Chapter 41: 41. Advancement
41. Advancement
"What are you looking for, Mr. Moriarty?" one of the staff asked politely.
"I'm searching for a gift," he replied, explaining that he had been referred to this place by Madam Mary—Mary Gale, or rather Mary Schott, as she was now known.
"And I can see why she recommended it," Moriarty added with a smile. "This place... it reminds me of Emperor Roselle."
By then, my brain had finally caught up, and I stepped forward to join the staff in welcoming him.
"Nice to meet you," I said with a courteous nod. "Chris Diffodil, son of the current owner."
"Ooh?" He feigned surprise, but I was certain he already knew. After all, I was practically hand in hand with his source of information—Audrey Hall.
Besides, this boutique and its products were practically a public announcement: There's a transmigrator here.
It was already too late by the time the past me became who I am now.
"Just as I said earlier, this place truly evokes the spirit of Emperor Roselle's era—the man who defined an age," Sherlock remarked with a cheerful tone.
"Ah, do you know of Emperor Roselle?" he added, his eyes twinkling with curiosity as if testing me.
"You jest," I chuckled. "There's no one who doesn't know about him—especially anyone studying machinery. It's the highest praise an artisan like me could receive. Thank you."
"Haha, I'm quite fascinated by him myself. Maybe it's because I'm a detective... or maybe I became a detective because I love solving mysteries," he said with a grin. "You know, I've even tried deciphering Emperor Roselle's diary before."
Ah, this is likely his true purpose, I mused, nodding to myself.
Now the real question was—had I said anything that might expose me as a transmigrator?
Working with him wouldn't necessarily be a bad move, but his life was anything but peaceful. I didn't remember everything clearly, but wasn't there a time when he was even caught by Amon?
"You're a detective, sir?" I asked.
"Just a humble private detective," he replied casually. "Have you ever seen the diary before?"
"Of course, sir. But it's impossible for me," I replied with a hint of regret. Maybe one day in the future—but definitely not now.
Still, joining the Tarot Club ahead of time might be a wise move.
Besides, I wasn't even lying.
Do you assume transmigrators understand Chinese—why?
Emperor Roselle, really? Couldn't he have at least left subtitles in English? Was that too much to ask?
You're an engineering student, Roselle! Where's the accessibility mindset? I wholeheartedly condemn you.
If it wasn't because of the language barrier, I might be able to gain information like Klein—or Sherlock. and Chinese isn't exactly beginner-friendly.
The most I know is probably just "Wo ai ni"... or something along those lines.
"Haha, actually, it's the same for me," Sherlock laughed it off.
Just then, another staff member who had been quietly preparing his order arrived with the item he'd requested.
Sherlock examined the hat with great care, turning it over in his hands and inspecting the stitching as if it held some hidden clue. After a moment, he smiled in satisfaction and asked the staff to wrap it up.
With the gift in hand—though it felt more like he had come for something else—he left the store.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Detective. If I ever need anything, I'll be sure to come to you," I said as I escorted him to the door.
"I'm still new to this city. I won't claim to be the best, but if you do come to me, I'll make sure you leave satisfied," he said with a confident smile. "I'll definitely visit again." With that, he stepped out of the store.
Now then...
If I recite The Fool's name using the memo Audrey left for Fors and Xio, he shouldn't reject me, right?
...Right?
****
And so, the day after Mr. A accepted the mission from Fors and Xio, he wasted no time—he moved swiftly and carried it out without hesitation.
That very day, Intis Ambassador Bakerland Jean Madan was assassinated. The perpetrator vanished without a trace, leaving the authorities empty-handed.
The assassination sent shockwaves through society, rippling from the highest echelons of power down to the common folk.
Panic spread among Intis diplomats; many were shaken by Bakerland's downfall, while others began to regret their political alliances.
Yet at the same time, there were those who quietly celebrated his demise.
Amid the chaos, official Beyonder organizations such as MI9 and the Nighthawks found themselves overwhelmed. The wave of unrest had unleashed a deluge of work—investigations, clean-up operations, containment efforts—all piling up with no end in sight.
Outside the circles of high society, the shadows stirred as well.
Rats from the sewers—those lurking in the underbelly of the city—took full advantage of the chaos.
During these tumultuous times, small-time hunters seized the opportunity to sell off their stashed collections—items that would normally be swiftly confiscated by the official organizations.
