The Seventh Agency Arrives

He should have seen it coming...

Elias shook his head inwardly, gaining a new appreciation for the sheer thickness of this old scoundrel's skin. Expecting a supply captain who treated keepers as consumables to remember the name of a specific piece of cannon fodder was less likely than catching a normal fish in Moon Bay.

However, the girl, lost in her grief and obsession, clearly didn't notice Elias's subtle reaction of disbelief.

Ophelia didn't find the answer "missing" to be perfunctory or meaningless as Elias did. On the contrary, amidst this fog of an answer, her sharp reporter's intuition allowed her to quickly seize upon a blind spot.

She focused all her attention on the phrase Crowley had just casually mentioned.

"That chasm."

"Sir, what did he almost cross?"

Ophelia leaned forward, her hands braced on the table, her eyes rimmed with red.

"Would you mind saying that again? What chasm?"

She stared straight at the old sea dog.

"Wasn't Ryan working normally at the lighthouse?"

Faced with the girl's persistent questioning, Old Crowley tapped out the residue in his pipe, his gaze turning cold and even slightly cruel once more.

"All you need to know is that this world isn't as peaceful as it appears to you,"

Captain Crowley said dismissively. He clearly had no intention of educating a mortal on the maddening concepts of the supernatural, the spirit world, and the Divine Scion. It would do her no good.

"But girl, you'd better prepare yourself."

The old man began refilling his pipe with tobacco, speaking in a flat, declarative tone.

"Because three years ago, on the last day of my rotation in that month, when I went to the island to deliver supplies, I didn't see that boy Ryan in the lighthouse at all."

"He had vanished, as if he'd evaporated from the face of the earth."

Watching Ophelia's pale face lose even more color, the old captain added with a touch of cruelty, "Remember, girl, in the waters of Moon Bay, missing is the same as being dead."

This was no mere alarmism; it was the iron law of this cursed sea.

Keepers whose bodies were never found had either jumped into the sea to have their bones crushed by monsters, or they had become nourishment for the indescribable existences within the spirit world.

"I still remember that boy."

Old Crowley seemed to fall into a brief memory, his tone softening slightly. "He was indeed different from the other rookies who spent all day shivering in fear. He was quite cheerful, even a bit talkative."

"It was he who insisted on pulling me aside to take a photo on the pier back then..."

Listening to the old captain's description, Ophelia's head gradually lowered.

Her pale fingers tightly gripped the yellowed old photo, her fingernails nearly piercing its edges.

After a long, suffocating silence, Ophelia slowly looked up and spoke a sentence that surprised everyone present, including Elias.

"I want to go see it."

Though her voice carried a hint of unavoidable sobbing, her gaze was exceptionally firm. "I want to go to the place where he went missing and see for myself."

This obsession, akin to a moth flying into a flame, caused Ms. Sophia—who had been maintaining her elegant and aloof posture—to turn away in pity and let out a soft sigh.

"Very well."

To Elias's surprise, Crowley emptied the ashes from his pipe into a crystal ashtray.

The old sea dog didn't even seem to weigh the decision much before agreeing immediately.

"Are you sure?"

Elias finally couldn't help himself. He turned to Crowley and asked in a low voice.

Bringing a mortal onto the island? At this critical juncture? To the sealing ground of an evil god where a Dead Tide could erupt at any moment? Had this old man's brain been pickled in rum?

"I respect the young lady's wishes,"

Old Crowley said, shrugging and adjusting the collar of his worn trench coat with a gentlemanly air.

"..."

Elias was speechless. This old fox was putting on an act again!

What did he mean by respecting wishes? Why didn't he respect my wishes when he was threatening me to go to the ruins just now?!

"What's wrong?"

In his mind, Old Ed couldn't help but ask. "Weren't you the one being all merciful on the beach earlier, advocating for respecting people's choices? Why are you grumbling now?"

The old ghost mocked him mercilessly in his mind, clearly showing disdain for his "double standards."

"The problem is, the island is my damn territory now!"

Elias countered in his mind, feeling his territorial sovereignty had been seriously violated. "He's bringing someone to my dormitory for a sightseeing tour. Doesn't he think that's a bit presumptuous?!"

Am I supposed to be the host now?!

"Uh..."

Hearing this reason, Edmond was a bit stunned. What kind of bizarre angle was this? The girl was going to find traces of her brother and face supernatural horrors, and he was worried about territorial sovereignty?

"Forget it..."

Old Ed wisely chose to shut up, deciding not to argue with this bastard whose brain was wired differently from normal people.

