Several days later.

  Dreamworld, within the Great Wetlands.

  A Spirit Body slowly surfaced, taking the form of a cloaked figure.

  “So the Ethereal Realm positioning method Mr. Ryan gave me… points to here? Ten o’clock at night—there’s no way I got it wrong…”

  With a father on the Veil Path, Lilia understood the basics of Dreamworld well. For example: there was no fixed rule governing the time ratio between Dreamworld and the mundane world. So she waited with patience.

  While she waited, other Transcendents appeared. A furtive little sparrow—half a ghost in the mist—swept her with a glance and immediately flew off.

  At last… after an unknown stretch of time, a half-transparent human silhouette formed above the wetlands.

  Cold. Stillness. An eerie atmosphere spread outward…

  “Mr. Ryan…?”

  Lilia stared at the newcomer, disbelief written on her face—until she recognized his features, and then she cried out in delighted surprise.

  At the same time, shock surged through her. Mr. Ryan’s Spirit Body… is so strong. There’s pressure on a fundamental level. He… he was a Beyond Mortality-grade existence all along?

  Javon looked at Lilia and gave a slight nod. “Good evening, Ms. Doran.”

  “G-good evening…”

  Only then did Lilia notice that at Javon’s feet lay something made of redwood, its surface engraved with patterns—an “wardrobe”?

  “I asked you here tonight to give this to you.”

  Javon pointed at the Transposition Drawer by his feet. “It’s an arcane artifact. With this, it won’t be such a hassle for us to keep in contact.”

  He briefly explained its function and negative effects. Lilia’s eyes lit up. “It’s… an incredible wardrobe…”

  She swept her gaze around, then asked suspiciously, “Mr. Ryan, why not hold our meetings in Dreamworld? If you teach Ethereal Realm positioning to Priest and Raven, we could meet in Dreamworld. Passing items would be convenient, too.”

  “Because Dreamworld isn’t safe— not even in a region acknowledged as explored.”

  Javon raised a hand. “Not only because it’s a public region and information could leak, but because danger is everywhere in the Dreamworld. There is no such thing as an absolutely safe zone.”

  He pointed. Lilia saw a sandstorm sweep past.

  As it reached them, an invisible barrier rose and repelled the polluted information carried in the air.

  “The most dangerous things in Dreamworld aren’t just other Transcendents or Dreamworld creatures. Dreamworld itself carries contamination. And your Sephiroth levels are too low. Without protection, repeated trips into Dreamworld make the odds of disaster far too high.”

  “Thank you for explaining…” Lilia said sincerely, then asked, “Do Priest and Raven have a cabinet like this as well?”

  “No.” Javon told the truth. “Among our members in Verdant City, you’re the only one.”

  As expected. I’m the most important member of The Unseen Order in Verdant City. Thank you, Ancestor.

  Lilia didn’t think she was more capable than Priest. The only explanation was her identity as a descendant of Sothos.

  “Now, I have a small task for you.”

  Javon continued, “Gather everything you can on those rebellious bloodlines and send it to me through the Transposition Drawer.”

  “Your will is my mission.”

  Lilia bowed. The task wasn’t dangerous—she only needed to summarize the intelligence The Green Banyan Council had accumulated over the years.

  Hearing it, certainty settled even deeper in her chest.

  So the Ancestor has awakened from slumber, and he’s preparing to purge the Sothos bloodline. Those traitors with violet eyes will be punished.

  That was exactly what she wanted.

  That same night.

  William asked for leave early and went to Blackgold District.

  This was the playground of the rich—fine restaurants everywhere, clubs, galleries, exhibitions…

  And in certain hidden places, rumors promised pleasures so decadent they defied imagination.

  He took a carriage to Rose Street in Blackgold District, found an inn, and performed a quick disguise. When he emerged again, he wore a blood-red robe and a black-iron mask.

  William moved through the streets with practiced ease. He stopped before a club glowing with an ambiguous light.

  The club was tucked away, with no signboard—only a rose, fresh and crimson, as its emblem.

  —The Bloodcoat Club!

