Southwestern Pritt, Igwynt.
It was daytime, the sky clear, and brilliant sunlight bathed the earth. Under its radiance, the winding Ironclay River snaked through the valleys and across the plains. On both banks, clusters of artificial structures rose densely, forming a sprawling city.
In the commercial district of Igwynt, crowds bustled to and fro. Beside the Cypress Fir Department Store, inside a modest café, a tall man in ordinary clothing sat alone, sipping tea while gazing out at the traffic. His expression was troubled, a trace of frustration etched on his face.
“Ah… So this is where you’re having tea. You’re actually taking the time to relax lately? I’ve never seen you into this before…”
At that moment, a female voice sounded beside the burly man. He turned to see a woman dressed in men’s clothing, wearing a hat, with light brown wavy hair.
“What can I do? Things haven’t been going well at the bureau lately. I’ve got to do something to calm my nerves.”
Glancing at her, the man took another sip of tea before replying. The woman continued.
“What, still holding a grudge about those Church investigators?”
“What do you think? They all came from god knows where, outsiders from some other agency, acting all high and mighty, bossing us around… They say we’re to cooperate with their work, but they don’t tell us anything. They act all secretive and treat us like servants. How could I not have a problem with that, Elena…”
He spread his hands, visibly annoyed. Elena let out a faint sigh and shook her head.
“I know those Church investigators have attitude problems… But just bear with it for now, Turner. Director Smith said it himself—these people, while their exact identities are unknown, definitely have backing. To get that kind of high-level authorization from Central HQ must mean they’re anything but ordinary. So it’s best to keep our heads down… Any conflict with them won’t end well for our entire bureau. They’re only here for a short time anyway, just to conduct the investigation.”
Elena’s words were intended to pacify Turner. He exhaled deeply and, after another sip of tea, replied.
“Yeah, I know it’s best not to clash with them. That’s exactly why I came here to drink tea instead of going out to drink booze—if I got drunk, I’d probably go and pick a fight with those bastards…”
He spoke gloomily, then placed his teacup back on the table and continued.
“Thinking about it now… Gregor really has it better. He’s working at Central HQ. His superiors are powerful enough that when outside agencies come in to investigate, they don’t have to put up with this kind of humiliation.”
“Alright, alright. Enough of that. It’s still work hours. Finish up your tea and get going—we’ve got an assignment.”
Seeing Turner’s grumbling, Elena waved her hand impatiently. Turner raised an eyebrow.
“An assignment? What assignment?”
“Just a simple security detail. This afternoon, Little Viscountess Field is hosting a book charity donation event at the museum. You’re in charge of covert security on-site—just in case.”
Elena laid it out plainly. Hearing her words, Turner nodded thoughtfully.
“Little Viscountess Field? That girl’s organizing something like that again? Still full of energy, huh… Looks like she’s not slacking off these days~”
Chuckling, Turner stood up from his seat. After paying the bill, he followed Elena out of the café and onto the street.
Unbeknownst to the two as they left, a pair of eyes watched their backs with quiet intensity.
Seated at another window seat in the café was a young girl dressed in a black men’s suit and wearing a formal hat. Though her figure and face appeared youthful, she exuded a composed, mature air—so much so that at a glance, one might mistake her for someone much older. Her dark green eyes followed Turner and Elena as they exited. Then, she sipped her coffee with quiet grace before turning her cold gaze to the person seated across from her.
Opposite her sat a man in formal attire, also wearing a hat. Though he sat silently in place, when the girl’s eyes swept over him, his whole body tensed involuntarily. His previously calm expression briefly twisted before returning to its composed state.
“Looks like the local Serenity Bureau officers aren’t too happy with how your people are handling things…” the girl said in a cool, detached voice.
The man—Bohweit—visibly flinched before responding with a slightly trembling tone:
“Well… uh… there’ve been a few minor frictions during operational coordination. It’s mostly due to differences in work approach…”
Lowering his head, Bohweit spoke with obvious guilt. The girl, however, responded flatly.
