Château de Roussette, in the sunroom. Edessauc Augustus stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his face dark and brooding, gazing at Trist with a hunger that seemed ready to devour him, his voice like an erupting volcano. "Why do you have to keep fleeing?" Trist looked past him toward the window, smiled lightly, and instead of answering, asked, "Did you see the meteor shower just now? Did you feel the tremor of the earth?" Behind her, the porcelain and other items in the display cabinet had already fallen to the thick, soft carpet, and the elderly housekeeper, Finckel, stood by at attention. "This isn't particularly uncommon," Edessauc replied in a steady tone. Trist raised an eyebrow. "You're rather slow." "Then I'll be frank—I'm a sorceress!" Edessauc's expression remained unchanged. He turned to the housekeeper and said, "Go to the door and keep watch—no one is to enter." "Yes, Your Highness." Finkel glanced coldly at Tris and turned to walk out of the sunroom. Hearing the door close, Edsack exhaled slowly: "Tris, hah—well, you prefer to be called Tris. I know you're a witch; the people who helped procure extraordinary materials for you didn't succeed—what I provided for you, that's what you received! I don't mind whether my queen is a 'witch' or a 'magician'; I even saw your warrant!" But the potion of the witch forcibly changed my gender! "Isn't that awful? Isn't your skin already prickling with gooseflesh?" She poured out all the words she'd been holding in, stepping forward a few paces. Edsack instinctively stepped back, his throat subtly rising and falling. "No, not at all... You are truly a woman... there's absolutely nothing wrong with it! I can confirm this without a doubt!" He first murmured softly, then raised his voice, "Since I've known you, you've always been a true woman. I don't care what you were like before—I don't even need to know! I can simply pretend nothing ever happened. What I love, what I cherish, is you—right now!" Tris was momentarily stunned, wiping away the tears that had come from her laughter. "You're truly pitiable. Don't you see?" Our meeting wasn't coincidental—especially since you...” She hesitated, feeling nauseated, then continued: “Even your falling in love with me seems to have been arranged by others. Don't you think everything has happened too quickly, too swiftly? I believe in instant attraction, but I don't believe it holds such powerful magic. You've acted exactly like the protagonist of a third-rate romance novel—just because you met me once, you became utterly infatuated, falling in love with a stranger, forgetting your previous favorite, which seems absolutely mad! Prince Edsac stared, mouth open, unable to speak. His body suddenly trembled, as though finally awakening from a long dream. “You, you truly are the type I admire... but my reaction—really, really—is far more dramatic than I expected.” Tris smiled slightly, tilted her head, and chuckled softly: “Oh, how pitiful! Even the simple act of falling in love has been orchestrated by others, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings. Don't you see?” You are one of the expendable assets, while I am both a hostage essential to the alliance between the royal family and the Order of the Magi, and the very mask required to carry out the deception. "I carry vital items from the Order under your strict supervision, vulnerable to destruction or loss at any moment—this is our demonstration of genuine cooperation. Once the truth comes to light, should the three major churches or other military factions become aware, the outcome will be straightforward: Prince Edessa, enamored with beauty, has been secretly nurturing the Magi, aware of his own guilt, will take his own life by shooting himself—thus, all complications will be erased." "No!" Edessa exclaimed aloud. Then, his face contorted, he asked, "What exactly are they doing with the Order of the Magi?" "How could a hostage who might be abandoned at any moment possibly know?" Tris chuckled to herself, self-mocking. "This is precisely the reason I want to escape." She lowered her head, laughing softly and continuously, her body trembling gently with each breath. After a few seconds, she lifted her gaze again, curling her lips slightly. "How would you like to treat me? Strip me bare and lay me on the bed? No—by now, I'm certain you already have some psychological reservations. Honestly, I'm not at all averse to offering you some warmth. Mutual comfort between two unfortunate people isn't anything to be ashamed of." Prince Edsack's round, composed face remained solemn as he gazed at Tris for nearly a minute. Suddenly, he closed his eyes and pointed toward the other side. "You may go. 