truly is this ritual—if they really vainly attempt to replicate the past sacrificial process to awaken a deity, or a deity’s power… or at least receive a response from a deity, then they will certainly need an altar.”
An absolute possibility instinctively surfaced within Siles’s heart, “The kitchen.”
The stove is Timiafa’s altar, Siles thought.
Edward nodded in agreement.
Siles said, “Can they really… sneak into the palace kitchen?”
This possibility struck Siles as slightly unbelievable. He thought once more, This is the royal palace. Could the Grand Duke of Konst be entirely oblivious to their plot?
“I am not certain,” Edward said, before adding, “I think I can try to investigate. At least I am a noble, I know where the palace kitchen is located.”
His gaze swept past the brooch on Siles’s lapel. He said, “Stay safe, Siles.”
Siles nodded and said, “I will.”
Edward smiled slightly and bid him farewell. This elderly, former Director of the Research Department, after leaving the Historical Society, actually possessed a… strange, rejuvenated feeling?
Siles watched his departing back, thinking that perhaps he had simply resolved the knot in his heart.
He took out his pocket watch from his pocket and glanced at the time. There was still half an hour left before the commencement of the banquet at seven o’clock.
Siles felt a hint of tension.
At this moment, another person appeared before him. It was Dorothea Grant.
The young apprentice’s gaze was somewhat cold at the moment. With an elegant but sufficiently brisk pace, she quickly arrived before Siles. She said, “Professor! I discovered something wrong.”
“What is it?” Siles asked.
Dorothea said in a low voice, “I came to participate in this banquet along with my grandfather. My grandfather is advanced in years and easily feels hungry. I wasn’t paying attention just now, and he ate a piece of cake from the dessert table, subsequently…”
Dorothea’s voice gradually grew softer, as if gripped by fear.
“He seemed to lose control of himself all at once, eating several pieces of dessert one after another,” Dorothea said uneasily. “He shouldn’t be like this. He is of advanced age and has always been extremely careful about the food he ingests. He shouldn’t eat this much all at once…
“Even though I already reminded him not to eat those desserts, he still failed to control himself… This shouldn’t happen, Professor, I think this is very strange, in this damn banquet hall…”
Siles frowned, noting Dorothea’s uncharacteristic irritability. She seems to be affected by something as well, Siles thought.
“Calm down, Dorothea,” Siles said calmly. “Where is your grandfather?”
“I had a servant lead him to the lounge to rest,” Dorothea took a deep breath. “I don’t think he should continue participating in the banquet… I don’t think anyone should. The food for the banquet must also be…”
Dorothea seemed to fall into utter disarray due to the sudden turn of events with her relative.
Siles pondered for a moment, then said, “You don’t need to worry about the banquet side, we will keep an eye on it.” These words were merely to comfort Dorothea; after all, there were over a hundred guests here, and it was impossible for them to monitor every single one. But Siles said it anyway.
He continued, “Go accompany your grandfather, keep an eye on his physical condition. After all, these desserts are highly likely to…” He did not elaborate, nor did he advise Dorothea to remain in the hall.
Dorothea seemed to notice the abnormality in her own emotions as well, her face turning even paler. She hesitated for a moment, then said, “I will be back very soon, Professor.”
Siles nodded, watching her leave.
He thought, Dorothea’s grandfather? Could that be the very name he had heard at Professor Calverley’s place… Adolphus Grant? He guessed as much. However, now was not the time to dwell on this matter either.
Following Dorothea’s departure, Siles proactively observed the demeanors and expressions of the guests present. He did not sense any issues himself, but considering his Willpower attribute coupled with the effect of [The Silent Heart] had already reached 95 points… it would be strange if he could sense any problems.
He had already noticed earlier that the young noble men and women discussing his novel were extremely worked up. And now, when he carefully observed the situation of the superficially glamorous people in this hall once more, he suddenly discovered that the entire hall was like a kettle of water about to boil, already beginning to clamor and agitate.
Someone was swallowing cakes one after another without stopping; someone was competing in drinking capacity with friends, frantically downing beverages; someone was cheerfully and with immense emotional agitation mentioning their private life; someone was pacing around with extreme irritability, constantly looking at their pocket watch, looking forward to the arrival of the banquet with extreme anticipation.
