For a moment, Klein's heart was both tense and uneasy. He stared at the girl who glanced back at him inquisitively. Gritting his teeth, he raised his hand and—
Flipped a coin.
No matter what, safety first!
Seeing the coin land with numbers face up—no problem—he braced himself and strode forward. At this point, he no longer bothered keeping up Sparrow's cold and aloof persona. Instead, he softened his expression, stopping three or four meters away from the girl, and said:
"Odd means change, even means no change?"1
The girl tilted her head, seemingly puzzled.
"Wu Song fights the tiger?"1
She blinked in confusion.
"Thirty-Six Stratagems?"1
"…"
"The East is Red?"1
"…"
Khh, not Chinese then?
Klein racked his brain, trying to recall what kind of countersign foreigners might use, when suddenly the girl spoke—her voice clear, elegant, in flawless Mandarin:
"Hello."
"!!!"
Just that single word pierced straight through Klein's defences. His heart flared with heat, and he blurted out in Mandarin as well, "You…you're the same as me, you also…"
"Nope~"
The girl shook her head with a bright smile. "I…"
She was about to continue when suddenly black flames erupted, engulfing her whole body. Her beautiful face twisted with pain as she desperately reached toward Klein:
"I…I am…"
The abrupt scene stunned Klein. He rushed forward, activating ability after ability to smother the fire—but nothing worked.
"…I…want to go home."
That was her final whisper.
Klein could only watch as she disintegrated into drifting ash. An endless wave of fury and dread swallowed him whole. He clawed at the ashes, frantic to hold onto something—but there was nothing to grasp.
"No! No! No!"
Snap!
He collapsed to his knees, powerless, eyes bloodshot as he stared at the ashes spiralling upward into the sky, fading into nothingness.
"No!!!"
Click.
At that very instant, a crisp click rang out, followed by a familiar tune in his ears:
"Every sha-la-la-la, every wo-o-wo-o still shines~"1
"???"
Klein looked around blankly toward the source.
And there—he saw the very same girl who had supposedly burned to ash. She was holding a Walkman in one hand and a camcorder in the other, filming.
"Cut!"
She beamed, pressing the stop button. "Perfect~"
"???"
Klein froze for a few stunned seconds, then leapt to his feet, staring at her in disbelief. "You…you didn't die?! That just now—you were tricking me?!"
Yet in truth, he wasn't angry at all. More than anything, it was relief—relief and joy.
"Nope~"
She tossed the camcorder lightly in her hand. "This will be your lifeline in the future."
"???"
"Don't understand? Doesn't make sense to you yet?"
The girl winked. "Exactly. Work hard—when you advance to Sequence 4, you'll naturally understand. Dear…"
With a mischievous smile, she raised two fingers and drew a line in the air. Her figure slowly faded away.
"…Mr. Fool."
———
But then—what's the point of holding one?
Look at my current two "members"—
One will be the headless Miss Exeggutor, the other is Roselle, to be corrupted by an Outer God. No matter how dazzling they seem now, their futures are nothing but tragedies, each worse than the last.
A contest of misery, is it?
Hiss—
Not impossible.
Edward might not reap any practical benefits from such a gathering, but…at the very least, he would get a fair amount of entertainment out of it.
At the courtyard gate, Dubois had already readied the carriage, waiting for Edward.
"Isn't the banquet at six? Do we really need to leave this early?"
"We're stopping first at No. 28, Emerald Street. The owner of that villa finally agreed to negotiate yesterday, but insisted on speaking with you in person. Also, we'll need to buy a good bottle of wine as a gift—it's our first formal visit."
"Alright."
With the coachman's low cry, the carriage clattered into motion.
The two men said nothing further. One closed his eyes in rest, the other gazed out the window at the passing streets.
———
Twenty minutes later.
The carriage stopped before a villa far grander than No. 7 Rose Street. Edward stepped down, looking over the building with satisfaction, then followed Dubois inside.
To his surprise, Edward didn't feel slighted in the least. The villa's butler remained courteous throughout, none of the arrogance he had heard so often attributed to old-line nobility.
Until he saw the villa's owner—its mistress.