'Through that door.'" Tris raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Are you really letting me leave?" "Yes," said Edsack, turning toward the window and speaking slowly. "I'll ensure that Finkel doesn't pursue you. As for whether you can escape any further pursuit, that depends entirely on your own strength and luck." Tris's eyes drifted uncertainly for a few seconds, then she hurried toward the inner door. Before departing, she couldn't help but glance back. "And what about you?" Edesack didn't turn his head; he continued gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window, as if searching for traces of the past. He smiled and said, "Me? Let me simply live within this beautiful story, and welcome its final chapter—whether it turns out well or not." Tris took a deep breath and stepped forward, entering the dark doorway. Trisick... the original sorceress... Saint Anthony gave the parchment a light tap and immediately rose. The surrounding light suddenly vanished, as though swallowed by the dimness within the room. For a brief moment, every praying believer in the church felt as though night had fallen. Everything quickly returned to normal, and Saint Anthony appeared at the door of Charnis beneath the church. Today's team leader on duty was "Death-Wardens" Dely Simonne. Before she could ask a question, Saint Anthony, the Archbishop, spoke in a steady voice: "Prepare yourselves. Begin the procedure. I need to awaken a sealed object." He would be using the "0–17." He needed to rely on that formidable sealed object to verify and address matters concerning Trisick. This was the only "0"-level sealed object preserved outside the sanctuary, and only two senior figures in the Church knew it was located in the Becland district. "Yes, Your Grace," Dely paused for a moment, then responded promptly. Meanwhile, Saint Anthony closed his eyes, and in his mind, the information about the seal "0–17" naturally came to life: "Number: 17." "Name: xxxxx" "Hazard Level: '0'—extremely dangerous, highest priority, highest confidentiality, not to be inquired about, not to be disclosed, not to be described, not to be observed." "Confidentiality Level: Pope, Group A researchers, and the Archbishop of the Becland Diocese (Note: When the Archbishop departs the Becland Diocese, their memories must be erased using Seal '1–29')." "Sealing Method: Achieved through the coordinated action of Seals '1–29' and '1–80'." "Description: This is not an object. This is a living angel. She is beautiful in appearance, with black hair and black eyes, resembling a young woman; her actual age cannot be determined." "...He has no wings recorded in any scripture, and upon close inspection, appears no different from an ordinary person. "...He lacks the capacity for thought, having lost all spiritual intelligence. "...Any person or object near Him vanishes completely—though through divination and other means, it can be confirmed that they remain alive and truly exist, they can never be found. Over 1,825 methods have been attempted, all of which have failed. "...The influence range of '0–17' expands and contracts irregularly, having already caused the disappearance of more than 70 researchers. ...Warning: He cannot be utilized! Appendix 1: This seal first emerged during the Fourth Age of Pale Times; the specific year is missing, the specific date is missing, and the specific location is missing. Appendix 2: Records indicate that He has been awakened five times." …by relaying messages and investigating false leads regarding Insinger Zangweil, with the aid of divination, Caine overcame the interference of the "Universal Key" and steadily moved toward the exit location indicated in the prophecy. He was well aware that, under a thorough search, the bodies within the rooms would soon be discovered, so he had to act swiftly and reach the exit as soon as possible. The "Faceless Man's" abilities would need to be paired with magical items capable of erasing traces of the bodies—Caine, guided by practical experience, swiftly passed through one obstacle after another, and one patrol after another, arriving at the exit as divination had indicated. Yet what surprised him most was that there were no guards stationed here—only a single heavy double stone door standing alone. What was going on? Why were there no guards at the exit? Had his divination been misleading, or were the guards stationed outside? As his thoughts raced, Caine found a quiet corner, removed his armor, and regained his lightness and agility. Next, he approached the double stone doors and moved cautiously to the corner near the left wall. After carefully verifying with gold coins, Caine drew forth the ancient, rich-bronze key and gently positioned it against the wall, twisting it slightly. Waves of water rippled and swayed, and Caine passed through the wall silently—without taking the main entrance! What first caught his eye was the natural light streaming down from the vaulted ceiling, confirming that this was indeed the exit. Caine remained still, adjusting to the brightness and observing the even, yet weathered gray stone floor ahead, and a series of thick columns stretching forward. This was a hall, with four figures in cloaks kneeling around a central area that appeared to be a podium. Then, a soft, gentle female voice reached Caine’s ears: “Mr. A, are you ready?”