Rewinding time slightly, back to the previous night in the forest on the outskirts of Kankdal, Dorothy and Nephthys were standing in a clearing among the trees.
In the quiet woods, the two of them waited patiently for Sadroya’s movements in the distant villa. Once they sensed that her mission had been successfully completed, Dorothy turned to Nephthys and calmly said,
“The operation over there is a success. Let’s begin on our end too.”
“Understood.”
Hearing Dorothy’s words, Nephthys adjusted her face veil, then walked to one side of the clearing where a completed Silence ritual array had already been drawn on the ground. Placed atop it was a plump corpse.
Arriving beside the array, Nephthys sat down and began performing a soul-summoning ritual—once again using Mazarr’s corpse as the key medium. As Nephthys began the summoning, Dorothy pulled up her hooded cloak again and used magnetic force to levitate herself slightly, creating a degree of concealment.
Because Sadroya had precisely and thoroughly sabotaged the Spirit-Binding Coffin that had imprisoned Mazarr, his trapped soul was now finally able to respond to Nephthys’s call. As the ritual progressed, a translucent figure gradually manifested above the corpse within the ritual circle—Mazarr’s spirit. To make communication easier, Dorothy instructed Nephthys not to place any binding constraints on the spirit, allowing him a degree of autonomy.
Once the summoning succeeded, Mazarr’s expression was dazed. He looked around in confusion, eyeing the cloaked and veiled figures of Nephthys and Dorothy before speaking with a trace of alarm and panic.
“Wh-Where am I? Who are you?”
“You’re on the outskirts of Kankdal, not far from the prison where you were held. We shattered your prison and summoned you here. As for who we are, that’s not important. You just need to know—it was us who rescued you, Your Highness.”Facing the confused and frightened Mazarr, Dorothy answered in a calm voice. At her words, Mazarr paused for a moment, then fell into thought. After a brief silence, he began muttering.
“Prison… That’s right, after I was killed by that bastard Robert’s men… I should’ve gone somewhere else, but suddenly I was sucked into this tiny place. I couldn’t get out. I tried to struggle… but no matter how much I fought, I couldn’t escape. Eventually I gave up… until now…”
He murmured, voice distant and dreamlike. Hearing this, Dorothy replied directly.
“So… you know who killed you. That makes things easier. Prince Mazarr, let me ask you—do you want revenge?”
“Revenge…”
The word made Mazarr’s spirit blink, his expression changing to disbelief as he turned to Dorothy and asked.
“You’re saying… you can help me get revenge? Help me take down Robert and that old bastard Ma’ad?”
“I can’t kill them for you directly. But I can give you the opportunity. I can provide you the chance to appear at a tribunal—to publicly testify against Robert and Ma’ad and bring them down permanently. But in exchange, I want one thing.”
Dorothy’s voice was calm and even as she spoke to the dead prince. Mazarr’s spirit flushed with anger and suspicion as he asked.
“What condition? What do you want in exchange for this so-called opportunity for revenge?”
“Your assets. I want all the wealth you still possess among the living.”
At Dorothy’s blunt declaration, Mazarr paused in surprise, then protested.
“My wealth? You want my fortune? Don’t joke with me… Who even are you? You’ve got nothing to do with me, and now you want my inheritance? That money is what I clawed back from Ma’ad and his old cronies! I need it for the future—!”
“You have no future, Mazarr. You’re dead.”
Coldly, Dorothy cut him off. Mazarr froze. He lifted his hand and stared at his translucent body, as if only now beginning to truly grasp the finality of his death. That one sentence from Dorothy stripped away the last of his delusions. Shocked into silence, he stood in place, stunned.
Dorothy didn’t let up.
“You already know your soul was imprisoned by Robert’s people. And do you think they went to all that trouble just to keep you comfortable? Of course not. They didn’t want you to speak the truth. They silenced your body—now they want to silence your soul. It won’t be long before they find a way to destroy it completely.”
She continued with a chilling tone of threat, and the spirit of Mazarr paled further, trembling as if drained of color.
“Total… destruction?” he whispered.
“That’s right. So make your choice, Prince Mazarr. Trade the wealth you’ll never use for freedom and the opportunity to avenge yourself. Or cling to meaningless coin and let your very soul be wiped from existence.”
With a finality in her voice, Dorothy gave her ultimatum. Mazarr’s spirit was silent for a long moment. Then, at last, he nodded in resignation.
Dorothy’s lips curved into a satisfied smile.
“Good. Now then, Your Highness… let’s have a proper conversation about your estate, shall we?”
…
Time rewound to the present. In broad daylight in Kankdal, inside a certain café, Dorothy was leisurely sipping her sweetened coffee while reminiscing about the deal she had recently made with Mazarr’s soul.
That night, under her intimidation and persuasion, Mazarr’s spirit agreed to hand over all the worldly assets still under his control to Dorothy.
After consenting, Mazarr immediately disclosed that most of his wealth was stored at the Kankdal branch of the White Craftsmen’s Guild. He provided the location of the branch and even revealed the hiding spot of his guild account credentials. Since Mazarr had always been on guard against his many relatives when it came to finances, he had made special arrangements on that front.