  “I’ve already found Black Queen District’s trading channel through my boss. This place doesn’t suit me anymore. Tonight, I’ll make things clear to Mr. Sebastian E.”

  Mr. Sebastian E was William’s guide into occult studies—warm, charismatic, endlessly patient when William had been clueless. He had invited William into the club, granting him access to real Mystery and a world unlike any other. Everyone affectionately called him Mr. E.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  William stepped through the club doors. The dark-skinned doorman took one look at his outfit and didn’t stop him.

  Inside, a rich, sweet fragrance filled the air. It wasn’t perfume. It was food—an aroma that woke hunger on instinct.

  “I’m looking for Mr. E.”

  William swallowed and spoke to a steward.

  He was led into a private room, where a man in a white suit and half a gold mask was sipping champagne with elegant leisure.

  “Mr. E.”

  William bowed quickly.

  “Welcome, my little William…” Mr. E wasn’t old. His voice had a magnetic warmth. “So? Did the Blood of Mist leave you longing for more?”

  Gulp.

  William couldn’t help remembering that special red wine from last time—the sweetness that sank into his bones. The surge of Essence afterward had felt like his soul was rising to heaven.

  That wine had been impossibly delicious—and it had slightly increased his Essence.

  “I…”

  He tried to speak, but Mr. E pressed him into the sofa and gestured toward the stage at the center of the club. “There’s a ‘signature program’ tonight. Watch first, then we’ll talk.”

  All the words William had prepared were forced back down his throat. In truth, part of him had been anticipating tonight’s “ingredients.”

  Cheers and applause rolled through the club. On the brightly lit platform, an elderly gentleman—silver-haired, impeccably courteous—walked onto the stage, leading a girl who looked no older than sixteen or seventeen.

  William recognized the old gentleman. He was close to Mr. E. The girl was the “companion” he’d brought recently.

  As the two stepped onto the stage, William’s breathing quickened. A dreadful guess formed in his mind, uninvited.

  Onstage.

  The old gentleman held the girl’s hand as though entering a ballroom. Together they bowed to all sides.

  “Anilla Salvatore, eighteen years old, healthy, no illness, of noble blood. A collateral branch of Viscount Salvatore’s family.”

  The host’s voice rang out.

  “Volunteering to serve as an assistant, helping the ‘Old Earl’ prepare pre-meal fruit.”

  The girl lay on the platform without fear or tension. There was only trust in her eyes—trust, and expectation.

  The Old Earl bowed again and began chanting wordcraft.

  Crimson mist enveloped the girl. A sound like sprouts unfolding filled the air. From within the red haze, an uncanny plant grew at terrifying speed—its branches heavy with… pomegranates?

  William’s eyes widened.

  Is she insane?

  Or am I? Or has the world gone mad? Why would anyone agree to this?

  “The finest treasures should be claimed by the finest people.”

  Mr. E smiled and looked at William. “A girl who offers herself—purity and corruption, cruelty and kindness, perfectly fused—bearing sweet fruit. Truly, the Old Earl has found a flawless treasure. Oh, what a perfect specimen.”

  A glint of longing flickered in his eyes. “A rare gem…”

  “Ghk—don’t. Stop talking.”

  William had already dropped to one knee, clamping a hand over his mouth.

  Inside his mind, scattered suspicions snapped into place.

  Why had Mr. E been so friendly to a stranger? Why had he introduced William to the club? William was just a poor boy.

  His position… didn’t seem any different from that ignorant girl on the stage.

  “You see it now?”

  Mr. E murmured at William’s ear. “Every true epicure must offer an ingredient. For the next gathering, I’m preparing a delicacy after fruit—soup. The first time I saw you, it was like finding a sweet little lamb. A blessing from The Night-Mother.”

  “But you were too green then. You needed my careful ‘nurturing’…”

  “Ah!”

  William screamed and drove his fist into Mr. E’s face, knocking the man in the white suit to the floor.

  Then William sprang up and stumbled out of the club.

