Lord of Mysteries: Dictator of All Rules [SI/OC]

[IHaveNoNamingSense]

"Wode Johnson, you are accused of stealing a gilded horse harness worth approximately 15 soli from Mr. Wills Hendler on November 17th. How do you plead?"

"I am innocent, sir!"

Listening to the familiar exchange between the judge and the defendant, Burton Chester turned his gaze to the young man seated to his left in the same row.

He was a handsome young man with sharp features, wearing a white stiff-collared detachable shirt, a black open-sleeved robe, and a short white wig made of horsehair. He sat upright, looking at the judge presiding over the court. He was the defendant's defense lawyer, Lorien Ashford.

Burton Chester knew this young man well, or rather, there was no one in Backlund's legal profession who did not know him.

Lorien came from a family of lawyers. His father, Mason Ashford, was born into poverty but refused to accept his circumstances. He worked as a laborer in the East borough docks by day and studied at the free Church school run by the Church of Evernight by night.

Through diligence and hard work, he eventually gained admission to the law academy and became a barrister. Within a few years, he made a name for himself in Backlund's legal circles and, by the age of thirty-five, founded his own law firm. However, perhaps due to years of overwork, Mason passed away from illness two years ago, before he could reach sixty.

At the time, Lorien Ashford was still a student at Tingen Law College. He returned to Backlund to handle his father's funeral and took over the family law firm.

If that were all, Burton would not have paid much attention. A young man inheriting his family's law firm was nothing unusual in Backlund. Every year, there were countless heirs inheriting vast wealth, just as there were countless others who squandered their fortunes and ended up as vagrants or laborers in the East Borough. He had seen many such cases in his younger years as a solicitor, even drafting numerous sales contracts for them.

But Lorien Ashford was a little different. Within just six months of his father's death, he completed a five-year law degree, graduated from Tingen Law College and became a barrister.

And like his father, He made a name for himself, but only in a year, becoming a renowned barrister in Backlund.

Yet, for some reason, in the past half-month, Lorien had started taking on ordinary civil cases, even minor cases involving less than a pound, like this one.

He's still young, wasting his time on such trivial cases. If he is taking them for experience, he is only setting himself up to develop bad habits… Burton sighed inwardly.

Meanwhile, Lorien was looking at the judge, Harvey Brook. The judge was in his fifties, with a broad face marked by wrinkles. He wore a black silk robe and a short white wig, casually sipping from a wine glass.

Hehe, he is definitely a believer of Mr. Storm Pigeon, the embodiment of 'I'm the storm that is approaching, Lorien chuckled on the inside as he thought irreverently about a True God without batting an eye.

From the memories of his predecessor, Lorien knew that many judges devoted to the Lord of Storms had a habit of drinking during court sessions. But neither his predecessor nor he had ever witnessed it firsthand.

Perhaps it was because this was merely a minor civil case, with a disputed value of only 15 soli, that Judge Brook felt comfortable drinking.

His predecessor had only handled major civil and criminal cases, where no judge would dare drink before presiding, especially not something strong as claret.

However, looking at the judge's bench, cluttered with a quill stand, a silver candlestick, and a tilted balance scale, Lorien suspected that Judge Brook might not hesitate to drink even during major trials.

If I had OCD, I might've thrown a shoe at his face… Lorien joked in his mind, but his face was the epitome of professionalism.

Anyways, at his age, still only a salaried magistrate at the Cherwood Borough Magistrates' Court, it seemed unlikely he would ever preside over a major case.

After all, this was the capital of the Loen Kingdom, Backlund, the City of Cities. The House of Lords, the Court of Appeal, the High Court, and the Royal Court were all here. There was little chance for a mere magistrate to oversee a significant case, Lorien speculated as he finished looking over the evidence that the solicitor had gathered for the last time.

"Summon Wills Hendler."

Hearing the clerk call the plaintiff, Lorien knew the trial had begun. Judge Brook also set down his wine glass, adjusted his black robe, and turned his gaze to Wills Hendler.

Wills Hendler appeared to be in his fifties, wearing a white shirt and a red waistcoat that struggled to contain his bulging belly, with his expression being warm and affable.

Finally, someone who isn't giving the ugly bastard vibe. Lorien remained straight as his full attention turned towards the plaintiff.

"Mr. Johnson came to my home two years ago and became my coachman. However, last November, he requested leave to return to Lamud Town because his son had fallen ill." Hendler began his opening statement as he gestured with his right arm. "As a gentleman, of course, I agreed.

I paid Mr. Johnson his wages and then left for a holiday at Desi Bay, only returning in February this year. Upon my return, I discovered that one of my gilded horse harnesses was missing. My servant informed me that Mr. Johnson had taken it when he left!"

Hendler pointed at the defendant, Wode Johnson. "I understand that his son was ill, and he may have stolen my harness to sell it for his son's treatment. So, I immediately sent my servant to inquire. When my servant arrived at Mr. Johnson's house, he found my harness there!"

"So, I wrote to Mr. Johnson, requesting that he return my harness. But he refused, leaving me no choice but to sue him."

Hendler's statement caused murmurs among the jury. Judge Harvey Brook struck his gavel.

"Lorien Ashford!"

Finally. Lorien rose from the defense table, nodded at Judge Brook, then turned to Wills Hendler.

"Mr. Hendler, how did you first notice your harness was missing? Was it when you needed to use it?"

"No, I discovered it during an inventory check. After all, you must understand… I have been away from Backlund for over a month. There are always some dishonest servants who take things while their masters are away."

At the mention of "dishonest servants," Hendler cast a meaningful glance at Wode Johnson as he continued, "Every gentleman detests such behavior, which is why I always take inventory before and after my vacations."

"Well said! If the same thing happens in my house… I would sue him too!" A young man in the jury, dressed in a black tailcoat, called out.

I should sue you too for being stupid. Lorien retorted on his mind without moving his eyes from the plaintiff.

Thud, thud.

"Mr. Charles, do you wish to be removed from the court?" Judge Brook warned with a knock of his gavel.

The young man named Charles sat back down reluctantly.

Lorien's eyes turned to Wode Johnson, who was eager to defend himself, and gestured for him to stay silent.

"Oh?" Lorien broke his professional mask as he chuckled lightly. "Then, do you own two carriages?"

"No, just a two-wheeled carriage."

"That seems unbefitting of a gentleman of your standing. You should consider purchasing a four-wheeled coach." In Backlund, wealthy gentlemen typically owned both a two-wheeled carriage and a four-wheeled coach.

"I haven't reached that level yet, Lawyer Lorien." Hendler, unsure of Lorien's intentions, still responded politely. Though Lorien was currently his "opponent," he was a promising young barrister, one Hendler would not mind befriending, especially in his current predicament.

"But I heard that you bought a lot of land two years ago, and last year alone you had an income of nearly three thousand pounds…"

To put it into perspective, a top lawyer in Backlund usually earned around a thousand pounds a year.

Wills Hendler's lawyer, Burton Chester immediately sensed something was off. He stood up and declared, "Your Honor, I object! Attorney Lorien's questioning is irrelevant to the case at hand!"

Judge Brook nodded as he gestured Burton Chester to sit down. "Mr. Ashford, keep your statements relevant to the case."

Lorien placed a hand over his chest and gave Judge Brook a slight bow. "Apologies, Your Honor. I'll be mindful."

Ignoring the sudden ashen look on Hendler's face, Lorien turned to question Wode Johnson. "Mr. Johnson, I've heard that jobs like butlers, servants, and coachmen differ from dockworkers in that they don't receive weekly wages but are instead paid annual salaries. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir," Wode answered nervously, rubbing his hands on his loose breeches. "You see, for people like us, a single accident can ruin an entire family. Being a coachman means I get to stay with my employer, have food and lodging covered, and the pay is slightly better. But while we are on annual salaries, most employers still pay weekly, even if they delay it from time to time."

"Understandable! But did Mr. Hendler follow this practice when paying you?"

"N-no, no! He paid me only after a full year of work!" Johnson quickly shook his head.

"My god!"

"Dear goddess, how could he?!"

"No way!"

The jury gasped in shock. While the qualifications to serve on a jury were low, jurors were often from well-off families, the kind of people who joined juries out of boredom rather than financial need. But precisely because of that, they knew exactly what delaying a servant's wages meant for their lives.

All eyes in the courtroom turned to Wills Hendler. His face, which had been pale moments ago, turned bright red as he snapped, "I paid him twenty-seven pounds a year! Two pounds more than a regular coachman earns!"

"But my client never agreed to that arrangement, did he?" Lorien pressed.

Hendler flailed his arms. "He agreed after I promised additional compensation!"

Once again, all eyes shifted to Wode Johnson.

"Is that true, Mr. Johnson?"

"Yes. I wanted to save enough money to send my son to a grammar school, so he wouldn't have to live like us. My wife's salary, combined with my son's temporary jobs, barely kept us afloat. If I worked for a year, I'd get twenty-seven pounds, enough to send him to school. But then he fell seriously ill, and I had no choice but to quit and return to Lamud Town." Johnson choked up as he spoke, and a few emotional women in the jury shed crocodile tears of sympathy.

He's a good actor... Lorien didn't press Johnson further. Instead, he handed him a handkerchief before turning back to Hendler.

"Mr. Hendler, when did my client, Wode Johnson, start working for you as a coachman?"

Realizing he was in trouble, Hendler frowned. "As I said before, November of the year before last."

"Give me the exact date. It's important."

"November 7th. I remember clearly because the day before, my son told me his teacher had made him a prefect." Jonson replied while wiping his tears with the handkerchief.

Free schools, funded by the three major churches and various charities, provided night classes from 8 to 10 p.m., completely free of charge. They even supplied writing tools and paper. Their main purpose was basic literacy education.

Due to the shortage of volunteer teachers, these schools developed a unique teaching model: the instructor would arrive early to tutor the best-performing students on the lesson content, and these students would then teach the rest of the class under the instructor's supervision. This system was known as the "monitorial method."

There were also free institutions like technical training workshops, providing one of the few real opportunities for the poor to climb the social ladder. Unfortunately, there were too few of them to make a significant impact.

Lorien continued questioning Hendler. "And when did my client leave your service?"

"November 13th of last year. That was the day a friend from town came to tell me my son was gravely ill," Johnson interjected again before Hendler could speak. Tears streamed down his face once more.

Brother, what are you doing being a coachman? You should be in the theater… Lorien mused to himself as he saw Hendler unwillingly nodding in agreement. "So, my client, Wode Johnson, worked for Mr. Hendler for a full year and should have been paid twenty-seven gold pounds."

He paused before raising his voice. "And the other promised compensation!"

Lorien stepped closer to Hendler, locking eyes with him. "Tell me, Mr. Hendler, did that additional compensation include a set of gilded horse tack worth nearly a gold pound?"

Burton, the defense lawyer, had already shut his eyes. He knew he had lost the case the moment Lorien mentioned Hendler's land purchases. Even though he had managed to cut Lorien off at the time, the young lawyer was too skilled at stirring emotions. The jury was already swayed, and even his own client had behaved like a brainless baboon, despite all the warnings before the trial. It was too late now.

"I would never give my horse tack to anyone! That's my..."

"Mr. Hendler!" Lorien cut him off. "Then what was it? What could possibly count as payment and still satisfy your coachman?"

"Mr. Hendler, think carefully! What else could fit those conditions?" Lorien twirled his index finger near his temple in slow circles.

"There was… there was…"

"But I doubt there was anything else, was there? After all, what do you even have left that hasn't been sold off to pay your debts?"

Thanks to the Grain Act, land prices had skyrocketed in recent years. Hendler, having profited from his early land purchases, reinvested all his earnings last year to buy even more land taking on massive loans in the process. But just two weeks ago, rumors of the Grain Act being repealed began circulating. A week ago, the House of Commons formally introduced the repeal bill. With creditors banging on his door, Hendler had been forced to sell everything his land along with his valuables just to barely cover his debts.

With that, Lorien turned and walked back to his seat. He gave a slight bow to Judge Harvey Brook. "Your Honor, I have no further questions."

"Mr. Burton Chester, your turn."

At the clerk's announcement, Chester opened his eyes and rose to his feet. But there was nothing he could do. The jury and even the judge's stance were clear; he could hear it in the clerk's tone.

He cast one last glance at Lorien Ashford and saw the young man already tidying up his case notes.

Too young, he thought with a deep sigh.

…

"The ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please deliberate on your verdict."

Judge Harvey Brook leaned back in his chair and took another sip from his glass.

After a brief discussion, a young man in a black wool coat stood up, looked around, and declared loudly:

"Not guilty!"

…

Outside the Cherwood Borough Magistrates' Court, Wode Johnson, wearing a thick brown jacket and loose breeches, was full of gratitude. He wiped his right hand on his pants several times before finally extending it.

"Thank you, Mr. Ashford. I really don't know how to express my gratitude."

Lorien shook his hand and smiled. "It's what I should do. Besides, you already paid me, didn't you?"

"No, no, I know that for someone as esteemed as you, ten sulets is nowhere near enough. You only took my solicitor's case because of your kindness. I originally thought that money would only be enough for my solicitor to defend me in court. I never imagined it could get me a barrister, let alone a top barrister like you. Please accept my thanks."

In the Kingdom of Loen, there were two types of lawyers: solicitors and barristers. The former handled non-court matters such as gathering evidence, speaking with clients, drafting wills, overseeing asset distribution, and providing legal advice. They could also represent clients in lower magistrate's courts for simple cases.

Barristers, on the other hand, specialized in presenting cases in court and examining evidence. Loen's legal system required barristers to maintain objectivity, meaning they couldn't interact with clients directly. Instead, solicitors acted as intermediaries, collecting all necessary information. Each barrister was a true legal expert, with exceptional rhetorical skills and a sharp ability to argue.

Because of this division of labor, legal fees inevitably increased. In most cases, clients had to hire both a solicitor and a barrister. If the case involved royal interests or was particularly complex, a King's Counsel (KC) had to be retained, meaning the client would have to pay for three lawyers.

For minor cases like Wode Johnson's, where the dispute involved less than a gold pound, a junior solicitor was typically sufficient. However, since solicitors varied greatly in their litigation skills, court representation was often hit or miss.

If Johnson had lost, returning the gilded horse tack and paying damages would have been the least of his concerns. The judge's punishment could have ranged from branding or flogging to exile in the Southern Continent or some remote island. A few decades ago, he could have even been sentenced to hanging. Lorien still vividly remembered reading an old ruling about a thirteen-year-old boy named Andrew Browning, who was executed by hanging for stealing a spoon.

"Then I wouldn't refuse your gratitude. You're welcome. And a word of advice: I suggest you join a theatre, you would become a star in no time." Saying that, Lorien put back his top hat and started walking toward the coach, leaving Johnson speechless.

It's good to let out my inner troll sometimes. May the spirit of Little Lumian, Prankster King of Cordu, look after me. What was his liturgical response again? Hmm, I don't think it was revealed in the story.

…

Unit 31 Warrington Road, Hillston Borough, Ashford Law Firm.

Lorien had changed into a purple morning coat embroidered with gold trim. Although his barrister's robe was loose-fitting, its stiff false collar had made the past half-month unbearably uncomfortable.

Leaning against the sofa, he stretched his neck while watching a young man organize a collection of case law for him.

"Locke, tell me what you think of today's case with Mr. Johnson."

"Mr. Johnson is truly pitiful. He just wanted his son to attend grammar school, and yet—"

"Mr. Grant!" Lorien stopped stretching his neck and looked at the young man in front of him. "Which law school did you graduate from?"

The blond-haired young man, dressed in a double-breasted wool coat, froze for a moment before stammering, "Uh… Middle…"

Lorien cut him off again. "Tell me, what's the difference between a barrister and a solicitor?"

Although confused by Lorien's sudden change in demeanor, Locke Grant knew that as a trainee lawyer, he had to accept his mentor's harshness if he wanted to continue down this career path. More importantly, Lorien wasn't just his mentor, he was also his employer.

"A barrister primarily focuses on courtroom advocacy—"

"Exactly! Advocacy! Remember, our job is only to defend. Nothing else! It doesn't matter whether our clients are pitiful or wealthy, righteous or wicked!" Lorien wasn't about to let Locke finish his sentence.

Locke was completely taken aback. In his mind, Lorien was a compassionate and empathetic man, who frequently took on cases for people who couldn't afford legal fees. But now, Lorien was telling him that a client's suffering or morality didn't matter at all.

Seeing Locke's stunned expression, Lorien softened his tone. "This isn't about becoming an unscrupulous lawyer. It's about understanding the fundamental principle of being a great barrister."

"How is that possible?" Locke was utterly baffled. He had no idea what Lorien was trying to say.

"What do you think makes an outstanding barrister?"

"Knowing the law inside and out? Having exceptional rhetorical skills?" Locke forced his brain to work, but after what Lorien had just said, it felt like he'd been struck over the head, his mind was still foggy.

"Knowing the law makes you a legal scholar. Great rhetoric makes you a skilled orator. But those are only prerequisites."

"Prerequisites?"

"Yes, prerequisites! To be an outstanding barrister, you must have the ability to find loopholes - whether in the law, in your opponent's words, or most importantly, in their minds."

Lorien stood up and tapped his finger against his forehead.

Locke hesitated before placing a hand over his own heart. "Loopholes in the mind?"

"The division between barristers and solicitors exists because of Loen's legal tradition. While some legal scholars advocate merging the roles, I disagree. The moment a barrister becomes too close to a client, learning too much about their personal circumstances, they risk becoming emotionally involved. And that's when opponents will exploit their mental vulnerabilities. The difference between winning and losing can come down to a single moment."

Seeing that Locke still looked confused, Lorien frowned. "How did I win today's case?"

"You… uh… I'm sorry, sir." Locke felt like a curly haired baboon.

"I first made the jury sympathize with Johnson. Then, I used that pressure to force Hendler to admit his agreement with him. Finally, I brought up Hendler's massive debts after the repeal of the Grain Act, leaving him completely speechless."

"Hendler lost because I exploited a loophole in his mind."

Lorien patted Locke's shoulder. "Go get some rest. I'm taking a week off. Use this time to go through my past case files and attend a few sessions at the magistrate's or criminal court."

Spoiler: AN

I'm Back!! This is a new story. Hopefully, I can write this one. With the Director fanfic, I made a lot of mistakes that killed my motivation. First of all, The draft I made was all over the place, so much so that I became confused at what I was looking at, lol. Also, I should have started that one after Klein went to sleep so I could justify the MC being there, having a new pathway, a new Outer God, etc.

Hope you enjoyed it… Ta-ta.

 

[IHaveNoNamingSense]

Third floor of Ashford Law Firm, Lorien's office.

Lorien was lying on the long sofa with his one foot resting on the armrest, as scenes from the courtroom kept replaying in his mind.

Despite the confident front he put up against Locke Grant, Lorien knew he had barely scraped by today. If he hadn't already advanced to Sequence 9 Lawyer this case would have been lost.

His original plan was to provoke Wills Hendler into losing his composure just as he had explained to Locke.

Once someone loses control of their emotions, a skilled Lawyer can easily exploit the cracks. It was the trick he used to win every case over the past half-month.

Unfortunately, just as he was about to push Hendler over the edge with a few more words, Burton Chester interrupted him which forced him to shift his focus and question his own client, Wode Johnson.

Neither his past self nor his current self liked questioning their own clients. Some of them were complete curly haired baboons, one wrong word in court and Lorien would be put in a difficult position.

Loen Kingdom's legal system didn't help either. As a barrister, Lorien was required to maintain objectivity. He could only rely on solicitors to gather information and wasn't allowed direct contact with clients.

Even when meeting them, a solicitor needed to be present and the conversation was limited to a few minutes before the trial.

That wasn't nearly enough time for Lorien to "coach" his client. Instead, he relied on guiding the emotions of the opposing party, a strategy that had earned his predecessor much praise.

But today, he had no choice but to question his client. Thankfully, Johnson was crafty enough to play his part well.

Lorien could tell that Johnson's meek and oppressed demeanor in court was nothing more than an act.

The Lawyer potion not only granted him extraordinary eloquence and persuasion skills which allowed him to subtly influence others' thoughts and make them feel at ease, but also heightened his ability to perceive emotions.

While not as powerful as the Spectator pathway which could directly read minds, it was enough to sense emotional shifts and detect lies from facial expressions.

The jury was already a joke, a bunch of idle rich idiots with more money than brains. Coupled with Johnson's solid acting skills, he definitely found deceiving them easy. But he couldn't fool Lorien, not after he had taken the potion.

The real issue today was Burton Chester disrupting his emotional manipulation.

From what Lorien had observed, Chester seemed to be just an ordinary person. The reason he managed to interrupt at precisely the right moment was likely due to his extensive experience as a barrister.

Law is a profession where experience matters greatly, and Chester had been practicing for over twenty years, it wasn't unreasonable for him to pick up on subtle cues.

It wasn't like Lorien was overly paranoid.

This world is simply too insane. As a transmigrator, Lorien knew he had to learn, maybe less from Lumian, and more from Klein at how to avoid reckless actions at all costs.

Yes, transmigration, yet again. Or would it be considered time travel? He had thought about this before. What if he wasn't someone from outside the cosmos who had read the book, but just a person from the modern era? Having read plenty of transmigration novels, he somehow received knowledge of the future in the form of these novels so that he could comprehend it easily, without going mad. Still, he could think about this later, when he reached at least a Sequence 1.

At first, when he awakened in this world, he had hoped that perhaps this new life would offer a shot at something greater.

But after piecing together the memories of his predecessor and getting a clearer picture of this world, he immediately regretted everything.

He had landed in the world of Lord of Mysteries.

As one of the most renowned works by Cuttlefish, Lorien had, of course, read it. He had even fantasized about consuming potions and gaining supernatural abilities, as long as they weren't from the Demoness, Abyss, or any one of those terrifying pathways with Outer Deities. He understood that the stronger one became, the closer they teetered on the edge of madness.

But no matter how much he had speculated, he had never wanted to actually end up in this world.

In most transmigration stories, a transmigrator who knows the plot is incredibly lucky. It's like having access to the world's deepest secrets as if the world spread their legs for their exploitation.

Crude analogy, but that's what it felt like reading all those novels.

But in this world, knowledge is poison.

There are some things that make it easier to be 'infected' the more you know.

Lorien still shuddered at the memory of his initial days here. Just thinking about the countless conspiracies and hidden truths that had flashed through his mind could have gotten him killed or transformed into a monster.

However, after spending a few tense days without anything strange happening, he realized he must have some kind of protection shielding his inner thoughts. He suspected it was because of his connection to some Sefirot. He had tried meditating and using his spirituality to enter it, but even now, after half a month, he still hadn't figured out if that was true or not. So he simply stopped worrying about it.

In these past two weeks, though he hadn't made progress on that front, he had uncovered plenty about his predecessor's life.

Lorien Ashford, 23 years old, a graduate of Tingen Law College. His father, Mason Ashford, had died of a heart attack two years ago, leaving him a considerable inheritance.

The estate included over 7,000 pounds in savings, three properties in Backlund, one in Tingen, a vacation villa in Desi Bay, and Mason's life's work - Ashford Law Firm.

His predecessor had worked hard to graduate five years early with excellent grades which led him to quickly becoming a barrister, and winning numerous cases.

Not only had he stabilized the firm, which had been shaky after Mason's death, but he had also significantly raised its reputation.

If that were all there was to it, Lorien would have gladly taken over the inheritance, and maybe even quit practicing law and just managed the firm.

But his predecessor had left behind a pile of trouble which forced Lorien to continue working as a lawyer.

Because his predecessor wasn't just an ordinary person.

He had consumed the Lawyer potion.

That was why he had been able to graduate five years ahead of schedule.

Normally, law students had to study for seven years before graduating, followed by a year as a trainee solicitor.

His predecessor had skipped that requirement altogether, by leveraging his position as the owner of a law firm, pulling some strings through Mason's connections, and making a hefty donation to the Barristers Association.

None of that was the real problem, though.

The real problem was where the potion had come from.

This potion formula came from "Horror Viscount" Bird Mustang, who served as the second mate under Nast Solomon, the King of the Five Seas.

When Lorien learned that his predecessor had become Bird Mustang's informant in Backlund in exchange for a Sequence 9 potion, he was devastated.

His predecessor had obtained the potion because Mason, who was an informant for Mustang in Backlund, had already taken the Lawyer potion.

It was this that transformed him from a mere worker into a renowned attorney, which allowed him to establish a successful legal practice.

The day after Lorien's predecessor returned to Backlund from Tingen to handle Mason's funeral, Mustang sought him out and revealed Mason's true identity.

In order to keep Mason's painstakingly built law firm from falling apart, and possibly also due to the presence of Bird Mustang, his predecessor chose to become a Lawyer as well, officially taking on the role of Mustang's informant in Backlund.

Yet after teaching him some basics of the occult and how to pass on intelligence, Mustang left in a hurry, not even assigning him a specific task.

A year ago, Mustang finally gave him a mission: to investigate the ironclad warship that the Loen Kingdom was secretly building.

But after a year of finding nothing, Mustang never once urged him for results and acted as if he had forgotten the task altogether. Then, a month ago, his predecessor lost control, after which Lorien took over this body.

Even after piecing everything together, Lorien was left with many doubts. First, the loss of control, there had been no warning signs and no apparent reason for it. His predecessor hadn't been a rogue Beyonder; under Mustang's guidance, he had learned about the "Acting Method." Despite being preoccupied with managing the law firm, he had always adhered to its principles.

Losing control so suddenly made no sense.

Then there was Mustang himself. The so-called "Horror Viscount" didn't fit his reputation. Though serving as the second mate of Nast Solomon required him to uphold certain virtues, such as not harming prisoners, he was still a pirate, a notorious one with a bounty over ten thousand pounds!

Yet Mustang had been remarkably lenient toward his predecessor. He had provided no real assignments, instead taking great care in his education, even teaching him the secrets of the Acting Method.

Predecessor Lorien might not have been familiar with the Beyonder world before, but he knew how valuable that knowledge was. Even among the seven major churches, low-ranking Beyonders rarely learned of it, and those who did had to swear oaths to the Seven True Gods never to reveal it.

And yet Mustang had simply shared this secret with him. Moreover, as a Sequence 5 Mentor of Disorder with a bounty higher than even Qilangos, Mustang had spent an entire week in Backlund personally tutoring him in the mysticism. If his intention had been to make sure the ironclad warship mission succeeded, why had he not pushed for results at all?

Lorien could only guess that Mustang had either been a close friend of Mason's or that he had his own agenda. That was why he didn't believe Mustang was behind his predecessor's loss of control, neither theory gave him a reason to do such a thing.

Lastly, there was the biggest mystery of all despite knowing far too many secrets, Lorien had remained safe all this time. That was highly unusual. He suspected this was related to his predecessor's loss of control. There had to be a higher power in the level of a Sefirot shielding him, yet no matter how much he risked his life recalling details from the original story, nothing happened... Now, he could only speculate.

