Faced with Midir’s confusion, Aila keenly pointed to a corner beneath the hotel’s sign. In an inconspicuous spot, a pattern identical to the one on the card was engraved. To an unobservant passerby, it would simply look like part of the hotel’s decoration.
“It seems we have the right address. We just need to find the correct way in.”
Aila paced back and forth on the street twice, her gaze eventually locking onto an unremarkable small door on the side of the hotel.
Strangely, a tall man wearing oversized sunglasses stood at the entrance of that door.
As the two approached, the man held out a hand to signal them to stop. It wasn't until he saw the grey card in Aila’s hand that he nodded silently and stepped aside, clearing the way to the door behind him.
Behind the door lay a pitch-black corridor. Even with Aila’s keen eyes, she could only see a short stretch of the hallway winding downward into the darkness.
“Oh! Now it really feels like we’re dealing with some shady underworld organization. I remember reading about this in certain novels. Should we prepare ourselves before going in?”
Midir raised an eyebrow with interest as he stared into the dark corridor behind the wooden door.
“Ah... it’s usually all about sneak attacks, traps, and ambushes... but surely we won’t run into those kinds of clichés here, right?”
Aila was also uncertain about this organization she had never dealt with before. Hearing him speak only made her more nervous. Under the cover of her cloak, she quietly pulled a small knife from her Armament Forger and gripped it tightly in her palm, just in case.
Their footsteps echoed softly as they moved slowly through the dim corridor. A few minutes later, they arrived before a second door. Just as they hesitated, a melodious and unique strain of music drifted from behind the door, adding a touch of mystery to the dark space.
Exchanging a glance, the two pushed open the heavy wooden door together.
However, the scene that unfolded behind the door was vastly different from what they had anticipated.
There was no foul air or unsettling chaos as they had imagined. Instead, several soft spotlights illuminated the front just enough.
In the center of the light, a band was performing on a semi-circular stage.
On stage, the musicians were immersed in their performance, playing a melody Midir had never heard before.
It flowed gently, like a tender hand plucking at everyone’s heartstrings.
Below the stage, dozens of audience members wearing various masks sat in silence, completely absorbed in the beautiful world of music, as if the troubles of the outside world no longer existed.
Midir turned to Aila and asked in a low whisper near her ear, “Did we stumble into a concert? Would it be too abrupt if I spoke now?” Aila nodded slightly, signaling him to stay calm.
Just then, Midir noticed a violinist on stage whose build and attire were identical to the Whiskey they had seen earlier that day. This discovery brought a flash of realization—they hadn't come to the wrong place after all.
Thus, the two tacitly chose to remain silent, quietly listening to the melodious movement.
Ten minutes later, as the final note came to a perfect close, the band members stood up one after another to thank the audience. Even Midir and Aila couldn't help but join in the applause, paying their respects to the brilliant performance.
Dressed in black, Whiskey set down his violin and walked slowly to the center of the stage. He gave a deep bow to the crowd and spoke in a magnetic voice.
“Thank you all for your support of The Grey Gentleman. It is a great pleasure to present this performance titled ‘Intertwining of Light and Dark.’ I hope our music touched your hearts and gave you a unique experience.”
“You may not have noticed, but we have two new friends in our theater today. Please allow me to introduce Mr. Midir and Miss Aila.”
Accompanying Whiskey’s low voice, a spotlight precisely illuminated where the two were standing. The sudden light made Aila startle slightly.
“Eh...? Wait, why are you introducing us?”
This sudden turn of events caught Aila off guard. Subconsciously, she drew the short knife hidden under her cloak and held it defensively in front of her.
The cold glint of the blade reflecting the light instantly caused a slight stir among the audience.
“Haha, please don't be nervous, Miss Aila. Since we invited you here, we won't do anything to harm you. Please refrain from any rash actions.”
Whiskey continued speaking from the stage. At that moment, several members of the band behind him also stood up and moved to his side.
Though his words were meant to be reassuring, his companions released staggering amounts of pressure, forming an invisible wall that shielded the audience.
While their faces were hidden behind masks, judging by their auras alone, every single person on that stage was a powerhouse no weaker than Aila.
Faced with this sudden confrontation, Midir quickly channeled the mana within him, forming a soft barrier in front of the two that quietly neutralized the invisible pressure.
Just as the atmosphere reached its breaking point, a cold voice, like a clear spring, drifted out from behind the band, instantly calming the surging undercurrents in the hall.
“Alright, stop! Do not be rude to the guests!”
The words acted like a command. The auras emanating from Whiskey and his companions vanished instantly, as if the confrontation had never happened.
Tap... tap...
A series of crisp footsteps echoed from backstage, sounding particularly distinct in the quiet, spacious concert hall. The owner of that voice slowly stepped out from the shadows.
Like the band members, this figure wore a crisp, perfectly tailored suit. However, this suit was an elegant purple, and beneath a tall top hat was a unique clown mask.
Midir wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but the appearance of this person seemed to bathe the entire space in a layer of mysterious radiance.
“My Lord, you’ve come...”
Whiskey and the band members bowed in unison, clearing a path for the mysterious newcomer.
Their attitude was respectful and devout. Clearly, this “Lord” held an extraordinary status in their hearts.
The cold voice from behind the clown mask spoke again, devoid of any emotional fluctuation or identifying features, yet carrying an unquestionable authority.
“Now then, guests, is it not time for you to lower your guard as well?” Though the sentence was short, it contained a power that was hard to refuse.
After her brief surprise, Aila quickly regained her composure. She didn't back down because of the other’s appearance; instead, she responded with an even firmer attitude.
“If you wish to continue testing us, then be my guest. However, as the host, is it not a bit impolite to hide your true face?”
“Impudence! How dare you be so disrespectful to the Lord!” Beside Whiskey, a petite girl suddenly flashed to the front of the stage. Her angry voice muffled by her mask, she was clearly offended by Aila’s words.
“It is fine, I do not mind. Step back, Sherry.”
The purple figure gently waved a hand to stop the petite girl. Then, he reached out a white-gloved hand and pointed toward Aila from a distance. Suddenly, several black shadows surged from the ground like living things, quickly weaving into a spiderweb that tightly bound the short knife in Aila’s hand.
Seeing her weapon bound without warning, Aila’s body immediately flared with a faint red glow as she tried to pull the knife back.
To her surprise, even after utilizing her battle qi, the short knife—wrapped in what looked like fine black threads—remained completely motionless.
Only then did Aila realize that the strength of the person in purple far exceeded her own. She whispered, “To think a Saint Rank would be hiding in a place like this... no wonder this organization has such capabilities. Who exactly are you?”
“Good intuition, Miss Aila. My name is Syndra-Lo. You may call me Syndra. Although I likely am not on any list you are familiar with, I am quite well-acquainted with you and the Mr. Midir beside you.”
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