Seeing the tension ease from Miss Valente's expression and the flicker of a smile in her eyes, Lynch knew he had bet correctly.
This had been a test of trust from the very start, and Lynch had passed with flying colors.
The crux of the matter was that Lynch had no choice but to accept this test, nor did he have any right to complain, because he had brought it upon himself.
Regardless of how he dealt with the hillmen in the future, the Valente family's stance was crucial. Unless he was truly reckless enough to go head-to-head against such a colossal entity, maintaining good relations with them offered nothing but benefits. Now that he had established a good initial impression through half-truths and clever coaxing, Lynch naturally hoped to solidify their relationship further. However, he had overlooked the fact that he was dealing with the eldest daughter of a millennium-old noble house.
For someone of her standing, vigilance against malice and the ability to read human nature were engraved into the very marrow of her bones. No matter how gentle and kind she appeared on the surface, she was by no means naive. Even if temporarily misled due to an asymmetry of information, she would never allow herself to be manipulated by Lynch. With a casual, seemingly benevolent gesture, she had deftly tossed the dilemma back into his lap.
If Lynch hadn't dared to drink it, Miss Valente probably wouldn't have done anything to him, but all his efforts today would have been in vain, leaving them as nothing more than distant, ordinary partners going forward. Only by drinking it right in front of her would it prove that Lynch was willing to extend his trust first—and in return, her future attitude toward him would undoubtedly be very different.
When you dig your own grave, you have to lie in it even with tears in your eyes. So, gritting his teeth, he had downed the potion to the last drop.
It hadn't been a reckless gamble, either. Lynch had analyzed the situation carefully; the likelihood of it being poison was exceedingly low.
Their meeting was almost certainly a coincidence. Since she couldn't have predicted running into him, unless she was completely out of her mind, she wouldn't casually carry a bottle of lethal poison with her at all times. Therefore, at worst, the concoction simply wouldn't do anything; it wouldn't actually kill him.
On the other hand, she frequently interacted with ghouls, so keeping a potion on hand to purge ghoul stench was entirely reasonable. This meant the potion was likely authentic.
And most importantly, if there had been any lethal danger, Lady Luna would have at least warned him. Since his neighbor hadn't intervened, Lynch had downed it with peace of mind.
It tasted awful—sour and bitter—and drinking it didn't give him any warm, invigorating sensation either.
“The people I'm waiting for are Grant and Hoffman,” Miss Valente said with a smile as she took back the medicine vial and tucked it away. Seeing Lynch look a bit puzzled, she patiently explained, “Howard Hoffman, the mayor of Rhine City.”
Lynch remembered now: that was the cultured, refined man seated on the other side of Duke Vane.
“Nikolai asked for my help with this matter. There are many things he isn't in a position to speak about openly, lest it draw the gaze of mystery onto me as well,” Miss Valente explained, gazing in the direction of the city hall. “According to my investigation, the Bester Mountain Tunnel project is primarily spearheaded by Grant's faction, but the overall Norin-Rhine Railway project is mostly overseen by Hoffman. Thus, either of them could have the authority to determine the tunnel's route.”
“Maya mentioned that Grant is colluding with the sewer ghouls. I don't quite understand—what exactly is the relationship between the sewer ghouls and Chieftain Nikolai?”
“They belong to different tribes and are on very bad terms. You can simply view them as two entirely separate groups.”
“Are they interested in Zur-Baha-Sahr as well?”
Mentioning this bizarre name for the second time, Lynch still felt an odd sensation. He understood this meant that merely pronouncing the name carried potent mystery. If he were still an ordinary person, simply hearing it might have terrified him to his core.
“Heh, it seems this is indeed your first time encountering this name. Zur-Baha-Sahr came into being during the Third Age and is the birthplace of their race. Although the city was eventually swallowed by the earth due to terrestrial shifts, it still holds immense significance for them. What's more, legend has it that a wisp of Mordiggian's will sleeps deep within Zur-Baha-Sahr, making it nothing short of a holy site to their kind.”
“Hiss... What's going on?” Lynch was startled. “Weren't evil gods supposed to be slumbering in the Dreamlands? Why did this Mordiggian change places?”
