Above the gray mist, within the palace resembling a giant's dwelling, Emlyn the Moon carefully considered which part of the House's history he should share with the Sir of the Fool. He and the Primordial were old friends, surely well-versed in the events before the Great Cataclysm—he need not repeat them. Indeed, the glory of the House during the Fourth and Fifth Ages was no rarity, and there were countless stories to tell; yet the one point most essential and pivotal had quickly come to him. In Emlyn's current understanding, the Sir of the Fool was likely one of the ancient deities who survived the Great Cataclysm, having remained dormant for millennia, only now gradually awakening. This elegantly explained why, throughout the long history of the House's records, no such hidden presence had ever been mentioned—until suddenly, the Sir of the Fool's name began to spread. After a moment's reflection, Emlin straightened his posture and said, "Following the Great Cataclysm, the House of Blood stepped back from the center of northern and southern continental history, emerging as individuals rather than as a collective. They became noble families within various empires and dynasties—governing territories or guarding key fortresses. It wasn't until our Queen, Orania—the 'Blood Moon Queen' who led us out of the dark age—married the Night King of the Trenzost Empire, that the House of Blood truly coalesced into a vital pillar of that dynasty. At that time, both Augustus of Luon and Ainhorn of Fesak had to respectfully address our Queen as 'Your Majesty.' In that era, Queen Orania personified beauty—should there exist a magical mirror capable of answering questions, the answer to 'Who is the most beautiful woman in the world' would surely be her." Emlin spoke with growing pride and confidence, his tone transforming from reserved to flowing and expansive. The magical mirror that answers questions— isn't that Araldus? I wonder if any of the members of the "Mechanical Heart" are so idle that they'd even say, "Mirror mirror, tell me who the most beautiful woman in the world is." What would Araldus reply? Kline remained seated, a gentle smile playing at his lips, his thoughts drifting freely. After a flurry of words, Emlyn's expression grew serious: "All of this was shattered during the 'War of the Four Emperors.' The Night Emperor fell, the Queen fell, and the House of Blood suffered a severe blow. After securing their ultimate victory, the Seven Gods supported the four noble houses—Augustus, Einhorne, Thorin, and Castillia—in dividing the empire, effectively eradicating the royal house, which lacked high-ranking members. As a result, we the House of Blood were forced to retreat into remote, uninhabited mountains, retreating into the shadows to ensure the survival of our lineage. "Quite as I expected... seven gods," said Caine, recalling the six divine statues he had seen in the underground ruins of the Thudor family, now seven in number since the time of the "Four Emperors' War." "Fortunately, at that time the seven gods were divided, and the four nations were engaged in mutual conflict. Though we paid a price, we eventually managed to break free from the calamity." Emlin, rarely so animated, now stood with renewed vigor. With bright eyes fixed upon Caine, he asked: "Esteemed Sir Fool, do you still have the time to listen as I recount the life of the 'Blood Moon Queen' and the former glory of the bloodline? It is a weighty chronicle composed of page after page of luminous chapters—one I can repeat verbatim." "It seems you could still go on for a full day and night... I once thought you were the kind of vampire—vain, perhaps, with a fondness for dolls—who wouldn't be very well-versed in history. I never expected you to be so knowledgeable and so deeply scholarly. That's why you've always regarded the vampire lineage as noble and proud. It's remarkable how someone who doesn't like to leave their home can develop such genuine interest in a field and pursue in-depth study—especially given the long lifespan of vampires. Klein paused, preparing to gently decline Emlyn's kind offer. Though he wasn't uninterested in history, time simply didn't permit him to listen to Emlyn's lengthy discourses. "That's enough," Klein smiled lightly. "I believe in equitable exchange. I won't let you speak without gaining something in return. Perhaps later, when the opportunity arises, you'll trade me some history for what you desire." "...Very well," Emlyn felt a bit let down. This was the first time he had ever had the chance to share the glory of the vampire lineage with another being. Usually, to conceal his identity, he couldn't boast of these achievements to humans, and within the vampire circle, everyone who needed to know already did—nor was it his responsibility to educate new births. Klein said no more, and resumed his superior tone: "Then, go." At once, deep red light surged before Emlyn White's eyes, swiftly engulfing him. After a brief dizziness, he found himself still seated in the moving rental carriage. Then, he saw the ethereal parchment, and gained the knowledge of how to conduct a sacred ritual to appeal to "The Fool" for assistance. When he had a moment in the afternoon, returned home, and immediately performed the ritual, asking "The Fool" to lift the psychological suggestion placed upon him—Emlyn felt a surge