Conquest Sea, Moncarlo.
In the late afternoon, in a café along a Moncarlo street—after searching through dozens of bars and taverns—Dorothy had finally found a proper café. She now sat in a window-side booth overlooking the street, sipping an iced coffee while gazing at a thick bundle of cash spread across the table. These were newly exchanged bills, acquired by sending a corpse marionette to a nearby bank. To prevent the Hookshark Gang from tampering with the bills or the bag, Dorothy had chosen to spend a little to replace everything with fresh currency.
“Wow... That’s a lot of money again—and it’s all in cash too... That blood-drug trade really is insanely profitable.”
Nephthys said, sitting across from Dorothy, staring in awe at the wads of cash. Dorothy took a sip of her coffee and replied with calm indifference.
“Naturally. Once addicted, people crave blood-drugs insatiably. For ordinary folks, it’s not uncommon to ruin themselves financially just to keep using. So the profits surrounding blood-drugs are extraordinarily high.”
Dorothy spoke matter-of-factly while inwardly remarking that this level of profit only felt astronomical to mortals. In the realm of mystical goods, two thousand pounds wasn’t really much. She could burn through the entire sum in minutes if she wanted.
“With blood-drugs being so lucrative, it’s no wonder there’s a whole syndicate that’s developed the tech to manufacture human blood-drugs for sale... That reminds me, Miss Dorothy—what happened to those people who were being sold?”
Nephthys asked, concerned. Dorothy answered plainly.
“Don’t worry, they’ve all been taken in by Moncarlo’s official city guard now. For the Church’s sake, Moncarlo will take care of their blood-drug dependency.”
Ever since resolving the situation with the two Gut-Eaters Society members aboard the cruise ship, Dorothy had been considering what to do with the dozen or so human cattle they’d brought along. To Dorothy, these people were problematic: deeply brainwashed and heavily addicted to blood-drugs. Talking sense into them was pointless, and letting them wander off freely would only lead to them spiraling into madness from withdrawal.
Under normal circumstances, the best course of action would’ve been to hand them over to Moncarlo’s authorities. But from Dorothy’s intelligence-gathering, she knew the city’s officials were thoroughly corrupt—many lower-tier enforcers were in cahoots with the gangs. If she handed those people over outright, who’s to say they wouldn’t be killed and sold off later?
So Dorothy constructed a setup: within the group of blood cattle, she planted a single "escapee" who knew the full truth. This man would break free and run into the paths of both Sister Vania and Moncarlo’s representatives during their public procession—making his plea right before both witnesses. With the Church’s envoy personally involved, Moncarlo’s officials couldn’t afford to sweep it under the rug. They wouldn’t dare slaughter the rescued victims for profit—not with Vania watching.
The chosen “escapee” was Dioro. His “accidental eavesdropping” aboard the ship, his dramatic escape from captivity, and the coincidental interception on Vania’s parade route—all of it had been orchestrated by Dorothy through her corpse marionettes.
In the end, Dorothy had not only successfully handled all of the human cattle, but also made over two thousand pounds in the process—and boosted Vania’s reputation as a newcomer to Moncarlo. From every angle, it was a flawless win.
“Last time it was forging a will to seize an inheritance. This time it’s impersonation to turn a shady deal into real cash... The Rose Cross Order really does have all kinds of money-making tricks.”
So thought Nephthys, gazing at the pile of banknotes. Then, turning her head back toward Dorothy, she asked.
“So now that we’ve got the money and the people have been dealt with, Miss Dorothy, what’s the next step? If I recall correctly, we came to this city to look for someone, didn’t we?”
“Yes... The main objective is to find someone. So now our primary task is intelligence gathering. As it happens, I have a meeting soon with a key figure. If we’re lucky, we might get some critical information from him regarding this operation.”
Dorothy answered casually, still sipping her iced coffee. Nephthys blinked, slightly puzzled.
“A key... figure...?”