“Its main body is certainly still hidden deep within the Dreamlands. The mortal world cannot bear the significance of their existence; once they enter the mortal realm, it brings about destructive disaster. Generally, a situation like this means a fragment of its will was left behind in the mortal world. As long as this fragment does not exceed the mortal realm's threshold, it won't cause widespread catastrophe.”
“Then what happens if that damned city gets unearthed?” Lynch had already realized the gravity of the situation. His mouth twitched as he asked, “Will that fragment of consciousness awaken? And what will happen once it does?”
“I would like to know the answer as well,” Miss Valente sighed, her tone solemn. “It might enjoy a sacrifice and go back to sleep; it might return directly to its true body in the Dreamlands and never come back; or it might even pull its true body from the Dreamlands into the mortal world. As for which outcome would occur, there are too few precedents, and occultism has no definitive conclusion.”
“Uh, are the consequences of all those scenarios severe?”
“Yes. The mildest outcome would require sacrificing tens of thousands of souls to appease it so it returns to sleep. Otherwise, during its return to the Dreamlands, the entire mortal world would suffer disturbances—the Carlos Mountains would be plagued by endless disasters, and half the Kingdom of Lande might be affected for years on end. As for the third possibility... heh, if the true body of a Great Old One descends upon the mortal world, it will inevitably trigger an apocalyptic catastrophe. When that happens, not only will the Carlos Mountain Range and Bester Mountain be wiped out, but all of Rhine will cease to exist. If even half the Kingdom of Lande manages to survive, it would be considered a fortunate outcome.”
“If the consequences are so dire, is no one doing anything about it? What about the high-level powerhouses?”
“The notion of Zur-Baha-Sahr sleeping beneath Bester Mountain is merely a folklore legend among ethnic minorities, devoid of any concrete proof, and known to very few. Even if word got out, it would only attract fanatical archaeologists and naturalists, because the slumber of a Great Old One's fragment is considered a legend among legends. To anyone unfamiliar with the hillmen, it carries virtually no credibility.”
“Still, with something so dangerous, even if the higher-ups were ignorant before, now that they know, they should at least investigate—”
Lynch suddenly trailed off. He realized that the higher-ups hadn't stubbornly refused to investigate—which was precisely why his commission had come about in the first place.
“Whew, I understand now. So Chieftain Nikolai and his people don't want their sacred site disturbed, while the sewer ghouls have colluded with Grant to dig up Zur-Baha-Sahr? But why would they do such a thing?”
“Do not pry into their reasons, Mr. Levive. That is a taboo in occultism, for the minds of mysterious heteromorphs are even harder to fathom than those of cultists,” Miss Valente said with a gentle shake of her head, her voice calm. “They certainly have a purpose, but that purpose might not be something we normal humans can comprehend. Any attempt to understand them will only throw our thoughts into greater chaos and drag our wills closer to theirs. That includes Mr. Nikolai; he undoubtedly has motives beyond our understanding as well. Before everything is brought to light, it's hard to say which course of action best serves humanity. But at least for now, helping Mr. Nikolai investigate the matter seems to be the least harmful option, which is why I chose to assist him. What about you, Mr. Levive? You have drunk my potion, so I will give you one last chance to choose.”
‘Neighbor, neighbor, is what she is saying true?’
【Not certain.】
‘Even you can't be sure? Aren't gods omniscient?’
【But I am already dead.】
‘That makes total sense; I can't argue with that at all.’
【If it is true, you will be in great danger, but it is not a dead end.】
‘And it's profitable?’
【Yes.】
“Maya is my client, Miss Valente, and I am human too,” Lynch said immediately with a righteous, resolute expression. “For the sake of humanity's interests, I will naturally stand firmly by your side.”
“Heh, then thank you very much, Mr. Levive.” Miss Valente's eyes flickered, and with a half-smile, she nodded, gathered her belongings, and stood up. “I will head back first to organize the information and pay you a visit in a couple of days. I'll leave today's stakeout to you. If you see Grant or Hoffman, follow them.”
With that, giving Lynch no chance to refuse, she clutched her novel, turned, and hurried away.
Why did she run off so quickly?
Lynch was somewhat bewildered until he turned his head and saw the waiter standing beside him with a knowing, half-smile, staring right at him.
“Uh? She didn't pay the bill?”
The waiter nodded deeply.
“Not even for her own cup?”
The waiter nodded deeply once more.
Truly, nobles were the most venomous creatures in the world, bar none!
Rate on N.U.