“I understand. These small-town secret police aren’t exactly high-ranking. Some of your people looking down on them is understandable. But remember—our job requires subtlety. The most important thing is to keep control of yourself. Don’t provoke unnecessary conflict unless absolutely necessary. That’s how trouble starts.”
“Y-yes… Understood. I’ll make sure to better discipline my subordinates! I promise this kind of thing won’t happen again, Your Eminence!”
His voice shook as he spoke. The girl—Artcheli—glanced at him and continued:
“Raise your head. Speak properly. Just because mortals outside can’t perceive us doesn’t mean you can forget your composure. You’re Bohweit, correct? As a member of the Court of Secrets, don’t let every little thing shake you.”
“Your Eminence personally coming to a small place like this alone… How could that not shake me…”
Bohweit thought anxiously.
He was a senior deacon and investigation team captain—yet had never reported directly to a high-ranking cardinal before. Artcheli’s sudden appearance in Igwynt had nearly scared the life out of him.
“If this case is that important… shouldn’t it have been assigned to someone more senior from the start? Why send me? Did something change suddenly to make this case even more serious?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be more careful from now on!”
Bohweit sat upright with extreme care, saying nothing further, waiting for Artcheli’s next move. She paid him no attention and instead glanced at the table between them, where a large stack of investigation documents lay.
“These are it?”
“Yes, ma’am. These are our most recent findings from the investigation. Please review them.”
Artcheli picked up the documents and began flipping through them, reading carefully. Bohweit, watching her, swallowed nervously—caught between anxiety and confusion.
“What in the world happened… to make the Secrets Cardinal herself descend to a place like this…” thought Bohweit, a senior deacon in the Court of Secrets.
He knew the case he’d been assigned was significant—rumored to be under the attention of major figures within the Cardinal Council—but he hadn’t imagined it was this serious. For the Secrets Cardinal to personally intervene?
“If it was that important… why not assign it to someone higher up from the start? Did something sudden happen to escalate the case further?”
Bohweit was speculating silently in his heart, when Artcheli—still reviewing the documents—spoke solemnly.
“From the looks of things… you still haven’t found any further leads on that Luer, have you?”
“Er… no. Since Luer came to Igwynt only after seizing control of the old Viscount Field in another region, he had no real connection to this place. He only used it as the staging ground for his advancement ritual. What we’ve found here about Luer and the Crimson Eucharist he founded is almost entirely related to the ritual. Beyond that, there’s little else… The Crimson Eucharist has now been completely wiped out, all major members are dead, and the few remaining small fry we captured haven’t yielded much of anything.”
Bohweit replied respectfully to Artcheli. She continued, eyes still scanning the documents.
“Then what about that so-called Rose Cross Order?”
“As for the Rose Cross Order… frankly, we’ve been able to find even less than we did for the Eucharist. All we really know is that they were the ones who destroyed the Eucharist. But from the traces left behind, it’s very hard to determine what kind of mystical organization the Rose Cross Order even is. In this region, they left absolutely no trace—as if they appeared out of thin air and then vanished just as suddenly.
“Moreover, their behavior in Igwynt was extremely strange. On one hand, they leaked information about the Eucharist to the local secret police—apparently trying to use them as a proxy to eliminate the Eucharist. But on the other hand, they then used overwhelming force to kill Luer directly—the strongest figure behind the scenes—as though they had never needed anyone else to bring down the Eucharist to begin with… Their intentions are completely unfathomable.”
With a slightly puzzled expression, Bohweit continued reporting to Artcheli, who simply kept reading.
“What about other regions outside Igwynt? Any word on the Rose Cross Order?”
“Nothing conclusive yet. We’ve already shared all known Rose Cross Order-related data with other investigation teams, but it’s still early. We’ll likely need more time to see any results.”
Bohweit replied carefully. Artcheli gave a silent nod and kept flipping through the pages until she stopped on one.
“This Luer… really had a fondness for adopting children, huh?”
