"The current plan is to go once a week, on weekends. What do you think, Mr. Sparrow?"
"Anything's fine, you make the arrangements."
Edward had never been to an equestrian club before, but he had gone to the racecourse once or twice with Audrey. In this era with limited entertainment options, it could be considered one of the relatively more interesting places.
He quickly added, "For now, let's just stick with that one." He paused, then said, "Oh, right. I want to become a believer of the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery. What do you think I'd need to do?"
"Eh?"
Arlde was stunned. "That…you can just go directly to church, can't you? They'd probably welcome a wealthy man like you with open arms."
"Of course I don't mean just an ordinary believer," Edward explained, "but the kind who has a chance to actually interact with the higher-ups."
Arlde shook his head. "That's beyond my knowledge. After all, except for our Ancestor Lilith, our kind doesn't believe in any gods."
"Oh? But I've heard that quite a few vampires in Feynapotter chose to believe in the Earth Mother. Do you know what that's about?"
Confusion flashed in Arlde's eyes. "I've heard that too. Supposedly the Earth Mother's church quite likes recruiting our kind, and they don't require those vampires to only believe in the Earth Mother. They're still allowed to continue believing in Ancestor Lilith.
"Someone once invited me to join as well, but I refused. They weren't angry either—it was just…strange."
Heh, that's because the Earth Mother and your Ancestor Lilith are literally the same being…
Edward thought for a moment, then asked, "And your Ancestor? She hasn't given any revelation regarding this?"
Arlde's face dimmed. "Our Ancestor hasn't given any revelations for many years. I've heard some people say that She…might have already fallen."
This guy really isn't much different from Emlyn in temperament—he dares to blurt out anything that comes to mind…
"How do you know your Ancestor hasn't given revelations? After all, you don't even hold a noble title."
"Well, that's what my grandfather told me. He's a Marquis."
Edward nodded. "Oh, I see. Then the information I got about your Ancestor must've been wrong."
Arlde was instantly intrigued. "What information?"
"Oh, before I came to Trier, I heard about a Beyonder who claimed the name 'Lilith.' At the time, I thought she might've been chosen by your kind to serve as a vessel for your Ancestor's descent.
"You know as well as I do, Beyonders can't casually take a name that belongs to a god."
"Where is that Beyonder?" Arlde asked in shock.
"No idea. I only heard it in passing. I just remembered it because of the name."
Edward stopped there. Arlde might be relatively simple-minded, but his supposedly brash sister, Akasha, was far sharper—say too much, and trouble would follow.
Screeech!!
Suddenly, a piercing noise rang in Edward's ears. His spirituality surged in response, and he instantly realised—
The Sefirah Castle.
"All right, go get some rest. I'm heading to the washroom."
As soon as Arlde closed the door, Edward concealed this space, then entered the washroom, retraced four steps, and ascended into the Sefirah Castle.
Amidst the rising fog, he once again heard that grating noise—like something sharp scraping across a hard surface.
The moment he sat down in the bronze chair, he saw a patch of fog in front of the round table convulsing violently, accompanied by bursts of that screeching sound. Gradually, a crack appeared within the fog, widening bit by bit.
"What's going on?"
Edward frowned in confusion. In the original story, Klein had never encountered anything like this.
Without hesitation, he invoked the power of the Sefirah Castle and pressed down upon the turbulent fog. Almost instantly, the patch of mist dispersed under the overwhelming weight of the higher-sequence authority.
Moments later, the fog vanished completely—
And in its place stood a figure.
The man looked around in shock and bewilderment, until his gaze fell on Edward. His eyes widened in fright.
—Roselle regretted everything.
I damn well shouldn't have tempted fate by repeatedly pouring spirituality into that silver plate!
And now? In the blink of an eye, he had arrived at this fog-shrouded, bronze-table-and-chair-laden, mysterious garden.
Worst of all, seated at the master's place at the round table was a mysterious figure whose face he couldn't see clearly!
What the hell is this? Did I stumble into an evil god's lair?
Edward's shock, at that moment, was no less than Roselle's.
Of course he recognised at once the bearded man before him—Roselle Gustav.
But how had he entered the Sefirah Castle?
Normally, entering required using special items to connect to the Castle, or praying to its owner, followed by the owner's permission (reaching out to the starry dome to pull them in).
Roselle, however, had done none of that.
In Edward's plan, he had no intention of bringing Roselle up here so soon. After all, the man was still low-sequence, deeply entangled in worldly affairs—too risky, too troublesome.