Once Dorothy knew where the credentials were hidden, she didn’t immediately set off to retrieve them. Realizing that credentials alone might not suffice after Mazarr’s death, she took out The Literary Sea Logbook and contacted an automaton in Tivian to consult on the guild’s regulations for asset transfers and inheritance upon a client’s death. The answer: a will was required, bearing a signature, seal, voluntary bloodprint, and soulprint.
With that information, Dorothy had Nephthys channel Mazarr’s spirit to mimic his behavior and handwriting, then quickly drafted a will. After signing, they used blood from the corpse for the bloodprint, while Mazarr’s spirit voluntarily imprinted the soulprint. According to Beverly, the guild had means of verifying whether a soulprint was given willingly—making Mazarr’s voluntary consent crucial.
Afterward, Dorothy and Nephthys rushed to one of Mazarr’s properties in Kankdal and retrieved from its hidden safe the credential ring and the Baruch royal seal. They stamped the will with the royal mark to further boost its legitimacy.
Thus, after all that effort, Dorothy was finally able to legally and formally inherit all of Mazarr’s assets through the guild. At present, Nephthys was helping Dorothy examine how much could be withdrawn from Mazarr’s holdings.
“A goose leaves feathers when it flies—since I’ve got the prince’s soul in my hand, not taking a little something would just feel wrong. Besides, I’m still helping him get revenge. A bit of revenge money is only fair, right? It’s not like he’ll need it anymore anyway.”
Sitting in her seat, Dorothy mused. Even though she would’ve had to confront Robert and Ma’ad regardless, under the pretext of helping Mazarr get revenge, there was no reason she couldn’t shake him down a little too.
Inside the hidden transaction chamber disguised as a pawnshop—the White Craftsmen’s Guild’s Kankdal branch—Nephthys sat patiently after submitting the will, waiting for the staff behind the iron window to finish verification. Dorothy, linked to Nephthys’s senses from her café seat, waited alongside her from afar.
Since the will had been crafted under Beverly’s guidance, Dorothy had no worries, and sure enough, after about an hour-long review, the response came.
“Hello, Ms. Carida. There are no issues with the will you’ve submitted. We offer our condolences for Prince Mazarr’s untimely death. According to his last wishes, you are now the legal heir to all assets he entrusted to the White Craftsmen’s Guild and have full authorization to use his account.”
The staff confirmed the heir’s identity. To allay suspicions, Dorothy had designated the heir in the will as a woman named Carida—a lover Mazarr supposedly met during his indulgent days in Kankdal. Enchanted by her beauty and sweet words, Mazarr had foolishly bequeathed everything to her in a moment of weakness.
“Thank you for your assistance. May I now review my asset inventory?” Nephthys asked the iron window, and the reply soon followed.
“Yes, you just need to go through a few more formalities…”
After completing the final steps, Nephthys received the long-awaited inventory list detailing all of Mazarr’s assets managed by the guild. Meanwhile, Dorothy stirred her coffee with her spoon while reviewing the list through Nephthys’s eyes, analyzing the prince’s fortune.
Mazarr’s wealth came almost entirely from the vast riches hoarded by the Baruch Dynasty. When Yadith fell, the fleeing royal family took large sums with them. Kankdal’s elite split the loot—and as the first crown prince, Mazarr claimed a hefty share.
His assets with the guild included cash, securities, valuables, and real estate. The cash was relatively modest—roughly 3,000 pounds in standard currency. The bulk of the value lay elsewhere.
Mazarr held shares in nearly ten different companies, most located in major mainland nations. Some were successful firms that even Dorothy had seen mentioned in the newspapers. While none of the shares were large, together they formed a significant portfolio.
He owned four properties in Kankdal, three in Falano, and one in Ivengard—mostly leisure villas bought before his flight from Yadith. In addition, he possessed a collection of antiques and treasures smuggled out of Yadith. Though many had been seized by relatives, the remaining trove still held considerable resale value.
Scanning the densely itemized list of treasures, properties, and stocks, even Nephthys widened her eyes in the stone chamber—while Dorothy, still at the café, froze mid-stir. Her spoon continued to swirl in her cup, completely forgotten.
Liquidate. Liquidate. Liquidate… That word echoed in Dorothy’s mind. If she could cash out everything, she could easily rake in tens of thousands of pounds. That alone would be enough to cover the rental of a divine artifact from the Stone domain. If so, she’d meet another requirement to ascend to Crimson rank. It was a massive windfall.
“Damn… no wonder he was a prince. That much money… If I can liquidate it, the divine item for Stone is basically in the bag. Though converting Mazarr’s assets won’t be easy and carries risk… I wonder if I can convince Beverly to accept it as collateral…”
Eyes sparkling with excitement, Dorothy scanned the list in Nephthys’s hand for other valuable entries to estimate their worth. As she reached the bottom, her eyes caught something that intrigued her.
It was listed under the “Treasures” category, one of the few entries with a specific name.
The label was written in North Ufigan script. Its translation: The National Treasure Casket.