As the gray light dissipated, Isolde's boots stepped onto the familiar black stone floor.
The lights in the castle hall lit up one by one, and the faceless servants bowed their heads and backed away from the walls, as if they had been waiting here for a long time.
Lia stood at the bottom of the black stone steps, her hands folded over her skirt, her eyes lowered respectfully.
“Welcome back, young lady.”
Although the words were plain, they made Isolde feel inexplicably at ease.
Outside the window, the sky had darkened completely. Most of the distant withered forest was swallowed by the night mist, leaving only a cold gray twilight.
When she left, it was to fulfill a last wish.
By the time she returned, Grey Dove Monastery had nearly been reduced to Grey Dove Ruins.
Such efficiency was almost touching.
Isolde took off her blood-stained cloak, handed it to a faceless servant, and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.
“Where is Ur?”
Lia said calmly, “Mr. Ur went nowhere. He spent the entire day enjoying afternoon tea in the parlor.”
Isolde paused, a flash of annoyance crossing her face.
She had been out there matching wits and strength with the Silver-Robed Inquisitor, nearly getting roasted into jerky by the Holy Light.
Meanwhile, that masked profiteer had been happily sipping tea in her territory all day.
There truly was no limit to how ridiculous some people could be, or how badly they deserved a beating.
“Take me to him.”
“Yes, young lady.”
When the parlor door opened, the warm yellow lamplight fell perfectly across the long table.
A circle of bizarre pastries sat beside a silver teapot, and Ur sat leisurely in a high-backed chair.
He tilted his white smiling mask slightly, holding a delicate bone china teacup in his hand.
Hearing the door open, he immediately set down his cup, stood up, and performed an elegant hat-tip.
“Ah, distinguished Miss Isolde, welcome back.”
“Please allow me to sincerely express that tonight, you look even more beautiful than the moonlight—”
“Stop,” Isolde interrupted expressionlessly. “Save your sweet talk. I'm not buying it.”
Ur's voice cut off instantly. The painted smile on his mask somehow managed to look a bit innocent.
Isolde walked straight to the other side of the long table, sat down, and pulled the damaged Mooncrown Lock from her pocket.
The cracked, pure crystal caught the light, a silver-white, holy radiance seeping from its fractured crevices.
Even in its broken state, it was still breathtakingly beautiful.
When she placed the Mooncrown Lock on the table, Ur visibly stiffened for a moment.
In the next instant, this merchant, who usually carried himself with utmost composure, leaned forward almost uncontrollably, his voice cracking with excitement:
“The Mooncrown Lock... You actually brought it back.”
He stepped closer, his fingers instinctively reaching toward the lock, but before he could touch it, Isolde pulled it back.
Ur's hand froze awkwardly in midair. Isolde looked at him with a cold gaze.
“This is my trophy. You can look, but don't touch.”
“Of course, of course. Such a precious, legendary holy relic, destined to be written into the secret chronicles, naturally belongs to the great you.”
Ur withdrew his hand perfectly naturally, even clapping his hands lightly with good humor.
Isolde silently watched him put on his show.
Ur continued his flattery: “I knew long ago that you were no ordinary successor. You possess eyes that pierce through any situation, wrists strong enough to tear away hypocrisy, and a noble character that puts your enemies to shame.”
Isolde toyed with the Mooncrown Lock in her hand, saying coldly:
“If you spit out one more adjective, I will bury you in the backyard alongside the scrap metal outside.”
Ur fell silent immediately, proving highly tactful.
Isolde placed the Mooncrown Lock back on the table, but kept her hand resting on top of it.
“I took down Grey Dove Monastery, the Silver-Robed Inquisitor is dead, and the Mooncrown Lock is in my hands.”
“Even if the Holy Court wants to investigate, they won't trace it here anytime soon. Now, shouldn't we sit down and properly discuss the final payment of that contract?”
