Oh? There's a Hidden Map?

“So, my brother might actually still be alive!”

Ophelia’s excited voice echoed through the hotel room.

A long-lost light of hope flickered in the reporter’s eyes.

Elias sat across from her, remaining unusually silent. He didn’t offer any mockery, nor did he speak up to pour cold water on her excitement.

He simply listened to her ramble on about how they should follow the trail.

Objectively speaking...

Was it possible that her brother, Ryan Moore, was still alive?

Yes.

But the chances were slim. Probably only slightly higher than the probability of Wayland Shipping going bankrupt on the spot tomorrow.

Elias did the math in his head.

First, Oliver Brown, the man who had become a human bomb, had clearly been recorded in the top-secret files as having left the lighthouse alive.

Behind his name was a blue circle, representing a special status.

In the secret records of the Wayland high command, this meant his status was “alive” and “possessing recovery value.”

It was ironclad proof that he had been singled out by the capitalists to have his remaining value squeezed dry.

But what about Ophelia’s brother?

Ryan Moore.

From the very beginning, a crimson red cross had been crudely drawn after his name.

In other words, regardless of whether Ryan had been taken to the sanatorium on the west bank of Hastings Port by that damned supply ship back then...

He was dead. Thoroughly dead.

Either he had died on the island three years ago, finding his final rest in the stomach acid of those sirens or carapace husks...

Or he had been lucky enough to escape back to the mainland, only to die under the scalpels of those insane researchers at the West Bank sanatorium.

Such was the fate of the lowliest expendables in this world.

However.

Looking at Ophelia’s eyes, which were filled with hope, Elias felt a rare trace of “forget it” when faced with the bloody truth.

It really wasn’t appropriate for him to say anything at a time like this.

After all, a person needed something to look forward to in life, even if that hope was a soap bubble that would pop at the slightest touch.

He would let her be.

Their exchange—or rather, Ophelia’s one-sided analysis of the case—continued until evening.

Outside the window, the sky was gradually shrouded in lead-gray clouds and industrial exhaust.

Hastings Port welcomed its chaotic and decadent night.

“Let’s go.”

Prompted by Ophelia checking her watch for the third time, Elias finally stood up from the sofa.

He threw on his trench coat and picked up his cane.

The two of them pushed open the hotel doors and headed toward the Hastings Port pier walkway together.

Their destination: Siren’s Song.

...

On either side of the pier walkway, gaslights cast a dim, yellowish glow.

In the night mist, these lights looked like the murky, singular eyes of monsters.

The sign for the Siren’s Song tavern stood out jarringly among a cluster of dilapidated wooden shacks.

Elias took a deep breath and reached out to push the door open.

Despite the vast experience he had gained as Jiang Huan in his previous life, he was still deeply shaken by the scene before him the moment he stepped inside.

Of course, it wasn’t the good kind of shock.

As soon as he entered the tavern, a wave of heat—a mixture of alcohol, sweat, and chemicals—slapped him right in the face.

Immediately after, the girls inside were like sharks scenting blood, swarming around them in an instant.

A bevy of beauties, a flurry of fragrance.

Each was dressed in extremely skimpy clothing, with large patches of skin exposed to the murky air. They were dressed up to the nines.

Of course, this so-called “dressing up” was a huge negative for someone with Elias’s modern aesthetics. It even triggered a physical sense of discomfort.

Why say that?

First of all, it was the girls' faces.

Pale. A ghastly, bloodless white.

That whiteness wasn’t the glowing skin from modern medical aesthetics, nor was it a naturally healthy pale complexion.

Elias swore that even if he had been dead for three days and nights, he wouldn’t reach the terrifying shade on their faces!

Because in the steam era, most foundations or creams on the market were packed with toxic substances like lead, arsenic, and mercury to achieve the ultimate whitening and concealing effect.

These girls weren’t applying makeup; they were smearing the periodic table on their faces!

This style of beauty, which flirted with the edge of death, caused Elias to feel an instinctive repulsion from the depths of his soul.

Secondly, there was the pungent smell of low-quality perfume that felt like it could lift the top of one’s skull. It was a brutal murder of the olfactory nerves.

According to the social atmosphere of this era, women wearing makeup was an act looked down upon by respectable, well-bred ladies. It was the exclusive mark of those who frequented places of pleasure.