They were dressed properly and behaved gracefully, yet their slightly gleaming eyes and slightly distorted expressions made them resemble a pack of beasts clad in clothing. Men’s gazes flickered with what seemed to be a surging, bloodthirsty craving, while women conversed and looked around as if narrating an unspeakable secret joy.
They were expecting something; they were craving something.
Siles froze slightly. At this moment, he suddenly discovered that a massive portion of the dessert table had already been emptied.
Finally, someone loudly shattered the brief serenity before this agitation.
“I am about to starve to death!” he said. “Excuse me, when can the banquet officially begin?!”
Siles noted that it was a middle-aged gentleman whose grooming and attire were completely proper and elegant, yet his gaze was slightly vacant at the moment, desperately swallowing his saliva as if he was already hungry to an unbearable degree—the stomach acid was corroding his stomach wall, and the hunger was consuming his soul.
The surroundings fell silent, followed by the whispers of countless people. The vast majority of people echoed his statement, while some wondered why there was such a rush. Siles also spotted a few worried faces, likely their companions who knew what might transpire tonight. A blue glow shimmered upon their bodies, but they were not the only ones possessing such a glow.
A servant hurried over, saying in a respectful but self-assured tone, “Please do not be anxious, dear guests, the Grand Duke will arrive shortly. In just a little while longer, the banquet will commence.”
These words managed to temporarily calm the atmosphere on the scene.
Siles felt a hint of confusion. He thought once more, Does the Grand Duke know about the Greyson Food Company’s problem? Does he know about what is about to happen at the banquet?
He might not know; after all, the Grand Duke of Konst should currently care much more about tomorrow’s Day of Divine Birth celebration, as well as the Withered Wasteland Development Project and the relevant bills and regulations implemented in conjunction with it.
But what if he knew? What if he himself was already affected? After all, until now, they still did not know who the true master behind the Greyson Food Company was. Things had progressed too quickly. From the death of Marquis Austin to the banquet on the Eve of the Day of Divine Birth, a mere two or three days had passed.
Siles waited somewhat abstractedly.
Detective Jon walked to his side at this moment. He said softly, “Sensed the abnormality in the atmosphere, Professor Noel?”
Siles turned his head to look at this mysterious detective. After a moment of silence, he said, “Yes. People’s emotions look highly agitated.”
“I have been thinking, Professor, thinking about how exactly they managed to affect people’s emotions. Over the past few days, I have also searched for some past occurrences regarding the Greyson Food Company.” Jon’s tone carried an intensely interested vibe; this kind of mystery was likely highly intriguing, worth thinking about and pondering for this detective.
Siles listened quietly.
“…Food,” Jon said. “All the problems seem to stem from the food.”
Siles nodded and said, “That is precisely my thought as well. However, where is the source of the food? I once investigated this point, but the conclusion derived in the end was merely that it comes from outside the city of Lamifa. But outside Lamifa lies an infinitely vast land. Perhaps it comes from other cities of the Duchy of Konst, perhaps it comes from other countries, perhaps it comes from the Ashless Land. Anything is possible.”
Jon looked deeply at those desserts, then said, “Professor, sometimes, you cannot think too well of humanity.”
Siles froze slightly.
“If one thinks in a more terrifying, darker direction…” Jon laughed softly. “I am relatively familiar with the police station. Professor, do you know how many unclaimed corpses there are in a year? I happen to know that after a long period of waiting, if those corpses still cannot return to their relatives or friends, or rest peacefully in a grave, then they can only be sent for dissection to develop medical endeavors, and that is even the best destination.
“After all, who would care about one, or countless nameless corpses. Sometimes, even corpses actively donated by relatives hoping to make some contributions to human research might be used for some unknown purposes… Some people resell this stuff.
“Still remember Marquis Austin? Still remember those two dead servants? Still remember the carved traces upon their corpses? No one cares about the death of noble servants, let alone those commoners who die even more silently.
“In this era, the city of Lamifa conceals countless secrets, and the Old City is even more so. And the Greyson Food Company, didn’t that seem to start its rise from the Old City?”