Staring at the report in front of her, Artcheli spoke plainly. Bohweit answered quickly.
“Yes. It’s been confirmed that all those adoptions were orchestrated by Luer. The children were intended as ritual components for his advancement. Unlike the standard Werewolf advancement we’ve seen with the Wolfblood Society, Lue seemed to be conducting a much different kind of werewolf ritual. We don’t know how he even learned about such a method.”
As Bohweit responded, Artcheli flipped a page and continued.
“So where are those adopted children now?”
“They’ve been sent to mystical medical institutions under the Radiance Church for treatment. During their time in Luer’s care, they suffered significant damage from exposure to cognitive poison and spiritual trauma. After long treatment, the milder cases have already been discharged.”
Bohweit continued reporting as Artcheli lifted a photo from the stack—one showing a cheerful blonde girl with a radiant smile.
“And what about this girl—Anna? She was also adopted, yet she ended up officially inheriting Viscount Field’s wealth and title as his adopted daughter. Was she not affected by the cognitive poison?”
Artcheli asked plainly. Bohweit responded immediately.
“We’ve been watching Anna as well. According to the local Serenity Bureau, she was the last child Luer adopted and had the shortest exposure to him. That may be why she suffered the least from the poison. She did spend a few days in the medical ward, but recovered and was released quickly.”
Bohweit answered seriously. Artcheli set the materials down and asked another question.
“It says here that the young Viscountess Anna was later attacked by other Beyonders—two Bonesmiths, to be specific. What’s the story there?”
“We investigated that as well. It actually had nothing to do with her. The incident involved the White Craftsmen’s Guild. Those two Bonesmiths were under the command of a high-ranking member of the Nether Coffin Order. They came to Igwynt looking for one of that member’s enemies. Because of a misunderstanding, Anna got caught in the crossfire… Due to the secrecy surrounding the White Craftsmen’s Guild, we couldn’t get full details, but from the captured Bonesmith’s testimony, it’s clear Anna was unintentionally involved and not a target.”
Bohweit explained further while Artcheli quietly reviewed the documents.
“In fact, the local Serenity Bureau has investigated the young Viscountess Field before, and we’ve conducted follow-ups. But nothing abnormal has been found. She’s quite popular locally and well-known, so we’ve avoided using any aggressive investigative measures. All things considered, there doesn’t seem to be any issue…”
Bohweit concluded his report. Artcheli paused, then slowly closed the file, her eyes flickering with an inscrutable light.
“…No issues, huh?”
…
Igwynt, Afternoon.
Under the shining sun and clear skies, the citizens of Igwynt bustled through their day as always, walking the streets and alleyways in their daily routines.
Located in the northern outskirts of the city, the Igwynt Museum stood near the city’s edge. It housed cultural and artistic treasures from both Igwynt and the wider Igwynt County. Built years ago with funding from the Field family, it had long served as a prominent local institution.
Bathed in daylight, the grand building—flanked by towering pillars and flying the flag of Pritt—stood proudly beside a wide road. Inside the spacious halls, cheerful laughter rang out. Today, the museum was welcoming a group of small guests.
Countless exhibits were displayed in glass cases; beautiful paintings hung along the walls. Among them, aside from a few casual visitors, were many children of varying ages.
Most were between eleven and fifteen years old. Some wore neat, elegant clothing, but many others were dressed in worn, simple garments. Guided by several teacher-like adults, the children toured the museum together.
This was the scene of an educational charity event hosted by the new Viscount Field, Anna Field. For the occasion, the young viscount had invited many disadvantaged or orphaned children from around the city—primarily from local relief schools and orphanages. She had organized the event to spark curiosity and provided free books to those in attendance.
Led by chaperones, the children excitedly explored every corner of the museum. The place where the most of them had gathered was in one corner—where a massive oil painting hung on a high wall. Dozens of children stood there, heads tilted up, curiously studying the artwork.