That was why Edward had decided to take the long route via Dubois, presenting himself as a wealthy man trying to integrate into noble circles, then slowly befriending Roselle, and only later asking him for help to meet Arrodes.
But now—he hadn't summoned Roselle. The man had barged in himself.
Could it be…because of that silver plate?!
He remembered clearly: the very thing that had caused Roselle to "transmigrate" was a silver plate engraved with strange symbols and patterns.
In truth, that silver plate worked on the same principle as Klein's later "luck enhancement ritual" with the four steps backwards—it was a "key" or "password" to enter the Sefirah Castle.
However, when Roselle reproduced that plate, he had already chosen the "Savant" pathway, which cut him off from the Sefirah Castle. But one had to admit: Roselle did have the qualifications to enter.
In the original story, during this period, the Sefirah Castle was unowned. When Roselle reproduced the silver plate, all he saw was endless grey fog.
But now, I am the master of the Sefirah Castle. By using its power just now to crush that patch of turbulent fog, I had indirectly responded to him—and that was why he ended up here.
Having worked it out, Edward frowned slightly. Should he simply cast Roselle out without a word, or perhaps threaten him a little, warn him never to pull such a stunt again?
"…Um, Your Excellency."
After a long silence, Roselle was the first to break. Mainly because he was on someone else's turf right now—he had to find a way back!
"May I ask…what is this place? Why did I appear here?"
He decisively chose to play dumb, feigning the role of an innocent passerby who had stumbled into this mysterious domain.
"This is my divine kingdom."
Edward's tone was calm, detached. His gaze upon Roselle was that of someone overlooking an ant.
Oh no!
He really had barged into an evil god's lair!
Roselle's mind went blank. But then—wait a minute! All he had done was inject spirituality into the silver plate he had reproduced…
Hold on!
His heart suddenly jolted. His fear vanished instantly, replaced by trembling determination.
"It was you…You're the one who brought me to this world, aren't you?"
Edward hadn't expected Roselle to ask that. But then he quickly understood the man's train of thought. Truth be told, early Roselle was a bit reckless—how could he casually throw out such a revealing question to a mysterious "evil god" he didn't even know?
So—should he answer?
No matter if he said "yes" or "no," it would reveal that he knew something about Roselle's "transmigration."
Roselle, realising what he'd just blurted out, instantly regretted it. He hurriedly patched it up, "I-I mean…was it you who brought me to your divine kingdom?"
Edward nearly laughed. Weren't you bold just a moment ago? Why backtrack now?
He replied faintly, "No."
Roselle clenched his fists. After thinking for a while, he asked again, "Then…may I know how I came to your divine kingdom?"
If it really was related to the silver plate, then this mysterious being must be connected to his transmigration, one way or another.
"Of course you may. But I prefer equivalent exchange. What are you prepared to give, in return for me answering your question?"
That silenced Roselle. Right—what could he possibly offer a being who might be a god, in exchange for such an answer? Even if the question seemed simple.
"How about this—why don't you do something for me?"
Here it comes!
The temptation of an evil god!
Roselle's heartstrings tensed to the breaking point. He'd heard bishops in the Church say that evil gods lured mortals this way—granting wishes in exchange for tasks, dragging people step by step into corruption, until they became enslaved believers and met a tragic end.
But…he truly, desperately wanted the answer.
After several minutes of hesitation, Roselle finally compromised.
"All right."
"Then here's your answer: you arrived here through a silver plate. The special symbols engraved upon it establish a certain connection with my divine kingdom."
It really was…the silver plate!
Roselle froze. He had never once mentioned the plate, nor the symbols. Yet the other had stated it outright.
He fell silent for a long time, then asked—his words carrying a double meaning, "I…can I still go back?"
"Of course. You can return at any time."
"…."
Edward added calmly, "But if what you really meant was something else, then I can only say this—once you ascend to the rank of Angel, you'll naturally understand."
Roselle's heart lurched.
What did He mean by that? Does He really know I'm a transmigrator? Or is He just guessing, baiting me with vague words after what I blurted out earlier? Damn evil god!
Even so, he asked again, "Why?"
Edward looked down at him coldly. "Remember what I said—I like equivalent exchange. If you want to ask more questions, complete the first task you owe me."
Roselle's heart tightened again. "What do I need to do?"
Edward pondered for a moment, then said casually, "Go to Stiano—oh, that is, to the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery. From the donation box there, steal one hundred Felkin."
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.