With a deep sigh, Lorien sat up from the couch. Right now, all I could do is wait for Klein to get bound to the Sefirah Castle. Today is April 26th of 1349, there are still two more months to go. No, I will need to wait a bit longer, at least until Klein became a "Seer" and had the ability to bring a third or even fourth member to the gray fog.

That gave him about two to three months, just enough time to digest the potion. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I could even advance to Sequence 8 Barbarian.

He still remembered the formula. Most Beyonder paths significantly improved memory, and the Lawyer pathway was no exception, it had to be, given that it was a Sequence 9 focused on talking rather than fighting.

The main ingredients for the Barbarian potion were a single Grass of Madness and Core horn crystal of a Land Rhinoceros. As for the supplementary ingredients, they include a Deep-Grained Walnut, a Fragrance Hornet Grass, 10 ml of the extract obtained from soaking poplar bark, and 100 ml of Liquor.

For Lorien, digesting the Lawyer potion wouldn't be difficult since his predecessor had already done most of the work. The way he had just scolded and taught his intern was part of the method his predecessor had devised to digest the potion: guiding interns while refining his own legal philosophy.

Over the past two weeks, he had been using this method to solidify his Lawyer behavioral principles. Now, he just needed a final opportunity to fully digest the potion.

To familiarize himself with his abilities while ensuring that no one's life depended on his experiments, he had only taken on minor cases so far. But today's trial had made him realize the true power of Beyonders. Now, he was ready to take on bigger cases.

However, gathering the main ingredients for the Barbarian potion wouldn't be easy. His predecessor had only known one Beyonder, Bird Mustang. The man assigned to contact him, Kane Rister, was just an ordinary person who ran a bar in the East Borough near the docks.

Lorien knew there were many Beyonder circles in Backlund, but they all required introductions, and not many were accessible to him.

One option is Mr A's circle, which Fors Wall will introduce Audrey Hall to. But that was tied to the lunatics in the Aurora Order, and I'm not even sure where Fors is. Finding her would likely mean tracking down Xio Derecha first. That wouldn't be hard since she has a reputation in the labor districts and among the gangs in East Borough.

Another option is the gathering near Iron Gate Street in the Backlund Bridge, close to Bravehearts Bar, where the detective Isengard Stanton operates. There is a woman there looking for the Barbarian formula which makes trading for the potion formula feasible. And she has ties to an Artisan, which means I can also buy some mystical items.

Besides finding a Beyonder circle, I also need to start physical training and learning combat skills. Neither I nor my predecessor had experience in that, but sooner or later, I would need it, especially if I'm going to take the Barbarian potion.

I also need to refresh my knowledge of mysticism. It never hurt to learn more. The mysticism books left behind by Mustang are still in the hidden chamber. Going through them again might even help me uncover the mystery surrounding myself. I'm convinced that the mysteries connected to me had something to do with the Black Emperor pathway.

Thinking about all this, Lorien realized the coming months would be anything but easy. With another groan, he flopped back onto the couch and lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

A steady rhythm of knocking echoed through the room. Lorien rose from the couch as his previous laziness vanished. He could already tell who it was just from the sound.

"Come in."

Click.

The door opened, and an elderly man stepped inside. He was of average height, with a receding hairline that was all too common among Loen men, though his remaining hair was neatly combed. He was dressed in a crisp black tailcoat.

His brows furrowed slightly as his gray-blue eyes locked onto Lorien, who was still in his morning robe. With a soft sigh, he said, "Lorien, I've told you countless times, do not wear morning robe in your office. If a guest were to walk in and see you like this, they'd think the Law firm lacks proper etiquette."

Lorien shrugged with a smile. "Wearing a morning robe during a meeting makes my guests feel closer to me. That helps build relationships, don't you think, Uncle Robert?"

Morning robes, a fashion heavily influenced by Intis, were a form of comfortable loungewear worn at home or, in some cases, as an informal yet intimate gesture during receptions or dinners.

However, Loen's conservative style meant that only a handful of young men adopted the trend. They had grown tired of the stiff, tight three-piece suits and preferred wearing morning robes when meeting guests at home or in their offices.

This trend had, of course, earned the ire of many old Loen gentlemen, especially someone like Edmund Robert, who had once been Lorien's and his father Mason Ashford's etiquette tutor.

At fifty-nine years old, Edmund Robert was the youngest son of a baron, which meant he had not inherited a title. After his father's passing, he received little inheritance and had a strained relationship with his titled older brother. To sustain himself, he leveraged his refined etiquette education and became a tutor for newly wealthy individuals entering high society.

His career took a turn when he met Mason. By then, Mason had already made a name for himself in Backlund but had chosen not to join any law firm. Instead, he used his wealth to establish his own.

However, having worked solo for most of his career, Mason had no clue how to run a law office. During one of his etiquette lessons, he discussed the issue with Edmund, who volunteered to help him build what would eventually become Ashford Law Firm.

At the firm's inception, Mason focused on building its reputation, while Edmund handled daily operations. Their combined efforts turned Ashford Law Firm into one of Backlund's most prestigious firms.

If not for their differing faiths, Edmund a follower of the Lord of Storms, Mason a devotee of the Evernignt Goddess, the two might have made each other godfathers to their children.

Even so, their relationship remained close. Lorien had learned etiquette from Edmund since childhood, and his relationship with Mason had never been particularly warm. Otherwise, he wouldn't have left for Tingen to study.

When Mason passed away, it was Edmund who helped stabilize the firm, ensuring Lorien could take over despite his relative inexperience. The firm's senior lawyers had no shortage of options; they could have easily moved elsewhere without losing status or income.

To push Lorien to succeed, Edmund took on the role of Mason's "strict father," while frequently speaking as if they were some long-standing aristocratic house.

Edmund shut the door, took a few steps forward, then gestured toward the window. "You must remember, Lorien. This is Loen, and you are a distinguished lawyer. The people you associate with are Loen's upper class. They won't see your attire as a sign of intimacy. They'll see it as a lack of respect. And that would tarnish the Ashford family and the Law firm's reputation."

Lorien pointed at a wooden door opposite the long sofa. "That's my dressing room and lounge. Any guest worth hosting would notify me before arriving. That gives me plenty of time to prepare for my 'esteemed' visitors."

"Lorien!" Edmund's face darkened, and he tapped his walnut cane against the floor. "Your father never twisted words like this outside of illegal court dealings after learning proper etiquette."

Lorien instinctively stepped back. Mason had owned an identical cane, and his memories of it were far from pleasant.

"My apologies, Uncle Robert."

He sighed. Ever since discovering Mason's true identity, Lorien had suspected that his father's etiquette training had been more about espionage than propriety. But, of course, he couldn't exactly tell Edmund that Mason had ulterior motives.

Edmund's expression softened slightly. He settled into a single-seater armchair, resting his cane against the wall. "Are you still taking on those small cases?"

He had never been fond of Lorien handling minor cases. It wasn't about the money, the firm wasn't lacking in wealth, but rather the lack of prestige. Edmund believed that firms' resources would be better spent on charity events that could boost their social standing.

"No. Those cases were small and had too little solid evidence. Too much hassle. I'm planning to take a break for a while." Lorien waved a hand dismissively. 'The cases were indeed very exhausting, I even had to joke in my mind to not feel burned out.'

"Hmm. That might be for the best," Edmund nodded. "Some of the senior lawyers at the firm are unhappy with your recent actions."

Lorien frowned. "Is it serious?"

'Well, When I took those cases on, I hadn't considered how it might affect the firm. I just wanted to test my abilities as a lawyer, while not caring about the fees. But now, it seems I have disrupted the "market rates."'

"Hmph! As long as I'm here, they won't be calling the shots." Edmund's tone carried confidence. After all, he co-founded the firm with Mason and had weathered enough storms to hold his ground.

"Uncle, I have an idea I'd like your opinion on."

Lorien walked to his desk and retrieved a sheet of paper from his notebook, and handed it to Edmund. This was his backup plan; if he found himself truly talentless as a lawyer, he intended to "retire" and focus solely on management. Time would help dilute the influence of his potion, as long as he didn't lose control.

Edmund retrieved a single-handle monocle from his pocket. The lens was made of finely polished crystal, while the silver frame and handle bore intricate engravings. A small emerald was embedded in the handle's ornate design. He had never liked traditional spectacles, as they left marks on his nose. But age had caught up with him, and his eyesight wasn't what it used to be.

"A law firm partner?" Edmund raised an eyebrow as he continued reading.

The concept of partnership existed across various industries in Loen. Whether it was a group of people starting a company, buying a ship to fish together, or even, in a way, the pirate kings, pirate generals, and their crews operating as partners.

The Ashford Law Firm, founded by Edmund and Mason, was also based on a partnership model, except that Edmund wasn't actually a lawyer. He merely managed day-to-day affairs.

What Lorien proposed, however, was a more structured partnership for lawyers, allocating a portion of the firm's shares to its top attorneys.

This would allow them to earn not only their fixed salaries and case commissions but also a cut from the firm's overall profits.

By the end of the year, this could mean an additional few dozen or even a hundred pounds for them. While the extra income was attractive, the real goal was to tie these lawyers more firmly to the firm.

"It's a solid idea," Edmund said, removing his monocle and rubbing his forehead. "But it's unnecessary right now."

"Unnecessary?" Lorien was surprised. He had assumed Edmund would approve, since this was the only thing he remembered about law firms from his past life. Weren't all those TV lawyers in soap operas constantly scheming for partnership status when they weren't chasing romance?

"If you'd suggested this when you first took over the firm, I would've agreed in a heartbeat. But now? There's no need." Edmund sighed. If only they had this plan back then.

Seeing Lorien's confused expression, Edmund was reminded of Mason. Though father and son had a strained relationship, they shared an undeniable talent for law and an equally relentless, almost obsessive, approach to business.

"When Mason passed, you took over the firm, but other law firms immediately started poaching our people. Many of our senior lawyers were considering leaving. To keep them, I not only raised their salaries but also promised that you wouldn't interfere with daily operations, just as it was under Mason."

Edmund tapped the document in his hand and continued, "Right now, our senior solicitors are earning four pounds a week, almost 400 pounds a year. Most of our barristers are making around 1,200 pounds annually. That's already the highest pay a law firm in Backlund can offer."

Well, I would've suggested it earlier if I had thought of it! Lorien sighed internally. He pressed on, "Isn't that a good thing? With such pay, we'll attract even more talented lawyers."

"That depends on your goals." Edmund placed the document down. "If you plan to stay a lawyer like your father, then sure, go ahead."

"My father?"

The previous Lorien had a terrible relationship with his father, especially when they argued constantly and never discussed the law firm. It was Edmund who often shared intriguing cases, which, despite the strained family ties, had influenced him to follow the legal path.

"Yes." Edmund let out a long breath and leaned back into the sofa, lost in memory.

"It was our firm's fifth year. Everything was running smoothly, and it just needed steady management. Mason had married by then, and your mother was expecting you. For your family's future, he planned to become a judge at the High Court..."

In Loen, all judges (except part-time magistrates) had to be appointed from among the graduates of the four major law academies. A district judge needed at least seven years of courtroom experience as a barrister. A High Court judge required ten years of experience or two years as a district judge. As for an appellate judge, one needed 15 years in the courtroom or two years as a High Court judge.

Mason Ashford had more than 15 years as a barrister and was one of the most renowned lawyers in Backlund. A nomination for the Appellate Court might have taken longer, but the High Court was within reach.

"He had already secured the nomination. But then your mother died in childbirth... Mason turned down the judgeship and buried himself in work, filling his life with endless cases to cope with his grief.... His health had never been great, and with the added emotional strain, he burned out quickly..."

Edmund's eyes grew misty, and his nose reddened. To him, Mason wasn't just a friend, he was the man who had saved him, pulling him away from the fate of being a mere etiquette tutor. Meanwhile, his elder brother, after inheriting the family barony had long since drunk himself into an early grave.

"I believe my father will be happy now. He and my mother must have found eternal peace in the Goddess's realm," Lorien said, though he felt detached. The previous Lorien had barely known his mother, and his relationship with his father was distant at best. Now, as someone who had taken over this body, he could only hope that the Evernignt Goddess would look after them.

Edmund pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes before turning to Lorien. "When was the last time you prayed at St. Samuel's Cathedral?"

"Uh… after last month's moon Mass, so… about a month ago?"

Lorien froze. Ever since I transmigrated, I have been too busy fearing for my life, and then too occupied experimenting with my abilities to bother with prayers. Besides, as a transmigrator, I wasn't about to step into St. Samuel's Cathedral.

And today, even at the magistrate's court, I was deliberately avoiding getting too close to the Church of the Lord of Storms. I wasn't about to risk Lord of Storms smiting me for the irreverent thoughts I couldn't always suppress.

"Hmm."

Edmund being a devout follower of the Lord of Storms didn't press the issue. Instead, he changed the subject. "Do you plan to remain a lawyer or become a judge someday?"

"Uh… I haven't really thought about it, Uncle."

Edmund nodded. "Fair enough. You've only been a lawyer for two years. But it's something to consider... it will shape the future of the firm."

Lorien lowered his head in silent contemplation, If there were no impending apocalypse and if my predecessor hadn't been dragged into the supernatural world, I would have probably just worked as a lawyer for over a decade, then secured a judgeship, and lived out a peaceful life. But with doomsday looming and the mysteries surrounding my own existence, that kind of future seems like a fool's dream.

"As for this partnership plan, let's put it on hold for now. Otherwise, the Ashford Law Firm will become a prime meat front of lions, just as Emperor Roselle once warned. That wouldn't be good for its future development. But if you plan to become a judge or if the firm undergoes any major changes, then this plan could come in handy."

Huang Tao, why the hell are you everywhere? No wonder Klein complains about you so much. You've hoarded all the tricks a transmigrator could use, what are the rest of us supposed to do now?

"Alright," Lorien could only agree. It seemed that this plan would have to wait until he fully stepped into the world of Beyonders and could no longer manage the firm. Not that I ever really managed it in the first place.

"That's all for today," Edmund said, picking up his walnut cane and heading toward the door.

"I'll see you out," Lorien quickly stood up.

"No need." At the door, Edmund turned back and said, "During your break, make sure to network with other law firms and get along with the senior lawyers at your own firm. You can't expect a sixty-year-old man like me to handle everything for you."

"Understood," Lorien replied. 'What else could I say?'

"And attend more balls, banquets, and salons. The Ashford family still needs you to carry on its legacy!"

Seeing Lorien's forced smile, Edmund tapped his cane on the ground in frustration. "I'm leaving! Get back inside!"

Lorien could only watch as Edmund departed. If he followed him any further, who knew what else the old man would start lecturing him about?

---

Lorien hired a light two-wheeled carriage nearby and returned to his residence on Grimm Garden Street in the West Borough. The place was a two-story garden villa with over ten rooms, a stable, and servants' quarters.

Perhaps because he had spent his early years renting and sleeping in cheap lodgings, Mason had developed a deep attachment to property, he only bought, never rented. Even when Lorien rebelled and went to study in Tingen, Mason bought a small villa worth about 1,500 pounds, despite the fact that Lorien would only be studying there for seven years at most.

After Lorien returned from Tingen, that villa, along with two other Ashford family properties in Backlund, was rented out. After taxes, these three properties brought in about 800 pounds per year.

The garden villa Lorien currently lived in was worth nearly 7,000 pounds. However, since Mason's death, Lorien had been its sole occupant. He had dismissed the servants and butler, finished his studies in Tingen, and then returned to Backlund, where he buried himself in work. Most nights, he slept in the law firm's lounge, only hiring cleaners to maintain the villa periodically.

Lorien had no plans to hire servants again. He had too many secrets, being an Beyonder, he was subject to the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence, meaning that others on a similar path could be drawn to him at any time. This was Backlund's wealthy and noble district, where Arbiter pathway Beyonders were everywhere.

If he ended up like in The Return of Klein, hiring a bunch of problematic servants, he wouldn't have Klein's luck. Klein was a cat raised by the Evernight Goddess, with the safety net of Sefirah Castle. Lorien, on the other hand, could possibly die in an instant.

He suspected Mason had chosen this residence for intelligence-gathering. The West Borough housed many wealthy elites, and the noble-preferred Empress Borough was just one street over, crossing Williams Street would take you straight there. Given the high property prices, Mason's background didn't quite fit this area.

Yet Mason had lived here for nearly thirty years. That suggested his identity had been vetted by the Nighthawks of the West Borough. Lorien wasn't sure if it was Bird Mustang, the "Horror Viscount," who had helped cover for Mason, or if Mason had managed it himself.

In the original work, Rafter Pound, the descendent of the Tudor family, had managed to deceive Klein's spiritual vision and hypnosis. Even though Klein was only a Sequence 8 Clown at the time, he was still an expert in divination. If not for his final trick, having Sefirah Castle as a trump card, he would have been completely fooled.

Mason was a Lawyer. Skilled at finding loopholes in language and saying only what was technically true. Lawyers always tell the truth, but that doesn't mean they tell the truth. They weave facts into deception like no one else.

---

With a creak, Lorien opened the door to a storage room inside the villa.

Inside, there was a long-abandoned underground storage chamber. His predecessor had discovered it and repurposed it into a hidden chamber.

"Cough, cough… cough!"

Lorien choked on the dust. The chamber had been left untouched for nearly a year. With no ventilation, the air inside was thick and stale.

After waiting a few minutes, he stepped inside and lit a gas lamp. The warm yellow glow stretched down the long underground staircase, illuminating the dim chamber.

The space wasn't very large. An oak bookshelf stood against one wall, next to a dark red desk covered in disorganized books. Everything, the desk, the books, even the glass panels on the bookshelf, was coated in dust.

"Looks like I won't be able to study tonight."

Lorien sighed, though inside, he felt a rush of relief. Studying was mentally exhausting, after all.

Wait a minute. Since when did I think like this?

He frowned. This isn't like me.

In my past life, I might have procrastinated on minor things for a few days, but never for long. And if something was important, I never delayed, especially when it concerned my own survival.

Even earlier today, when I was planning the next few months, I had felt the same way. I had anticipated difficult times ahead, yet instead of preparing, I had lain on the couch for hours. If not for Uncle Robert showing up, I might still be lounging in my office.

Was this the effect of the potion? But both I and my predecessor had already digested most of it. I am only one step away from advancing to Sequence 8.

Or was it a side effect of transmigration? Yet I haven't noticed anything unusual before. Unfortunately, as a Lawyer, I don't have a strong enough spiritual vision that could see the Ether Body, I could only read emotions through body language and expressions.

Could this be related to what caused predecessor to lose control? Or the reason I transmigrated in the first place?

"You haven't been here in a while."

A man's voice suddenly echoed through the chamber!

Lorien turned sharply, staring in horror at the entrance atop the stairs.

Who is there?

 

[IHaveNoNamingSense]

Chapter 3: Bird Mustang

Although the secret chamber was small, it was hidden deep underground, and the staircase leading to it was steep. Looking up from below, Lorien could only see the lower half of the visitor's legs.

Black leather boots. Dark trousers. The rest disappeared into the shadows.

"You don't even recognize my voice anymore?"

A deep, commanding voice, one that made Lorien feel an instinctual urge to submit.

Majesty.

Lorien's pupils contracted. He recognized that voice. It belonged to "Horror Viscount," Bird Mustang.

A Sequence 5 powerhouse. He was back in Backlund!

"Sir, you're back," Lorien forced himself to suppress the tremor in his voice.

Why now? I just put the task assigned by him out of my mind, and here he is. Is he here to push for progress? But I have no leads on it.

Wait! The original book described that ironclad warship! 101 meters long, 21 meters wide, four main cannons, a top speed of 16 knots…

But what if he asked where I got this information? Said I heard it from a judge at the Royal Court? No, even I could tell Johnson was lying earlier. A Sequence 5 Beyonder like him would definitely know if I was lying.

"What are you thinking? Am I that terrifying?" Bird Mustang's voice came again.

"Nothing, sir. You're here for the ironclad ship, aren't you?" Lorien cursed himself. 'Why the fuck did I say that? Am I really a curly-haired baboon? If I hadn't brought it up, maybe I could've dodged it, but now I'm screwed!'

Suddenly, the suffocating tension in the air eased. The stale air in the chamber seemed to flow once more.

Lorien glanced around. It wasn't just in his head, tiny whirlwinds appeared out of nowhere, kicking up dust. The gathered dust swirled together into a fist-sized mass and drifted lazily up the staircase.

Bird Mustang descended.

He looked nothing like the man described in the bounty posters. No ornate Intis-style shirt with intricate cuffs and collars. No dark red captain's coat draped over his shoulders. Instead, he dressed like any other gentleman in Backlund: a white shirt, a waistcoat, a black tailcoat, and a bowler hat. The only thing that set him apart was his bronzed skin, a mark of years spent at sea.

Due to the cramped chamber and the steep staircase, Lorien had to lower his head and even bend slightly to descend smoothly. He was nearly 1.8 meters tall. Bird Mustang was about the same height, yet with the bowler hat, he should have struggled with the low ceiling.

But he didn't. He walked straight down, his head held high, as if the space itself had stretched to accommodate him.

Distortion. A power of the "Baron of Corruption," Sequence 6 of the Lawyer Pathway. Mustang had distorted the space between the ceiling and the stairs.

Before Lorien could process this fully, Bird Mustang suddenly appeared right in front of him.

He had distorted the distance between them.

Bird Mustang didn't mention the ironclad ship. Instead, his sharp gaze swept over the chamber before he spoke.

"I thought like your father, you would choose to abandon the Beyonder path and sealed this place away. Why open it today?"

"My father knew about this chamber?"

Lorien ignored the question and latched onto the loophole in Mustang's words. Basic Lawyer tactics, always seize the initiative. But he was genuinely curious too. In his inherited memories, this chamber was supposed to be his secret alone.

Mustang barely reacted. He glanced at Lorien and answered, "Your father built this chamber. But he later chose to settle as a lawyer rather than continue down the path, so he sealed it away."

"Then why—"

Mustang cut him off with a firm pat on the shoulder. "Enough, kid! Don't try your Lawyer tricks on me! You're not nearly good enough!"

Lorien chuckled awkwardly. "Apologies, sir. It's a habit."

"That won't do. Remember the true essence of acting. You're only playing the role of a Lawyer, don't lose yourself in it. Your father made that mistake, and it stopped him from digesting his potion."

Mustang sighed, a rare hint of sadness in his expression.

"My father…" Lorien pressed, eager to steer the conversation away from the ironclad warship.

"Enough! Answer my question! Why did you open the chamber today?"

Lorien felt Mustang's presence suddenly loom larger. The light dimmed for a moment, and the air seemed to freeze.

A Sequence 5 ability "Majesty." The authority of a great royalty.

Lorien instinctively abandoned his probing. Still, his earlier suspicions had been confirmed. Mustang and his father had an unusual relationship.

"For power!"

The Viscount's presence forced him to answer, but he kept it vague. Becoming stronger was one of the reasons he had come here, after all.

"For what purpose?"

Mustang frowned. He had only spent a week openly interacting with Lorien, but he had observed him in secret for a long time.

He knew what kind of person Lorien was. Raised in comfort, yet unlike those ignorant noble brats who recklessly sought out the Beyonder world, Lorien had a lawyer's rationality. He always approached the Beyonder world with caution.

Back then, Lorien had chosen to drink the potion and step onto this path largely because of his coercion. Even when he taught Lorien about mysticism, Lorien had only focused on survival techniques like Acting Method, ignoring most other knowledge.

Lorien didn't hesitate. "I got tired of it."

It was the truth. He had only worked as a lawyer for half a month, but the endless stacks of case files and precedents were already driving him insane.

The Loen Kingdom's legal system wasn't based on codified laws but on case law. Judges ruled based on past cases, which meant lawyers had to sift through mountains of case files.

Some of these precedent collections were dozens of centimeters thick. Others were over a meter tall. High-profile lawyers spent their careers digging through them to find the lightest sentences for their clients, while judges relied on them to justify rulings and avoid public backlash.

Mustang nodded in understanding. Just a young man in his early twenties. No matter how rational he was, he wasn't his father. Lorien wasn't born into hardship like Mason was. Given his privileged upbringing, lasting two years in law was already the greatest tribute to Mason's efforts.

He had been a lawyer once too. He knew exactly what kind of people walked those halls.

Maybe this was for the best. Now, there was no need to keep secrets from Lorien about Mason.

Mustang raised his hand. A sapphire ring, crafted from the Characteristics of a "Wind-blessed," shimmered as he conjured a gust of wind.

The chamber door shut with a heavy thud.

But it wasn't just closed.

The concept of "closing the door" had been distorted, into "sealing the chamber," as a result cutting it off from the outside world.

"Lorien, what I'm about to tell you concerns your father. Don't interrupt me, and don't ask any questions, just listen until I'm finished!"

Mustang was feeling a bit helpless. The kid who used to be so cautious around him was now trying to play the same little tricks he had once used himself.

But he understood, after all, Lorien had established himself in Backlund's legal circles. He had seen a lot and had probably already sensed that there was something unusual about their relationship.

Lorien was startled. 'When he distorted the concept of "closing a door" into "sealing," I thought for a moment that he had sensed something wrong with my response.' He quickly nodded, signaling that he wouldn't interrupt.

Seeing Lorien finally nod, Bird Mustang breathed a sigh of relief. He was genuinely worried that this reckless guy would keep using his lawyer tricks.

It was fine in front of him, but if Lorien tried that in front of other Beyonders and got caught, things wouldn't end well for him. Lawyers weren't well-liked in the Beyonder world, their natural charm and ability to spot loopholes made them distrusted.

"I'm sure you've already figured it out. My relationship with your father isn't as simple as I told you before. Otherwise, you wouldn't be acting so bold."

Lorien forced a sheepish smile and made a zipping motion across his lips.

Bird Mustang shot him a glare and continued, "I've known Mason for nearly fifty years. When we were teenagers, we worked together hauling cargo at the docks in Backlund, earning about 15 soli a week. If we had kept at it, maybe by the time we were thirty, we would've married poor women like ourselves, had children who would grow up to be just like us, and then died in our forties, broken and miserable."

"Back then, I'd come back from the docks every day and just want to collapse on the straw mat we rented as a bed. But Mason was different. He went to a free school run by the Church. I carried extra loads during the day to cover for him, and when he had free time, he taught me to read. We lived like that for three or four years, but our lives never improved. Just when I thought we were trapped in this cycle forever, your father met my captain, Earl of White Maple."

Earl of White Maple was none other than Nast Solomon, the captain of the Black Emperor and the infamous King of the Five Seas. His noble title had been inherited from his father, which was granted by Emperor Roselle himself.