The painting depicted a battle scene. At the center was a valiant knight in full armor, helmet on, wielding a long spear and poised for combat. Behind him stood two boys—one collapsed on the ground, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, the other kneeling sorrowfully beside him.
In front of the knight was another figure—clad in black armor—who had been pierced through the chest by the spear. Blood gushed from the wound, and the black-armored knight appeared to be falling in agony. Upon his helmet was the emblem of eight interlocking spears.
“Teacher, teacher… what’s this painting about?”
“Yeah, teacher! That knight looks so cool—what’s this story?”
…
Beneath the oil painting, many children had gathered, staring at the scene depicted with curiosity, prompting their teacher—who had come prepared—to answer confidently.
“This is a painting donated by the Field family, titled The Rescue at Yarlin. It depicts the story of the first head of the Field family, Lord Yarlin Field.
“Legend has it that during the Wind King’s Rebellion, Yarlin was a knight under the rightful successor, King Baldric. During the war, he was a brave warrior who won numerous battles. His greatest merit was rescuing the prince of King Baldric.
“It is said that near the end of the Tempest King’s Rebellion, there was a faction known as the Blackthorn Knights, who served the wicked Dark Veneration King, Geoffrey. These knights wore black armor, were powerful and ruthless, and frequently launched sudden raids deep into Baldric’s territory—slaughtering civilians or killing nobles’ families to sow chaos in the king’s rear lines.
“Once, during one of these raids while King Baldric was away, a Blackthorn knight attacked the palace, killed the queen, and abducted the king’s two young sons. At this critical moment, it was Lord Yarlin who rose to the occasion. He pursued the knight relentlessly, defeated him, and rescued the princes. Unfortunately, one of the boys was mortally wounded during the battle. The surviving prince was none other than Edward the Builder, who later founded our kingdom’s capital—Tivian.
“After the rebellion ended, King Baldric wanted to reward Yarlin by granting him a powerful duchy. However, Yarlin believed that the other prince’s death was his own failure and insisted he was unworthy of such honors. Severely wounded in that same battle, he also felt unfit to govern as a duke.
“Thus, Yarlin firmly refused all of Baldric’s rewards and quietly returned home. But the king sent the ducal scepter and vast treasures ahead of him by fast courier, waiting for him at his estate. Deeply moved, Yarlin could not reject the gift again, so he broke the scepter—a symbol of dukedom—and kept only a small piece of it, returning most of the treasure and keeping only a small portion.
“Yarlin declared himself both a sinner and a broken man, undeserving of reward. But out of respect for the king’s generosity, he accepted a modest title and chose to serve as a viscount, defending a small patch of land for the sake of the kingdom. He deemed himself unqualified to accept anything more.
“This is the story of Yarlin, the origin of the Viscountcy of Field. With the development led by generations of Viscount Fields, our beloved hometown of Igwynt was eventually born.
“This painting shows the moment when Yarlin defeated the Blackthorn Knight and saved the prince. Because of his noble character, Yarlin came to be known as The Humble Knight.”
A female teacher stood before the grand oil painting, explaining the story to the gathered children. Some listened in fascination, fully immersed in the tale, while others whispered among themselves and fidgeted restlessly.
Elsewhere, on a platform on the second floor of the museum, several figures were gathered. Most were adults, surrounding a girl around twelve years old.
“Honored Viscountess Anna, this is already your second donation event this year. It’s rare to see a noble host such activities so frequently. Aside from charity, is there any deeper meaning behind this?”
A female journalist holding a notepad asked frankly. The girl with long golden hair, a brown beret, and a simple yet elegant dress responded with a smile.
“A deeper meaning… I suppose it’s to honor my father. Though I didn’t have much time with him, his compassion for others left a deep impression on me. I still grieve his untimely passing. In a way, hosting these events is my way of remembering him.
“My inheritance may have come about through unexpected circumstances, but since I now stand in the place my father once held, I naturally have to carry on his values.”
Speaking calmly and with poise, Anna answered with grace. Her measured words and dignified demeanor earned approving glances from the reporters around her.