Therefore, someone like Ophelia, who was standing beside Elias—a proper reporter for a major newspaper—would never wear any makeup, except for when she deliberately dressed like a foppish dandy to escape for her life.

This led to a very abstract cycle of aesthetics.

Since most respectable women didn’t wear makeup, these girls, in their efforts to attract sailors, strove for a so-called “no-makeup look.”

They tried to create the illusion that they were naturally beautiful and had only applied a bit of powder.

However, as Elias looked at those faces that looked like they had been painted with whitewash and eyebrows that looked like two black caterpillars, he felt that this makeup had absolutely nothing to do with being “natural.”

“Move, move.”

Elias waved his cane impatiently. Like driving away a swarm of buzzing flies, he forcibly pushed back the group of women surrounding them.

His movements were rough and lacked any gentlemanly grace.

If he didn’t do this, he could already feel his nose starting to go slightly numb from inhaling too much of the cheap perfume.

The two of them struggled through the main hall, passing by sailors who were dead drunk and laborers in the midst of revelry.

Soon, they arrived at the bar at the very back of the tavern.

The long wooden bar was already crowded with all sorts of people. Profanity and the foam of low-quality ale flew through the air.

But what deeply puzzled Elias was that throughout the short walk from the entrance to the bar, he had been very cautious, repeatedly activating 【Spirit Vision】 and 【Moon Vision】 to scan the area.

The silver-white light had flickered subtly in the depths of his pupils several times. His gaze had swept across every corner of the tavern like radar.

The result? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He hadn't found even a trace of supernatural aura here. No hidden cultists, no mutated sea-folk attendants.

This place looked like a perfectly normal, mundane tavern.

Because of this result, a complex emotion rose in Elias’s heart.

Before coming here, he had actually struggled with whether he should bring this foolish reporter, Ophelia, along.

After all, the place where that old sea dog, Captain Crowley, liked to hang out didn’t sound very auspicious.

But on second thought, this girl had already faced the supernatural power that blew a man into shreds at the Wayland office today. Her worldview had already been shattered.

Furthermore, in her quest to find her brother, she would eventually encounter a cold and cruel corner of the supernatural world sooner or later if she continued her investigation. There was no avoiding it.

It was better to just bring her along as a witness. At worst, if they encountered danger, he could just use a sleep spell to knock her out in a corner.

Who would have thought...

Now Elias felt a deep sense of having been “scammed.”

This tavern called Siren’s Song seemed no different from any other trashy tavern in Hastings Port!

Uh... if you didn’t count the clearly priced, heavy-metal-laden special services.

Finding someone in a place without a hint of mysticism? That was probably going to be a long shot.

Elias strode to the bar. He rapped his knuckles hard on the wood, which was covered in beer stains, and shouted at the waiter who was wiping glasses.

“I’m looking for someone!”

The noise in the tavern was far too loud. At a nearby table, sailors were brawling over a few copper pennies.

The waiter leaned in close. Amidst the cacophony, he yelled at the top of his lungs, “What?!”

“I’m looking for someone!” Elias yelled back, his voice even louder. “An old man! White beard!”

As he shouted, he gestured an exaggerated shape around his chin.

“His beard looks like it was blasted by a cannon! He’s a sailor!”

The description was both precise and full of malice.

Upon hearing this, the waiter’s originally impatient expression shifted instantly. His lazy gaze became sharp and wary.

He quickly sized Elias up from head to toe.

Then, without another word, the waiter pointed directly toward a set of red curtains at the very back of the tavern.

“You’d best go ask there.”

Elias raised an eyebrow. Following the direction of the waiter’s finger, he turned to look at that corner not far away.

There was indeed a curtain hanging there. It was made of some kind of red velvet, covered in dust and grease.

Because it looked so ordinary, Elias had only given it a cursory glance with 【Spirit Vision】 when he first entered and hadn’t paid it much attention.

But now, with the waiter’s subtle pointer...

Elias immediately channeled the spirituality within him.

When he looked through 【Moon Vision】, that red curtain actually became completely transparent, like a thin membrane dissolving in water.

And behind that layer of transparent camouflage...

Was a vast space shielded by illusions, a scene of singing and dancing belonging entirely to the supernatural world.

“Oh? There’s a hidden map?”