Lorien had assumed that Bird Mustang and Mason had first acquired the Lawyer potion, after which one chose piracy while the other chose the legal profession.

But he never expected that they had encountered the King of the Five Seas while they were still just ordinary people, and that it was actually his father who had met Nast first.

"At that time, the Earl secretly infiltrated Backlund. With his abilities and his stealth, no one should have noticed. But unexpectedly, the 'Sea King' of the Church of Storms, Jahn Kottman, discovered him. The high-ranking powerhouses of the three major churches and the Augustus royal family began hunting him down. Though his allies diverted attention away, the Earl was seriously wounded. Since the entire city had been sealed off with sealed artifacts, he had no choice but to hide. Following Emperor Roselle's idea that 'the darkest place is right under the lamp,' he took refuge near Saint Samuel Cathedral."

So even Nast had moments of desperation? Right, in the original story, Xio had mentioned that Nast had once nearly been captured in Backlund. This must be that incident.

But was Jahn Kottman even in Backlund at that time? Maybe failing to capture Nast was what made him request a transfer to the Rorsted Archipelago? And that's how the archbishop of Holy Wind Cathedral ended up being the Spellsinger of God, Ace Snake instead?

Still, Nast really lived up to his title as the King of the Five Seas! The major churches' archbishops in Backlund were all at least Saints. Add the Augustus royal family's powerhouses and some powerful artifacts, and they had at least five Saints hunting him down. And yet, he still escaped.

But who was Nast's friend? That wasn't mentioned in the original. Did Nast get them killed?Lorien lowered his head out of contemplation.

Mustang saw Lorien lowering his head and assumed he was just shocked by the revelation. Satisfied, he nodded. He needed Lorien to understand the true horrors of the Beyonder world and return to his previous level-headed self.

"At that time, the Earl changed his appearance and clothing. Thanks to Mason and me already having taken the 'Lawyer' potion, we managed to evade the searches by the three churches and the Augustus royal family. Once the Earl recovered, he gave us a choice: follow him back to the Black Emperor, or take some money and stay in Backlund."

Lorien lifted his head. "My father chose to stay in Backlund, didn't he?"

"Yes. He had no interest in becoming a pirate. He wanted a stable life. But I couldn't."

Mustang raised his hand and clenched his fist.

"I just couldn't! I was sick of that life, I'd rather be a pirate!"

Deep down, he knew that even if they had never met the King of the Five Seas, he wouldn't have lasted much longer in Backlund anyway. Nast had just given him a better excuse.

"And so, Mason and I parted ways." Mustang sighed deeply and sat down at the desk.

"When Mason became famous in Backlund's legal world and founded the Ashford Law Firm, I finally heard from him again. I wanted to go back and see him, but by then, I had just advanced to Sequence 7 Briber. My mind wasn't stable, and I had a bounty on my head. Going back was impossible."

"When I finally returned, Mason was already married, and your mother was getting ready to give birth to you. Everything seemed normal, except for your father. He never learned about acting, and after working as a lawyer for so long, the potion's influence had affected his mind. He just thought he was under too much work stress. But over the years, especially with you about to be born, his mental state finally stabilized."

"That time, I had gained some insight into digesting potions. After telling your father, I left Backlund. But I never expected that after your mother gave birth to you, she would pass away, pushing Mason to the brink of a mental collapse."

"By the time I found out, it was already too late. Even though I consulted Earl on the method of digesting potions and learned about the acting method, there was no way to save Mason's unstable mind."

Sigh. Lorien sighed inwardly. Until his death, his predecessor had believed Mason cared more about his work and didn't truly care about him. But the reality was that Mason's mind had never been stable to begin with. And now that I know the truth, does it even matter anymore? Both of them are gone.

"Two years ago, your father had Kane send me a message, hoping to meet me."

"Was it because he knew he was dying?"

Bird Mustang didn't answer Lorien's question. His voice was a little heavy as he continued, "After receiving Kane's message, my spirituality told me I had to return to Backlund as soon as possible, otherwise, I would regret it for the rest of my life."

Everyone has spirituality and can resonate with the spirit world, sensing information about themselves from higher levels. Ordinary people just aren't aware of it. When using divination tools, this information is revealed through them. Even without divination, as a Sequence 5 Mustang had a strong grasp of his own spirituality.

"When I secretly returned to Backlund, Mason was already at his limit. He had wrecked his body in his youth, and after becoming a Beyonder, his unstable mind further burdened his health. Combined with his relentless work, Mason was like a candle burning itself out, ready to be snuffed out at any moment.

I originally planned to have Mason take the Barbarian potion to strengthen his body. As for the potion's side effects, I figured we could deal with them later. But Mason refused, so I could only give him some of the healing potions I brought. Even then, it only bought him a little more time."

Mustang sat on the chair as if in prayer, his hands clasped together against his bowed forehead.

Lorien just stood there silently. That was all he could do.

After a long while, Bird Mustang straightened up and exhaled deeply. He looked at Lorien and asked,

"Did you know your father never wanted you to become a Beyonder?"

How could that be? Wasn't Mason the one who had Mustang come back so that my predecessor could become a Beyonder?

No, Mason should have known the "Lawyer" potion formula. If he didn't want me interacting with Mustang or the Beyonder world, he never would have called him back in the first place.

Seeing Lorien's shock, Mustang seemed a little amused but soon fell back into sorrow. "Your father didn't want you to become a Beyonder. He didn't want you stepping into this world at all. He even wanted me to cut off contact with you forever."

"Why?" Lorien asked, unable to comprehend Mason's reasoning.

"Are you asking why Mason didn't want you to become a Beyonder, or why I went against his wishes and made you one anyway?"

"Both."

"Mason said that even though your relationship was strained, he believed you could live well without becoming a Beyonder. With Edmund around, the firm wouldn't collapse, and with the wealth he left you, you'd never have to endure the hardships we faced."

Lorien found it both funny and frustrating. Was this trust, or was it something else?

"Mason told me that becoming a Beyonder changed his fate, but it also turned him into what he was. He didn't regret it, but he didn't want the same for you. He didn't want you to become a Beyonder and end up as a pitiful wretch, unable to even have a normal relationship with your own child."

Only now did Lorien truly understand that saying, "We are guardians, but also a bunch of miserable wretches that are constantly fighting against threats and madness." Mason wasn't a Nighthawk, but once you stepped into the Beyonder world, there was no way out. You either died, or you went mad.

What a mad and chaotic world.

"I originally planned to follow Mason's wishes, extract his Beyonder characteristic and leave Backlund forever. But I couldn't let go. Mason was my last friend in this world, and you were his only child. So, I stayed. I hid in this secret room."

"I planned to leave after you returned from Tingen and officially took over the firm. But before you came back, Edmund had a heart attack when he heard of your father's death. If I hadn't had some leftover medicine, he might have died before you even got back."

No wonder, in my memories Uncle Robert looked so unwell at Mason's funeral, as if he had been seriously weakened.

"I started doubting Mason's arrangements. After thinking it over for a whole night, I decided to make you a Beyonder. Power in your own hands is the only true right to choose."

"So that's why the night after I arrived, you broke in, put on your big bad pirate act, and forced me to become your informant in Backlund?"

Lorien found it amusing. His predecessor had been scared out of his wits when forced into this situation, but in the end, this was the truth behind it.

"'Put on an act'? I am a pirate! And an 18,000-pound bounty pirate at that!"

Lorien nearly forgot if Mustang hadn't been the second mate of the Black Emperor Ship, his strength alone would have qualified him as a pirate admiral. After all, Vice Admiral Hurricane Qilangos was only a Sequence 6 Wind-Blessed, and he had used "Creeping Hunger" to force his way into the pirate admiral ranks.

"You and your father didn't get along, and I was afraid you'd misunderstand Mason, so I hid everything from you, planning to explain it later.

Unlike Mason, I told you about the acting method as soon as you took the potion. You wouldn't have ended up like him."

After saying this, Mustang fell silent, seemingly lost in thoughts of Mason.

Lorien comforted him, "Father wouldn't blame you. If I hadn't become a Beyonder, I might not even be standing here today."

"Sigh… I stayed here for a week back then, but when I saw how much you resisted the knowledge I tried to teach you, I had no choice but to leave. I hoped you'd come around on your own. But when I returned a year later, this secret room had returned to how it was before, and the books I left you were covered in dust."

Mustang pointed to the books on the desk, now dust-free after being swept clean with his "Ring of Hurricanes."

"I resisted all of this back then because you forced it on me," Lorien said helplessly. He didn't know whether to blame Mustang for being too forceful or his predecessor for being so stubborn.

Mustang picked up a black-covered book from the table, the title written in Hermes: "Cogitation Methods."

"The knowledge in here is just basic mysticism. I had Kane buy it from the underground market in Backlund. It's only useful for those who haven't become Beyonders yet or those who have just stepped into Sequence 9."

But for me, it's enough. I've been a Sequence 9 for two years, yet I'm still a mysticism novice. Lorien couldn't help but mock himself internally.

"I have some more books at my place. I'll have someone bring them to you later. But don't expect anything too advanced. They'll still be useful to you, though. Just don't get too obsessed, knowledge is knowledge, but power is power."

Mustang tossed the book back onto the dark red desk.

"Why? Doesn't knowledge bring power?" Lorien knew that in this world, mystical knowledge was dangerous but also a source of strength, though not to the extreme of Knowledge is Power like the Hermit Pathway.

"You're not wrong, especially for those on the 'Mystery pryer' or 'Savant' pathways, who gain power through acquiring knowledge. They can craft charms, perform rituals, and strengthen themselves just by learning. But lawyers don't work that way."

"What makes Lawyers different?"

"First, our pathway has nothing to do with knowledge itself. Second, we aren't part of the Church, so we can't pray to the Seven True Gods and perform rituals to make charms."

"Doesn't that put us at a disadvantage?"

"Not just us. Plenty of pathways are like this. They have to buy charms crafted by Artisans."

Artisans were Sequence 6 of the Savant Pathway, also known as Mechanical Experts. They could create mechanical wonders and moderately powerful mystical items. In both the real and mystical world, they were master craftsmen. Their products had minimal side effects and worked better than most.

Mustang smirked and chuckled.

"For most low-Sequence Beyonders, close combat is the best option. It's not just about ability, it's also about money. Even a low-level charm costs at least a pound, and they're hard to come by. Plus, charms weaken over time, and most are single-use."

"But for you, money isn't an issue." His tone shifted as he pointed at Lorien. "Backlund has a lot of Beyonders, but compared to a population of over five million, you won't encounter them often. The chances of getting into a fight are low. Charms aren't really necessary for you."

You have no idea how chaotic Backlund is going to get in the future! Anyone could crush me like an ant! Lorien was frustrated but couldn't say it out loud. Thinking about it was one thing, saying it would get him killed.

Still, buying charms sounded useful. Even though Klein was called the God of Poverty, he never hesitated to throw charms in battle! Sure, Klein made his charms by praying to himself, but the materials were still single-use.

"I still want to buy some. Sir, do you know where I can get them?"

Bird Mustang frowned.

"I don't know much about Backlund's Beyonder circles, but Kane might know something. Don't get your hopes up, though.

No matter where you are, charms are rare. Even low-level ones are mostly sold by Church-affiliated Beyonders."

That makes sense. Other than Klein, hardly anyone in the original book used charms so casually. The only other person who freely used high-level charms was Admiral Amyrius Rieveldt of the Royal Navy at the Sonia Sea. And he was already a demigod on the Arbiter Pathway.

At high Sequences, Beyonders didn't need charms anymore, but high-level ones still required Sealed Artifacts or demigod-level materials to make.

"For now, don't think too much about these things. Focus on learning, especially close combat. When you advance to Sequence 8 it'll be easier to digest and play your role. But be careful about hiding your identity. You're a lawyer in Backlund, if you get exposed, the three major Churches will send Beyonders after you."

Lorien nodded quickly. Then he suddenly remembered that he'd been acting strangely lately cutting corners as well as feeling lazy. His thoughts had been slipping in a dangerous direction. He hesitated before asking,

"Sir, I think something is wrong with my acting. I keep wanting to take shortcuts and slack off. Is this a sign of losing control?"

He didn't dare mention his predecessor's loss of control. Instead, he exaggerated the severity of the situation.

The Horror Viscount suddenly stood up, causing his chair to wobble before settling.

"How long has this been happening? Anything else unusual?"

His voice carried an unusual urgency. If Lorien lost control, Mustang would have failed his old friend.

"Around a month. Nothing else has changed."

Mustang sighed in relief. If that was all, then it wasn't too bad. But Lorien was a Sequence 9, why was he experiencing this?

"This sounds more like something that happens after advancing to Sequence 6. That's when spiritual energy becomes hard to contain, and emotions become unstable. Have you eaten anything unusual lately?"

"No. Why Sequence 6? Isn't unstable spirituality normal right after advancing?"

Lorien thought back on his diet for the past month, nothing stood out. As for his past self? He had no idea what happened on the day he lost control.

"A Sequence 6, Baron of Corruption, can make people's minds darker and greedier. They start making reckless decisions. Combined with the Lawyer Pathway's knack for exploiting loopholes, it's easy to develop a shortcut mindset when mentally unstable.

But you're just Sequence 9. This shouldn't be happening. Maybe you've been a lawyer for too long, guiding people's emotions might have backfired, making you more susceptible to those same emotions."

Before becoming mate of the Black Emperor ship, Bird Mustang had spent three months as a lawyer in Intis under orders from Nast. He wasn't too familiar with Lorien's situation.

The Lawyer Pathway lacked flashy abilities, and though they always claimed they didn't care about that, insisting that true power belonged to oneself, it did limit them. Even Bird Mustang, a Sequence 5, didn't have a messenger.

—

"For safety's sake, you still need to rest for a while. Don't work as a lawyer, and don't handle anything related to the firm. You can use this time to revisit these subjects…" Mustang pointed to the scattered books on the desk. "Relearn them. And find a place to train in close combat and shooting."

"It might be tough at first. You can wait until you become a Barbarian before deepening your close combat training."

Lorien agreed, then asked, "Can you tell me about the abilities of a 'Barbarian'?"

The Lawyer Sequence wasn't detailed much in the original work. Most of the descriptions were about mid- to high-Sequence powerhouses, with little mention of the lower Sequences. Now, with Bird Mustang, a Sequence 5 standing right in front of him, he naturally had a deeper understanding of the Lawyer Pathway than Klein.

"As the name suggests, Barbarian grants you terrifying strength, enhances your physique, and gives you greater endurance and recovery abilities. Your mental resilience will also improve. Think of it as becoming a stronger, more savage Feysacian. You can consider this when playing your role…"

The Feysac Empire was a powerful nation in the northern part of the Northern Continent. They worshiped the God of Combat and claimed their people had the blood of giants. Over 700 years ago, the Loen Kingdom and the Feysac Empire fought the Twenty-Year War, which ended in Loen's defeat and the cession of Sonia Island. To this day, Sonia Island remains under Feysac control. Because Feysacians were generally tall, aggressive, and crude in their actions, the more reserved and conservative Loenese referred to them as Barbarians.

But aren't Feysacians mostly in the Warrior Sequence? Even if I wanted to study them for acting, where would I find Feysacians? This is Loen, even Backlund, no less! There isn't even a Feysacian embassy here!

The relationship between the Loen Kingdom and the Feysac Empire was far from friendly. The two nations frequently clashed. While they exercised restraint along their shared border, their colonial territories, particularly the Eastern Bayam coast of the Southern Continent, were riddled with conflicts. These struggles even cost the lives of a True God and an King of Angels.

Unless the Tudor-Trunsoest Underground Ruins beneath Unit 8 Williams Street appear later, drawing in Feysacians and Intisian Republic personnel due to Rafter Pound being possessed by the "Hotpot Spirit," it's better for Lorien to find an excuse to visit the Feysac Empire or go on a maritime adventure!

The only Feysacian Lorien could recall was Bishop Utravsky from the Harvest Church, but he'd already been "tamed" by the Earth Mother. Even if you cursed at him, he probably wouldn't respond. Besides, Bishop Utravsky was a Blessed of the Goddess. Until Lorien figured things out, he wouldn't dare to wander near him.

Mustang took out a golden pocket watch from his coat, its surface adorned with intricate engravings. With a soft "click," he flipped it open.

"It's already eight. I need to go."

"Huh? You're not staying longer?"

Mustang waved his hand. "I have no more time. I originally planned to just take a quick look. If you were fine, I'd leave immediately. But I found you inside the secret chamber, so I decided to meet you."

He paused before continuing, "As for the matter I asked you to investigate regarding the ironclad warship the Loen Kingdom is building, if you find any intel, great. If not, don't go out of your way to dig for it."

Hearing the "Horror Viscount" mention ironclad warship, Lorien tensed up for a moment before quickly relaxing and responding, "Understood."

"But there's one other thing you should keep an eye on, anything related to Emperor Roselle, especially his possessions. If you come across something unusual, contact Kane to inform me."

"No problem."

"Don't worry too much about it. This task was assigned a long time ago."

That must be about the Black Emperor card of blasphemy… Too bad I'll have to wait a while before the Roselle Memorial Exhibition at the Royal Museum. When the time comes, should I take it myself, or let Klein do it?

As Lorien was lost in thought, he suddenly heard a creaking sound. Looking up, he saw that the "Horror Viscount" had vanished, and the secret chamber's door had opened. The invisible force sealing the room had also disappeared.

Lorien climbed the steep stairs out of the chamber, only to find the place empty.

"He left fast…"

Looking up at the night sky, Lorien saw only a blood-red moon hanging high, accompanied by a few scattered stars. The thought of the moon's terrifying nature sent a shiver down his spine, prompting him to hurry back to his bedroom.

Judging by the moon's phase, it should be full in the next day or two. That means the Evernight Goddess's St. Samuel Cathedral will be holding the Moon Mass soon. I should ask around tomorrow, I'll have to attend anyway.

The Evernight Church didn't have many major holidays. The most important was Winter Gifts Day, followed by the Full Moon Grand Mass, also known as the Moon Mass. Then there were the regular Sunday services and prayers. However, different dioceses and cathedrals had their own unique festival days based on their patron saints or angels.

…

After changing into his night robe, Lorien lazily leaned against the headboard. His bed was custom-ordered from Intis, and including shipping, it had cost him a full 130 pounds.

The bed frame resembled a ship's hull, with asymmetrical decorative details. Four sturdy columns supported a heavy canopy, adorned with ruffles, trim, and tassels. Thick curtains draped from the canopy, reaching all the way to the floor. With its plush cushions and velvet blankets, the bed provided an experience fit for an emperor.

Lorien suspected the asymmetrical design details were remnants of Roselle's influence. After all, becoming the "Black Emperor" required a set of strict yet paradoxical rules, even architecture had to follow suit, so it was natural for furniture styles to be affected.

But this design is probably rare now. The Intis Republic certainly wouldn't want to revive anything associated with Roselle, preferring to erase all traces of the "Black Emperor." Yet, the impact of a transmigrator wasn't so easy to eliminate.

Still, I'm a Beyonder on the Lawyer Pathway. How am I supposed to advance in the future? Switch pathways? But both the Justiciar and Black Emperor relate to establishing order. I'm neither royalty nor nobility, what am I supposed to do? I can only hope the Sequence 2 advancement rituals for both pathways aren't too difficult!

What were the two Sequence 2 titles again? "Balancer" and "Duke of Entropy," right? Just hearing those names makes them sound ridiculously hard to achieve!

Gurgle, gurgle

A wave of hunger gnawed at his stomach.

"Fuck, I haven't eaten yet!"

 

[IHaveNoNamingSense]

Chapter 4: The City Family Servant Assistance Association

"Ah~ ha~"

Lorien got up from his luxurious bed, yawning several times. He had barely managed to fall asleep last night despite his stomach's protests. Even after finally dozing off, his sleep quality was terrible, and his body's internal clock woke him up at seven.

Stretching lazily, Lorien realized that he might have to skip breakfast again.

Normally, around this time, his intern lawyer would arrive in the firm's carriage to pick him up. Once they reached the firm, Locke would then go out and buy him breakfast.

But yesterday, Lorien had given Locke a week off and returned home in a hired carriage. That meant no one was coming to pick him up today.

This was a neighborhood full of wealthy families who all had their own carriages. Public carriages never passed through here, and the nearest carriage hire station was two streets away on Unit 29 Sivellaus Street.

By 7:30, Lorien began changing out of his nightwear. Dressed in a knee-length black trench coat and a matching soft felt hat, he prepared to walk to Sivellaus Street.

Looks like I have to discuss the firm's future with Uncle Robert. Sooner or later, he won't be able to manage time for the firm.

…

Choosing a black cane with silver inlays, Lorien stepped out of his residence at 45 Grimm Garden Street in the West Borough.

The weather was pleasant today, the rare sunlight cutting through the usual cold dampness. Backlund's weather was notoriously bad, and with the heavy pollution, sunny days were a rarity.

"Mr. Ashford?"

A slightly hoarse, surprised female voice reached Lorien's ears.

Turning, he saw a woman in a light blue dress and a veiled hat adorned with a purple ribbon. It was Mrs. Curtis, his neighbor from 46 Grimm Garden Street.

Lorien removed his hat and bowed slightly.

"Good morning, madam. You look as lovely as ever."

"Good morning, Mr. Ashford."

Mrs. Curtis returned the greeting, then asked curiously, "No one's picking you up for work today?"

Lorien opened his mouth but then smiled bitterly.

"That's right, madam."

"I recall the young man who usually picks you up is named Locke Grant? He seemed very polite. Did something happen?"

"I gave Mr. Grant a few days off but forgot to inform the firm's carriage driver."

Mrs. Curtis chuckled behind her hand.

"Lorien, that's your own fault."

"Yes, madam," Lorien admitted readily.

"Are you heading to the firm now? I have a spare carriage at home; you're welcome to use it."

Lorien removed his hat again in gratitude.

"Thank you for your generosity, Mrs. Curtis, but I don't need to go to the firm today."

"Oh? Our ever-busy Mr. Ashford isn't going to work? That's even rarer than today's sunshine!"

The Curtis family had been neighbors with the Ashford family for nearly a decade, and Mrs. Curtis knew Lorien well. Ever since he took over the firm, he had gone there every day without fail, except for New Year's. Sometimes, he even stayed overnight at the office. If not for their occasional encounters, she would have thought he had moved away.

Lorien shrugged.

"After working so much, I deserve a break once in a while."

"How long is this well-earned break of yours? Do you have time to attend the art salon I'm hosting?"

Mrs. Curtis, though Loenian, had grown up in Trier, the capital of Intis. That city was a haven for artists, musicians, and writers, deeply influencing her tastes.

Since moving to Backlund, she regularly hosted art salons at her home, attracting many wealthy ladies from the West Borough. During Backlund's social season, even noblewomen from the Empress Borough occasionally attended.

Lorien smiled and declined.

"Thank you for the invitation, but I have other matters to handle during this break."

After chatting for a little longer, Lorien politely took his leave. If he lingered any longer, Mrs. Curtis might hear his stomach growling.

Reaching Unit 29 Sivellaus Street, he hired a carriage and instructed the driver to take him to the nearest restaurant. It was time to properly reward his long-suffering stomach.

After Lorien had finished a serving of grilled bacon, two fried eggs, and a piece of toasted bread, he finally felt his stomach settle. One of the hardest things for him to adjust to after transmigrating had been the food, especially breakfast.

As he lifted the white-glazed porcelain coffee cup and took a sip, the bitterness of the Felmo coffee from the Paz Valley instantly dispelled his post-meal drowsiness. Although it was intensely bitter, it was also extremely refreshing, which explained why his predecessor had relied on it for long nights spent reviewing case files.

When he stepped out of the restaurant, he spotted the carriage that he had hired waiting across the street. The coachman, after noticing his emergence, immediately spurred his brown horse forward, bringing the carriage closer.

After skillfully bringing the horse to a stop, the coachman hopped down and asked, "Sir, where to now?"

"Take me to 9 Canylowell Street in the Cherwood Borough first," Lorien replied.

"Understood, sir."

Once Lorien had climbed inside, the coachman, who was a man named Fitch and dressed in a neatly tailored three-piece suit, flicked the reins with practiced ease, setting the carriage eastward.

As Lorien removed his felt hat and placed it on his lap, he thought about his first destination for the day. He was heading to 9 Canylowell Street, where the City Family Servant Assistance Association was located, since he needed to hire a butler to help manage his garden villa.

Last night, when he had been unable to sleep due to hunger, he had finally decided to hire a butler along with some servants. His predecessor, having been consumed by work, had practically lived at the firm. While not hiring servants might have raised some eyebrows, it had still been somewhat plausible.

When Lorien had first transmigrated, he had prioritized caution above all else, sticking to his predecessor's habits and avoiding unnecessary risks. The thought of hiring servants had not even crossed his mind. Later, paranoia had set in, making him wonder whether the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence applied to him in the same way that it had to Klein. If that were the case, then his home might eventually become a gathering place for traitors. It had seemed much safer to follow his predecessor's example, live at the firm, and eat all of his meals there.

But now, after careful consideration, he had decided that it was time for a change.

First, unlike his predecessor, he could not keep handling cases every day and living at the firm. At least for the foreseeable future, staying away from legal work was essential for his survival.

Since he was already planning to step back from the firm, there was no longer any excuse for him not to hire servants. He would have to do it sooner or later, so he saw no reason to delay. At the very least, he could start living a little more comfortably; he was done going to bed hungry.

Secondly, he had to think about his future path. Whether he chose Justiciar or Black Emperor, both pathways revolved around setting rules and enforcing order. High-sequence powerhouses in these paths were not just rulers; they were emperors, figures of immense authority. To play such a role properly, he needed to surround himself with the right people.

If he wanted to mingle with the nobility, then he would inevitably have to attend banquets, balls, and salons. And when he eventually had to host such events at his own home, he would require proper service, drinks, food, and staff. A competent team of servants was essential.

Most importantly, he needed a butler. The position itself had evolved from the role of a wine steward, and among nobles and the wealthy, the wine cellar was typically managed directly by the butler or a trusted assistant.

---

At 9 Canylowell Street, inside the City Family Servant Assistance Association, a blonde-haired woman in a ruffled dress, Delia, was chatting softly with her newly arrived colleague, Baylin.

When she spotted Lorien entering, she quickly ended the conversation and stood up, greeting him with a smile.

"Sir, may I have your name? How can I assist you?"

Beside her, Baylin, who was also dressed in a ruffled gown and had her hair neatly pulled back, quickly stood as well, lowering her head while listening to their exchange.

"Lorien. Lorien Ashford." His tone was warm as he addressed the two women. "No need to be nervous. I'm simply here to hire a butler. I trust you can help me with that, right?"

