The two officers stood in the narrow hallway, their presence filling the already cramped space. He opened the door with a friendly smile on his face.

  Ulrich could see details he'd missed through the peephole—the dark brown coat bore subtle embroidery along its collar, symbols that looked vaguely geometric, almost runic. The gray-coated officer's lapel pin caught the dim light, revealing an eye enclosed within a triangle.

  "Ulrich Constantine," the brown-coated officer said. He was older, perhaps in his forties, with a neatly trimmed beard and sharp, calculating eyes.

  "May we come in?"

  Ulrich's mind raced. How did they know his name? He forced his expression to remain neutral, even as his heart rate quickened.

  "Do I have a choice?" he sighed, stepping aside.

  The gray-coated officer—younger, perhaps late twenties, with an unsettling intensity to his gaze—entered first, scanning the room with narrowed glances. His eyes lingered on the oil lamp, the remains of ash in a small metal dish, and the quill pen still resting on the desk.

  "You were burning something," he observed, his voice flat.

  "Personal matters," Ulrich replied smoothly. "Nothing of interest to the law."

  The brown-coated officer closed the door behind them with a soft click.

  "We're not here about petty crimes, Mr. Constantine. I am Inspector Ottis Owen. My colleague is Inspector Victor Dunley. We represent a division of the Church you've likely never heard of."

  Ulrich remained standing, deliberately not offering them seats, "And what division would that be?"

  "The Ministry," Ottis said, watching Ulrich's face carefully, "We handle matters of... extraordinary nature."

  The words hung in the air between them. Ulrich's expression didn't change, but internally, his thoughts crystallized:

  They know.

  The question was—how much?

  Ottis moved toward the window, his movements casual, but his attention never leaving Ulrich, "You were at 51st Euston Street last night. Between the hours of nine and eleven." He said as a matter of fact, it was as though he witnessed it in person.

  Ulrich was perturbed, yet outwardly, he faced the Inspector with a blank face, "I was at several places last night. Belham is a large city."

  "Not that large," Victor interjected, pulling a small notebook from his coat.

  "You left an anonymous tip at the precinct. Quite gentlemanly of you, reporting a suspicious individual with a weapon." He flipped a page.

  "Officers responded at approximately 11:47 PM and discovered the body of Lewis Smith. Shot twice—once in the heart, once in the head. Very thorough work, this is the work of a professional."

  The room seemed to grow colder. Ulrich kept his hands relaxed at his sides, his breathing steady, "If you're here to arrest me, I assume you'd have done so already."

  "I think you've misunderstood our intentions. We're not here to arrest you," Ottis said from the window.

  "We're here to recruit you."

  That startled him. Ulrich's carefully maintained composure cracked, just barely, though his eyes remained all the same—blank and expressionless.

  "Recruit me for what?"

  At this moment, Victor closed his notebook and tucked it away. Lewis Smith was a member of the Twilight Order. An evil god worshipper, a terrorist, and also a . Do you know what a Weaver is, Mr. Constantine?"

  However, Ulrich could feel it, the anxiety that rose from his heart.

  In that moment, he made a split-second decision since there was no point in playing ignorant. They clearly knew. The question that lingered in his mind was: How did they know? And how do they know?

  Ulrich was confident the traces left behind were minimal, and that he'd clear all that was visible to the naked eye, yet it seemed like it was useless.

  "Someone who has awakened," he said carefully, "Someone who bears a Rune."

  Ottis' expression shifted subtly—surprise, perhaps, or approval—It was hard to discern the difference. "And how would a young man from the outer districts know such things?"

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  "I read," Ulrich said flatly, "The library has many interesting books for those who know where to look."

  "The library, right..." Ottis repeated, turning from the window to the pile of books sticking below the messy bed, "Where Miss Selena Morris works as a clerk. Or rather, worked. She hasn't been seen since your last visit."

  Ulrich subconsciously blurted out, "What happened to her?"

  "That is what we'd like to know. In fact, Miss Morris was under our observation. She had been researching restricted materials—texts on ancient languages, mysticism, and even discovered the runes. Such research is dangerous and inadvisable. "

  "When she disappeared, we assumed the Twilight Order had taken a rather keen interest in her."

  "Then Lewis Smith—"

  "Was likely sent to investigate or eliminate her, that, or they wished to use her for some nefarious purpose. Those lunatics are never right in the mind." Ottis moved closer, his sharp eyes boring into Ulrich's.

  "But you intervened. You killed him. A Weaver. With nothing but a revolver and, if our investigation is correct, instincts."

  Ulrich's jaw tightened, finding his lip a little dry, though he refrained from licking it.

  In that moment, Victor reached into his coat and produced a brass pendulum, letting it dangle from his fingers.