“Then, why did you choose a book donation this time? And why hold it here at the museum?”
“I believe that fostering an interest in knowledge and art shouldn’t be a privilege reserved only for wealthy children. And this museum, in my opinion…”
…
Anna continued to answer the local reporters with elegance and composure. Meanwhile, in a discreet corner, a pair of eyes silently watched the scene unfold.
“That girl Anna… she’s becoming more mature and endearing by the day…” said Elena, standing nearby in civilian attire, quietly observing Anna from a distance.
Back when the Field family massacre had just occurred, the Serenity Bureau had dispatched personnel multiple times to protect Anna due to various reasons. Elena had participated in those efforts several times and had grown quite fond of the gentle and thoughtful girl.
“No kidding… Anna’s such a great kid. Good thing she was the one to inherit Viscount Field’s massive fortune, not some shady figure… Otherwise, our subsidies might’ve been cut,” Turner joked with a grin beside Elena. Thanks to the Bureau’s previous efforts to protect her, Anna had made donations to the Igwynt branch of the Serenity Bureau once she gained control of her inheritance—giving the secret officers better benefits.
“But come to think of it… with all these donations, will the inheritance be enough?”
“Don’t worry. The Field family’s estate is massive—no need to worry. Besides, rumor has it Anna’s actually a financial prodigy. With only a limited portion of the wealth she’s inherited so far, she’s managed to earn a significant amount through investments in just a single year…”
As Turner and Elena chatted quietly, others were also keeping watch over Anna.
“That Viscountess Anna is… quite popular, isn’t she?” remarked Artcheli from her spot near a railing, observing the distant scene. Beside her, her subordinate Bohweit replied.
“Yes. Due to her devotion to charity, both the former and current Viscounts Field are held in very high regard locally. However, much of the former viscount’s philanthropy was orchestrated behind the scenes by Luer, with ulterior motives. The current Viscountess has inherited that legacy and even expanded on it. Whether it’s genuine, or just a means of consolidating her reputation to secure her position… is unclear. After all, she isn’t the Field family’s legitimate heir. She was once just an orphan.”
As Bohweit mentioned the word “orphan,” Artcheli paused slightly. For a fleeting moment, an odd expression flickered across her brows—too brief for anyone to notice—before her face returned to normal. She then resumed watching the scene below, where countless children were visiting the museum.
“Your Excellency… should we act now?”
At that moment, Bohweit asked her softly. Artcheli scanned the surroundings once more and replied firmly.
“No… wait until tonight. I want to walk around a bit myself. Don’t follow me.”
With that, Artcheli turned and left. Bohweit, momentarily stunned, quietly acknowledged the command and remained where he stood.
Once away from her subordinates, Artcheli began strolling through the museum herself. Surrounded by children and adolescents, the stern expression that she always wore gradually softened. That small change was enough to transform her entire presence—her mature, commanding aura faded considerably.
“Hey, student—there’s no book in your hand. Didn’t you receive one?”
The voice came from beside Artcheli. She turned and saw a female teacher handing out donated books.
“Uh… I’m not…” Artcheli began, caught off guard. Before she could say more, the teacher had already handed her a book.
“Here, this one’s for you. You look like an upper-grader, right? The vocabulary and sentences in this are a bit advanced, but I think you’ll manage.”
“This…”
Still stunned, Artcheli held the book. Before she could respond, the teacher had already turned away to continue distributing books.
“See you! Make sure to study hard!”
Watching the teacher walk away, Artcheli stood frozen for a moment. When she snapped out of it, she looked down at the book in her hand.
"The Lady of the Lake: A Story Collection"
“This is… a fairy tale book?”
Staring at the illustrated fairy rising from a lake on the book’s cover, a complex expression flickered in Artcheli’s eyes.
…
Time passed swiftly—sunset gave way to moonrise, and before long, night descended.
In the quiet darkness of Igwynt, the city fell into a deep slumber. The once sparsely populated villa district became even more silent, including the place that now housed the current Viscount Field.