"We'll certainly introduce you to the most suitable butler, Mr. Ashford. Please wait in the reception area for a moment," Delia replied, choosing her words carefully. She knew better than to promise the best butler outright, as she understood that for a client like Lorien, suitability mattered more than anything else.

After nudging Baylin slightly as a signal for her to guide Lorien to the seating area, she watched as the startled young woman hurriedly said, "Mr. Ashford, please follow me."

After leading him to the reception area, she gestured toward a fabric-covered sofa.

Throughout the exchange, Lorien maintained a faint, amiable smile, making himself appear approachable without seeming overly familiar. This expression was the result of a month of practice, as even a lawyer's charm required constant refinement.

Once he was seated, Baylin asked with a smile, "Mr. Ashford, would you like some coffee or tea?"

Since he had just finished a bitter cup of Felmo coffee, Lorien did not hesitate before replying, "A cup of Queen's Tea, with a slice of lemon."

For a brief moment, Baylin hesitated. While the coffee and tea served at the association were of average quality, mid to lower tier at best, adding lemon was still manageable. However, Queen's Tea was entirely out of the question.

Realizing his mistake, Lorien adjusted his request. "Just any tea will do. I already had a cup of Felmo."

As Baylin heard this, she found herself pleasantly surprised. A considerate gentleman, she thought, impressed by his awareness.

She smiled before asking, "Mr. Ashford, how about some Marquis Black Tea?"

Since it was her own personal stash, which she had brought from home for her own enjoyment, she normally would not have offered it. Coming from a well-off family, she had taken this job merely as a way to pass the time.

Lorien immediately understood that it was her private reserve, so he expressed his gratitude before replying, "Your offer is too good to refuse."

After hearing his response, Baylin nodded before saying, "Please wait a moment."

With light steps, she returned to the counter, retrieved her silver-lined tin, and began expertly preparing the tea.

Just as she was finishing, Delia approached Lorien gracefully. Since she had overheard snippets of their conversation, she felt somewhat concerned that the newcomer might have unintentionally offended a client.

"Mr. Ashford, sorry for the wait. Baylin didn't trouble you, did she?" she asked, her gaze flickering briefly toward her colleague.

Lorien, after noticing Baylin biting her lip slightly at the reception counter, smiled before replying, "Not at all. Miss Baylin's service has been excellent."

As soon as she heard this, Baylin's smile returned.

"So, Mr. Ashford," Delia continued, returning her attention to him, "What kind of butler do you need, Mr. Ashford?"

Lorien had already thought it through last night and answered without hesitation.

"An experienced butler, preferably one who has served nobility before, and politically leans toward the Conservative Party."

For Lorien, the most important of these three requirements was political inclination. Only a butler who leaned conservative would be beneficial for his future plans.

The Kingdom of Loen had two major parties. One was the Conservative Party, supported mostly by hereditary nobles, each of whom was a member of the House of Lords, making them the most powerful aristocratic faction in the kingdom. The current Prime Minister, Lord Aguesid Negan, was a member of the Conservative Party, while his brother, the current Duke Negan, Pallas Negan, was one of its main supporters.

The other party was the New Party, whose members were mostly large industrialists, bankers, and top lawyers with significant influence in the House of Commons.

Of course, this division wasn't absolute. Some hereditary nobles leaned toward the New Party, such as Earl Hall, the father of Miss Audrey. Conversely, some powerful bankers and factory owners, eager for noble titles, sided with the Conservatives.

At present, the Conservatives held much more power than the New Party, especially with the introduction of the Grain Act. Most Conservatives were large landowners, and this law had significantly strengthened their position.

But in the long run, their power was being chipped away. The Grain Act was on the verge of being repealed, which would significantly shrink noble incomes and, in turn, reduce the financial backing of the Conservative Party.

The assassination of Duke Negan dealt an even heavier blow to the Conservatives. The new Duke Negan lacked the influence to unite the party. Many hereditary nobles, shaken by the assassination, chose to retreat into their estates, refusing to accept reality.

The repeal of the Grain Act was like causing muscle atrophy in a giant; painful but not immediately fatal. But the Duke's death was like breaking the Conservative Party's spine. Without its backbone, the ribs naturally scattered, and the party's core was left at the mercy of the New Party.

It could be said that even if Prime Minister Aguesid Negan had been assassinated instead, the damage wouldn't have been as severe. That was why the "Evening Hermit Gathering" had specifically targeted Duke Negan, placing bounties on him using two Blasphemy Cards.

Lorien's reasoning for siding with the Conservatives was simple: offering help in times of crisis was far more valuable than joining when things were already going well. Besides, when George III attempted and failed to ascend as the "Black Emperor," the power of the royal family would decline. Naturally, they would have to ally with the Conservatives to resist the New Party.

And all of this would unfold very soon. In just three years, if things went as Lorien planned, he would have a place in the Conservative Party, allowing him to play a role in restructuring the Kingdom of Loen.

As for whether he'd struggle to find a butler based on political alignment, he wasn't worried at all.

Since their inception, butlers had always been tied to politics. They served the powerful and naturally had to align with their employers' political views. Moreover, butlers were historically exclusive to noble households, meaning most already leaned Conservative.

"Butlers like that are quite rare. You know how noble families rarely replace their butlers unless they can no longer perform their duties. Even if they retire, they often take up other positions within noble households."

Delia paused before continuing,

"Additionally, wealthy merchants are in high demand for such butlers and are willing to pay premium salaries. Mr. Ashford, we do have the kind of candidate you're looking for, but the minimum annual salary is at least 100 pounds."

"That's not an issue, as long as they meet my requirements."

For Lorien, money wasn't quite just a number yet, but it was close enough. Unless he needed to spend large sums on Beyonder items or potion formulas, his liquid assets were enough to qualify him as a wealthy man.

Klein only had a few thousand pounds yet still managed to pose as a rich gentleman, convincing others of his generosity. Naturally, Lorien could do the same. Besides, he already knew plenty of potion formulas; at this stage, he was selling them, not buying.

"Alright, I'll prepare the necessary documents. In the meantime, Baylin can keep you company."

At that moment, Baylin finished brewing the marquis's black tea she had brought from home. She placed a white porcelain teacup with gold trim in front of Lorien, smiling faintly.

"It needs a moment to cool."

Lorien looked down at the marquis's black tea, where three or four lemon slices floated in the deep red liquid. The sight, combined with the elegant porcelain cup, made for a pleasant scene. He knew Baylin had deliberately added the lemon slices to balance out the bitterness of Felmo coffee. Smiling, he said,

"Just enough time for me to express my gratitude."

"No, no, this is what I should do. It was the association's lack of preparation that left you with only this to drink."

Baylin waved her hands apologetically, completely unaware that she had just thrown the association under the bus.

"Miss Baylin, are you new to this job?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I don't have much work experience."

Baylin looked both apologetic and a little aggrieved, thinking Lorien was dissatisfied with her service. After all, she had even shared her treasured black tea! As a gentleman, Lorien should at least appreciate that.

As a lawyer, Lorien was keenly aware of her shifting emotions. With a chuckle, he said,

"No need to apologize. I doubt any amount of work experience could compare to this cup of marquis's black tea with lemon slices."

He pointed at the white porcelain teacup, still steaming. "I haven't tasted it yet, but I'm sure it will satisfy me."

"Thank you for your compliment."

The subtle praise in Mr. Ashford's words instantly lifted Baylin's mood, bringing a smile back to her face.

Lorien noticed that she still hadn't realized she had inadvertently sold out the association. He sighed inwardly and reminded himself that this wasn't a courtroom; he had to be more tactful.

The Kingdom of Loen was conservative in all things, at least on the surface. Mastering the art of subtlety in conversation was essential. Speaking too bluntly would only make interactions awkward for both parties.

So, he changed the topic and started discussing the rare sunshine that had appeared today.

Weather had been a popular topic in Backlund for over a century. As pollution worsened, conversations about the weather had become increasingly tied to criticism of Aguesid Negan's cabinet for its utter failure to address air pollution. These days, any talk about the weather almost inevitably led to denouncing the government.

"Mr. Ashford, are you also a follower of the Evernight Goddess?"

Baylin's eyes lit up. She had assumed Lorien was a follower of the Lord of Storms. After all, he was a successful young man; a highly aggressive barrister, no less; so it would have been completely normal for him to adhere to the male-dominated Church of the Lord of Storms.

"I am a devout follower of the Goddess."

Lorien remained calm as he skillfully tapped his chest four times in a clockwise motion, tracing the crimson moon.

In this world, belief in the true gods was the norm. His predecessor and Mason Ashford had both followed the Evernight Goddess. To maintain his cover and, more importantly, to ensure his own safety, Lorien naturally had to wave the Evernight Goddess's banner. There was no downside to siding with the Goddess.

Of course, bringing up his faith was intentional. He had no interest in awkwardly continuing his conversation with Miss Baylin. From their brief exchange, he had already figured out that her family was quite well-off.

Baylin's father was a small-time liquor merchant. Every year, he transported wine from Intis to Loen for resale. Though the work was exhausting, the profits were considerable; after all, the liquor trade was always a lucrative business.

From what Lorien knew, last year, Loen's alcohol import tax accounted for 57% of total tariffs. This was largely due to the Grain Act, which had driven up the cost of domestic brewing, forcing the country to rely heavily on imported spirits.

Given Baylin's comfortable background and young age, yet still choosing to work, Lorien was certain she was a follower of the Evernight Goddess.

Among the seven major churches, Church of the Lord of Storm and the Church of the God of Combat were the most male-centric, with the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun not far behind. The Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom was a different beast altogether, practically an intelligence-based hierarchy.

The Church of the Evernight Goddess, however, had always encouraged its female followers to enter the workforce. Many noblewomen had taken up professions as literary critics, musicians, pianists, and painters because of this doctrine.

This trend had also influenced many middle-class families, though due to financial constraints, their daughters often took on jobs with less "artistic value."

The Church of the Earth Mother, like the Church of the Evernight Goddess, advocated for gender equality. However, they placed a greater emphasis on reproduction and childbirth, seeing them as sacred duties.

As for the Church of Steam and Machinery, it remained neutral. In fact, due to the growing need for industrial labor, it often worked alongside the Church of the Evernight Goddess to promote female employment.

Baylin blinked, her face filled with anticipation.

"Then, will you be attending tonight's Moon Mass, Mr. Ashford?"

What's she implying? Does she want to go with me? Is she trying to bait a rich man here?

But I just claimed to be a devout follower of the Goddess. If I don't go, it'll look bad! How else am I supposed to curry favor with the Goddess?

Lorien regretted bringing up the topic. Keeping his expression unchanged, he replied, "Of course. Would I have the honor of accompanying the lovely Miss Baylin?"

"Ah?"

Baylin suddenly realized her wording had caused a misunderstanding. She quickly waved her hands.

"No, that's not what I meant! I was originally planning to go with Delia today."

"Go where?"

At that moment, Delia returned, holding a list of butlers that met Lorien's criteria.

"To the Moon Mass tonight," Baylin answered.

She stood up and walked over to Delia.

"Mr. Ashford will also be attending the Moon Mass."

A flicker of surprise crossed Delia's eyes. She turned to look at Lorien, who was sitting on the fabric sofa.

"Mr. Ashford, are you also a follower of the Goddess?"

"I am."

Lorien stood up and casually tapped his chest four times in a clockwise fashion.

"Please, have a seat."

Seeing Lorien rise, Delia was convinced of his devotion to the Evernight Goddess. He was nothing like those rough brutes who worshipped the Lord of Storms. She quickly gestured for him to sit back down.

Once Lorien was seated, Delia and Baylin took their places on the long fabric sofa opposite him.

"Baylin's whole family follows the Goddess, but her parents have an important banquet to attend tonight."

Delia paused for a moment.

"So, she pulled me along to accompany her to St. Samuel's Cathedral for the full moon mass. The service ends quite late, after all."

The full moon mass wouldn't begin until the moon was visible. But today was April 12, and the sun wouldn't set until 7 p.m., meaning the mass wouldn't start until after that.

Realizing that he had misunderstood Baylin earlier, Lorien felt a bit embarrassed. Not knowing what to say, he simply nodded.

"After screening the candidates, I've found two suitable butlers. I'll briefly introduce them."

Noticing that Lorien had no interest in further small talk, Delia glanced at Baylin in confusion before proceeding with the introductions.

"The first candidate is Mr. August, 52 years old. He previously served Viscount Barton. After the viscount passed away, his title was not inherited due to the lack of an heir, so Mr. August came to our association."

Damn, that's unlucky! Dying without an heir? Didn't he have any relatives? Though, in Loen, illegitimate children had no inheritance rights.

Seeing the doubt in Lorien's eyes, Delia continued.

"This Viscount Barton was granted nobility for his military achievements in the Southern Continent. However, he sustained injuries in battle and had no children. His hot temper also strained his relationships with other nobles. It was only after Mr. August became his butler that he slowly started mending ties with the aristocracy."

Ah, so he was given the title as compensation. After all, what future did he have otherwise?

But this Mr. August seems capable. Restoring Viscount Barton's social connections is no small feat. Of course, it wasn't something he could have done alone; the viscount had to cooperate. That was the tricky part.

"Mr. August is a follower of the Evernight Goddess and politically leans toward the Conservative Party. His expected annual salary is 120 pounds."

Lorien nodded, signaling Delia to continue. He just needed to confirm whether August had been aware of the viscount's childless fate beforehand. That would reveal if he was shortsighted.

In Loen, serving as a noble's servant or butler wasn't seen as disgraceful. On the contrary, it was highly desirable among commoners. Not only would it grant them the protection of the aristocracy, but it might also bring future benefits to their descendants. After all, noble titles were hereditary, and having a family history of servitude to the gentry made it easier to secure similar positions for their children.

That meant August might be shortsighted. Lorien didn't want a butler who only focused on immediate gains while neglecting the bigger picture. Such a person might be useful in the short term but could potentially ruin his long-term plans.

He wasn't confident he could reach Half-Great Old One status within three years like Klein.

Lorien listened quietly, nodding occasionally in agreement without interrupting Delia's explanation.

Delia continued her introduction:

"Mr. Norman, 55 years old, formerly served the Pringle family as the Earl Pringle's butler. Due to a conflict with the Earl's eldest son Viscount Murray, he chose to leave on his own. He is a casual believer in the Lord of Storms, has no personality issues, and his political stance aligns with the Conservative Party. He asks for a salary of 110 pounds."

A conflict with his future master; probably a management dispute. It seemed that Viscount Murray no longer wanted Mr. Norman as his butler. This was common when noble titles were inherited, but it always ended with the butler "choosing" to leave. No matter how favored a butler was, their relationship could never surpass blood ties.

Though Delia referred to Murray as a viscount, he didn't actually hold the title yet. His father was both an earl and a viscount, but he had already passed the viscountcy down to his eldest son, Murray Pringle.

In the Kingdom of Loen, a person could hold multiple noble titles simultaneously. An earl, marquis, or duke might also be a baron or a viscount. Some dukes even held the title of earl at the same time, and they would often "gift" their lower-ranking titles to their eldest sons and heirs as a formality.

If the eldest son wasn't granted a title, it meant his position as heir was unstable, and he would be referred to as a "lord" just like his other brothers; though this only applied to dukes and marquises.

After all, the sons of dukes and marquises could still use their family connections to rise to high positions, like Prime Minister Aguesid.

Sometimes, even an earl's son could do the same. Take Admiral Amyrius Rieveldt, the highest-ranking naval commander of the Kingdom of Loen in the central Sonia Sea, and his younger brother, Governor Aston Rieveldt of Oravi. Their father was an earl, but the title was inherited by their eldest brother, Austin Rieveldt, a member of the House of Lords.

Finishing her explanation, Delia handed over the stack of documents.

"Mr. Ashford, which one do you want to choose?"

Lorien pondered for a few seconds before smiling and saying,

"Let's do this. Have them both come to my place tomorrow at 3 p.m. I'll meet with them, talk things over, and then make a final decision."

He knew that associations like this didn't provide accommodations; they were just pure intermediary agencies. Even if he chose someone now, he wouldn't be able to see his butler until the afternoon or the next day. More importantly, he needed to learn more about them personally and select the one that best suited his needs. Paper profiles were one thing, but a face-to-face meeting was always better.

"No problem," Delia said with a gentle smile. "Your address?"

Finally, Lorien could drink his marquess red tea with a slice of lemon. He lifted the white porcelain teacup with gold trim and took a sip, finally washing away the bitterness of Falmo.

"Grimm Garden Street, West Borough."

Delia took note of it, then stood up and said,

"You also need to pay a two-pound deposit."

Lorien pulled out his wallet from his trench coat pocket and took out two one-pound banknotes featuring the portrait of William Augustus VI.

Delia accepted the money and walked to the front desk to register the transaction.

Lorien took a few more sips of tea and exchanged a few words with Baylin, who was still sitting on the long sofa. After arranging to meet at Saint Samuel Cathedral that evening, he put on his hat and bid farewell.

Delia and Baylin escorted him to the door, watching as he got into his carriage.

 

[IHaveNoNamingSense]

Sitting in the carriage, Lorien took out his pocket watch, clicked it open, and saw that it was almost eleven o'clock. He was starting to feel hungry.

Breakfasts in the Loen Kingdom were not only simple but also hardly provided enough energy for a grown man to work a full morning. This had historical reasons; before Roselle kickstarted the Industrial Revolution, middle-class men didn't need to work all day, so breakfast wasn't really a thing.

Even now, many nobles had begun adopting the habit of eating breakfast, but the variety remained the same. Some old-fashioned nobles still clung to the belief that nobles didn't need breakfast; that was for the middle class. Only "wage slaves" needed it. To show their disdain, they would even refuse to sit down while eating.

To avoid waiting too long and getting too hungry, Lorien instructed his driver, Fitch, to head straight to Laborie Restaurant.

The head chef of Laborie was rumored to have come from the Earl of Hall's household. The restaurant catered to wealthy businessmen, top lawyers, and high-ranking government employees, offering them a taste of aristocratic cuisine they normally couldn't access. It specialized in Backlund's local dishes and was particularly famous for its desserts.

In the past, when his predecessor had been too busy to have lunch, he would send his apprentice lawyer or a law firm clerk to buy desserts from Laborie as an afternoon snack.

This was his first time actually visiting. Lorien just hoped that the chefs here had only learned aristocratic culinary skills and not the bad habits of noble dessert banquets.

His predecessor had once attended a viscount's birthday banquet with his father. Everything was fine; until the dessert banquet.

The most important part of a Loen dessert banquet wasn't the desserts themselves but the sugar sculptures. These sculptures were mainly for entertainment, and some were not even edible.

The viscount's birthday banquet featured an especially "impressive" sugar sculpture; his dessert chef had crafted a sugar piece depicting the viscount receiving birthday blessings from the guests.

Except… it wasn't even made of sugar. It was carved from plaster and wood, then colored with sugar syrup. Worse, sugar sculptures at dessert banquets were meant to be broken apart. This one? Completely unbreakable. And no one dared to try.

The sculpture alone was enough to leave the gentlemen and ladies present in stunned silence, but what followed was even worse. The viscount had his servants bring out two large covered platters and invited guests to guess what was inside. No one got it right.

When the first cover was lifted, a few frogs jumped out, sending the ladies into screaming fits. When the second cover was opened, small birds flew out.

The chaos of birds flapping and frogs leaping filled the entire hall with wails and shrieks. As a result, the viscount was heavily criticized in the House of Commons and was later demoted to baron by George III.

Lorien had no interest in paying for a bunch of sugar sculptures that he couldn't eat and that wouldn't last long.

...

Fitch drove the carriage at high speed. It wasn't quite lunchtime yet, so there weren't too many pedestrians on the street.

Plus, while the "City Family Servant Assistance Association" was in the Cherwood Borough, it was close to the Hillston Borough, where Laborie Restaurant was located. In less than twenty minutes, Lorien arrived.

Jumping out of the carriage and walking to the entrance, he handed his trench coat, hat, and cane to a waiter dressed in a red vest and white shirt, then asked,

"This time of day, there shouldn't be much of a wait, right?"

"Not at this hour," the red-vested waiter replied humbly, well aware of how popular his restaurant was. "Sir, just one today?"

Lorien nodded calmly and smiled.

"Yes."

Lorien followed the red-vested waiter into the Laborie Restaurant. It was only eleven o'clock, and the restaurant was nearly empty. The waiter led him to a window seat.

When Lorien first stepped out of the carriage, he was slightly disappointed. From the outside, Laborie Restaurant didn't live up to its reputation. A small porch, protruding bay windows, and the walls between the windows were all in the traditional Loen architectural style. Other than the restaurant's name written in ornate Anciant Feysac script above the entrance, it looked no different from any other high-end restaurant.

But once he stepped inside, he found a whole different world. The floor was covered in crimson carpets woven with golden vine patterns. Gigantic oil paintings and luxurious tapestries adorned the walls. Under the illumination of elegantly caged gas lamps, the entire restaurant exuded an air of decadence.

The oak dining tables were draped in white tablecloths. Sitting by the window, Lorien could see the growing crowd on the street; lunchtime had arrived.

The red-vested waiter handed him the menu and wine list, flipping through the pages as he introduced the offerings:

"Our specialties here are primarily local to Backlund, Roast Chicken, Pan-Fried Meat and Fish, Deep-fried Sailfish, and Braised lamb. The most popular desserts include Caramel Pudding, Cream Puffs, Lemon Cake, and Carrot Cake."

As Lorien listened to the introduction, he skimmed the menu, written in Loenese, which contained no accompanying pictures.

That made sense. Even the latest cameras couldn't capture color photographs, and black-and-white images would only ruin the appetite. Descriptions of the ingredients were far more effective.

"I'll have the Deep-fried Sailfish, Braised Lamb, Caramel Pudding for dessert, and a Gingerbread."

After noting down the order, the waiter asked,

"Understood. Would you like something to drink? Our champagne, Misty Champagne, and Aurmir Grape Wine all come from renowned wineries in Champagne Province…"

Lorien waved his hand dismissively.

"No need. I have things to take care of this afternoon."

He needed to visit Kane Rister's bar in the dock area and later head to Saint Samuel's Cathedral. Both required his full attention, so alcohol was out of the question.

"Understood. Please wait a moment."

The waiter remained perfectly professional, offering a polite smile before leaving.

…

The meal cost Lorien nearly 8 pounds, but it was well worth it. Nothing overly flashy, just a well-executed high-end dining experience. Despite its aristocratic branding, it was still just a restaurant; there was no true noble debauchery here. However, the solid gold-plated cutlery was shocking. He had only ever seen such extravagance in the homes of actual nobles.

Stepping out of the restaurant, Lorien signaled for Fitch to bring the carriage over. Lately, he hadn't been going to the office, nor did he want to disrupt its normal operations, so he simply hired Fitch as his personal driver for a few days at a rate of 2 pounds per day.

The pay was certainly higher than standard rates. In Backlund, a rented carriage typically cost around 3 soli per hour. If the rental was under an hour, it was rounded up; over an hour, every additional 15 minutes cost 9 pence. Bad weather or urgent requests drove prices even higher.

Of course, those were standard rates for informed customers. If someone didn't know better, the carriage drivers might charge as much as 5 soli per hour. Even at normal rates, it was nearly 1.5 times more expensive than in Tingen.

As for when he'd stop employing Fitch, that depended on when his future butler arrived.

Fitch was thrilled. A wealthy gentleman had hired him at 2 pounds per day for at least three days, with the possibility of an extension. This was easy money.

With a flick of the reins, Fitch skillfully brought the carriage to a stop in front of Lorien, then hopped down to open the door.

"Sir, where to next?"

"East Borough, near the Dock area."

After climbing inside, Lorien glanced at Fitch and asked,

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No, I was waiting for you, sir!"

Fitch quickly shook his head, worried that Lorien might think he had been slacking off and would stop employing him.

Lorien chuckled, pulled out his pocket watch, opened it, and showed it to Fitch.

"Look, it's already past noon. After you drop me off at Silver Mirror Street, go have lunch. You can take on other passengers if you like, but make sure you're back at Silver Mirror Street by five-thirty."

"No, sir! I'll eat and wait right there for you!" Fitch answered firmly.

"Suit yourself."

Lorien didn't insist. He didn't care whether Fitch was lying; he was just giving him an easy excuse to earn a little extra money.

The carriage wove through the bustling midday crowd. Outside the window, pedestrians seemed lively and in good spirits, enjoying their lunch breaks. Dressed in nearly identical suits, they walked in groups of twos and threes, their laughter and conversations filling the streets.

This was, after all, the Hillston Borough; Loen Kingdom's economic, commercial, and financial hub. It housed the Backlund Stock Exchange, the bill exchange, the futures market, the headquarters of the seven major banks, various trust funds, railway companies, and bulk commodity trading firms.

The employees here earned around 3 pounds per week, solidly middle class; the backbone of the kingdom. If Hillston ever fell into decline, Loen's economy would take a severe hit.

After watching the street scene for a while, Lorien shut the window, pulled the curtain closed, and leaned back to meditate. The journey from Hillston to the Silver Mirror Street required passing through Chewood Borough, crossing Backlund Bridge, and traveling through part of the East Borough.

…

"Sir, we're almost at Silver Mirror Street. Which number?"

Fitch's voice pulled Lorien out of his meditative state. He opened his eyes, drew back the curtain, and saw that they were nearing the destination.

"Here is fine. Stop the carriage."

Fitch pulled the reins, bringing the carriage to a halt.

"Sir, Silver Mirror Street area is quite long. Are you sure you don't need me to - "

"No need. I'll get off here."

"Understood."

Fitch hopped down and opened the carriage door.

Lorien stepped out, pulling his soft felt hat lower over his face. With his head slightly bowed, he said,

"Be here at five-thirty sharp."

"Understood."

Fitch wisely refrained from asking unnecessary questions. He knew his place; doing only what was expected was the best survival tactic for someone of his station.

Lorien raised the collar of his trench coat. The combined shadow of the coat's collar and his hat obscured his face as he strode into Silver Mirror Street.

By the time he appeared in front of 112 Silver Mirror Street, the Iron Anchor Bar, he looked like a completely different person.

112 Silver Mirror Street, East Borough, Near the Docks, Iron Anchor Bar.

Dressed like a sailor, with a thick beard around his mouth and a tanned face, Lorien stood in front of the bar's entrance. This was the disguise his former self used whenever meeting Kane Rister. Every time he came here, he would first change at a rented room nearby.

Pushing open the heavy wooden bar door, he was immediately hit by the noise; rowdy shouting mixed with the pungent stench of cheap alcohol and sweat, making him instinctively wrinkle his brow.

It was midday, and the bar was filled with dockworkers sneaking in a drink during lunch break, alongside a handful of bar rats who had nothing better to do. It wasn't that they couldn't find work; ships came and went from Backlund's docks every day, and the shipyards were always hiring. But nothing quite compared to the pleasure of downing a cheap beer.

