Anyway, I didn't lose anything myself.
The report I handed to "Intis" was nothing more than this: the new occupant of that villa was a wealthy upstart, most likely a mid-to-low Sequence Beyonder, who wanted to use the villa as a stepping stone to enter Trier's aristocratic circle—so he could shed his nouveau riche identity and become a "real" noble.
Every sentence was technically true, yet in practice, it was all meaningless fluff. Who knew what "Intis" would do after reading it?
Perhaps…create another massacre?
In any case, it was better to have Dubois find a new place to live as soon as possible. If Edward were the only one in the villa, he wouldn't have cared. But now, with over a dozen servants and slaves under his roof, if a demigod-level Beyonder really showed up, there was no way he could protect everyone.
"Oh?"
He sighed. "Marrying Matilda was that dog Roselle's greatest stroke of luck. She knows I was once—barely—Roselle's only 'friend.' She witnessed firsthand how he changed after coming to Trier.
"She feels that, though he now looks glamorous—not only a valued 'Son of Steam' in the Church but also a darling of the nobility thanks to his inventions—deep down, he's lonely, unhappy.
"But as his wife, she doesn't know how to help him. So she hopes that, as Roselle's former friend, I might do something. That's why she hasn't given up trying to reconcile us."
Dubois' words made Edward fall silent.
In Roselle's diary, Matilda had appeared from time to time—but always as little more than a name, a symbol, an NPC labelled "wife."
In truth, she was a living, breathing woman. The wife who had walked beside Emperor Roselle for decades.
One of the closest people to him, she might not have understood him, but she must have been the first to feel the shifts in his moods, his emotions, his struggles. And all the while, she had tried—in her own way—to help him.
Dubois continued bitterly, "Unfortunately, she overestimates me. As I just said, I may have once been Roselle's 'friend,' but the moment he became a Beyonder, I realised he had become a stranger. Everything I thought I knew about him turned out to be wrong.
"And sometimes I wonder: why did he pretend to be another man, to be my friend, all those years? Other times, I suspect…maybe his transformation was simply because he became a Beyonder."
He lowered his voice. "To be honest, Mr. Sparrow, part of the reason I refused the chance to become a Beyonder myself was fear—fear of ending up like him."
Edward nodded silently. Roselle's change was simple—because his body held another soul altogether.
"I understand. Anyway, at tomorrow night's banquet, keep yourself in check. Don't ruin things."
"That depends entirely on Roselle."
"Oh right, what about the new house? How's that going?"
"I've already contacted someone. I'll be negotiating this afternoon."
"Good. Make it quick."
Edward tapped the table. "This villa really isn't safe."
Dubois' expression shifted. "By unsafe, you mean…?"
"Exactly what you think I mean—unsafe in the mystical sense."
His face hardened. "I'll go hurry it along immediately."
———
Future, Year 1349.
Symeem Island.
Klein followed the crowd onto the small island.
The night before, Admiral Amyrius had finally returned. When confronted with the string of "news" Klein reported, the usually unflappable admiral had been struck speechless for quite some time.
His mistress had gone missing.
A falling-out with Sea King Kottman.
A devastating tsunami outside Blue Mountain Island.
An angel-level battle erupting within Blue Mountain Island.
Each piece of news was more shocking than the last.
But truthfully, none of this had much to do with Klein. In fact, the "impostor" had helped him. After the battle broke out, Klein had issued multiple commands in "his" name—calming the people, organising rescue efforts, minimising losses.
So when Amyrius finally broke his long silence, the first words out of his mouth were, "Interested in helping me at the Governor's Mansion? I can guarantee that within ten years, you'll take my position."
Klein flatly rejected the tempting offer.
After parting with Amyrius, he immediately made his way to Symeem Island.
Ever since Edward's disappearance, Klein had been searching for him. Then, just yesterday morning, he heard something from the Church of the Sea God:
In recent days, a rumour had spread on Symeem Island about a witch who could grant wishes. Tracing it back, the rumour seemed to have started a week or two ago. After investigating further, Klein was almost certain: this "witch legend" had originally been staged by Edward to help Lilith play her role as a witch.
But Edward and Lilith had already been missing for over a week. So why was the legend still intensifying in the past few days?
Was someone else exploiting the rumour?
Or…were Edward and Lilith hiding here on Symeem Island?
Carrying those doubts, Klein came.
"First, I'll find the boy who first spread the story and ask him myself."
From his earlier inquiries, the rumour had first come from a boy named Winter. He claimed that when his lover fell gravely ill and the doctors were helpless, he met an old witch.
The witch had easily healed his lover, demanding a price in return.
And in recent days, others in desperate straits—mostly poor folk—had also spread tales of the witch helping them through hardships. But unlike Winter's account, they all described her as a young woman.
Leaving the docks, Klein headed toward the outskirts of the town. He soon spotted an old brewery. From afar, he saw a couple working happily, bright smiles on both their faces.
"Excuse me."
Still in his Sparrow guise, Klein approached. "Are you Mr. Winter?"
Winter stopped his work, looking curious. "I am. What's the matter, sir? Can I help you?"
"I heard the story of Symeem Island's witch first came from you?"
Winter's expression instantly grew wary, while Renee quietly picked up a broom nearby.
"I…I don't know if I was the very first. But yes, I did tell others. That was part of her request."
"If you're looking for the witch, you could try asking her for help. If she thinks it necessary…she'll appear."
"Oh?"
Klein seized on that detail. "What do you mean by 'necessary'? Do you mean only when someone's in real trouble?"
"Maybe. That's how she explained it to me."
"Have you seen her recently?"
"Yes."
"When?"
Winter didn't hold back—after all, the witch had told him nothing about her that needed to be kept secret. "Two days ago. She said since I'd spread her name, as agreed, she returned what she'd taken from me… and even gave me some money as a reward."
"Two days ago?"
Klein frowned. "Are you sure the two witches you met were the same person?"
"…Their appearances were different. But they should be the same. She knew all about the details of our earlier deal—things I've never told anyone."
"I see. Understood."
Klein removed his hat and gave a polite bow. "Thank you for the explanation, Mr. Winter. I won't trouble you further. Goodbye."
If both sightings of the witch were Lilith in disguise, then Edward and she were indeed hiding on this island. But…why couldn't he contact them?
Just then, Winter hesitated, then added, "Sir, if you truly need her help and want to meet the witch, perhaps you could try Mr. Proll's house on East Street. You might encounter her there."
Klein raised his brows. "Why do you say that?"
"Because yesterday, Mr. Proll broke his leg at the docks. If he seeks the witch's aid, you may really see her."
"I see. Sounds like she's a good person, then."
Winter nodded. "Many say that. But she doesn't seem to see herself that way.
"Oh, and one more thing—the witch legend has already spread beyond Symeem Island. If people elsewhere start seeking her, she may leave soon. So you'd better hurry."
"Thank you."
Klein immediately quickened his pace toward East Street.
After asking around, he soon found Proll's house—a run-down shack. But as he arrived, he saw someone step out:
A girl of about twenty.
She had long black hair cascading down her back, wore a light-colored hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. The sight of her outfit—casual, urban—was utterly out of place.
Not just for Symeem Island.
But for this entire world.
Klein's heartbeat suddenly quickened.
That girl's attire came straight out of a modern city.
Yes, Roselle had introduced some modern-style clothing to this world. But Klein was certain—it was nowhere near this modern!
Which meant…the girl before him was—
A transmigrator?!
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.