Because of the tragedy that had occurred, the old Field estate on the outskirts had been largely vacated. The new Viscount now resided in a grand and solemn villa there. At this late hour, most of the villa’s occupants were already sound asleep.
In the dead of night, multiple black shadows silently infiltrated the Field villa. Soon after, all on-duty guards fell into unconsciousness or deep sleep under the effect of strange powers. The entire villa became utterly silent.
Inside the spacious main hall of the estate, several figures had gathered. They were Court of Secrets agents from the Church, clad in black. They stood in formation on the floor, while on the sofa sat a small girl.
Golden hair loosely framed her shoulders. She wore a white nightgown and sat blankly, her eyes empty—this was Anna.
Before her, one of the agents held an ancient lantern emitting an eerie blue flame.
The ghostly light illuminated the enclosed space and reflected in Anna’s pupils. As she stared into the gently flickering blue flame, an expression of trance and obsession spread across her face.
“So the deep hypnosis worked… As expected of an item brought by Her Excellency—it’s really effective…”
Bohweit, holding the lantern, thought to himself as he began questioning Anna.
“What’s your name?”
“Anna Field…” she responded blankly, her tone hollow. Bohweit continued.
“What’s your real name?”
“Anna…”
“Where were you born?”
“I don’t know…”
“Where did you grow up?”
“South of Igwynt… at the Grace Orphanage…”
“Are you really just an orphan?”
“Yes. I’m an orphan. I never met my parents. I was raised by Sister Deidre…”
Bohweit maintained the hypnotic state and carefully asked a variety of questions, all of which Anna answered truthfully. Everything she said was recorded by another agent nearby.
“Her answers so far all match our previous investigations…”
Bohweit noted this internally. Then he began asking more critical questions.
“When Viscount Gary Field adopted you, was it unexpected from your perspective?”
“Yes…”
“What’s your opinion of Gary Field?”
“My father… a kind man… It’s a pity he was killed by bad people…”
“What about his steward, Luer?”
“A bad man in disguise… He harmed my father… He tried to hurt me and the other children… I’m glad he’s dead…”
“What else do you know about Luer? Any of his secrets?”
“Nothing… He was strange and evil… I don’t know why…”
Anna continued replying in a mechanical tone. Bohweit, hearing this, nodded slightly. Her responses continued to align with prior findings. Since she was adopted last, her exposure to cognitive poison was likely minimal—explaining her rapid recovery.
After confirming another key point, Bohweit handed the questioning off to another agent, who continued through the predetermined list. Anna answered each question consistently, with no discrepancies.
While the hypnosis session continued downstairs, a petite figure stood silently on the rooftop above.
Artcheli was on the roof, staring up at the night sky while also listening—far beyond the hearing range of ordinary people—to every word spoken in the hall below. She heard the entire interrogation process.
Everything seemed in order—nothing unusual arose. But just as the questioning neared its end, Artcheli began walking slowly across the roof. With a gentle leap, she landed on the balcony and entered the living room.
Startled by the sound on the balcony, the other agents—unfamiliar with Artcheli—immediately moved to raise their weapons. Seeing this, Bohweit shouted loudly.
“Stand down!”
He stopped his subordinates from mistakenly drawing weapons on their superior. Nervous and confused, Bohweit watched Artcheli enter from the balcony. He didn’t understand why she had suddenly revealed herself now.
Step by step, Artcheli approached Anna, gazing at the hypnotized girl with her cold eyes. After a long silence, she finally spoke.
“You… altered this child’s mind, didn’t you? Perhaps you tampered with her memories, so that we couldn’t extract anything through extraordinary means…”
Her words confused the others—but moments after she spoke, the dazed look in Anna’s eyes suddenly vanished, replaced by an expression of profound and chilling depth.
With that mysterious clarity, Anna opened her mouth.
“Such keen insight… No wonder they call you one of the Seven Living Saints. Secrets Cardinal, Saint Artcheli…”