Lorien made sure not to stand out and strode toward the bar counter, where a bartender was busy wiping a glass.

As he knocked on the counter, the bartender glanced up, then his eyes widened in surprise.

"Jeffrey? You've been gone a while. Done with your voyage?"

"Yeah, it's over. Get me a Southville beer," Lorien replied with a grin.

At the moment, he was Jeffrey Rister; a distant nephew of Iron Anchor Bar's owner, Kane Rister. A sailor who spent most of his time at sea, only returning to Backlund once a month.

The bartender, Hank, chuckled as he poured the beer.

"Same old Jeffrey. Every time you're back, you only drink Southville beer. You're practically pouring your wages straight into Kane's pocket!"

"If you can convince my captain to stock Southville beer instead of Rye beer, then I swear I won't drink it on land."

This was the character his former self had crafted; someone sick of drinking Rye beer on the ship and only drinking Southville beer when on land.

Hank placed the beer in front of him and laughed.

"Southville beer costs four times as much as Rye beer. Any captain who did that would be broke in no time."

Freshwater was precious at sea and spoiled easily, so pirates and sailors drank beer instead. But most of it was garbage-quality. If they drank beer like they drank water, no shipowner would survive the costs.

Southville County in Loen was known for its beer and wine, beloved by the upper class and absurdly expensive. A single pint cost four pence, while a pint of rye beer only cost one pence. The difference per barrel could be several soli.

After chatting with Hank for a bit and finishing his beer, Lorien slipped past the bar counter and headed to the back. Kane Rister, his "uncle," lived in a room near the storeroom.

Opening the door, he found a burly, bald man with a thick beard waiting inside. The man's white shirt was stretched so tightly over his muscles that it looked like it was about to burst.

When Kane saw Lorien enter, he shut the door and frowned.

"You were chatting with Hank again?"

"Of course."

Lorien smirked and plopped down on the chair opposite Kane.

"Was that necessary?"

"Come on, 'Uncle Kane.'" Lorien shrugged and mimed strangling himself. "If anyone finds out what we're up to, we'll be hanged."

"And the beard? That's necessary too?"

"Obviously. We're family, even if we're distant relatives."

Lorien dramatically pointed at Kane's own beard.

Kane stroked his beard with an annoyed grunt.

"You have intel on the ironclad ships? Sir Mustang mentioned - "

"Shh."

Lorien pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence.

"I already said, we're in a business where people die. You should really stop shouting about it."

Kane exhaled heavily. Sometimes, he seriously suspected that Lorien was a top-tier stage or opera actor. The way he exaggerated every little gesture while making sure everyone in the bar knew he had a sailor for a nephew…

"What do you want this time?"

If Lorien could hear Kane's thoughts, he'd have wholeheartedly agreed; every top-tier lawyer in court was also a top-tier actor.

"I want to get into some Beyonder circles. Sir Mustang said you could help."

Even in private, Lorien addressed Viscount Mustang with respect, never exposing their real relationship.

"Why the hell do you want to mix with those people? No matter how good your acting is, you won't fool them."

Kane Rister had no idea Lorien was a Beyonder. He didn't even know his real identity.

Lorien stroked his beard and asked seriously,

"Just tell me how to get in."

Kane studied him for a long moment. He was beginning to suspect Lorien had already become a Beyonder. 'Was it a gift from sir Mustang?'

"There's a group I know about, but I can't guarantee you'll get in. You can hire them, though."

"How do I meet them?"

Kane gave Lorien a long, searching look before sighing.

"Come to the bar on the 2nd in the afternoon. I'll let you know if it's possible then."

"Alright."

Lorien agreed, then grinned and asked,

"Every time I see you, you're always hiding in the back. Why's that?"

"I'm the owner, not a bartender!" Kane shot him a glare. "That's what Hank and the others are for."

"Don't bar owners need to entertain customers?"

"Dockside bars never have to worry about customers."

Lorien shrugged and changed the subject.

"You know Beyonders; why haven't you tried becoming one?"

The moment Lorien said that, Kane's face went pale. Sweat beaded on his bald head.

"I don't want to die..."

…

Back at the counter, Lorien ordered another Southville beer and resumed chatting with Hank.

When the time was right, he feigned drunkenness, stumbling out of the bar under Hank's amused jeers.

Still acting the part, he staggered back to his small rented room, washed his face, and changed out of his sailor outfit. He slipped into his trench coat and pulled on a soft felt hat. It was a shame he didn't have a bath; otherwise, he could've scrubbed off more of the alcohol scent. Then again, having a bath here would be too luxurious, and that was even riskier.

Chuckling to himself, Lorien pressed down his hat, raised his coat collar, and left.

At the end of Silver Mirror Street, Fitch was already waiting.

Without acknowledging him, Lorien kept his head down and climbed into the carriage.

"Phelps Street in North Borough; Saint Samuel Cathedral."

…

The carriage rattled along the streets. Lorien lifted the curtain to glance outside and saw that they had entered the North Borough. He hadn't been here since his transmigration.

Even though the North Borough housed St. Samuel's Cathedral, it wasn't nearly as prosperous as the equally Nighthawk-patrolled West Borough.

The three major churches divided the management of Backlund quite rationally:

- The Empress Borough, where the nobles resided, was under the jurisdiction of the Church of the Lord of Storms' Mandated Punishers, the favored faith of the royal family and aristocracy.

- The West Borough, home to top-tier merchants, fell under Church of the Evernight Goddess' Nighthawks.

- Hillston Borough, the economic center of Backlund, was overseen by the Church of the Steam and Machinery's Machinery Hivemind.

With another similar-sized area rounding things out, the power of the three churches remained balanced.

Lorien suspected that a Sequence 2 "Balancer" of the Justiciar Pathway might have had a hand in maintaining this equilibrium - after all, the Augustus royal family had both a Sequence 1 and a Sequence 2 of that pathway.

Watching pedestrians pass by outside the carriage, Lorien suddenly frowned. He had forgotten to change his outfit. It wasn't about his sailor disguise, but rather that his trench coat and hat didn't align with the expected "rules" for attending a mass.

Technically, attire didn't matter too much - as long as one wasn't dressed too provocatively or outright naked, the church wouldn't throw them out. But that applied to ordinary people. For someone of Lorien's social standing, dressing inappropriately for an occasion was a blatant sign of disrespect.

It was like what Audrey's personal maid had once said: a dress couldn't be worn twice to formal events. Though the Ashford family wasn't quite at that extreme, showing up to a solemn mass in a trench coat and a soft felt hat was still unsuitable.

Soft felt hats were usually worn by writers, painters, and the like, but even they only wore them in casual settings. And trench coats? That went without saying. Plus, Lorien's was a high-collared trench coat, making it even worse.

He had chosen this outfit to avoid suspicion while roaming the docks. He hadn't known about tonight's Moon Mass at the Evernight Church - attending it had been a spur-of-the-moment decision.

"Fitch, find a nearby tailor shop."

Lorien couldn't be bothered to go home and change. He might as well just buy something new.

"Understood, sir."

Fitch responded and gently tugged the reins, slowing the carriage.

Lorien picked out a double-breasted long coat, paired it with a light-colored waistcoat, and topped it off with a silk top hat before changing into the new attire.

Staring at his reflection in the full-length mirror - black short hair, brown eyes, a handsome face - Lorien felt a moment of disorientation. It was as if he was still the same person, just playing a long game of cosplay.

He stepped out of the tailor shop with a heavy heart and looked up at the darkening sky. The crimson full moon was beginning to emerge.

Boarding the carriage once more, Lorien arrived at Phelps Street in the North Borough.

There, a completely black cathedral stood, flanked symmetrically by two bell towers - a sight of perfect balance. This was St. Samuel's Cathedral, the headquarters of the Evernight Church's Backlund Diocese.

Stepping down from the carriage, he instructed Fitch to grab a meal and return later to wait for him. Lorien had no idea what might happen tonight or how long he'd be staying.

Crossing the square, Lorien arrived outside St. Samuel's Cathedral but did not enter. He had arranged to meet Baylin and Delia there. While waiting, he exchanged greetings with familiar faces attending the Moon Mass.

…

"Hurry up, hurry up!"

Baylin had just stepped off the public carriage and was already urging Delia to move faster. They had run into a picky client right before clocking out, keeping them at work until nearly six. Afterward, they had to rush home to change before catching a carriage here.

"Relax, Baylin! It's only seven; the mass hasn't started yet."

"Don't forget, we promised Mr. Ashford. Being late wouldn't look good."

"Alright, alright."

"Look, there he is!"

Following Delia's pointing finger, Baylin saw Lorien standing outside the cathedral, waiting.

"Mr. Ashford."

Lorien followed the voice and looked over. Baylin and Delia had changed their clothes, both now wearing black ruffled long dresses with veiled hats, walking towards him from the other side of the church square.

Lorien stepped forward, took off his hat, and greeted them with a bow.

"Good evening, ladies. We meet again."

Baylin and Delia returned the gesture before Delia asked,

"Have you been waiting long, Mr. Ashford?"

"Not at all. I just got here as well," Lorien replied with a smile, turning to gesture at Saint Samuel Church. "The Mass is about to start. Let's head inside."

"Ah! It's starting! Delia, I told you we were late!"

Baylin turned to Delia, sounding a little annoyed.

Lorien chuckled, waving his hand. "It's fine. You haven't missed the Mass. Besides, being late is a woman's right."

Delia's face lit up with admiration as she whispered, "Emperor Roselle really was thoughtful toward women."

Emperor, my ass! Is there anything you haven't said already? Thoughtful toward women? If I translated your damn diary before the transmigrator Bard, and show it to everyone, then you'd learn what real fucking surprise feels like!

Lorien forced an awkward smile and quickly changed the subject.

"Let's go in."

...

The three entered the church quietly. Outside the grand prayer hall, a sizable crowd had already gathered, waiting.

After a short wait, Lorien and the other Moon Mass attendees followed the priests into the hall.

In the dim and tranquil atmosphere, they were welcomed by a solemn, ethereal chant:

"Full-faced above the land stood the crimson moon;

"And sweet it was to dream of themselves,

"Of child, and wife, and parents; but evermore..."

As the holy and rhythmic voices echoed, the congregation gradually calmed, as if momentarily freed from life's troubles, no longer burdened by the worries of the material world.

Led by the priests, they each found a seat. At the altar, Bishop Elektra, holding the Revelations of the Evernignt, began delivering a brief sermon.

As this segment neared its end, the priests took up water and bread, distributing them to Lorien and the others. This was the loving grace of Evernight - food that both the living and the dead could share.

After finishing the bland bread and drinking the water, Lorien noticed candles lighting up one by one on the altar. Against the darkness, they resembled stars in the night sky, radiating a warmth that brought a sense of peace.

At this moment, Bishop Elektra, the priests, and the choir began another solemn chant:

"We look upward into the night sky,

"We tenderly say her name: 'Evernight Goddess!'

"We know no other words, except 'Evernight Goddess,'

"May the Goddess draw out from the angel chorus

"With the silence sweet to gather,

"And hold both within 'Her' right hand which is gentle.

"'Goddess!' If 'She' heard us, 'She' would surely agree,

"Smiling with purity at the dead:

"Come, rest and sleep well, my children!"

The empty yet sacred voices seemed to seep into the ears of every believer, resonating with all the spirits present.

Lorien felt something cleanse his soul. The memories of the past month flashed before his eyes like a film reel, and both his body and mind relaxed completely.

Then, his vision darkened. A silent, endless blackness spread before him.

In the darkness, corpses lay motionless, their faces pale yet peaceful, as if not truly dead, merely sleeping.

Lorien walked calmly through this darkness until he suddenly stopped, his gaze fixed ahead -

There, among the quietly blooming moonflowers, lay an elderly man in a lawyer's wig and robe.

It was Lorien's father - Mason Ashford.

His eyes were closed, and a gentle smile graced his lips, as if caught in a pleasant dream.

Lorien closed his eyes as the sacred and ethereal voices whispered in his ears:

"Cross your hands humbly,

"Over your breast!

"Make the silent prayer,

"And shout from the bottom of your heart:

"The only escape is tranquility!"

Lowering his head and closing his eyes, Lorien lifted his hands, crossed them over his chest, and silently repeated:

"The only escape is tranquility!"

"The only escape is tranquility!"

...

Inside the Grand Prayer Hall of Saint Samuel.

"The only escape is tranquility!"

Amid the silent repetitions, Lorien felt as if he were falling into a deep sleep. He sensed his body plummeting downward while his spirit drifted upward. In this tearing sensation, he tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt as if they were glued shut.

Suddenly, everything fell silent. He could no longer hear the prayers.

Lorien abruptly opened his eyes and found himself standing amidst gray fog that seemingly radiated a golden glow.

Gray Fog? No, it's pale-white.

He looked at his hand and saw that it was transparent; he had seemingly appeared here in his spirit body.

What is this place? Lorien wondered as he looked around and carefully examined the floating, shifting fog before him. He wasn't mistaken - this mist was indeed pale white, not grayish-white!

This pale white, almost ethereal mist stretched endlessly, filling his entire field of vision. Looking down, Lorien realized he was floating within it.

Is this the reason I transmigrated? With Klein's case as a precedent, Lorien instinctively associated this space of pale white mist with Klein's Sefirah Castle.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a strange murmuring that sounded in his ears, faint enough to be almost imperceptible, yet it slithered through his mind with a persistence that made it impossible to ignore.

The moment that followed brought the sound again, though this time it was louder, allowing him to finally catch the words in simplified Chinese:

"The Immortal Sovereign of the Thirty Three Heavens for Blessings…"

"The Celestial Emperor of the Vast Heavens for Blessings…"

"The Exalted Celestial Thearch of the Heavenly Court for Blessings…"

"The Supreme Heavenly of the Dao for Blessings…"

What the fuck? Lorien frowned as his mind raced. Honorific names? But corresponding to who? I don't remember reading about these titles in the book…

When the chant repeated itself, he barely had time to process it before it echoed once more, continuing in an unrelenting cycle.

No, wait. It's not just repeating. It's multiplying.

His heartbeat quickened. A weight pressed against his chest.

By the time his vision began to blur, the chanting had grown deafening, hammering against his skull as if something inside him was trying to split his head open.

His face distorted into pain as he clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers.

The chanting roared in his ears, hammering against his skull. It was multiplying, layering upon itself in an endless, suffocating cascade. His vision blurred. His body trembled violently. He was coming apart.

His breathing turned erratic. A weight pressed against his chest, suffocating him with an onslaught of greed, paranoia, and unbearable resentment. Every failure, every regret, every fleeting insecurity twisted into festering wounds in his mind. His Spirit Body warped, pale gray-golden mist seeping from his very being, corroding him from the inside out. His blood boiled, his nerves burned...

Then...

A thunderous boom split the air.

The mist around him parted.

Lorien barely had time to react before the sky itself unfurled before his eyes.

Above him, faintly visible through the thinning mist, were thirty-three layers of sky, each adorned with numerous buildings. At the highest layer stood a majestic and grand palace.

At its center was an incredibly enormous, empty imperial throne. The throne was exquisitely designed, radiating both order and disorder simultaneously.

A jagged crown rested upon the vacant throne. Behind it, several imperial figures stood, each with distinct appearances but with their faces obscured by spiked helmets. Through the openings where their faces should have been, there was only an endless void.

Lorien's bloodshot eyes locked onto the throne.

The chanting ceased.

A suffocating silence followed.

For one fleeting second, clarity washed over him. The agony, the warping of his body, the madness clawing at his mind - all of it faded into stillness.

Then -

A flash of azure light consumed him.

Lorien gasped.

His eyes fluttered open.

He was back.

He looked down at his hands, which were trembling uncontrollably. He was bathed in sweat, and his breaths came in heavy gasps.

His face was as pale as could be, and his heart was thrumming in his chest like it was going to burst out at any moment.

His hand was shaking like no other, and his mind was still stuck on the voices chanting the Honorific Name, but luckily the intense feeling of greed, paranoia, resentment had vanished like nothing happened.

He licked his lips involuntarily; they were as dry as a desert. The feeling of fatigue was excruciating.

His spirituality had depleted to the last strand. If he had remained there for more than a second, he would have died, along with being assimilated by that place.

What the fuck was that? he questioned himself as he looked around. Under the candlelight, he saw that Baylin, Delia, and most of the congregation had tear-streaked faces, their eyes closed and tears still unwiped.

His eyes went to Bishop Elektra, who also had his eyes closed.

He quickly lowered his head, keeping his eyes down as he looked at the back of his palm. A black, pyramid-shaped mark with two crossed swords before it had appeared, only to rapidly fade, vanishing into his flesh.

The Moon Mass's purpose was to resonate with each participant's spirit, allowing them to see their lost loved ones in the darkness, release their grief, and find peace.

But that wasn't what had happened to him. He did see his parents, but in the next moment, he had been transported to somewhere.

Taking a deep breath, he thought, Wait, I need to calm down. My spirit body just visited the divine kingdom of Evernight. The Evernight Goddess must have sensed what happened there. Was my journey orchestrated by "Her"?

Do I consider it a response from "Her"? "She" definitely knows something isn't right with me.

"Mr. Ashford, are you alright?" Baylin's concerned voice broke him out of his contemplation as she took in Lorien'ss exhausted appearance.

"I'm fine… just feeling drained after crying so much," Lorien replied, wiping the sweat from his face. Normally, he would have shed tears like most of the congregation, but after the unexpected incident, he felt only shock. There were no tears left to shed. Exhaustion gnawed at his bones, weighing down his every movement.

Baylin and Delia exchanged glances before nodding in understanding.

The mass was nearing its end. The believers seated at the front had already risen, walking toward the altar to make their donations.

Lorien took out his wallet, pulled out 100 pounds in cash, and stepped into the aisle. His limbs felt heavy, his steps sluggish, but he forced himself forward. As he approached the altar, he pressed his fingers to his chest in a clockwise motion four times, tracing the symbol of the Crimson Moon. Under the compassionate gaze of Bishop Elektra, he placed the money into the donation box before the altar.

Repeating the gesture once more, he nodded to Bishop Elektra and stepped aside, his movements slightly stiff. Baylin and Delia, who had been waiting behind him following suit.

Normally, unless someone personally requested a donation or left part of their estate to the church after death, the collection box rarely saw large sums of money; at most, a few dozen pounds at a time.

Even the most devout donors didn't contribute every visit. Depending on their household situation, they typically donated once or twice a week or every two weeks.

That was under ordinary circumstances. During the annual Holy Evernight Festival, also known as Winter Gifts Day, the amount of donations skyrocketed. Wealthier commoners would donate two to three soli, while the middle class gave around five pounds. As for the upper class, they didn't bother with the donation box. Instead, they gave directly to the Borough bishop or the church's charity organizations, with contributions ranging from hundreds to thousands of pounds.

Klein had donated 300 pounds during the Moon Mass, partly overwhelmed with emotion after seeing the Captain and Old Neil again. But more importantly, it was a way to establish himself as a wealthy man in the eyes of Bishop Elektra, laying the groundwork for his plan to steal the Antigonus family's notebook from behind St. Samuel's Cathedral's Chanis Gate.

For deeply rooted believers like the Ashford family, large donations weren't necessary to gain the church's trust. Simply attending mass and services regularly was enough to ensure both the church's protection and recognition.

Once Baylin and Delia finished their donations, the three of them exited the grand prayer hall together.

Lorien, feeling the dull ache of fatigue settle deeper into his bones, barely had the energy to observe them. Even so, old habits lingered. He noticed that both women had likely donated one pound each.

Baylin's donation made sense. Her family was in the liquor business. Even though the upcoming repeal of the Grain Act was causing them trouble, they weren't so hard-pressed that they couldn't spare a pound. Once they weathered this challenge, they could focus entirely on importing wine from Intis, perhaps even expanding their business further.

Loen's beer was famous, especially the renowned Southville Beer. On the other hand, Intis was known for its fine wines. Their most prestigious and expensive variety was named after the Giant King "Aurmir," who was said to have loved blood-red wine.

Lorien also speculated that Baylin's job at the City Family Servant Assistance Association wasn't just about working under the influence of the Evernight Church. It was probably a way to help her father expand his network.

After all, those who sought butlers and servants through the Household Servants Association were at least middle class - the primary consumers of fine wine. Nobles, however, had their own wine estates and were incredibly particular about their selection. They wouldn't bother with the kind of wine Baylin's family imported, nor would her family have an easy time making inroads with them.

Compared to Baylin, Lorien knew far less about Delia. But from the way she dressed, tasteful yet clearly wearing older clothes and jewelry, he could make some guesses. Either her family had fallen on hard times, or they were merely modestly well-off, with her interests shaped by women's magazines or etiquette classes.

Such magazines often taught women simplified versions of noble etiquette and social rituals. They would also host courses or salons to give attendees practical demonstrations.

For Delia, donating a pound must have been a stretch. She likely went along with Baylin out of pride, giving nothing or too little wouldn't look good. Then again, what man wouldn't do the same in her position?

-

"Phew."

As they stepped out of the cathedral, Baylin let out a soft sigh and said, "Every time I attend a Moon Mass, I feel so much lighter, like all my fatigue has been washed away."

Lorien nearly let out a bitter chuckle but lacked the energy to do so. His entire body ached, weighed down as if he were walking through lead.

"Yeah, too bad only Moon Mass and Winter Gifts Day give that feeling," Delia added quietly, shooting a brief glance at Lorien, who looked utterly drained.

Lorien could guess the real reason behind this sensation, but he couldn't say it outright. Instead, he forced himself to reply, "It's probably the gathering of faithful believers and the Goddess's blessings that create the effect."

Baylin sighed wistfully. "If only we could have this every week."

The Chanis Gate beneath the cathedral relied on the devout prayers of believers to help maintain the spiritual energy needed to reinforce the seal. If they held a Moon Mass every week, the entities sealed behind the Chanis Gate would definitely start acting up.

"The Goddess's gifts can't be demanded," Lorien said, pressing his fingers to his chest in a clockwise motion four times to trace the Crimson Moon.

Seeing his gesture, Baylin and Delia followed suit.

Lorien retrieved his pocket watch, flipping it open with a click. The time read nine o'clock.

"It's getting late. May I have the honor of escorting you both home?"

"No need, you should take a rest," Baylin said immediately. "We'll take a public carriage back."

After a brief exchange of polite refusals, the two women ultimately chose to ride a public carriage home.

A short while later, a carriage arrived. Lorien helped them aboard.

As the sound of hooves echoed in the night, Fitch pulled his carriage up beside Lorien. He had been waiting near the cathedral, watching as Lorien, Baylin, and Delia exited. Knowing better than to intrude, he had discreetly followed from a distance.

Jumping down from the driver's seat, Fitch greeted him, "Good evening, sir."

Unlike some of his fellow coachmen, Fitch refrained from making pointless jokes. His sharp eyes noted Lorien's sluggish steps and weary posture. The man looked dead on his feet.

"Good evening," Lorien murmured, too tired to notice Fitch's careful observation. He climbed into the carriage without hesitation.

Fitch was relieved. His passenger wasn't in a foul mood, which meant his earnings for the next couple of days were secured.

"Head to Grimm Garden Street, West Borough."

"Yes, sir."

With that, Fitch cracked the reins, and the carriage set off toward the west.

Lorien removed his silk top hat, setting it atop the bag holding his overcoat and soft felt hat. He leaned his silver-handled black cane against the side of the carriage and let himself sink into the cushioned interior, exhaling deeply.

Raising his right hand, he gazed at the back of his palm. A black, pyramid-shaped mark with two crossed swords was there.

But now, it was gone.

Lorien extended his spiritual sense, trying to perceive any lingering traces of the mark. Even as he did so, the exhaustion threatened to pull him into the depths of sleep.

The carriage rumbled down the sparsely populated streets and arrived at Lorien's residence - Grimm Garden Street, West Borough.

Stepping out of the carriage, Lorien yawned and instructed Fitch to pick him up here at eight the next morning.

Once inside, he retrieved a book from his secret chamber and began to decipher the Honorific Name he had heard at the Moon Mass.

Recalling what had happened there sent a chill down his spine. He had entered a very dangerous place while being a Sequence 9 Beyonder.

Taking a deep breath, he wrote the Honorific Name on paper in simplified Chinese.

In his previous life, he had spent his teenage years living in the Foodholic Empire, in the home of his uncle. It was during that time that he learned simplified Chinese, and it was there that he started reading novels. Lord of the Mysteries was one of his favorites.

"The Immortal Sovereign of the Thirty-Three Heavens for Blessings…"

"The Celestial Emperor of the Vast Heavens for Blessings…"

"The Exalted Celestial Thearch of the Heavenly Court for Blessings…"

"The Supreme Heavenly of the Dao for Blessings…"

If his suspicion was correct and he understood what this Honorific Name corresponded to, it would answer some of his questions but create a thousand more.

Lorien took the pen and paper and began translating it into Hermes. His studies differed from Klein's. Coming from a family of prominent lawyers, with a father who was a Beyonder, he was already proficient in most mystical languages - Ancient Hermes, Hermes, Ancient Feysac, and even some Elvish.

After finishing the translation, he sat back and took some deep breaths.

He was going to take a really big risk. He was going to try to enter there again - voluntarily this time. If it was what he thought it was, then it would be worth it. If he successfully entered, he needed to be ready to leave at any moment, since the ravings of the Honorific Name could start at any time. If he heard even the slightest murmur, he needed to get out.

Lorien took a deep breath again. His spirituality had regenerated but not fully. He needed to enter cogitation to fully restore his spirituality if he wanted to survive.

Lorien's predecessor had all but abandoned cogitation. Now, he was finally picking it back up.

Closing his eyes, he began cogitation.

He visualized a teacup in his mind, focusing all his attention on it, sketching and refining its details over and over before replacing it with countless overlapping, distorted halos of light.

His body and mind gradually entered a tranquil state.

A couple of hours later, Lorien broke out of cogitation.

He sat down in a thinking pose and pondered. What would be the proper prayer method to enter there?

The luck enhancement ritual required four steps in the four directions, with four staple foods at the four corners.

What would - Then a thought struck him.

In the original story, the Nation of Disorder was considered the Heavenly Court from Chinese mythology. What if I perform the ritual as if I'm praying to the Jade Emperor?

As an avid reader of cultivation novels and a keyboard researcher of Chinese mythology, he knew that the proper way to pray to the Jade Emperor was to bow in the direction of the prepared altar while praying to him.

It was, again, a risky venture, but what if he changed the preparation for the altar to resemble the luck enhancement ritual with the Honorific Name he heard from the ravings? Change the four-step clockwise steps into bowing in four directions clockwise... And the most important thing for the ritual - he already had it: the marking on the back of his hand.

Lorien retrieved the necessary items from the secret chamber's bookshelf and cleared off his desk to serve as a makeshift altar.