  The teardrop-shaped weight caught the lamplight, and Ulrich recognized the amber coloring immediately. It was identical to the one he'd purchased from Gu Lan's shop in the dream. Though not quite the exact appearance.

  "Spirit channeling," Victor explained, "Who says that the dead cannot speak? In the world of mysticism, nothing is ."

  That sent a chill down Ulrich's spine. Indeed, the matters regarding mysticism are vast and incomprehensible. His ignorance has caught up to him at this moment.

  Ottis must have seen something in his expression because he continued, "Don't worry. We are not prosecuting you. What matters is this: you have potential. And you've already demonstrated the will to act against the Twilight Order."

  "So you want me to join your organization," Ulrich said slowly. "In exchange for what?"

  "Information. Training. Protection." Ottis paused, then added, "And the location of Miss Morris."

  Ulrich's hands clenched involuntarily. "You know where she is?"

  "We have a strong suspicion," He said.

  "The Twilight Order operates from several locations throughout Belham and the surrounding Fog Sea. We believe Miss Morris is being held at one of their safe houses in the eastern district. It is merely a matter of sounding out which one, or learning their purpose for taking her."

  "Why do you need me, then?"

  Ottis smiled thinly, "Because you killed Lewis Smith. The Twilight Order will investigate his death. They'll come looking. And when they do, trust me, your fate will be far from 'good'."

  Hearing this, Ulrich grew silent. This was one of his greatest concerns after learning about the Twilight Order. Not to mention, if these inspectors can find him that quickly, then 'they' are certainly not far behind.

  At this moment, Ottis and Victor exchanged a glance. Then Victor reached into his coat and withdrew a folded piece of parchment, yellowed with age. He set it on the desk between them.

  "This," Victor said, " is a complete Rune formula, well, not but we do possess a few complete ones."

  Ulrich froze. He stared at the parchment, not daring to touch it yet. "How—"

  "We know more than you can imagine," Ottis said, a mysterious smile grew on his aged face.

  "Here's our offer, Mr. Constantine. Join our ranks, and you will be granted our protection. In exchange, you work with us and swear an oath. Of course, we have our own condition, and don't worry, we do offer a sizeable salary. After all, we are a legal 'business.'"

  "Additionally, you can help us investigate the Twilight Order's activities in Belham, as you are involved in the matter personally. And when the time comes, you can also help us rescue Miss Morris."

  "And if I refuse?"

  Instantly, the temperature in the room seemed to drop by a few degrees.

  "Then, you remain a person of interest in an ongoing investigation," Ottis said quietly.

  "The Churches have... less pleasant methods of dealing with unofficial Weavers, or mysticism enthusiasts. Especially those connected to multiple suspicious deaths. Forget about the officials, where in the Fog Sea can you run to from the Twilight Order?"

  It wasn't quite a threat, yet the implication of his words is as clear as the ocean's mirror surface.

  Ulrich looked between them, then down at the parchment on his desk. His mind fell into deep contemplation. A chance, an opportunity indeed.

  Wasn't this what he was searching for? It was key to real power, a form of protection in this world of hidden dangers.

  However, Ulrich was never one to let go of his own fate in the hands of others. If there is a given chance, he would rather possess that power himself and use it for his own good. Such is his own perseverance in life.

  Yet this offer came with strings attached. An organization, oversight, and missions. Isn't this simply trading one form of control for another?

  And despite this... He recalled Selena's warm smile, her kindness in lending him that book. Her disappearance weighed on him more than he'd cared to admit. Then, he thought of the white light at the end of the world. Year 1929. Six hundred years from now—The end of everything.

  And finally, he recalled the feeling of home, of a faraway place. All of which was buried deep in the crevices of his heart, only occasionally peeking through the surface, like a hardened rock protruding through the ocean's depth.

  If he wanted to change that future—if he wanted to survive long enough to do anything—he needed power. And this might be his best chance.

  "What exactly," Ulrich said slowly, his breath slow and cold, "does the Ministry do?"

  Ottis' expression softened slightly, recognizing Ulrich's internal struggle through his hesitations.

  "We monitor and handle supernatural threats. Mainly, we investigate incidents that involve unusual deaths, strange anomalies, or bizarre events that can bring harm to the public."

  Hearing this, Ulrich subconsciously blinked repeatedly.

  "Isn't that just another police force, but for supernatural matters?"

  "In a manner of speaking." Ottis nodded.

  "There are also Weavers who mean no harm, who simply wish to study and exist peacefully. These unofficial Weavers often work with our mediator; their help is greatly appreciated."

  "As for those Weavers who worship evil deities, such as the Twilight Order… I believe you have heard of their 'famed' deeds across the Fog Sea."

  Ulrich stared at the two men in thick coats. For a moment, there was silence in the room.