  Strangely, no one stopped him—not the members, not the doormen. They only whistled at him, critiqued him, pointed and laughed…

  As though watching a pig to be slaughtered, calmly selecting the tastiest cuts.

  “Mr. E, your ingredient is running.”

  In the next room, an epicure carving a meat cutlet laughed.

  “He has my sigil on him. He can’t escape.”

  Mr. E climbed up without urgency and brushed dust from his clothes. “Fear is seasoning. Let him live a few more days in trembling uncertainty. It’ll make him more delicious.”

  “His fate is already decided.”

  Mr. E was entirely unbothered. “It’s part of dining etiquette.”

  This was the epicure’s ritual.

  “The National Bureau of Occult Affairs has been moving strangely lately. Don’t cause trouble at a time like this.”

  A masked woman in a high-collared evening dress approached, the slit of her skirt rising shamelessly to her thigh. She giggled.

  “Relax.”

  Mr. E poured himself a glass of wine and sneered. “Our club has plenty of noble support. The Bureau? The Bureau’s blackcoats are just the kingdom’s dogs. How would they dare bite their masters?”

  “And besides, this is what The Blood of Decay demanded. That boy is a sacrifice The Blood of Decay delivered personally. His background’s already been cleaned and confirmed.”

  “The Blood of Decay… those rotten relics.”

  The woman’s eyes held contempt—then interest. “So that’s it. You’ve kept a special trait in reserve. He’s a descendant of House Sothos. A noble occult bloodline—more refined than tonight’s noble girl. I can’t wait to taste him.”

  “I heard those people have been acting oddly lately,” a member with a pig’s-head mask chuckled, his belly bulging beneath his vest. “Something to do with the Sothos relic site in Verdant City. Supposedly the Verdant Earl from a thousand years ago has revived. The traitors’ descendants are terrified—afraid judgment and reckoning are coming.”

  “A dead man reviving?”

  Mr. E spoke with certainty. “That belongs with creating life and a universal panacea that cleanses all contamination—one of the three ultimate problems in occult study. Only a Velthyr could do such a thing. For mortals, it’s absolute taboo.”

  He took a slow sip. “A pack of idiots scaring themselves with rumors. Still… one day I’d love to taste their blood. It would be exquisite.”

  “Enough. It’s starting.”

  The female epicure turned toward the stage.

  The “cooking” had reached its final step. The epicures’ eyes reddened like starving prisoners. They surged toward the pomegranate tree. On the blood-red, twisted branches, pomegranates split open—gem-like flesh raining down like crimson droplets…

  The next day, Hunter’s Bar.

  The moment Javon stepped through the door, a figure lunged at him.

  “Boss… help me!!”

  “William.”

  Javon sat down with a sigh. “Go make a cup of coffee.”

  “I… the club…”

  William’s hair was a mess, his dark circles heavy. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all.

  Yet even now, with panic clawing at his throat, fear of his boss won out. William obeyed, went behind the bar, and began brewing coffee.

  Only after coffee and pastries were placed on the table did Javon take a sip and ask, “What is it?”

  William hurriedly explained everything about the Bloodcoat Club, then showed the blood-red mark on the back of his neck.

  “After I ran last night, this symbol appeared. Boss—should I report it?”

  “That symbol means sacrifice and prey.”

  Javon set down his cup. “You’ve been marked. If they let you walk out, it means they’re confident they can take you back—and confident they can handle the Bureau. Besides, you’re a wild Transcendent. Do you really think you’ll have a good ending inside the Bureau?”

  “Then I’m dead for sure…”

  Despair and a thread of hope tangled in William’s voice. “Boss—save me!”

  “Something’s off.”

  Javon’s eyes narrowed slightly. “If the Bloodcoat Club has lasted this long in Wynchester, it must obey at least the most basic rules. For example—the prey must be ‘willing,’ even if it’s a fabricated ‘willingness.’ You don’t quite fit. Unless they’re being pushed by an outside force.”

  Javon inverted the coffee cup onto its saucer and smiled.

  “I’ll divine. You interpret. This concerns your life, William—so try your best.”