He placed four candles at the corners of the desk, closed his eyes, and ignited them in sequence - left to right, top to bottom - by infusing his spirituality against the material world.

He focused his mind, willing his spirituality to envelop the blade, visualizing energy surging from the tip.

Immediately, he felt an invisible force flowing outward. Holding the dagger, he circled the altar, sensing a spiritual barrier forming around him, isolating the space from all impurities and disturbances.

Exhaling softly, he set the dagger aside. Facing the east, he bowed for the first time and solemnly intoned:

"The Immortal Sovereign of the Thirty-Three Heavens for Blessings…"

Straightening, he turned south and bowed again.

"The Celestial Emperor of the Vast Heavens for Blessings…"

He shifted to the west and performed another bow.

"The Exalted Celestial Thearch of the Heavenly Court for Blessings…"

Finally, he turned north, lowered his head, and chanted:

"The Supreme Heavenly of the Dao for Blessings…"

The black pyramid with two swords crossed in front of it appeared on the back of his hand. The next second, it glowed with an azure light and consumed his vision.

When he opened his eyes again, Lorien saw it - this pale white, almost ethereal mist stretched endlessly, filling his entire field of vision.

Looking down, he realized he was floating within it.

The murmuring arrived, but this time, it seemingly did not have any purpose. Nonetheless, he waited with bated breath. If he heard another murmur - louder this time - he would flee, no questions asked, and he would never return until he was at least a demigod.

He waited and waited. Nothing happened.

It was a success. With that ritual, he could enter here.

Out of curiosity, he raised his hand and tried to grasp the floating mist. The moment he did, it gathered together, forming a wisp of soft, white hair in his palm.

Lifting it to his eyes, he saw the condensed mist-hair quietly resting in his hand. Lorien instinctively blew on it, and it immediately floated away, dispersing back into the surrounding mist.

He reached out again, and the hair dissipated on contact, returning to its misty form.

Frowning, he looked at his now-empty hand before reaching out once more. The pale white mist gathered again in his palm, taking the shape of another soft strand of white hair.

Staring closely, he realized this was nothing more than condensed mist in the form of hair. A slight force was enough to make it scatter back into mist.

He looked up and only saw the scattered, deep pale white-golden mist.

He then closed his eyes and demanded to be in front of the throne.

The pale white-gold mist swirled and dissipated instantly.

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing right in the middle of a royal court.

He looked around and saw that towering stone columns supported an expansive dome.

At the very heart of the hall stood an enormous throne, intricately carved with orderly yet paradoxically disorderly patterns and set upon a platform of nine stone steps.

Beneath these stone steps, on either side of the hall, five high-backed stone chairs stood sentinel, surrounded by that swirling pale white-golden mist.

Below each of these chairs, an array of thirty three peculiar stone seats was arranged in a bizarre pattern, collectively evoking a blend of uncertainty, order, and disorder.

The knights without faces were nowhere to be seen.

Lorien walked directly toward the throne.

"What is this?" he asked as he looked at the throne more closely.

He stepped onto the first step without any difficulty, but when he tried to go further, his leg stopped as his spirituality warned him of grave danger. If he took another step, something bad would happen.

Lorien hurriedly stepped back.

Okay… then I'm not going any further.

My conjectures are correct. I somehow entered the Nation of Disorder, one of the Seven Sefirot sealed in the Western Continent by the Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth.

But how is that possible? Klein hasn't awakened yet. The Western Continent barrier is still sealed. How was I able to enter here?

Where is the Celestial Thearch, He should have already become the owner of the Sefirot. But now it's empty, and somehow I have entered the barrier and gained partial ownership.

Going to the Moon Mass was the most dangerous thing I had done since my transmigration.

I wanted to see if the Evernight Goddess was aware of my transmigration, and if so, what "Her" attitude toward me was.

Well, at least I got my answer… but it's not what I wanted.

From the looks of it, "She" was the reason I was able to enter this place.

My guess is that I already had a small connection to the Nation of Disorder. After sensing my connection to the Sefirot, "She" could have strengthened it.

That would also explain my apparent immunity to knowledge-based corruption related to my memories of the book.

It's also possible that it was done by a third party and the Goddess remains unaware.

Fuck, so many questions.

Does "She" or whoever scripted this want me to become the Anarchy?

At any rate, if I really want to become the Anarchy before the apocalypse, I need to be wary of the Heavenly Court Sect, the Tamara family, the School of Truth, the Theosophy Order, and the Outer Deities - especially the Son of Chaos, or Uncertain Mist as it is now called.

According to Mr. Fool, the Son of Chaos was divided into three parts. One became the Sefirot, the Nation of Disorder, after the OG awakened. The second was screwed over badly by the Celestial Worthy, with most of its fragments sealed in the Wishing Lamp. And the third part was in the cosmos, in the form of the Uncertain Mist.

Furthermore, the Celestial Worthy was the one who accommodated the Nation of Disorder, which means whoever wants to become the Anarchy needs to fight his will within it as well.

Unfortunately, this pathway doesn't have the potential for divinity above the Sequence, since the Nation of Disorder's consciousness is interwoven with too many external spirits - meaning the people of the Western Continent who merged with the Sefirot.

Even if I fully accommodate the Sefirot, I won't be able to become a full Great Old One unless I find a way to make the Sefirot undergo a fundamental transformation and make myself the ultimate unified consciousness, enabling the Anarchy to truly manifest in reality.

Looking back at the throne, he could guess what would happen if he sat there. There would be a battle of wills between all the consciousnesses within the Sefirot. Whoever won would become a half–Great Old One. That was why his spirituality warned him from going closer to it.

 

[IHaveNoNamingSense]

Chapter 6: Intrigue

"Ah~ha~"

Lorien wondered if he was cursed. He hadn't had a proper night's sleep in two days. The night before last, he went to bed hungry. Last night, he was exhausted and had stayed up too late experimenting with the Nation of Disorder.

At least he had figured out a few things about it:

First, like Klein, he could only enter through the ritual of bowing and chanting the honorific name, and only his spirit body could enter. He couldn't bring objects with him, but anything he held would appear as a projection there.

The projected objects couldn't be too heavy. From his tests, anything heavier than three books caused instability. He guessed this was related to his level of spirituality.

Changes made to the projected objects in the Sefirot would reflect on the real objects outside. He even tried writing inside the space, and the same words appeared on paper outside. This seemed to be an application of the Lawyer pathway's ability to manipulate and exploit loopholes in rules.

Additionally, he couldn't stay in the castle - palace? Court? - for too long. If he exceeded an hour, he would start consuming spirituality upon returning to reality. The absolute limit was around an hour and a half. Any longer, and he would be forcibly ejected due to excessive spirituality depletion.

He also searched for the prayer-storing place or a space that stores things connected to the Sefirot, similar to the crimson balls of lights in the Sefirah Castle, but found nothing.

He had a hunch that the more steps he took on the stairs, the more features of the Sefirot he would unlock. It was possible that the ability to bring people inside the Sefirot was still locked behind progression.

Furthermore, other than the throne and the nine stone steps, almost everything was an illusion formed from pale white mist, from the walls of the domes to the seats.

Even after all this time, he still hadn't figured out why the Nation of Disorder was connected to him.

What had the predecessor Lorien done to lead to this outcome? Or is my transmigration connected to the Sefirot? It's also possible that I was meant to be another resurrection attempt by the Celestial Worthy - one that also went awry, resulting in my transmigration. Fuck... Speculating isn't helping. I need answers, though I doubt I'll get them anytime soon.

Now, I also have to worry about coincidences happening around me. And just like with Klein, The Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence around me will be off the charts too. He thought as he massaged his forehead.

Nonetheless, after finishing breakfast, he got into Fitch's carriage and had him drive to the Quelaag Club - the place where Klein would soon conduct his adultery sting.

Of course, Lorien wasn't going there just to take a look, he was going to practice his shooting skills. He had been a member of the Quelaag Club for four years, with an early membership number: 27.

He had joined thanks to Mason's arrangement. Though the club was relatively new at the time, most of its members were young people from the upper middle class. Of course, compared to Lorien, they were generally over ten years older.

Mason had hoped Lorien would attend one of the three major law colleges in Backlund, preferably Grey Law College - his own alma mater - so he could look after him better.

Loen Kingdom had four major law academies: one in Tingen, Tingen Law College, which Lorien attended, and three in Backlund: Blackfriars Law College and Middle Hall Law College, both located in Cherwood Borough, and Grey Law College in the North Borough.

The Blackfriars and Middle Hall colleges were near the Church of the Lord of Storms' Holy Wind Cathedral, and as their names suggested, they had deep ties with the Church. Over a thousand years ago, Holy Wind Cathedral was the headquarters of the Church of the Lord of Storms, exerting significant influence over the area.

After Loen Kingdom was founded, the Church of the Lord of Storms moved its headquarters to the Chasm of Storms Cathedral on Pasu Island, and the two law academies were established on the vacant land left behind by the cathedral. Along with Grey Law College near St. Samuel Cathedral in the North Borough, they formed the backbone of Loen Kingdom's early judicial system.

These three academies all had church influence, whereas Tingen Law College thrived in the "City of University," eventually standing on equal footing with the other three.

Over a century ago, Roselle's legal reforms and the introduction of the Civil Code drastically reshaped Loen Kingdom's legal system. With tacit approval from the Augustus royal family, the four major law academies united to suppress all others, declaring that only their graduates could become judges in Loen Kingdom.

Despite the backlash, the royal family's covert support, combined with the fact that high-ranking lawyers and judges were all from these four academies, allowed them to crush all opposition. The ruling has remained in place ever since.

However, Lorien didn't stay in Backlund as Mason had hoped. Instead, he secretly chose to attend Tingen Law College. As a result, he never got the chance to build connections with the "young elites" of the club, only visiting during holidays when he returned to Backlund for relaxation.

But Lorien was too young at the time, still a student, and had little experience dealing with "troublesome matters," making it difficult to engage in meaningful conversations with other members. He could only play tennis and squash, practice shooting, and enjoy fine dining. After taking over the law firm, he stopped coming altogether. Fortunately, he had prepaid his membership fees, or he would have needed to reapply.

Stepping out of the carriage, he presented his Badge to the guard in a black-and-white checkered uniform, a symbol of his membership. Normally, he wouldn't need to show proof, but since he hadn't been here in nearly two years, he didn't want the embarrassment of being turned away. That's why he had searched for his badge first thing in the morning.

The guard raised his left arm and gave a slight bow in greeting:

"Sir Ashford, please enter."

Lorien glanced at the man in surprise. He was certain he had never met him before, and the Badge didn't bear names, only the symbol and the number "27."

Yet this man had addressed him correctly. Clearly, he had done his homework. Lorien nodded in acknowledgment and stepped into the club.

After informing the front desk of his arrival, he had a footman in a red vest lead him directly to the shooting range.

To prevent gunfire from causing noise and panic, the range was built underground.

Upon entering, a middle-aged man in a hunting jacket and knee-high boots stood up from a lounging sofa and approached.

"Ashford, sir? It's been a long time."

Lorien scrutinized him for a moment before hesitantly asking, "Atwood?"

"It's me, sir." Atwood's face lit up when he saw Lorien remembered his name, and his tone became noticeably more enthusiastic.

Lorien exhaled in relief - I didn't got the name wrong.

He had rarely visited the club, let alone the shooting range. It had been two years since he last came, and there were four or five different shooting instructors here. Atwood wasn't even his instructor. Remembering his name was already impressive.

"It really has been a while."

"I had some family matters to attend to, only recently found some free time."

Lorien didn't elaborate, keeping things vague before asking, "Is Gary here?"

Atwood made an apologetic expression and replied, "Gary resigned a year ago. He moved to Midseashire County."

Lorien glanced at him and understood his implication. Smiling, he said, "In that case, Atwood, do you happen to be free today to coach me in shooting?"

Atwood quickly nodded and said, "This would be my honor."

At Quelaag Club, the tennis court, bar, library, squash room, conference hall, and card room were all available for free. The food and drinks at the buffet were also complimentary.

The shooting range was also free to use, but firearms and ammunition required additional payment. Otherwise, with a single revolver round costing about one soli, 300 rounds would be enough to cover Quelaag Club's annual membership fee.

Of course, if you wanted a shooting instructor to train you, that came with a fee. However, it wasn't too expensive - after deducting the club's commission, an instructor could earn about 1 pound per hour, including the cost of the bullets Lorien would use.

Lorien's previous shooting instructor, Gary, had a weekly salary of about 4 pounds. Atwood's pay should be similar. Earning 1 pound an hour was definitely a considerable income for him.

Moreover, since Lorien's previous shooting instructor had left the club, he needed to find a new one. This meant a steady stream of income, which explained Atwood's enthusiasm.

As he led the way, Atwood turned and asked, "Would you like to practice with a rifle or a shotgun?"

"I'm here for revolver practice this time."

"Revolver?"

Atwood was momentarily stunned. After confirming that Lorien hadn't misspoken, he quickly nodded, "Alright, I'll get the revolver and ammunition."

Quelaag Club's members were generally young professionals with respectable careers. Their usual recreational activities consisted of playing cards, squash, tennis, attending salons, and going to balls.

Few opted for shooting, as it was physically demanding and time-consuming. The only exception was during the autumn and winter seasons, when nobles and wealthy elites prepared for the hunting season. That was when some members practiced shooting to improve their chances of success in the hunt.

As a result, most members practiced with rifles and shotguns, particularly the latter, since shotguns made poor marksmanship look less terrible. Even Lorien had primarily practiced with a shotgun before, which explained Atwood's surprise at his choice of a revolver.

Still, Atwood didn't dwell on it. What mattered most to him was making money. It didn't matter what Lorien practiced, as long as he paid. Revolver training fees were even higher than shotgun training fees.

Atwood led Lorien into a small practice room. Revolver practice required less space compared to shotgun training, as shotgun practice typically involved moving targets.

"Please wait here for a moment. I'll get the gun and ammunition from Mr. Damon."

Lorien handed him his badge. Registering firearms and ammunition was mandatory, and Atwood also needed to log Lorien's name - otherwise, how would he get paid?

Mr. Damon's full name was Wit Damon. He was the manager of the shooting range, a man in his fifties who had lost his left arm in the war over twenty years ago at the Southern Continent.

"Start with fifty rounds."

Atwood took the badge, nodded, and left the training room.

Lorien glanced at a nearby servant in a red waistcoat and waved, "Bring two cups of Marquis Black Tea."

"Yes, Mr. Ashford."

Soon, Atwood returned with a tray carrying two revolvers, two boxes of ammunition, and a pair of modern-looking earmuffs - one of Roselle's inventions.

"Have you practiced with a revolver before?"

"A few times."

"Alright, let's start with this one..."

"Would you like to use noise-dampening earmuffs?"

"No need." In real combat, there was no time to cover your ears.

"I'll load the bullets for you."

Although Atwood was called a shooting instructor, he didn't actually teach much technique. Shooting was mostly a matter of talent and experience. His main job was to cater to Lorien, a wealthy client.

"No need. I'll do it myself." After all, no one would be loading bullets for him in a real fight.

...

At two in the afternoon, Lorien left Quelaag Club, rubbing his sore arm.

He had trained for over an hour in the morning, taken a break, had lunch, and then resumed practice for another hour, firing about 120 rounds in total.

The results were promising - out of ten shots at a ten-meter target, five or six landed on the board. Most were in the outer rings, but that was already a decent performance.

According to Atwood, for an ordinary person, this was an excellent result. If Lorien hadn't gotten fatigued toward the end, he could have maintained his accuracy.

After boarding Fitch's carriage, Lorien headed home to wait for his future butler. However, upon learning of his connection to Sefirot last night, his paranoia is telling him to reject both of them - otherwise, the Law of Convergence might be the death of him. But he really need a butler or at least some people in his house if he wanted to advance in politics.

When he arrived, he realized his house was nearly empty. He had to send Fitch out to buy some tea and eventually had him act as a temporary servant.

...

Mr. Norman was fifty-five years old, but his face had few wrinkles, making him look energetic. Wearing a morning coat, he arrived at Lorien's home.

After a brief introduction, Lorien asked the first question,

"Mr. Norman, my long-term plan is to advance in politics. Do you have any advice?"

"Do you plan to develop your career in Backlund?"

Lorien nodded and gestured toward the window.

"Of course. This is Backlund, the political center of Loen. Everything I have is here."

Norman frowned slightly. While Backlund was indeed the political center, it was also overrun with aristocrats and politicians, leaving little room for newcomers.

"May I be so bold as to ask about your current assets?"

Lorien raised an eyebrow, surprised by the directness of the question.

Seeing his reaction, Norman apologized with a wave of his hand, "Please don't misunderstand. I'm only considering whether you have enough liquidity or assets to seize the right opportunity when it arises."

Lorien had a rough idea of what Norman was suggesting, which surprised him even more.

"What do you mean?"

"You're aware that the Grain Act will soon be repealed. Land prices will inevitably fall, and both political parties will need to raise funds and recruit more supporters. At that point, you could make a donation to either party and secure a position."

"I don't have that kind of money."

Lorien sighed. Even if he sold his three properties and vacation estate, he'd only have about ten thousand pounds. To those people, that was a mere drop in the ocean.

Norman hesitated for a moment before continuing, "You could donate to members of the New Party who rely on land rent for income. That would be much cheaper."

Most New Party members derived their wealth from banks, coal, factories, and other industries. A few relied on land rent, but they were a minority.

"You should know my political leanings."

"Yes, but compared to the great nobles of the Conservative Party, the gap isn't as large. The New Party is more suitable for you."

Unlike the extravagance of the Conservative Party's great nobles, many of whom spent fortunes on maintaining castles, buying clothes and jewelry, hosting endless hunts, social banquets, lavish weddings, and grand funerals, the New Party was relatively modest in comparison.

If Lorien chose to align himself with the Conservative Party's great nobles, all his wealth would be thrown into a bottomless pit. Aligning with lesser nobles was more manageable, but their political influence was pathetic, let alone something they could share.

Lorien frowned and continued asking, "What if I insist on choosing the Conservative Party?"

"Then you'll have to wait - wait until you become a magistrate, then seek other opportunities."

Norman sensed Lorien's urgency, which was why he first suggested leveraging the repeal of the Grain Act to negotiate between the two parties rather than following the usual political path for lawyers by becoming a judge.

However, he still didn't understand why Lorien was in such a rush. At only 23 years old, it was far too early for him to step into politics.

"Alright, Mr. Norman. Thank you very much for your advice. I'll think about it carefully."

Lorien stood up, shook hands with Norman, and motioned to Fitch, who was standing nearby.

"Fitch, take Mr. Norman to the third reception room."

This villa had three reception rooms - the second and third were smaller, while the first was the largest, used for salons and balls. He was currently meeting with his prospective butlers in the second reception room.

For Lorien, if he weren't a transmigrator or if this were a normal world, Norman's advice would have been sound. In fact, for a man inclined toward the Conservative Party to suggest him to join the New Party was almost unthinkable.

If he took his advice and sided with the New Party, Norman, who leaned toward the Conservatives, would never be willing to serve as his butler.

For him, who had neither enough money nor the patience to wait, Norman's advice was useless.

Soon, Fitch returned with another butler candidate, Mr. August.

Mr. August was 52 years old, yet his wrinkled face and white hair, slightly bronze skin, made him look older than Norman, who was already 55. However, his straight posture and the disciplined movements of a soldier revealed that he wasn't as frail as he seemed.

Lorien stood up, shook hands with August, and asked, "Mr. August, were you once a soldier?"

August returned the handshake and replied, "Yes, I was once, Viscount Barton also implemented a militarized system for his butlers and servants, so I inevitably adopted some military habits."

"Oh, I see."

Lorien nodded. Most retired officers imposed military discipline on those around them. Given that Viscount Barton had been wounded in war and carried deep psychological scars, it was a miracle he hadn't suffered a complete mental breakdown.

"From your accent, you sound like you're from the Southern Continent."

August's accent was faint, but among the people of Loen, Southern accent was the most distinct.

"You caught that. I'm from West Balam."

In West Balam, there were cities managed by the Loen Kingdom, valleys controlled by the Intis Republic, native generals backed by Loen, and tribes that followed Intis orders. There were also powerful independent states that relied on maintaining a balance between the two nations.

"Then how did you end up in Backlund, working as a butler?"

"Over a decade ago, Mr. Ashford and I were in the same profession."

"Oh?"

Lorien was surprised and blurted out, "You were a barrister too?"

If August had been a barrister, then it made even less sense for him to become a butler.

August waved his hand, a hint of embarrassment crossing his face.

"No, I was just a solicitor, but I was never very successful."

"I see."

Lorien nodded. Though August had been a solicitor - and not a particularly successful one - Lorien still felt a slight kinship with him as a fellow legal practitioner.

In Loen, due to differences in their roles, there was often tension between solicitors and barristers. They weren't outright enemies, since they had to work together, but the underlying friction remained.

Barristers looked down on solicitors, seeing them as mere errand boys running around for clients like housekeepers. Meanwhile, solicitors were dissatisfied with their pay, knowing that no matter how much effort they put in, they still earned less than a barrister arguing in court for half an hour.

August continued, "Before I became a solicitor in Backlund, when Intis and Loen clashed in West Balam, the conflict escalated into war. At the time, I was frustrated with the job I had, so I joined the army as a scout."

More than twenty years ago, a colonial war for West Balam broke out between Intis and Loen. Viscount Barton also served on the Southern continent. Once he took a opportunity to flank the Intis forces from behind. With their ammunition nearly depleted, the Intis troops were suddenly faced with a devastating assault. Viscount Barton, having performed outstandingly in battle, was granted his title as a reward. The battle for colonization is still ongoing.

The last report Lorien read was from a couple of weeks ago. A battle had broken out near Tizamo Town, at the edge of the Primitive Forest stretching from the southwestern region of Matani.

Loen's forces clashed with the Intis troops. The soldiers of the Loen Kingdom charged "valiantly" into enemy lines, equipped with high-pressure steam rifles and six-barrel machine guns. But ultimately, they were almost completely wiped out. Both nations suffered heavy casualties and were forced into negotiations.

"You were Viscount Barton's scout?"

August nodded. "Yes."

"Then you're a hero of Loen! I apologize for my rudeness."

Lorien stood up and gave a slight bow. He could only imagine the difficulty of leading a cavalry unit through the Primitive Forest to flank an enemy army.

August stood as well and waved his hand. "I wouldn't call myself a hero. If it weren't for the viscount saving me, I would have died in the Primitive Forest."

Lorien gestured for him to sit down and said, "So that's why you chose to serve as Viscount Barton's butler?"

It seemed August wasn't just short-sighted - he had taken the position out of gratitude, repaying the viscount who had saved his life, even though Barton's family was doomed to fade into obscurity.

"Yes. After the war, I struggled to sleep for a long time due to the horrors I had witnessed and the near-death experience I had in the Primitive Forest."

"To escape my nightmares, I came to Backlund and became a solicitor. Not long after, I heard that Viscount Barton's personality had changed drastically due to his war trauma…"

When I visited, I found that the viscount hadn't actually changed much. It was just slander from outsiders, as he rarely interacted with them.

The viscount once saved my life, so I was willing to handle these trivial matters for him. Thus, I enrolled in a butler training school, and the viscount accepted me, allowing me to become his butler."

In Loen, there are specialized training schools for butlers. Trainees must take various courses, including etiquette, wine knowledge, shooting, and dance. Of course, not everyone who completes training becomes a butler - most start as room footmen, valets, silverware stewards, or even wine stewards.

Lorien smiled and praised, "So that's how it is. You are truly a respectable man."

August slightly lowered his head and said solemnly, "No, I'm merely fulfilling my duty."

"I have great admiration for you, Mr. August, but ultimately, I am here to hire a butler who can assist me. May I ask how you can help me?"

August straightened slightly and asked in a steady tone, "Please, do ask."

"Alright, I intend to enter politics. Do you have any good suggestions?"

"In Backlund?" Seeing Lorien nod, August frowned. "If you choose Backlund, it will be difficult."

"Yes." Lorien spread his hands. "But that's your problem to consider."

August pondered for a moment before speaking. "I suggest you start with your profession."

"Do you mean becoming a judge?" Lorien was slightly disappointed. He had expected that a butler who had 'persuaded' Viscount Barton to walk out of his war trauma and helped him establish a network would have better ideas.

"No, you can't become a judge until at least the age of thirty." August understood Lorien's intentions well - he wanted to enter politics quickly. Otherwise, given his current achievements, waiting a few years would naturally lead him into politics.

Asking a butler for advice wasn't entirely about seeking genuine guidance; rather, it was a way to leverage his connections to enter politics more smoothly.

Butlers are always linked to politics. If a noble family with a butler were likened to a country, then the butler would be its prime minister, capable of handling nearly everything for their master.

Moreover, a butler from a noble family would inevitably know many upper-class figures, numerous professional butlers, and countless servants from various backgrounds. They could significantly influence a gentleman's reputation, which was crucial for gaining access to higher social circles.

"Oh? Then what do you mean?"

"You are one of the most renowned lawyers in Backlund. Ashford Law Firm is also a top-tier firm. The cases you and your firm handle, along with the people you interact with, are all valuable resources you can use."

"That is indeed a good suggestion. Do you have any others?" Lorien was quite satisfied with August's suggestion, but it wasn't what he truly wanted.

August sighed inwardly. It seemed that Mr. Ashford is determined to make use of my personal connections to assist him.

"You could engage in charity work."

"In what aspect?"

There are many different types of charity. Given Ashford's financial situation, if he wanted to make an impact, he had to choose something that would yield significant results.

"How about providing aid to retired soldiers?"

"No problem. They have made sacrifices for our country and deserve proper treatment."

Lorien stood up and extended his hand.

"Let's reintroduce ourselves. Your employer - Lorien Ashford."

August immediately stood up, bowed slightly, and said in a deep voice, "How may I be of service?"

Lorien waved his hand and turned to Fitch.

"Fitch, please take that bottle of Aurmir Blood Wine to Mr. Norman in the third reception room and convey my apologies and gratitude."

Once Fitch took the Aurmir wine and left, Lorien sat back down.

August remained standing in front of Lorien without sitting. Though he hadn't officially started yet, he had already begun to conduct himself as Lorien's butler. A butler would never sit before their employer.

Lorien said with a smile, "My villa has nine bedrooms, three reception rooms - one large and two small - a dining room, two kitchens in the basement, a bakery, around seven or eight servant rooms, a stable, a garden, and a tennis court.

"But right now, besides you and my temporary coachman, Fitch, I have no one else."

August lowered his head and asked, "What would you like me to do?"

"I need you to quickly hire all the necessary staff for this villa. As for how many to hire, that's up to you."

"Understood."

"Remember, it must be done quickly. I'm hosting two banquets at the beginning of next month, and I need you to prepare everything as soon as possible."