…
Late afternoon approached, and dusk began to settle over Moncarlo. The sun had dipped low toward the sea-lined horizon, bathing the vast city in a warm, golden hue. Though twilight had not yet fully fallen, the streetlamps had begun to flicker to life. The city, steeped in desire, was preparing to transition into its most vibrant night.
In the southwest corner of Moncarlo’s main island, a small peninsula jutted out toward the open sea. A modest seaside park stood there. Somewhat removed from the central districts, the park was sparsely populated. Only a few figures lingered, admiring the ocean view.
In that park stood a gentleman: impeccably dressed in a fitted suit, wearing a short-brimmed hat with a slender violet ribbon, holding a cane, his features sharp—hooked nose, deep-set eyes, a textbook gentleman. Before him stood a towering four-story cylindrical fort, now deserted and weatherworn—clearly a decommissioned relic of past wars.
Ed stood silently in the tranquil park, gazing at the dilapidated old fort. One could tell he was imagining the scenes of battle that had once unfolded here. As he was lost in thought, footsteps approached from behind. Moments later, a soft voice called out.
“Excuse me, sir. I found this little flower crown over there—might it be yours?”
It was a woman’s voice. Ed turned around and saw a young woman in her twenties, with short hair, wearing a pale blue dress and high heels. She held a small flower crown in her hands as she looked at Ed, waiting for his reply. After a moment’s thought, Ed said:
“It does look familiar... Seems like it might be mine, though I can’t quite recall when I lost it. May I ask, miss, where did you find it?”
“Where... let me think... It might’ve been in a dream.”
She answered thoughtfully, and Ed’s lips curled into a faint smile. He pointed toward a bench near the seaside.
“In that case, shall we sit over there... and talk about dreams?”
“Oh… sure.”
Hearing Ed’s words, the woman holding the flower crown nodded slightly. The two then walked toward the seaside. Eventually, with the sea breeze brushing past them, Ed sat down first on a long bench. Shortly afterward, the woman followed with somewhat hesitant steps and took a seat not far from him. Ed scanned the surroundings, then turned to the woman beside him and asked.
“At first, your people told me this rendezvous spot was just a stretch of deserted land—nothing here and very discreet. When I arrived and saw this massive park, I thought I’d gone to the wrong place. But luckily, you showed up.”
“Ah… well, according to our intel, this really was a barren patch of land not long ago. We didn’t expect Moncarlo to develop so quickly… Can’t believe this got turned into a park in such a short time. Time really does fly…”
The woman seemed momentarily surprised before replying, glancing around as she spoke. Ed observed her again, then said:
“Miss, this body you’re using—it isn’t your own, is it? This is a dream-walking vessel you’re controlling from within a dream, correct?”
“Huh? N-no… How did you know that? Were you secretly scanning me?”
Startled, the woman’s expression tensed. Her eyes reflected wariness and displeasure. In meetings between Beyonders, using mystical detection without permission was considered a serious breach of etiquette.
“Heh… You misunderstand, Miss. I didn’t use any detection skills, nor did I expend any spirituality on such a trivial matter. I deduced it purely through simple observation.”
With a faint smile, Ed clarified. The woman blinked, taken aback.
“Simple… observation?”
“Exactly. You’re wearing high heels, but you’re clearly not used to walking in them. The outfit you’re wearing is quite form-fitting, and your movements show a subtle discomfort with that. So I figured—this body probably isn’t your own. Next time you choose a puppet body, best pick one that fits your habits.”
Ed explained cheerfully. The woman blinked in realization, then muttered while glancing at her body with a frown.
“Ugh… I just thought this lady looked really stylish, so I wanted to borrow her body. Didn’t expect it’d be this uncomfortable… Being pretty really comes at a price.”
Ed kept smiling, choosing not to dwell on the topic. He smoothly transitioned to business.