On this issue, Elias was just as conflicted as he had been regarding his sister. Reason told him that he and Ophelia were just chance acquaintances, yet his innate sense of justice was pulling at him fiercely.

In reality, Elias adjusted his sitting position, trying to mask his internal struggle.

He recalled the fragmented information Ophelia had heard from the old sailor this morning. It concerned one of Wayland's most core and bloodiest conspiracies.

"Whitebeard."

Elias shifted his gaze from Ophelia and locked onto Crowley again. He leaned back against the chair and spoke.

"How many keepers who went missing or went mad in Moon Bay every year were actually..."

"Secretly sent to the West Coast Sanatorium by Wayland?"

Elias's gaze was sharp as a blade. "Don't tell me you don't know."

At the mention of the "West Coast Sanatorium," Old Crowley's relaxed expression froze. His triangular eyes narrowed slightly, casting a cold glance at Elias.

The old fox was clearly thinking rapidly, wondering where the other party had obtained such top-secret information. This was something that even within the Resurrection Society, only a few high-level members knew.

However, after a brief moment of surprise, the old captain quickly made a decision. He turned his head to look at Ophelia, who was still standing there.

"Miss."

Crowley reached out and pulled out a mahogany chair beside him, his movements surprisingly gentle. "You may sit here first."

He signaled for Ophelia to sit, clearly not minding if she heard the conversation that followed.

It took Ophelia a while to pull herself out of her immense grief and obsession. She nodded somewhat woodenly, clutching her cloth bag, and sat cautiously and uneasily in the chair.

Crowley's gaze returned to Elias, with less disdain and more gravity.

"That's right."

The old captain took a deep drag from his cigar and slowly exhaled. "I don't know how you found out about the West Coast Sanatorium, but your intel is indeed correct."

Crowley's voice was very low, as if he feared alerting the monsters hidden in the shadows.

"Wayland Capital is playing a very large game. Larger than any of us imagined."

The old man paused to organize his thoughts. "I originally thought they went to such lengths to cover up the Dead Tide just to obtain the Fifth Element at the bottom of Moon Bay. I thought their cooperation with the Mist Veil Society was nothing more than a mutual exchange of interests between capital and a cult."

"But later..."

A deep sense of wariness flashed in Crowley's eyes. "I once infiltrated one of their internal shipping routes, and I discovered that things weren't that simple."

"They aren't just using the Mist Veil Society to find the Fifth Element. Their assistance to the Mist Veil Society—even their indulgence of the cult's activities on the West Coast—has other, deeper purposes."

The old captain's gaze fell on Elias, his tone cold. "That so-called West Coast Sanatorium indeed holds or 'processes' countless keepers who have retired from Moon Bay. They all died there."

"And they died miserably."

Crowley let out a cold laugh, looking at Elias as if he were looking at a dead man. "I'm afraid your turn is coming soon, too."

Those words were like a sudden clap of thunder. Ophelia, who had been immersed in grief, suddenly widened her red-rimmed eyes.

She looked at "Mr. Wayne" in his derby hat with disbelief. In that instant, she seemed to suddenly understand something.

She was shocked by Elias's true identity! The man wasn't some black-hearted factory owner, but a lighthouse keeper from Moon Bay?! And he was about to face the same fate as her brother?!

However, sensing the girl's shocked and worried gaze, Elias remained as steady as a mountain. Under the shadow of his hat, he didn't feel like explaining much.

If this girl was lucky enough to return alive from the sea when the Dead Tide erupted—or even awaken as a transcendent—then he felt it wouldn't matter if she knew he was just an ordinary tower guard. They would all be in the same boat.

But for now, it was better not to. If she really went to the island and was unfortunately captured by Wayland Capital or the Mist Veil Society, given the will of an ordinary person against those terrifying supernatural interrogation methods, it was hard to say she wouldn't completely leak his information.

This had nothing to do with whether she could keep her mouth shut. In the field of mysticism, there were too many ways to directly read memories.

Just like Aaron's sister, Isabella Sorenstein. Her tongue had been cut out, yet the name "Elias" had still been easily interrogated out of her.

Caution was the key to survival; staying low was the ultimate principle.

Knock, knock, knock.

While Elias was deep in thought, the heavy door behind him was knocked on once again. The door pushed open, and the one who entered was still the half-demon bartender, Bloodsong.

Bloodsong's expression was quite grim, even darker than his dark red skin. He quickly scanned the people in the room.

"Pardon the interruption,"

Bloodsong took a deep breath and reported urgently, "But it seems things are getting a bit too lively here tonight."

He pointed downstairs. "People from the Seventh Agency have arrived."