August's expression turned serious. He couldn't take Lorien's words lightly.

In spring and autumn, the owners of grand residences would typically host lavish gatherings, making it the greatest test for a butler. The house had to be spotless, the silverware and tableware immaculate, the garden beautifully maintained, and the dishes had to be exquisite - not only luxurious but also accommodating guests with special dietary needs.

Even details such as the placement of each set of cutlery, the height of the candles, the folding of napkins, the number of flowers, and the lighting intensity all had to be meticulously arranged.

"Sir, do you have specific dates and guest lists?"

"The first banquet will likely be on the 5th, and the second on the 8th. The first one is for the lawyers from my law firm. The second is for my neighbors and some of my father's old friends."

August let out a soft breath. Today was April 28th - there was barely enough time. The short gap between the two banquets would make things tight, but having experience from the first one would help.

"I will provide you with the guest lists tomorrow morning. I leave everything in your hands."

Lorien knew this was a bit rushed, but he had no choice. Others had not given him any extra time.

"This is my duty." August bowed slightly.

"As for the contracts for you and the servants you hire, you may visit my law firm and have one of the firm's attorneys draft them."

"Understood."

Watching August leave, Lorien leaned back on the sofa and rubbed his temples. Sigh… I have a feeling… August might just be a fellow 'lawyer'! Fucking Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence at work, no doubt.

…

Lorien sat at the oak table and opened the drawer. Inside lay two revolvers, resting quietly.

One was entirely black, with a slightly longer barrel. Its body and grip were forged from metal, giving off a cold, eerie sheen.

The other revolver had a much more refined appearance. It was even cushioned by a layer of fine velvet. Its brass-plated body was adorned with three sun-like floral patterns on the cylinder, and the wooden grip was engraved with a bird design. The bird's head was near the cylinder, and its vibrant tail feathers spread out at the grip's end.

Lorien had recently acquired both of these revolvers. The one with the black barrel and extended length was something he bought three days ago at Iron Anchor Bar during a Beyonder gathering that his "uncle," Kane Rister, had introduced him to.

When Lorien attended that gathering three days ago, he noticed that including himself, there were only seven people present. The host of the gathering warned him that once a deal was made, there was no turning back - regardless of whether the purchased item was real or fake.

Upon hearing this, Lorien immediately decided he wouldn't be coming back to this gathering again. If even the authenticity of goods couldn't be guaranteed, a newcomer like him was bound to be scammed.

By the end of the gathering, he had only bought one revolver. According to its previous owner, this revolver was twice as powerful as a normal one. Since Lorien had no offensive abilities and no gun license, he simply bought it for 15 pounds, with 30 bullets included.

He had secretly tested the revolver and found that it was indeed more powerful than the ones used at the Quelaag Club's shooting range. However, its recoil was also significantly greater. After firing 12 rounds, his wrist already felt sore.

The other revolver was something he had bid on at a charity auction yesterday. It had been donated by a wealthy man from Intis. According to him, this lavishly designed revolver had been passed down from his grandfather and was still functional.

When Lorien saw the floral patterns on the cylinder and grip, he immediately thought of the Bard pathway. In that pathway, potion formulas often included sunflowers and birds. Given that this revolver came from Intis, it made sense.

Ever since the founding of Intis, the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun had been dominant, suppressing the Church of the God of Craftsmen until the industrial revolution, which led it to rename itself as the Church of Steam and Machinery. This was why Intis was also known as the "Land of the Sun."

Remembering the looks of the old, frail appearance of the wealthy man, Lorien figured that his grandfather would have to be over 130 years old if he were still alive. Back then, revolvers had only recently been invented.

Although Lorien didn't believe this was a Beyonder weapon, he still spent 270 pounds to acquire it.

After obtaining it, he realized that while the revolver was indeed functional as the wealthy man claimed, its ammunition was custom-made. There were only ten bullets, and standard bullets couldn't fit into its cylinder.

After firing two rounds in a test, Lorien stored it away in the drawer as a collector's item.

He picked up one of the revolvers, flicked open the cylinder, and unloaded each bullet one by one before expertly reloading them. After repeating this process a few times, he placed the fully loaded cylinder back into the drawer.

Recently, he had been practicing shooting for an hour every day. His marksmanship had barely improved, but his speed at loading bullets had increased significantly.

Closing the drawer, Lorien pushed open the door and stepped out of his bedroom, immediately greeted by a cacophony of noise.

His personal valet, Morris, was standing outside the bedroom. Morris was tall, with slightly dark skin. His slicked-back hair gleamed with oil, and he wore a white shirt, a black vest, and a dark red tie. A ring adorned one of his fingers.

"Sir, did we disturb your rest?"

"No," Lorien pointed at the brown woolen carpet on his bedroom door. "With that there, no sound gets through."

The coarse woolen fabric on the door muffled all noise from the servants' quarters. It was a necessity in any household that employed servants.

Morris lowered his head slightly, saying nothing.

Lorien chuckled and continued, "How are the banquet preparations going?"

"Everything is nearly ready."

"Where is August?"

"He should be in the banquet hall."

Lorien pulled the bell cord that signaled the banquet hall.

Moments later, the butler, Mr. August, briskly approached.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Hmm. Is the wine ready?"

"We have taken fifty bottles of wine from the cellar, including twenty bottles of Aurmir. Additionally, fifty bottles of champagne have been purchased, including twenty bottles of Mist Champagne."

Butler August spoke fluidly, without hesitation, listing off the selection.

"Are the gifts prepared?"

"All the gifts for the guests have been arranged."

Lorien nodded in satisfaction and followed the butler into the banquet hall.

The reception hall was dimly lit, with only the gas lamps on the walls providing illumination. A massive chandelier hung overhead, its white candles already placed but left unlit until the banquet began.

The silverware steward directed the footmen to arrange various silver pieces around the hall, ensuring the candlelight would reflect off them. Meanwhile, servants in red vests meticulously measured the placement of each dining set and the heights of the candles before the guests' seats.

Maids in black dresses and white aprons busied themselves inspecting floral arrangements on the tables or folding pristine white napkins into the latest fashionable bishop's hat shape.

……

Inside the grand banquet hall, chandeliers held rows of burning candles, emitting a soothing fragrance and casting a warm glow that rivaled the gas lamps.

The long tables were laden with delicacies: Seared Foie Gras, Roasted Beef Dteak, Roast Chicken, Pan-Fried Dole, Dixie Oysters, Stewed Lamb, and Creamy Soups. Additionally, there were bottles of Mist Champagne, Aurmir Blood Wine, and Southville Beer and Liquor.

Lorien stood at the main seat, addressing his neighbors and his father's old friends.

His speech was nothing more than the usual pleasantries - acknowledging that he had been too preoccupied with his law firm over the past two years and had neglected his social circles. He offered his apologies and announced that he would now focus more on managing the firm while maintaining closer ties with those present.

It was essentially a newcomer introducing himself to the community, though it also had the undertone of a father presenting his newly matured son to his friends.

Regardless of how it was perceived, for Lorien, it was a declaration that he had now taken over the Ashford family and would ensure its future prosperity.

After Lorien's speech, his uncle Edmund Robert took the stage. His eyes were already red, barely holding back tears as he spoke.

Following this, the banquet officially began.

Servants in red vests moved through the elegantly dressed crowd, carrying trays of crystal glasses.

Lorien held a glass of Aurmir Blood Wine, greeting each of his father Mason's old friends under Uncle Robert's introduction.

When the main course was finished, the white tablecloths were replaced with fresh ones, and the servants began serving desserts and fruit.

After dessert, since the Ashford household lacked a hostess, their neighbor, Mrs. Curtis, was invited to temporarily assume the role.

At her signal, all the ladies rose from their seats and left for the first reception hall, while the servants withdrew from the banquet hall. Meanwhile, the gentlemen remained behind. This was a tradition unique to Loen, different from the customs of other Northern Continent nations.

The men gathered in small groups, some around Lorien, others around Edmund. They smoked cigars and sipped fine, strong liquor, discussing politics, sports, and more private matters that wouldn't be spoken of in front of the ladies.

Once the conversation reached its natural end, Lorien led the gentlemen to the first reception hall to reunite with the ladies, marking the start of the second half of the banquet - the dance.

…

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Quelaag Club, underground shooting range.

Lorien held a revolver in one hand, aimed at the 10-meter target, and fired continuously.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

After emptying all six rounds in the cylinder, Lorien flipped it open, smoothly ejecting the spent casings before reloading with practiced ease.

His shooting instructor, Atwood, retrieved the target sheet and reported the results of Lorien's six shots:

"Mr. Ashford, two in the seventh ring, three in the eighth, and one in the ninth."

Hearing his score, Lorien nodded in satisfaction.

For the past two months, he had spent half an hour to an hour almost every day training his marksmanship, firing over 3,000 rounds in total. The cost of these bullets alone, along with the use of firearms, targets, and Atwood's fees, exceeded 220 pounds.

220 pounds - if some families had an annual income of that amount, they could call themselves middle class. But for Lorien, it was merely the cost of his shooting practice over two months.

During this time, he had hosted three banquets and six salons, attended three charity auctions, and participated in five or six events for disabled veterans. Coupled with the wages for his servants, his bank account had plummeted.

Initially, he had over 7,000 pounds in his account, but now, he barely had just over 3,000 left!

If not for his law firm and the fact that his social circle had stabilized - eliminating the need for extravagant events - he might have considered selling his two other properties in Backlund and the one in Tingen.

As for his marksmanship, it was already decent. Every shot hit the target, and all were within the seventh ring or better. If it were a real enemy, he might not land headshots every time, but hitting his target within ten meters was no problem at all.

At this point, further training wouldn't yield much short-term improvement, so today would likely be his last shooting session.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Firing the final six rounds, Lorien tossed the revolver onto the long table in front of him.

Atwood was momentarily stunned before smiling and asking, "Mr. Ashford, do you need a break?"

Since becoming Lorien's shooting instructor, Atwood had trained with him daily, earning nearly seventy pounds - his wages for four months.

Lorien waved a hand and took a sip of the sweet iced tea his valet had brought.

"No, that's enough for today."

"Are you busy with something, Mr. Ashford?"

Over the past two months, Atwood had gotten familiar with Lorien's habits. No matter how occupied he was, he always fired at least thirty rounds in a session. Yet today, he had only fired eighteen.

"I won't be coming back for a while, and besides, it's already June 28th. I've trained long enough."

June 28th? Was there something special about this date? Or was it because so many new clients had been showing up lately? Atwood speculated in his mind.

With the end of June and the start of July, Backlund's annual social season was in full swing. Nobles from across the Loen Kingdom were arriving in the city for various banquets, balls, and salons.

Hunting was, of course, a staple activity, though it was still too early in the season for much of it. Nonetheless, some young nobles were already eager to start, making shooting practice all the more popular.

Lately, Atwood had been getting more clients than usual. Lorien's remark made him worry his service might have been inadequate. He asked anxiously, "Mr. Ashford, are you dissatisfied with my service?"

Lorien glanced at him in surprise, realizing the misunderstanding, and explained, "No, I'm quite satisfied with you. I just don't see much point in continuing - my shooting is good enough, and being too skilled with a gun isn't particularly useful to me."

"That's a relief. I'll return the ammunition and firearm for you."

With no other choice, Atwood - disheartened at losing such a generous client - gathered the remaining bullets and revolver before walking away.

Watching him leave, Lorien turned to his valet, Morris, and chuckled.

"Looks like Mr. Atwood has gotten used to making money off me."

Morris forced out a stiff smile. His master always had a peculiar sense of humor.

Seeing his valet's awkward expression, Lorien shook his head helplessly. Morris was tall, handsome, well-dressed, and had a deep appreciation for music and theater. If not for his inability to appreciate his master's humor, he would have been nearly flawless.

After waiting for a while and seeing no sign of Atwood returning, Lorien grew impatient and left the training room, heading directly for Wit Damon's office.

Before he had taken a few steps, Atwood hurried back.

"Apologies for the wait, Mr. Ashford."

"It's fine."

Lorien's previous impatience had vanished, replaced with a look of concern - the kind of social mask honed through countless banquets, salons, and charity events spent mingling with actors and high society.

"Did something happen?"

Atwood, still catching his breath, explained, "I'm sorry, but Mr. Damon went home, and since there was no acting supervisor, I had to get the manager to sign off."

Lorien asked with concern, "Why? Was he feeling unwell?"

He had met Damon before. Despite being a veteran who had lost an arm, the man was gentle and composed. He was in charge of the shooting range but still treated customers with respect. Why would he get into a conflict?

Atwood finally steadied his breathing and sighed, "No, Mr. Damon had a conflict with a guest and was sent home by the manager."

Lorien frowned.

Seeing Lorien's furrowed brows, Atwood quickly elaborated.

"That guest was drunk and tried to enter the ammunition storeroom. Mr. Damon stopped him, and that's how the conflict started."

"Then why did your manager send Mr. Damon home?"

"The guest has a rather high status - he's the son of a leading figure in the New Party. His friends eventually persuaded him to rest, but to prevent further trouble, the manager decided to send Mr. Damon home first."

Lorien sighed inwardly. Hah… Wherever you go, you can't escape the Young Masters.

…

Late at night, Lorien stood by the window, gazing at the crimson full moon outside. He lowered his head and checked his pocket watch.

…

Iron Cross Street, West Borough, Tingen City.

Zhou Mingrui woke up with a splitting headache. He struggled to get out of bed and walked to his desk, gazing through the crimson veil toward the window.

High in the sky, against the black velvet curtain, a crimson full moon hung quietly, casting its eerie glow.

 

[IHaveNoNamingSense]

Pathway: The Black Emperor

Spoiler: Sequence 9: Lawyer

Sequence 9: Lawyer:

New Abilities

Law Proficency: Lawyers are exceptionally skilled at using the laws of legality and social behavior to suit their needs. This is due to their enhanced intelligence and ability to discern loopholes.

They are exceptionally attuned at learning and mastering various legal codes and court jobs. They possess an enhanced memory, powerful intuition, and a masterful vocabulary that makes them exceptional at eloquence and reasoning.

Through the careful use of their own words, actions, and established processes, Lawyers are able to effectively influence the judgement of others, distorting their targets thinking to a certain degree, and effectively Brainwashing them.

This is done through methods like making the target feel like they're close to the Lawyer via the divulsion of their various unimportant secrets.

Lawyers are rather skilled at finding and taking advantage of loopholes within various social rules and laws, being able to quickly find and exploit the legal weaknesses of enemies, letting them use society to get rid of unwanted people or scenarios.

Combined with their ability as a public speaker, Lawyers are able to quickly escalate or deescalate a solution down through their words alone, making them exceptional manipulators of various groups and individuals constrained by society.

Spirituality: Their Spirituality has been slightly enhanced as a Sequence 9 Beyonder of the Black Emperor Pathway, however they are far from the best or worse in this field; a mere average.

Ritualistic Magic and Divination Arts: They are able to perform a number of these mystical performances, however only up to a certain level with a certain amount of proficiency.

Spirit Vision: Lawyers possess Spirit Vision that can be used to peer into non-physical things, such as ghosts, specters, and the different parts of a organisms' soul to deduce one's health and emotions.

They can learn this ability through Cogitation.

Their chances of succeeding in Cogitation are exactly half and half.

 

[marsolino]

Already found this story on WN but it's nice to see more LOTM content elsewhere too!

 

[IHaveNoNamingSense]

Chapter 7: Barbarian

In midair, a crimson moon hung high above the backdrop of a 'black velvet curtain,' glowing in silence.

This… Zhou Mingrui felt inexplicably horrified as he stood up abruptly. However, before his feet fully straightened, his brain protested with throbbing pain. It made him temporarily lose his strength as he fell uncontrollably. His buttocks slammed heavily onto the burly wood chair.

...

At 6:45, Butler August, dressed in a white shirt, black tie, and vest, with finely striped black trousers, arrived outside his employer's bedroom.

He knocked on the door, covered with brown wool felt.

Knock, knock, knock.

After counting silently to ten, he knocked again.

Knock, knock, knock.

Only then did he hear a response from inside.

"Come in."

"Good morning, sir."

...

Iron Cross Street, West Borough, Tingen.

After taking a breath, Zhou Mingrui took off his suit and vest, switching to a brownish-yellow coat. He also changed to a felt hat with a rounded edge of the same color. With two soli and a few pennies, he left his apartment. His left hand was buried deep in his pocket, tightly gripping the revolver.

...

Lorien put on a light blue morning robe chosen by his valet Morris. A valet had to stay ahead of fashion trends since they were responsible for managing their master's wardrobe. Their taste determined whether their master appeared refined.

Butler August entered the bedroom, carrying a silver tray with breakfast. He set it on the small dining table near the bed, arranging the items neatly - Felmo coffee, a jar of jam, bread, crispy bacon, and a small lemon cake. Then, he took the freshly ironed newspaper from beneath the tray and handed it to Lorien before walking over to pull open the curtains.

Ironing the newspaper was the first thing a butler did in the morning. This process killed germs on the paper and dried the ink to prevent staining his master's fingers while reading.

"Alright, you may leave now."

Lorien took the newspaper and dismissed the butler and valet.

Sitting at the dining table, he set the newspaper aside. It was a copy of the Tussock Times.

He picked up a knife, spread jam on his bread, and glanced at the headline.

"Retired Soldier Loses Control, Shoots in Revenge."

...

Back home, Zhou Mingrui pulled four loaves of rye bread from his paper bag. He placed one in the corner where the coal stove used to be, one behind the dressing mirror, one atop the cupboard where two walls met, and the last in the cluttered space beside his desk.

Taking a deep breath, he stood in the center of the room, calming himself for several minutes. Then, with a solemn expression, he began walking counterclockwise in a square.

Finishing his movements, he returned to his starting position, closed his eyes, and waited in silence. Hope, unease, anticipation, and fear filled his heart.

...

Having finished breakfast, Lorien locked his bedroom door and sat at his desk, reading the Tussock Times.

"Last night at 11:00, a shooting occurred on Unit 19 Hope Street in Cherwood Borough. The shooter, retired soldier Wit Damon, was involved in a dispute with the victim earlier in the day. That night, he used a revolver to wound the victim's left arm…"

"How interesting."

...

"What is happening?"

Zhou Mingrui looked around in shock, then lowered his head, realizing he was floating at the edge of an endless sea of gray fog.

The fog was flowing like water and was dotted with a lot of crimson 'stars.' Some of them were enormous while others were tiny. There was a sense of them being hidden in the deep depths, while others floated over the surface of this water-like fog.

As he examined this scene, he noticed one of the crimson stars flickering. Half curious and half cautious, he reached out to touch it.

The moment his fingers made contact, ripples surged from his body, triggering a radiant burst from the "crimson star," like a dreamlike flame igniting.

Startled, Zhou Mingrui instinctively pulled back his hand and stumbled, bumping into two nearby "crimson stars."

Both stars immediately shone brightly.

In turn, Zhou Mingrui felt his mind empty and his spirit dissipated.

...

Backlund, Empress Borough, in a luxurious villa.

Audrey Hall sat in front of a dresser. The markings on it were antiquated and there was a cracked bronze mirror on the surface.

She pouted her lips in grievance. She said in a soft murmur, "Father was indeed lying to me. He always tells me that this mirror was the treasure of the Solomon Empire's Black Emperor, and that it is an extraordinary item…"

Before Audrey could finish speaking, the bronze mirror placed on the table suddenly emitted a deep crimson glow, enveloping her in an instant.

...

Grimm Garden Street, West Borough.

A black pyramid mark with two swords cris-crossed in front of it reappeared on Lorien's palm.

"Wh..." Before he could react, A crimson radiance erupted from his hand, consuming him.

...

In the Sonia Sea, a three-masted sailboat that looked like an obvious relic was navigating through a storm.

"Still short on the Ghost Shark's blood…" Alger murmured.

Then at this moment, a crimson burst appeared in the space between the glass bottle and the surface of his palm. In an instant, it enveloped the surroundings as well.

...

Mysterious space above the gray fog.

Audrey Hall regained her vision, glancing around in panic and confusion. Across from her, two men with blurred faces and indistinct silhouettes were doing the same.

Almost simultaneously, they all noticed another figure standing nearby - a mysterious person shrouded in the gray fog.

This "mysterious person," Zhou Mingrui, was just as stunned.

"Sir, where is this?"

Audrey and Alger were startled at first, falling silent in the process. Then, they immediately started speaking in unison.

"What are you planning on doing?"

Lorien heard their words but remained silent, carefully observing the "mysterious person," Zhou Mingrui. Then, he discreetly looked at his hand - the mark of the Nation of Disorder. It was glowing crimson as well.

Lorien couldn't help but sigh. I can guess how I'm here, but what are the chances of him finding my Crimson Star amidst all the others? I didn't want to enter the Tarot Club this early.

After a brief moment of silence above the gray fog, Zhou Mingrui considered his options. He decided to maintain the enigmatic image that Audrey and the others perceived, steering the situation to gather valuable information.

He chuckled softly, his tone calm, his voice low but steady - like a polite response to a visitor's greeting.

"An Attempt."

Lorien remained silent but inwardly praised Zhou Mengrui.

He is such a good actor.

We've been dragged up here for less than a minute, and he already thought of a strategy?

Lorien glanced at the blurry faces around him. Right, this is basically an online chatroom now.

Audrey struggled to suppress her panic and awe. Taking a deep breath, she forced a flawless, polite smile and nervously asked, "Sir, is the attempt over? Might you permit our return?"

Instead of answering immediately, Zhou Mingrui turned to examine the two men across from him. One had deep blue, messy seaweed-like hair and an average build - not particularly muscular. He wore a robe embroidered with lightning patterns. The other was tall and dressed in a "bathrobe"-like outfit.

Zhou Mingrui knew it was actually a morning gown, a type of homewear worn in the morning or before bed. He had heard Welch mention it and had seen him wear one before. Only the wealthy and noble wore such clothing since they had laundry maids to wash them.

So, this gentleman was likely as rich as the golden-haired girl. Based on her accent, she must be from Loen's nobility or a wealthy family.

But this man hadn't spoken yet, so it wasn't certain if he was Loenese. As for the messy-haired one - his accent was heavy. He wasn't from Loen, was he?

Still, in this situation, they were the guests, and he was the host.

This shift in mindset made Zhou Mingrui notice details he had previously overlooked.

The sweet-voiced girl, the composed and reserved man, and the one in the morning gown all appeared slightly illusory, tinged with a faint red glow - just like the three crimson "stars" projected above the gray fog.

These projections were formed through his connection with the deep red light - intangible yet something he could control.

Severing this connection would cause the projections to vanish, returning them to reality.

Zhou Mingrui nodded almost imperceptibly, then looked at the blonde girl and said with a gentle smile, "Of course, if you make a formal request, you can return this very moment."

Wouldn't it be awkward if I asked to go back right now? Lorien barely held back a bitter laugh at the thought. But hey, shouldn't you set up some chairs and a table first? Standing around like this is just awkward.'

Lorien maintained a composed expression, but his thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.

Audrey, sensing no malice, breathed a sigh of relief. She believed that someone capable of such extraordinary feats would surely keep their word.

Feeling slightly calmer, she didn't rush to leave. Instead, her blue eyes darted around, flashing with a strange light.

She said in an anxious, anticipative and tempted manner, "This is such a wonderful experience… Yes, I have always been hoping that something like this would happen. I mean - I like mysteries and supernatural miracles. No, my point is - what I mean is that, Sir, what can I do to become a Beyonder?"

Suddenly, the surrounding gray fog churned, startling both Audrey and Alger. Even Lorien, who had been lost in thought, was taken aback.

In an instant, they saw a number of towering stone pillars around them. Above them was a vast dome that encapsulated them.

This entire edifice looked magnificent, grand and lofty, just like a legendary palace for giants.

Directly under the dome where the gray fog gathered, a long, bronze table appeared with ten high-back chairs on either side in a symmetrical arrangement, along with a chair on each of the two ends of the long table. The back of each chair dazzled and shone faintly with crimson red, drawing the outlines of weird constellations that differed from reality.

Audrey and Lorien found themselves seated directly across from each other, closest to the head of the table, while Alger was seated to Lorien's right.

The girl glanced left, then right, murmuring under her breath,

"Amazing..."

"Yeah, truly amazing," Lorien echoed, while sneaking a glance at Zhou Mengrui, who was subtly rubbing the edge of the bronze table with his right hand.

Alger examined his surroundings, then, after a few seconds of silence, suddenly spoke, answering Audrey's question on Zhou Mingrui's behalf.

"You're from Loen, right?"

"If you want to become a Beyonder, join the Church of the Evernight Goddess, Church of the Lord of Storms, or the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery."

"The majority of us will not meet a Beyonder our entire lives. This has caused Churches, and even some clergymen within some of the biggest Churches, to suspect the same. While this is the case, I am certain to tell you that Beyonders still exist in courts, tribunals, and execution agencies. They are still fighting against the dangers that grow in the dark, only that their numbers are much fewer as compared to before and during the early days of the Iron Age."

...

Audrey's eyes shone as she listened, and spoke after a long while, "Why? Alright, this is a follow-up question. I-I think I have fallen in love with this feeling - of being a 'Spectator.' How can I get this potion's formula? What can I use to trade with you for it?"

Alger looked like he was already prepared as he said in a deep voice, "The blood of Ghost Sharks, at least 100 milliliters of it."

Audrey nodded her head excitedly, but subsequently asked worriedly, "If I can get it - and I'm saying if - how do I hand it to you? How can you promise me that you can give the potion's formula to me in return for the Ghost Shark's blood, as well as the authenticity of the formula?"

Lorien suddenly interjected, "I believe, under the witness of this mysterious gentleman, both of you can rest assured."

With that, he gave a slight bow toward Zhou Mengrui, seated at the head of the bronze table.

"May I ask how we should address you, sir?"

Zhou Mingrui looked at Lorien but didn't return the bow. Instead, he tapped his fingers on the bronze table as if in thought.

Don't make decisions for me! Or better yet, why don't you do it yourself?

You barely spoke a word before, and now you're setting things up for me?

Zhou Mingrui sighed internally, but then, inspiration struck - he recalled his previous divination.

Leaning back, he folded his hands under his chin and smiled.

"You may call me…"

He paused briefly before continuing in a calm, measured tone.

"The Fool."

The brief answer quickly faded into the grand temple and the swirling fog, but in Audrey and Alger's hearts, that voice echoed endlessly, stirring ripple after ripple in their minds.

Lorien lowered his head and sighed inwardly.

After a few moments of silence, Audrey stood up, lightly lifting her skirt, bending her knee, and saluting Zhou Mingrui.

"Honorable Mr. Fool, please forgive my presumption, but may I ask you to witness our transaction?"

"A small matter." Zhou Mingrui's thoughts turned rapidly as he answered in a way that suited his identity.