With the authorities overwhelmed, surveillance had slackened considerably. And it was during this window that Xio made her move.
She used the moment well, successfully advancing to Sequence 8. Thanks to a well-crafted alibi, even if MI9 noticed her breakthrough, they had no grounds for suspicion.
We had gathered inside the shared apartment of Xio and Fors.
Well, when I say "we all," it was really just the three of us—me, Fors, and Xio.
To be honest, it wasn't an ideal place to brew a potion. But it wasn't like we had a better option.
We made sure to block every possible line of sight from the outside, sealing the windows and cracks to ensure no one could peek in—or worse, eavesdrop.
And so, Fors and I stood off to the side, silently observing as Xio carefully prepared her potion.
As a Sequence 8, this was the first time I'd ever witnessed a potion being made.
If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I might never have believed that a mixture of strange ingredients could produce something so mystical.
With each component she added, the potion shifted in color—sometimes subtly, sometimes dramatically—releasing trails of intangible smoke that curled through the air like living things.
Fors, standing beside me, was watching Xio closely, her brows knit with concern.
She wanted to double-check every step, to make absolutely sure that her friend made no mistakes.
Thankfully, brewing potions wasn't too difficult—especially at lower sequences—so long as you followed the formula precisely.
Xio carefully finished her potion and double-checked that its color and consistency matched the description exactly. She glanced briefly at Fors, then cast a quick look in my direction.
Even without trying to hide it, I knew I was captivated by the entire process.
Glup.
Xio swallowed the potion in one smooth motion.
Suddenly, she swayed sideways, collapsing onto the table, her body supported by her arms as she steadied herself.
At that moment, it felt as if something invisible had exploded around us—a surge of energy I could sense but not see.
It must be what they called spirituality—a physical type like me with almost no spiritually could scarcely comprehend, at least for now. Before long, the spiritual energy gradually reentered her body, soothing and steadying her restless soul.
Xio slowly blinked open her eyes, still dazed and lingering between consciousness and calm.
"Xio, are you alright?" Fors asked, concern etched across her face as she moved closer.
"Yeah," Xio replied, offering a faint, weary smile tinged with relief.
"Congratulations," Fors said warmly, gently helping her friend ease her body to rest against her.
Meanwhile, I had seen all I needed to see. The bracelet in my hand grew hotter than ever before, its heat almost burning through my skin. Without notifying anyone, I slipped into the restroom. With a gentle touch, one of the marbles on the white bracelet cracked open, releasing something unmistakably familiar.
Not wanting to waste the ritual, I swallowed it down without hesitation—just like Xio.
[??? has been consumed]
[Assimilating with the body…]
[Failure = Death]
[Chance of success: Calculating…]
It was the same process he had experienced before. Just as he began to relax, accustomed to what he knew, something different happened.
[Pre-requisite for ritual confirmed]
[Ritual's catalyst: Searching… Confirmed]
[Ritual commencing…]
Everything happened in an instant—too fast for me to react—then the familiar routine unfolded once again.
"Yaa, Maou-chan! Long time no see! How have you been ☆?" The illusionary voice echoed once more. But this time, it wasn't the angry tone I remembered. Instead, it carried a more relaxed, teasing mischievousness.
"White?" came a surprised yet oddly accustomed feminine voice from the other side. "How's work?" she asked, as if plotting a playful revenge.
"Naiiwaa~, it's way too much! I'm done. It's her job from the start! This is abuse, you know—abuse!!"
"Hahaha," the new voice chuckled. "So, are—pfft!" Just as she was about to continue, her words were abruptly cut off—something suddenly covered her mouth.
"..." A chilling silence followed.
Just when I thought it was the usual—and the hallucinations faded away—
"You… are listening again."
A low, flat voice echoed, sending an icy chill coursing through my body.
I froze in place. Not even a second had passed in reality, but to me, it felt like minutes.
Cold sweat poured uncontrollably down my skin. Yet even after another long minute, there was no sign of anything else. This time, it was real—the hallucinations had truly ended.
Then, a blinding light engulfed me once more.
As expected, it was the ritual. I clung to that last shred of consciousness before everything went black.
***
Meanwhile, D—who was, as usual, engrossed in a video game—sensed someone teleporting into her space. Recognizing the visitor, she chose to ignore it.
"I've tracked the source," she stated coolly. "I'm going to retrieve what's mine."
With that, she swiftly conjured another teleportation, toward the place where a part of her remained.