“Well then, let’s move on to official matters, Miss. Allow me to introduce myself—I’m a member of the Rose Cross Order, codename ‘Detective.’ I’ve been assigned to liaise with your side for this operation. I’ve already been briefed by ‘Scholar’ regarding your general profile—you followers of the Butterfly God.”
Hearing Ed dive straight into the mission, the blue-clad woman paused briefly, then let go of the dress issue and straightened her posture for the discussion.
“Ah, greetings, follower of Aka—the servant of Lord Paarthurnax… So, are you truly serious about seizing the Dreamscale Censer?”
“Of course. Didn’t your side say this was a rare opportunity to reclaim a divine artifact that originally belonged to you? If this is a rare chance, then we intend to seize it. Once the operation is complete, the censer will be returned to its rightful owner. All we ask is the right to borrow it when needed.”
Ed’s tone was self-assured. The reason so many of them had gathered in Moncarlo was precisely because of this artifact tied to the “Shadow” deity.
“Alright. If the censer truly has a chance of being returned, we’ll support you as best we can. But… please don’t expect too much from us. Compared to the senior figure from the Moth Faction who also arrived on this island, we’re not that powerful…”
The woman replied seriously. Ed nodded and pressed on.
“That’s fine. What we need from you is primarily intel. So—what do you know about that big shot from the Blackdream Hunting Pack?”
After a moment of thought, the woman replied.
“His name is Serinpe Purnassus. Within the Blackdream, his title is Withered Wing. He’s a fully-emerged Moth-Scale Symbiont—an important figure within the leadership of the Blackdream Hunting Pack. In terms of mainstream Beyonder ranks, he’s comparable to a powerful Crimson-rank Beyonder. He came to Moncarlo this time to acquire the spoils of the explorer Revanah, which are being stored here. It’s said that this item will be publicly auctioned in three days at a major auction event.”
Hearing this, Ed paused briefly before asking.
“Do you know what it is that Mr. Withered Wing is trying to obtain?”
“No. The information we have was pieced together from scattered reports passed through a deeply buried spy in the Blackdream. It’s very incomplete. We don’t even know what Serinpe looks like or what distinguishing traits he has. You’ll likely have to find that out on your own.”
The woman’s answer made Ed frown slightly, thinking aloud.
“Unclear objective, no identifiable features… In a place as vast as Moncarlo, tracking someone down with that little to go on will be difficult. But… if he’s planning to attend the auction in person, then all we need is a guest list to narrow the suspects. He can’t possibly…”
“That won’t work,” the woman cut in.
“Based on our intel, Withered Wing is extremely cautious. There’s no way he’d attend an open auction in person. He’ll definitely use a dream puppet to go in his place. If it weren’t for the long distance between Moncarlo and the Blackdream’s base—and the risk of transporting valuable items without direct protection—he wouldn’t have even set foot in Moncarlo. He would’ve handled everything through dream proxies.”
Her words made Ed’s face grow more grim.
“In that case… locating him is going to be tricky.”
As Ed sank into thought, the woman continued.
“Actually… I do have a suggestion. If you want to find Withered Wing, why not try enlisting help from Moncarlo’s local powers? The ones who really control the streets?”
“The local powers? You mean the gangs here? Sure, they’re good at tracking ordinary people—but would they really have intel on a Crimson-rank Beyonder?”
“No, not the small gangs—I mean the big one. The biggest there is.”
At that, Ed immediately caught on. Somewhat surprised, he said:
“You mean… Moncarlo’s government?”
“Exactly! The South Sea Megalodon. The Serpent of Moncarlo. The great pirate Edward. He’s ruled this city for centuries. Once a terror of the seas, he collected countless mystical artifacts and buried powerful trump cards throughout Moncarlo. Though he’s grown old, those hidden cards still make him the undisputed king of this place.”
“It was right here on this island that Edward once used those secret powers to fend off an assassination attempt by a Crimson-rank Shadow. If you can’t find Withered Wing, you might try seeking out Edward. He likely possesses the means to uncover any hidden operative in Moncarlo.”