"It is our honor, Mr. Fool," Alger also stood up, placed his right hand over his chest, and bowed.

Zhou Mingrui pressed his right hand downward slightly and said with a smile, "Continue."

Alger nodded, then turned to Lorien beside him and similarly bowed.

"I also thank this gentleman for his suggestion."

Alger was filled with curiosity about this man. Among the three who had been pulled into this place by Mr. Fool, this man was as mysterious as The Fool himself.

He spoke little, but when he did, he made a suggestion to the powerful and enigmatic Mr. Fool - an extremely risky move. Or had he noticed that Mr. Fool harbored goodwill toward them? If so, he must also be a Beyonder. A Spectator? Or a Mystery Pryer?

Seeing this, Audrey hurriedly stood up, lifted her skirt slightly, and curtsied to Lorien.

Audrey, how could you forget to thank the gentleman who gave us that suggestion? Even Susie knows to thank those who help her. You've had etiquette lessons!

Ugh! Audrey, what are you thinking?!

Maintaining a graceful smile, Audrey said, "Thank you, sir."

Lorien also stood up and returned the gesture to Alger and Audrey.

Why do I feel like Alger is overthinking things about me? Shouldn't he be speculating about Klein instead?

"This gratitude should go to Mr. Fool."

The three of them turned and bowed once more to Zhou Mingrui.

"Thank you, Mr. Fool."

Is this man good at playing along? Zhou Mingrui thought. He made a decision on my behalf, and yet he smoothly led the others into following his lead. He's clearly done this kind of thing before.

Zhou Mingrui did not speak. He simply nodded reservedly.

When Audrey and Alger sat back down, Lorien once again bowed to Zhou Mingrui.

"Mr. Fool, you have agreed to witness their transaction. Would you mind doing this a few more times?"

Lorien felt that there was no time to delay. He needed to establish the Tarot Club before Zhou Mingrui's spirituality could no longer sustain it.

Alger listened carefully, and his heart stirred. He quickly echoed the suggestion, "Mr. Fool, don't you find this kind of gathering interesting? While your power far surpasses our imagination, the world surely holds domains you are unfamiliar with or unskilled in. The lady opposite me is clearly of noble birth, and the gentleman beside me also seems to come from an extraordinary background. As for myself, I have my own unique experiences, knowledge, connections, and resources. Perhaps in the future, we could assist you with trivial matters that you may find inconvenient to handle yourself."

A noble lady? Was my demeanor that obvious? Audrey's lips parted slightly in surprise, but she quickly regained her composure and nodded without hesitation.

"Mr. Fool, I think this is an excellent proposal. If these gatherings become regular, there may be times when it is inconvenient for you to act personally. In such cases, you could delegate matters to us, provided they are within our capabilities."

Alger could tell from Audrey's accent that she was of noble birth, but how did he deduce that I am not an ordinary person? What kind of assumptions has he made about me? I didn't even speak with a noble accent! Lorien remained expressionless, keeping his gaze on Zhou Mingrui's table.

Considering that he had full control over the summoning and dismissal of this "gathering," any potential risks would remain within manageable bounds. The benefits clearly outweighed the drawbacks. With this in mind, Zhou Mingrui quickly made his decision.

He ceased his finger tapping and met their three eager yet anxious gazes with a smile.

"I am a person who values equivalent exchange."

"I will not ask you to help me without compensation."

"Every Monday at three in the afternoon, try your best to be alone. After I make a few more attempts and figure out certain things, perhaps you can apply for a leave of absence ahead of time. You will no longer need to worry about being in inappropriate situations."

Audrey, who had just turned seventeen and had always been well-protected, still had a girlish heart. Upon hearing Mr. Fool's response, she couldn't help but clench her fists and shake them lightly in front of her chest.

"Then shouldn't we come up with titles for ourselves as well? After all, we can't use our real names to communicate." Before Alger could speak, she eagerly suggested, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Though Mr. Fool might already know their true identities, she couldn't let the two gentlemen opposite her find out - especially that blue-haired one. He felt dangerous!

"Good idea," Zhou Mingrui responded simply and lightly.

Audrey immediately began thinking, speaking as she pondered.

"You are Mr. Fool, from the Tarot cards. Since this is a regular, long-term, secret gathering, our titles should align accordingly. Hmm, I'll pick from the Tarot cards too."

Her tone gradually brightened.

"I've decided! My title shall be 'Justice.'"

One of the twenty-two Major Arcana.

"And you, gentlemen?" Audrey turned to her two new "companions" with a smile.

Alger furrowed his brows briefly before relaxing and saying, "'The Hanged Man.'"

Another Major Arcana card.

Lorien had already made his decision beforehand.

"'The Emperor.'"

A card symbolizing authority and control.

Audrey and Alger exchanged glances. The Emperor was far more imposing in name and meaning than Justice and The Hanged Man. Is Mr Emperor a member of the royal family? But I've never seen him at any banquets… Or is he from the Feysac or Feynapotter royal families?

The Emperor… He must be of noble birth. An Augustus or a Castiya? The Hanged Man, Alger Wilson, scrutinized Lorien. Though he couldn't see his true appearance, he was certain that The Emperor was not a Feysac native.

Lorien had chosen The Emperor for two reasons: first, it was associated with both the Black Emperor and the Justiciar pathways; second, in Lord of Mysteries, the Tarot Club members' titles often reflected their fates. He dared not pick one carelessly, lest he entangle himself in a fate beyond his control.

Seeing Audrey and Alger studying him, even Zhou Mingrui seemed to be observing him subtly. Lorien chose not to explain further - sometimes, the more one explains, the messier things become.

"Mr. Hanged Man, you haven't told Miss Justice how to give you Ghost Shark blood yet."

The Hanged Man, Alger, froze for a moment. It seemed that Mr. Emperor didn't want to explain this matter. Without prying further, he turned to Audrey and said:

"If you can obtain the Ghost Shark's blood, get someone to send it to the Warrior & Sea Bar at Pelican Street, in the White Rose Borough of Pritz Harbor. Tell the boss, Williams, that it's what the 'Captain' wants.

"Once I confirm, do you want to send me an address so I can mail the potion formula, or should I just tell you here?"

Audrey stopped looking at Lorien, lowered her head in thought, and then smiled.

"I'll choose the more discreet option - right here. Though that will test my memory."

Since Mr. Fool agreed to witness the transaction, that meant there would be more meetings like this in the future. But shouldn't the gathering have a name?

"Honorable Mr. Fool, since our titles come from the Tarot cards, why don't we call our gathering the Tarot Club?"

Zhou Mingrui felt helpless. Miss Justice, have you already been influenced by Mr Emperor? He barely spoke a few words, and now you're learning to make decisions for me too?

However, he simply nodded, agreeing with Audrey's suggestion. He also felt that "Tarot Club" was a fitting name.

"Alright, then we are now the founding members of the Tarot Club," Audrey blurted out happily, before glancing hesitantly at the figure shrouded in gray-white fog. "No objections, Mr. Fool?"

Zhou Mingrui shook his head in amusement.

"This kind of trivial matter, you can decide for yourselves."

"Thank you." Audrey was clearly excited.

Then, she turned to Alger.

"Mr. Hanged Man, could you repeat that address? I'm worried I might not remember it clearly."

"No problem." Alger was pleased with Audrey's seriousness and repeated the address again.

At that moment, Zhou Mingrui's headache worsened. He felt his intangible connection to the crimson stars and gray-white fog begin to waver.

"Alright, today's gathering ends here," he decided immediately, speaking in a deep voice.

"By your will," Alger bowed his head in salute.

Lorien did the same. "By your will."

"By your will," Audrey mimicked the Hanged Man and the Emperor.

She still had so many questions, so many thoughts - she was reluctant for the meeting to end.

As Zhou Mingrui severed the connection, he smiled and said: "Let us look forward to the next gathering."

The Crimson Stars shone once more, and the crimson glow receded like water. The three members had just heard Mr. Fool's final words when their figures blurred, growing increasingly illusory.

In less than a second, the "projections" shattered, and silence returned to the gray fog.

…

"It looks like I won't be able to return for a while."

Only the ignorant are fearless. After witnessing such mystical events and learning about the Beyonder world, Zhou Mingrui no longer dared to recklessly attempt the "Luck Enhancement Ritual" using Ancient Feysac or Loenese.

Who knew what might happen? Perhaps something even stranger, even more terrifying - something worse than death itself.

"I need a deeper understanding of mysticism before trying again," Zhou Mingrui thought helplessly.

Fortunately, this so-called "gathering" could provide him with assistance.

After a brief silence, he muttered to himself with a mix of frustration, loss, pain, and melancholy:

"From now on, I am Klein."

…

The wind howled, and rain poured down in torrents. The three-masted sailing ship rose and fell between towering waves, as if a giant was throwing and catching it like a toy.

Alger Wilson's crimson vision faded, and he found himself still standing on the deck, unchanged from before.

Then, he saw the strangely shaped glass bottle in his palm shatter with a crack. Frost and snow melted into water, merging with the raindrops.

Within just two or three seconds, the ancient artifact completely disappeared without a trace.

A six-sided crystalline snowflake appeared in Alger's palm, then rapidly faded until it vanished entirely, seemingly absorbed into his flesh and blood.

…

Loen Kingdom, Capital of Backlund, Empress Borough.

Audrey Hall pinched her cheek, unable to believe what she had just experienced.

Her gaze lowered, and she saw a "crimson glow" flowing across the back of her hand, like a tattoo of the stars.

The glow gradually dimmed before vanishing into her skin.

Looking at the shattered antique bronze mirror before her, a sly glint flickered in her eyes.

…

Grimm Garden Street, West Borough, Backlund.

Lorien stood near the window and looked at the view of Backlund's West Borough at high noon.

He looked down at the back of his hand. Though the black pyramid imprint had disappeared again, he could still feel it lingering beneath his skin. With a simple nudge of his spirituality, it would resurface.

He couldn't help but sigh again. What are the chances of Klein touching all the "correct" crimson lights? Is this what they meant by the inevitability of fate? Then the Circle of Inevitability is more powerful than I give it credit for.

And regarding me being summoned there without having any item connected to Sefirah Castle, it again comes back to the Celestial Worthy being the owner of the Nation of Disorder. The mark on my hand, corresponding to the Nation of Disorder, could be used to summon me inside Sefirah Castle as well. And I think I could do the same for Klein if I were able to summon people in there.

Ugh... Thinking about these things always gives me a headache.

While massaging his forehead, Lorien stepped away from the window, walked to his desk, and pulled open the lower-left drawer.

Inside were two wooden boxes. He took them out and opened them.

One of the boxes was lined with soft white velvet, holding a cluster of leaves. The leaves had striking colors - green blending into deep purple, with red veins running through them like capillaries.

The other, larger box contained an animal horn about ten centimeters long. Dark brown, covered in jagged crystalline spikes, it looked like a piece of mineral-infused bone.

These were Grass of Madness and the Land Rhinoceros Core Horn Crystal - main ingredients for the Sequence 8 Barbarian potion.

Predecessor Lorien had been a Lawyer for over two years now, and three months had passed since his transmigration. He had fully digested the Lawyer potion a month and a half ago.

Though he had made many connections in the past two months, they were all ordinary people.

In the Beyonder world, aside from Bird Mustang and the unreliable Beyonder gatherings introduced by Kane Rister, he had gained little.

It wasn't until two weeks ago that he managed to join Mr. A's gatherings through the son of a viscount. At his second meeting, two days ago, he had gathered all the key ingredients for the Barbarian potion.

While thinking, Lorien took the wooden box containing Grass of Madness and the Land Rhinoceros Core Horn Crystal from his bedroom and brought it to the room opposite his study. This room had already been converted into a makeshift chemistry lab.

"100 milliliters of strong Liquor, 10 milliliters of Soaking Poplar Bark Extract..."

"Then, one Fragrance Hornet Grass and a Deep-Grained Walnut."

Following the order of supplementary ingredients before the main component, Lorien began preparing the Barbarian potion. He had already experimented multiple times with the supplementary ingredients, so he quickly completed the first half of the preparation.

Looking at the beaker filled with a green-glowing liquid, even though he had done this several times, Lorien couldn't help but feel uneasy. He sighed, then tossed in the Grass of Madness, staining the liquid with a bloody hue before adding the Land Rhinoceros Core Horn Crystal.

A wisp of ethereal gas rose from the beaker, then quickly merged back into the liquid.

Once the potion settled, Lorien poured it into another glass cup. The finished potion was a deep red, glowing faintly with golden sparks flickering within, like embers trapped in liquid.

Holding the cup, Lorien sat down on a nearby chair, and entered cogitation to steady his emotions. Once he had calmed down, he tilted his head back and drank the Barbarian potion in one go.

Gulp, gulp -

Though the potion had cooled, it burned like fire as it slid down his throat, making him feel as if he had swallowed boiling water.

As the heat faded, incomprehensible whispers rang in his mind, while a tearing sensation exploded through his entire body, as if countless knives were slicing through his skin, muscles, veins, and marrow.

Lorien clenched the collar of his robe between his teeth, fearing that he might cry out from the pain.

The agony and the whispers came suddenly and left just as fast. But in those few seconds, his whole body was drenched in sweat, his robe sticking to him uncomfortably.

Taking a deep breath, Lorien stood up and blinked. He felt like he had grown a few centimeters taller. Rolling up his sleeves and clenching his fists, he watched his muscles and veins bulge, his skin glistening with sweat.

He had been out of shape before, only picking up exercise again in the past two months. His body had been healthy but far from strong. At most, when he flexed, his biceps and triceps were slightly defined. But now, just by tightening his fist, even the muscles in his forearm swelled up.

Sighing in relief, he was glad he lived in Loen, where the Victorian era inspiration made three-piece suits the norm. Otherwise, he'd have trouble going out for a while.

Looking into a full-length mirror, he saw that his appearance hadn't changed much, apart from gaining two centimeters in height, bringing him to 1.8 meters. But his sweat-drenched body and the bite mark on his robe's collar made him look... As if he had the most intense sex in his life.

Would I look like this if I had tasted a Demoness? The question came unbidden on him mind as he walked towards the bathroom

…

After taking a shower, Lorien put on a shirt with decorative ruffles on the chest and a black vest over it.

He had just started testing the Barbarian abilities. First and foremost, his strength had increased significantly.

The chair in his study was made of ironwood and weighed about twenty pounds.

But in Lorien's hands, lifting it felt no different than swinging a cane. He was already considering replacing his walking stick with an ironwood one. That would make traveling much safer.

Of course, his muscles had become more pronounced to match the newfound strength, though his overall physique hadn't changed much. But his now tighter-fitting shirt was making him uncomfortable. He even had an urge to rip it apart.

Lorien knew this was an effect of the Barbarian potion. In the structured, rule-bound world of a metropolis, even the restrictive feeling of a shirt could make a Barbarian uncomfortable, stirring a desire to break free.

Beyond strength and endurance, his resistance to mental interference had also improved. Most spiritual influences at Sequence 8 would no longer affect him.

He suspected that even the Sequence 7 Interrogator's abilities like Whip of Pain or Psychic Piercing wouldn't be as painful for a Barbarian as they were for the Sequence 8 Clown. The Black Emperor and Justiciar paths were practically made to oppose each other, while the Chaos Mist Pathway functioned as the balancer between these two pathways.

His enhanced mental fortitude also sharpened his instincts, allowing him to master and exploit situations to gain the most benefits possible through force. He could now also discern the amount and type of violence just above the base threshold needed to convince those watching him.

…

After returning, Lorien glanced at the newspaper on the dining table. Then, he stepped out of his bedroom and rang the bell that summoned his butler, valet, and footman.

Before drinking the potion, Lorien had already instructed his staff that no one was to go upstairs without his bell.

Before long, Butler August ascended the stairs with Valet Morris and a footman in tow.

Lorien handed the newspaper to August and instructed:

"Look into this Wit Damon matter."

"We already have some preliminary findings."

"Oh?"

Lorien glanced at August. He had known from their first meeting that August was a "lawyer." But ever since becoming Lorien's butler, the man had remained disciplined and diligent, so he hadn't bothered to interfere.

Of course, through August's network, Lorien had managed to befriend several retired officers and conservative figures - though at the cost of attending numerous charity events and spending a fair amount of money.

August remained calm, standing respectfully. He had always sensed a degree of wariness from Lorien. But after introducing him to several retired officers and members of the conservative party, that wariness had gradually faded.

Still, he knew it would return. But a butler needed his master's trust. Without it, maintaining authority over the household staff would be difficult.

Yet, he had never found an opportunity to bridge the gap - until today. Upon seeing the news about Damon in the newspaper, he knew he had found his opening. That was why he had placed the article prominently and sent someone to investigate.

"Come to the study with me," Lorien said, then waved to Morris.

"Morris, prepare a cup of Sweet Ice Tea."

He also signaled for his room servant to clean up his bedroom.

August walked ahead, opening the study door for Lorien.

Lorien entered and sat in an intricately carved chair with a down cushion, positioned before a large bookshelf.

August pulled the curtains aside, letting the late-June sunlight stream into the study.

Then, he stood before Lorien and bowed slightly.

"According to the police report…"

...

According to the Hillston Borough Police Division, at 11 p.m. last night, patrol officers near Unit 19 Hope Street in Cherwood Borough heard gunshots. When they arrived, they saw Damon holding a revolver aimed at the victim, whose left arm was wounded.

The patrol officers immediately drew their own revolvers and ordered Damon to surrender. He dropped his weapon and was taken to The Hillston Borough Police Division, while the victim was rushed to the hospital.

The investigation revealed that Damon and the victim had a heated argument earlier that day but were persuaded to go home. Later that night, when the victim passed by Unit 19 Hope Street, Damon spotted him and shot him in the left arm.

Backlund, the capital of the Loen Kingdom, is vast, with nearly twenty boroughs and a population exceeding five million. Besides the Backlund Police Department's headquarters in the outskirts of Empress Borough at Sivellaus Street, they are also known as "Sivellaus Yard", police divisions are set up in various boroughs, with the Hillston Borough Police Division being the largest.

Hillston Borough Police Division operates independently of Sivellaus Yard and is responsible for Hillston Borough, the economic center of the city. It has a large, well-trained police force, which has led to dissatisfaction among the people of Cherwood Borough.

Cherwood Borough is filled with small businesses and residential areas, home to a large middle-class population. At one point, the residents protested, demanding that the Minister of Police either increase the number of officers in the Cherwood Police Bureau or assign part of Cherwood Borough to Hillston Borough Police Division's jurisdiction.

At the time, the police system was still being established, and overwhelmed by the situation, the Minister of Police agreed to place some areas of Cherwood under Hillston's protection. That's why, even though Unit 19 Hope Street belongs to Cherwood Borough, Hillston Borough Police Division took over the case.

"What were the findings of your investigation?"

It was August who spoke, holding up the newspaper.

"Nothing except the victim's name."

"Oh? That's strange."

Lorien stroked his chin. Normally, a case like this was straightforward. If the facts were as they appeared, the best Lorien could do was argue for a lighter sentence - there was no way he could use Beyonder abilities to get a not-guilty verdict without attracting official Beyonders' attention.

"What's the victim's name?"

"Lance Nozick."

Lorien raised an eyebrow and looked at August.

"Nozick… from the New Party, right?"

The "Nozick" in question referred to Martin Nozick, one of the New Party's leaders. He had the backing of many major bankers, wealthy businessmen, and mine owners in Hillston Borough. Especially after the repeal of the Grain Act, the New Party had risen in influence, and Martin Nozick's name frequently appeared in economic reports.

"Yes."

Lorien had initially thought this was just retaliation. Yesterday, at Quelaag Club, Damon had an altercation with the son of a New Party leader, and now he was arrested for a shooting? That was too much of a coincidence.

But the victim really was Lance Nozick, Martin Nozick's son. Even if this was a setup, why would the son of a New Party leader personally get involved? And why was there almost no coverage on the case details? Something was definitely off.

Lorien snapped his fingers and ordered, "First, notify the East Balam Military Veterans Mess and Quelaag Club. Then, contact a few retired officers' clubs and have Mr. Jurgen Cooper go with them to Hillston Borough Police Division to see if we can get him bailed out. If that's not possible, at least make sure Mr. Jurgen meets with Damon."

The East Balam Military Veterans Mess was something Lorien had joined under August's guidance. It mainly focused on helping disabled veterans find employment and supporting their families.

Shooting someone was a serious crime, so the police might not allow bail. Hillston Borough Police Division was independent from the Backlund Police Department's headquarters and reported directly to the Minister of Police. But the bankers backing Martin Nozick could pressure them.

If that happened, they might not even let a lawyer visit Damon. In that case, he would be on his own and would likely be finished. That's why Lorien had August contact the East Balam Military Veterans Mess.

As for Quelaag Club, that was where Damon worked. A shooting charge was too serious for just a lawyer's intervention. Since he had no family, the club had to step in.

"Understood, sir."

"Also, leak the victim's name to the press. The victim will have to face reporters eventually."

Lorien smiled. Using public opinion was part of a lawyer's strategy.

"I'll notify the major newspapers and have them interview Lance Nozick."

"No, also get them to keep an eye on Martin Nozick. Make sure he doesn't meet with those people in Hillston Borough."

"Understood, sir."

"Any other suggestions?" Lorien looked at August. From how he had acted today, he probably had more ideas.

"I suggest sending the newspapers and information on the victim to a few Conservative Party nobles."

Lorien nodded again. "Do it."

If he could use Lance Nozick to attack Martin Nozick, it would slow down the New Party's rise. That would put him on the radar of the Conservative Party's top figures.

Lorien had no interest in becoming a politician or ruling Loen. Even if King George III failed his Black Emperor ascension and Loen was invaded, the royal family wouldn't let a commoner take control.

What he wanted was to become an advisor to the Prime Minister or a high-ranking Conservative Party leader. Just like how Klein used Audrey to establish the civil service exam system, Lorien planned to influence the major players to shape Loen's future in his favor.

It wasn't just ambition. Both the Black Emperor and Justiciar pathways required those above Sequence 2 to be rulers or enforcers of laws. Since both pathways revolved around authority, he had no choice but to move in that direction.

He couldn't afford to wait until he was a high-sequence Beyonder to start playing the role. By then, it might be too late. No country would tolerate a powerful Beyonder interfering in its internal affairs.

Lorien hoped his future promotions wouldn't be too troublesome. Otherwise, with his current situation and preparations, godhood was out of reach. Even with the Sefirot, reaching Sequence 2 would be difficult.

Just look at Nast, the King of the Five Seas - he was at least 160 years old and still stuck at Sequence 3, the Frenzied Mage.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

His personal valet, Morris, entered, carrying a silver tray with a glass of iced sweet tea.

Lorien took the tea and sipped it. "Is the room ready?"

"Tratt has finished preparing it."

"Good. You can head downstairs now."

"Yes, sir."

Spoiler: Author's Note

What kind of feature of the Sefirot do you think Lorien should unlock after reaching the eighth step or more? I have some ideas, but I'd love to hear your thoughts as well.

 

[marsolino]

What kind of feature of the Sefirot do you think Lorien should unlock after reaching the eighth step or more? I have some ideas, but I'd love to hear your thoughts as well.

Click to shrink...

I have no idea lol. Creating his own gathering in the Sefirot sounds interesting, but unless you want to bloat the cast with OCs the most interesting people will already be Tarot Club members in the future. Maybe as he advances he could influence those of the Anarchy group? He definitely needs to steal the Black Emperor Card though. Thanks for the chapter!

 

[Lillie Jones]

Watching

 

[Doge The Last]

I'm absolutely loving this fic so far, it captures the feel of the OG story while slowly diverging off the exact canon path.

Since the Lorien seems to be aiming to become The Anarchy, will he also try to accommodate the SOC to also control the Chaos Mist Pathway?

Since it's the 3rd pathway under Anarchy and synergies really well with the Black Emperor and Justiciar pathways.

Also what would the Mythical Creature form look like?

Black Emperor is a Curly Haired Baboon, Justiciar is a giant Brass Pillar with other characteristics and Chaos Mist pathway is a shifting fog.

 

[IHaveNoNamingSense]

I'm absolutely loving this fic so far, it captures the feel of the OG story while slowly diverging off the exact canon path.

Click to shrink...

Thank you, your compliment means a lot to me.

Since the Lorien seems to be aiming to become The Anarchy, will he also try to accommodate the SOC to also control the Chaos Mist Pathway?

Since it's the 3rd pathway under Anarchy and synergies really well with the Black Emperor and Justiciar pathways.

Click to shrink...

Spoiler

Yes, I'm planning to make him SOC, With the help of Klein and the others, it's possible.

Also what would the Mythical Creature form look like?

Black Emperor is a Curly Haired Baboon, Justiciar is a giant Brass Pillar with other characteristics and Chaos Mist pathway is a shifting fog.

Click to shrink...

To me, it's a giant curly-haired baboon with massive wings on its back, made of countless wiggling eyes that gaze at everything with judgment.

It wears a blindfold while holding a sword in one hand and a balancing scale made of shifting, chaotic pale-white mist in the other.

It is dressed in a crisp three-piece suit, which shifts into armor with a jagged crown on its head. The next second, it transforms into the robes of a judge.

Every part of its body releases chaotic pale-white mist with an ethereal golden glow.

BTW, I'm going with the Justiciar pathway's Mythical creature form being a royal Griffin, since it fits way too much, with the black emperor being a Baboon.

 

[The_Code_X]

What kind of feature of the Sefirot do you think Lorien should unlock after reaching the eighth step or more? I have some ideas, but I'd love to hear your thoughts as well.

Click to shrink...

A Special area where he can "review over case details". Basically, whenever he reads or hears of an incident or event, the Sefirot automatically constructs a "mock-up board" containing the details of the event. Each "image" pinned to the board Lorien is able to enter and look at as if he were there himself.

Within an image, Lorien is able to physically see the "uncertainties" of the event. For example, if he hears about a man shooting another, Lorien would be able to "see" the uncertainty. The more detail he discovers, the less the Uncertain Mist (ba dum tss) covers the image. The image may also reveal things Lorien might not have known about where the incident took place in. For example, if Lorien just heard about a "shooting in X borough", the image would show where the incident happened, in this example it was "outside Y/N's building". Lorien is also able to simulate the situation, like starting and stopping a video (think of the BD sequences in Cyberpunk 2077, thats how I imagine this function).

Once Lorien has amassed enough details, he can replay the entire scene with perfect accuracy within his mind.

This place also stores dossiers about the people within the events/incidents, and Lorien can only "register" an incident into this space once every two days due to Spirituality limitations.

An example of this would be Saga Anderson's Mind Palace from Alan Wake 2.

Perfect for a Lawyer, and this removes the limitation of Lorien unable to be a Solicitor. Ironically, he'd be a better solicitor due to this space.