Only after the "ghostly figures" on the opposite side had faded did Emlyn White withdraw his gaze, untie the fine thread holding the file folder together, and extract the documents inside. As he read through them one by one, he gained a clear sense of Orenes Bojal's movements: The Viscount of the Bloodline typically led an unremarkable life—either at home, visiting exhibitions, attending wine tastings at country estates, accompanying his companions to several department stores, or arranging sessions where certain women modeled for paintings, behaving much like a typical affluent gentleman. However, recently, Orenes has been visiting the Saint George district every other day, supervising the renovation of his investment in a furniture factory, aiming to get it back into operation as soon as possible. As a result, his daily routine has become repetitive—every other day, the same venues, the same routes, and the same lunch venues are repeated. Emlin raised his hands to press gently against the sides of his temples, carefully extracting three suitable scenes from the materials: first, the interior or entrance of the furniture factory established by Unes Bojal; second, the Saint Hylan Square, where he would stop for a meal and feed the birds on his way home; and third, the Beckland Bridge—unless the other was willing to take a long detour, it would inevitably be passed on the way from his home to Saint George district. Once a preference takes hold, beings naturally begin to seek out further reasons—Emlyn was no exception. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that Saint Hylan Square nearly met every criterion: First, Orenes would stay there for a considerable period, enjoying lunch at a restaurant with a Westvillas flavor—this noble countess was born in the Westvillas region; Second, the square is served by multiple street carriage stops, bustling with activity, predominantly composed of middle- and lower-class residents, where unexpected incidents frequently occur; Third, from there, if one does not cross the Becland Bridge, one enters the southern district, close enough to the Harvest Church; Finally, precisely at noon, Saint Hylan Church would emit steam, engage its lever mechanism, and strike its great bell—no one’s attention could fail to be drawn. This is it… Emlyn made his decision swiftly. He raised his right hand, smoothed his tie, and in his deep red eyes, a clear sense of anticipation shone. At that very moment, he suddenly furrowed his brow, sensing something was off: Saint-Schilhan Square was simply too ideal for an attack! Too ideal, in fact, that nearly every condition was perfectly met. Could the O'Neale fail to anticipate his retaliation? How could he allow himself to remain in such a setting for long? Even if he were foolish enough to overlook it, wouldn't the counts have reminded him? A subtle smile began to curl at Emlyn's lips—he now understood the reason: Saint-Schilhan Square had been specifically chosen by the vampire elite *for him* as the venue for action! Hm. Emlyn chuckled, his smile never fading. He decided to request a private meeting with a few members of the council today, and invite the "Hanged Man" to discuss the detailed operational plan! This went beyond the previously agreed framework—now it required specific attention to every detail, every potential issue! ……… 11:45 a.m., Saint-George District, Saint-Schilhan Square. A restaurant on the northwest corner of the square, on the third floor, in one of its private dining rooms. A figure stood by the window, holding a cup of liquid as deep and crimson as blood, gazing calmly at the fountain and the bustling crowd in the distance. Tall and slender, he wore a formal evening dress for a banquet. His silver-blond hair and vivid red eyes gave him a slightly ethereal beauty, and a gentle, barely perceptible smile lingered at the corners of his mouth. As he spoke, the man with light hair and bright red eyes slightly raised his right hand and naturally turned the ring on his left ring finger. The ring was made of silver, with an unusual deep blue gemstone set in it. He felt his preparations were sufficiently thorough: the "Vow of Roses" worn on his left hand enabled the distant Count de Mistral to share his vision, hearing, and sense of smell, ensuring that whatever transpired, the ultimate objective would be achieved; the "Lunar Mannequin" kept in his inner pocket, alongside his silver pocket watch, could absorb a fatal blow or withstand direct attacks targeting his spirit, guaranteeing he would not suffer serious injury or death in the short term; the "Wine's Nemesis" diamond pin worn on his collar helped sustain his energy and mental clarity, enhancing his resistance to psychic-based spells; the leather belt at his waist, known as the "Moonlight Ribbon," effectively reduced damage from "Sun" and "Lightning" sources. These magical items—some drawn from his own savings, others bestowed by the Count de Mistral—transformed Eneas into an elusive, hard-to-quickly-defeat and control target. Plus the natural resistance of the vampire count against nightmares, Lord Eneas now has almost no weaknesses, capable of withstanding even a half-god, as long as the latter does not reveal their mythic being form. The only issue is that the negative effects of these magical items are not particularly easy to bear... Eneas' facial muscles twitched slightly, then settled again: The "Vow of the Rose" ring occasionally causes his thoughts to appear in Count Mistral's mind, and if worn continuously for a week without removal, the two partners of the ring are likely to fall in love—regardless of gender or race; The "Lunar Mannequin" is a one-time item, with minimal negative effects, causing only a mild feeling of coolness in the body; The problem with the "Wine's Nemesis" brooch lies in its ongoing damage to the liver and brain, potentially leading to a gradual loss of thinking and logical abilities if worn for an extended period, so it must be removed every half hour and worn for a corresponding fifteen-minute interval; Once the "Moonlight Ribbon" is tied on, the wearer's senses become more acute, noticing things that should not be seen and hearing sounds that should not be heard, and will experience intermittent itching throughout the body. Hope they don't hesitate, don't delay... Oines Bojal once more assessed his own condition, casting a quiet, expectant gaze toward the entrance of Saint Hylan Square. Emlin had indeed chosen the Square of Saint Hylan. Once again, Oneas turned his gaze to the window, keeping a watchful eye on the pedestrians, the intersecting streetcars, the regular newspaper vendors holding their papers, and the elegant windows of the surrounding buildings and shops. He didn't believe Emlin's accomplices could be hidden among these surroundings, since there were so many more and better potential spots within the Square of Saint Hylan—yet he remained vigilant. Suddenly, his body shifted slightly, leaning forward, almost dislodging himself from his seat. His carriage had come to a sudden, unexplained halt! Then, the horses pulling the carriage seemed to have woken from a nightmare, lifting their front legs and struggling wildly, overturning the车厢 completely. During this process, Eneas Bojal had ample space, time, and ability to assist the coachman in calming the wild horse, yet he did not act—because he saw a translucent, hazy wolf-like spirit rush in from the window, hurling a rose contained within its body at him. A rose! As Eneas Bojal's eyes widened, the carriage had already tipped over. He quickly leapt out from the other side and summoned a phantom, unreal black chain that extended from the air, wrapping tightly around the wolf-shaped spirit. With a soft *puff*, the spirit dissolved instantly, without resistance. Yet once Eneas Bojal steadied himself, he stood motionless, eyes unfocused, as if entranced. He had now fallen into deep sleep. Passing by on the untracked public horse carriage, a young man with dark hair and green eyes, dressed in a thin coat, sat facing away from the road center, intently flipping through a sturdy, copper-green-covered notebook. Around him, other passengers read newspapers, conversed with one another, or glanced out the window, watching the unruly horses quickly regain their composure. With a swift turn of the page, the man with dark hair and bright eyes flipped another page in his notebook. The untracked public horse carriage continued on its way, gradually receding.