Ur's fingers lightly tapped the table, his voice returning to a merchant's characteristic slickness and buoyancy:
“Of course, I would be more than happy to.”
“However, before we officially settle the contract, I must remind you of something in my capacity as an honest merchant.”
Isolde raised an eyebrow. “You actually have an identity called 'honest'?”
Ur replied unhurriedly, “An occasional side gig, depending on the caliber of the client.”
Isolde: “Get to the point.”
Ur's mask tilted slightly downward, staring at her hand. “The last wish of that unicorn doesn't seem to have fully ended with the Silver Robe's death.”
Startled, Isolde looked down, only to find that the mark belonging to the Proxy of Last Wishes on her palm was indeed still glowing faintly.
Though the light was very dim, like a flickering candle on the verge of going out, it pulsed stubbornly.
Earlier, she had been too busy clearing out the monastery's storerooms, and the high-intensity tension had caused her to overlook this detail.
Furthermore, there was indeed no system notification about the “request completed.”
Isolde's face darkened.
“Why?”
Ur did not answer directly. His gaze fell upon the damaged Mooncrown Lock, his tone softening slightly:
“Perhaps your trophy will give you the answer you seek. Locks are excellent at hiding surprises.”
He stood up and bowed to her elegantly.
“I will not disturb your cleanup for now. As for the contract, there is still plenty of time. After all, I am an extremely patient merchant.”
Isolde watched him make his elegant exit, not forgetting to swipe a monster sandwich on his way out.
This profiteer's words were always three parts truth and seven parts riddles, making him impossible to read.
But he wasn't wrong about one thing—the answer was most likely inside this lock.
Isolde abruptly stood up and grabbed the damaged Mooncrown Lock.
“Lia, to the underground laboratory.”
“Yes, young lady.”
The underground laboratory remained deathly silent and cold.
The ghost fires on the walls lit up one by one, illuminating the remains of the Mooncrown Unicorn on the stone platform in an almost sinister light.
Isolde walked quickly to the coffin. By now, the proxy mark in her palm had begun to burn hot.
She gently placed the damaged Mooncrown Lock beside the unicorn's remains and asked in a low voice:
“Do you still have one last wish unfulfilled?”
The dark laboratory was extraordinarily quiet.
A few seconds later, the cracked crystal on the surface of the Mooncrown Lock suddenly burst with a blinding glare.
A torrent of silver-white holy light surged from the cracks, drifting slowly into the air like a shimmering miniature river of stars.
Lia took a cautious step forward, but Isolde raised her hand to stop her.
“No need. There is no danger.”
The light reached its absolute peak at this moment, causing Isolde's vision to blur instantly.
When she opened her eyes again, the bone-chilling stench of rotting flesh and formalin had completely vanished.
She was standing in a soft, lush sea of flowers.
Above her head was no longer the heavy, oppressive stone ceiling of the castle, but an endless, clear blue sky dotted with a few large, fluffy, lovely white clouds.
Warm sunlight poured unreservedly over the vast green grassland, and in the far distance of the horizon, countless unicorns stood quietly.
Some were tall and majestic, others young and small. At this moment, they all gazed at her from afar with absolute silence and gentle eyes.
Isolde had rarely been watched with such pure, malice-free gazes, and for a moment, she froze in place, feeling a bit awkward.
Just as she was about to speak to break this somewhat emotional atmosphere, an exceptionally dazzling figure slowly stepped out from among the herd of unicorns.
It was a glorious, holy unicorn.
Its mane was like flowing, bright moonlight, and its entire body was draped in a faint, rainbow-colored glow.
The horn on its forehead was a noble white-gold, wrapped in delicate glimmers of stardust.
It stopped in front of Isolde and lowered its head slightly.
Its eyes, as clear as sapphires, were filled with gentleness.
An ethereal, distant voice, carrying a motherly, all-encompassing warmth, quietly echoed deep within her mind:
“Proxy of Last Wishes, thank you for everything you have done.”
Rate on N.U.
