A Late-Night Visitor

For his first time attending a high-society banquet, Lynch's overall experience wasn't particularly great.

To be fair, he had successfully made his debut in Rhine's high-society social circle, and his performance had received overwhelming praise. Even a seasoned professional like Miss Valente felt he had been flawless, laying a solid foundation for his future.

Yet Lynch had felt an underlying hostility throughout the entire event. Everyone around him seemed to harbor ulterior motives, making the atmosphere suffocating. He would have much preferred staying home to give little Martha a light thrashing, or sitting at the station square sharing sickeningly sweet honey biscuits with strangers.

It wasn't until he left the Count of Lorand's residence and spotted the carriage bearing the Valente family crest that Lynch suddenly felt himself unwind.

How strange. Not only did his mood lighten, but even the moonlight felt remarkably gentler. It was definitely his “neighbor's” doing.

【Hmm?】

'Nothing. Just nice scenery.'

Standing beside the carriage was an elderly butler with snow-white hair and beard. Impeccably dressed, he looked far more like a Lande gentleman than Lynch ever could. Though he appeared to be in his sixties or seventies, his eyes were bright with vigor, and his gestures as he welcomed his mistress were meticulous.

“This is Mr. Louis, the Valente family butler,” Miss Valente introduced. “He retired a few years ago, but because he was worried about me coming to Rhine alone, he came along. Our residence here is on the smaller side, so only six staff members came with us.”

With an innocent expression, Lynch felt as though the old butler might elegantly raise his cane and crack it over his head at any moment.

“Tee-hee, Mr. Louis watched me grow up. Anyone who bullies me gets their legs broken by him, so you had better be very careful, Mr. Lynch.” Miss Valente covered her mouth with a giggle before continuing, “When we returned from the ancient city, while I was recovering from my injuries, Mr. Louis personally made a trip to Norin to report everything to my father. The approval my father gave you was brought back by him as well.”

“Wait, why do I need to be careful? And hold on, so what you said earlier wasn't an excuse?” Lynch asked in surprise. “That really is Count Valente's attitude?”

“Of course. One cannot make such claims carelessly; there are consequences to consider. Besides, do not underestimate the grace and stature of the Valente family.” Miss Valente tilted her head up with a soft hmph. “Please, get in. I shall see you home. I must admit, though, I am curious: what made you leave the banquet in such a hurry? That was quite early.”

Lynch didn't hesitate. Once inside the carriage, he held nothing back and shared all his deductions with Miss Valente.

In this city, nearly everyone might harbor sinister intentions and warrant suspicion, but there were two people Lynch trusted unconditionally.

Officer Natalie Angel and Miss Diana de Valente.

It wasn't that he believed them to be absolute paragons of goodness and justice incapable of malice, but rather that one had been willing to run around all night battling the occult just to save a stranger like him, while the other—despite her noble heritage—had willingly offered herself as a sacrifice and offered up her own body as a vessel for an evil god during a moment of crisis. If even these two ladies harbored ill intent toward him, then he would willingly accept his fate—he'd even help them dig his own grave.

Thus, Lynch spoke with complete sincerity, causing Miss Valente's eyes to curve into adorable crescents.

However, after listening to Lynch's analysis, Miss Valente's smile faded.

No one wanted a manifestation grade mystery relic hidden nearby, waiting to be unearthed at any moment—just as no one would want to sleep next to a ticking nuclear bomb. If such a thing went out of control, forget Rhine City; even the surrounding cities would be completely eradicated, leaving no survivors whatsoever.

Naturally, the presence of a manifestation grade mystery relic didn't guarantee it would go out of control—it was possible nothing would happen at all. But leaving safety to chance was absurd. Especially for a “lucky” individual like Lynch, who couldn't even visit a bank without stumbling into a manifestation grade mystical event, relying on odds was less reliable than playing the lottery.

Either way, it was absolute doom.

Miss Valente agreed with Lynch's view: it was best to secure the gemstone in their own hands first, and if that proved impossible, they couldn't act recklessly. Therefore, the top priority right now was to gather intelligence indirectly and figure out what was truly going on.

But that was tomorrow's problem. The most urgent issue right now was... My dear lady, could you explain where your carriage is taking me?

“Oh dear, we took a wrong turn. This is the way back to my villa.”

Amidst light laughter, the carriage hurriedly turned around and headed toward Villa Avenue, dropping Lynch off at 221 Villa Avenue before driving away.

That almost feels like a pity. Lynch watched the carriage vanish into the night, the corners of his mouth curling up unbidden. He stood under the moonlight for a long while before turning back into the apartment building with a smile.

To Lynch's surprise, a light was still burning inside the apartment.

Though it was only the smallest gas lamp in the dining room, its dim yellow glow exuded immense warmth. Under the light, a brilliant golden head of hair was particularly striking. Resting at the dining table, Mrs. Maggie lifted her head, rubbing her sleepy eyes as she gazed blankly at Lynch entering the door.

“You're back, Mr. Lynch,” she said in a soft, drowsy voice that made one smile just hearing it. “I left some thick soup in the pot. Let me heat it up for you. There probably wasn't much real food at the banquet, so you must be hungry.”

With his resolve quietly hardened, Lynch persuaded the drowsy Mrs. Maggie to go back to her bedroom, then turned off the light and made his way up to his second-floor bedroom in the moonlight. He had indeed been exhausted over the past couple of days; after a quick wash, he tossed himself onto the bed, comfortably bathing in the crimson moonlight as a wave of weariness washed over him.

Closing his eyes contentedly, Lynch initiated his nightly ritual of pestering his internal guest:

'Neighbor, neighbor.'

【I am here.】

'Do you know about the Gate of Falsehood and Reality?'

【I have sensed it before, but never interacted with it, so I am unfamiliar. Although its danger level to your kind is high, it does not belong to the memories of the Mythological Era.】

'Even you know of it? Then it really is no ordinary item. Hm? Wait, the way you say that... do items with high danger levels usually belong to memories of the Mythological Era?'

【Some do, but there are many exceptions.】

'Is it very dangerous? How does it compare to an evil god?'

【All memories with high danger levels contain fragments of authority. Their sole difference from an evil god is that they lack a supreme will, though they possess unique effects.】

'I see. So it's still terrifying—slightly lower in tier than an evil god, but trickier to deal with.'

【You may understand it as such.】

'Heh, haven't heard you say that in a while. I—'

“Meow~~~”

Just as he drifted into a half-asleep state, a clear meow suddenly came from outside the window, sounding right at the sill.

Startled, Lynch sat up abruptly.

Opening his eyes, he found himself staring right into a pair of dark green vertical pupils.

A black cat was crouched on the windowsill, lazily licking its pink paws.

Countess Hathaway—or her cat.