A woman in her forties, attractive enough, though heavily painted with makeup, swept out with warmth. She embraced Dubois directly.
Ah. I see.
To become a Beyonder, you're willing to go this far, Dubois?
Once they finally released each other, Edward cleared his throat and stepped forward, "Ahem, Madam Pavlov, please to mee—"
"No, no, no!"
The lady corrected at once, very seriously, "Call me Madam Marcia, Mr. Sparrow."
Dubois quickly explained, "Pavlov…was Marcia's former husband. He passed away just two days ago. The villa was inherited by their child, but since the child is only eight years old, naturally…"
Got it.
"Mr. Sparrow."
Marcia sipped her wine, speaking casually, "Dubois tells me you rented that haunted house at No. 7 Rose Street?"
—Dubois, standing beside her, looked very much like her butler.
"Yes."
Edward sighed in feigned distress. "At the time, I had no other choice. I wanted so badly to establish myself quickly in Trier, yet I knew too little about the city. That's why I ended up rushing into such a lease."
"Hahahaha!"
Marcia laughed heartily. "I really thought people like you weren't afraid of death."
"Ahem—even if I am afraid, I have to pretend I'm not. In a strange place, at least that way others won't find it so easy to push me around."
"Oh? Then tell me now—aren't you afraid that I might push you around?"
Edward answered firmly, "I trust Dubois. Since he introduced me to you, then you must be someone trustworthy as well."
"Good. I like your honesty."
Marcia set down her glass and snapped her fingers. The true butler appeared, presenting a contract.
"One week's rent is three Felkin, payable every five years. If you agree, sign here."
Edward took the contract and signed without even looking. "No problem."
"You can move in a week from now."
Marcia waved casually, then turned back to Dubois. "Dubois, are you really not going to consider working for me? You used to worry that old man would cause you trouble. Now you have nothing to fear."
"Thank you, Marcia. But Mr. Sparrow helped me in my darkest hour. I must at least serve him for a year, help him establish himself in Trier—that's the only way I can repay his kindness."
Dubois smiled warmly. "If, by then, you're still willing to hire me, I will certainly come to your service."
"Very well. Then I'll wait another year."
Marcia squeezed his hand with reluctance. "If I didn't have business later, I'd insist you stay for dinner."
"There will be a chance."
Dubois bowed slightly. "Then we'll take our leave. I look forward to seeing you again."
With a subtle glance at Edward, he led the way out.
Back in the carriage, Edward teased him, "Dubois, you were being modest earlier. Even without Roselle, you clearly have your own ways of introducing me to Trier's nobility, don't you?"
Dubois wiped the sweat from his brow. "Marcia was once Trier's most famous socialite. She inherited quite a fortune from several late husbands, true, but in fact the nobility despise her."
"Associate too much with her, and the true aristocrats will only scorn you."
"So that's how it is. Hard work on your part."
Edward patted his shoulder, giving him a look of mock sympathy.
Dubois: "…"
——
Inside the villa at No. 28, Emerald Street.
Edward and Dubois had barely departed when a man in black knight's attire appeared within.
Marcia lifted her wineglass with a languid smile. "Well? Did you see anything?"
"Nothing."
The man shook his head.
"Do you need me to go clean up that place?"
"No. The last incident already drew unnecessary suspicion. Once they move in, I'll find a way to confirm things. If there's no problem, then let it be."
"Heh, Tarik, if you people keep holding back like this, how will you ever accomplish anything?"
Marcia licked the red wine clinging to her lips and laughed, "I…will never allow my Lord's plan to fail."
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.
This phrase is actually very well-known in China, particularly among students, especially those studying physics or math.
From the classic novel Water Margin (水浒传), Wu Song kills a tiger with his bare hands. Very famous in Chinese literature.
A common cultural reference about ancient Chinese strategies, especially stratagem #36: "Run away is the best strategy" (走为上计). Frequently referenced in webnovels.
A famous revolutionary song and phrase, known widely by Chinese born before the 2000s.
"Yesterday Once More" by The Carpenters (1973). Hugely popular in China during the 1980s and 1990s, it was frequently played on radio, cassettes, and covered in Chinese music shows.