of excitement. Only when the carriage arrived at the Harvest Church did he calm down and pay the fare. Inside the church, seeing Bishop Utrovsky delivering his sermon to the few remaining faithful, he no longer felt the usual unease, and instead felt a deep sense of ease. In this state, he unexpectedly recalled something: Father Utravský had never once prevented him from seeking ways to overcome psychological suggestion... What was he thinking? "Koller accepted the banknotes with delight and gratitude. In that moment, he had already decided how he would spend the new year. He intended to buy the cured ham he had previously hesitated to purchase, pairing it with his own bread. How eagerly he looked forward to it... Thank you, Detective Moriaty! He unconsciously swallowed a lump of saliva. Caine took up his hat and paused thoughtfully: "You should have noticed that things have been unsettled in the East District lately. 'Avoid risks in pursuit of information; if something feels off, simply retreat—don't get involved.' This concern about the Prince of Edgware has me particularly worried, which is why I wanted to share this with you. 'I understand,' Koller said, patting his chest. 'I'm quite timid—I won't take any risks.' 'Excellent,' Caine remarked." He immediately recalled the laundry worker Liv and her two daughters, Freya and Daisy, who loved reading and hoped to change their fate, and mused, "Keep an eye on Liv's family. Don't let them be mistreated. If there's any unrest in the eastern district—say, a strike—take them to a safer place." "Unrest... Do you mean workers' protests?" Old Kole asked, somewhat puzzled. "Something like that," Caine replied vaguely. That was as much as he could reveal without raising suspicion from either people or the seals. ........ In the room filled with various-sized dolls, Emlyn White, having returned home at noon, sat in his chair, enjoying the dim light created by the drawn curtains. He glanced around, clenched his fists, and said, "Go ahead, give me your strength!" Then he pulled out materials imbued with spirit, beginning to inscribe the noble name of "The Fool" and the corresponding symbols and magical sigils. After a series of busy activities, he attempted the initiatory rite, and his spirit gradually lifted, as though ascending to an infinite height. Faintly, he saw countless shadows of indescribable forms, seven beams of light seemingly brimming with abundant knowledge, and a gray-white mist hovering above them. On the boundless expanse of this mist, there stood an ancient palace whose form he could not make out, within which a figure draped in the mist sat. Then, Emlyn saw a majestic, sacred golden figure, with vast black wings stretching across the sky behind it. Before he could count the number of pairs of those mysterious wings, he felt himself rapidly rising and coming into contact with the golden figure. "Ah!" he cried out, clutching his head and rolling around on the ground, with wisps of pale smoke rising from his body. Only after a while did Emlyn regain his composure, and he heard the deep voice of "The Fool" resonating softly in his ears: "Your psychological suggestions have been dissolved." "That's what it feels like to lift a psychological suggestion—truly painful... Emlyn sat on the ground, gasping deeply; his neatly combed hair now hung loose and disheveled. Above the gray mist, Caine nodded thoughtfully to himself, murmuring, 'Indeed, the purification and dispelling effects of the "Sun Brooch" simultaneously harm the vampires.' He had anticipated this—he had calculated that the amount of sunlight required to counteract the weakened psychological suggestion would not be sufficient to seriously injure Emlyn, so he had chosen not to adopt a more complex method. Now, the outcome matches his expectations. After resolving this matter, Caine removed the yellow crystal pendant from within his left sleeve and cast a divination for his next steps. 'It would be suitable to visit the Red Rose Manor this afternoon.' After silently repeating this phrase seven times, he opened his eyes to find the pendulum at rest, no longer swinging. Divination proves particularly difficult when involving a 0-level sealant or a corresponding powerful entity—indeed, the reason is clear to Caine. He sighed, understanding this limitation. Next, he consulted his oracle to determine whether it would be auspicious to visit the Red Rose Estate in the afternoon of the following day, only to meet another failure. He had always insisted that divination was not infallible—now, this was proving true. He would have to make his own decision. This step had to be taken; otherwise, he could not step gracefully off the stage and retreat into the background. The sooner, the better—he must not delay, for otherwise the situation might spiral out of control. As his thoughts swirled, Caine made up his mind. He immediately returned to the real world, donned a double-breasted formal suit, and wore a half-high silk hat, then stepped out of No. 15 Minsk Street, heading toward the Prince of Edessa’s Red Rose Estate. PS: Just finished an author’s salon in Japan—exhausted. So, no early update this morning. As usual, I’ll post at the normal time, but kindly request a recommendation for Monday. Yes, I’ll have to catch up on writing tonight, otherwise I won’t be able to guarantee my update schedule.