Regarding Mr. World's request at this moment, Master Fotherst, the Magician, was not at all surprised, and responded with a slightly nervous tone: "Very well, very well. 'What exactly is the proposal?'" Over the past period, she had corresponded several times with her teacher, Dorian Gray Abraham, and had made considerable groundwork under the guidance of Miss Justice. Mr. World, Klein, offered a low, resonant chuckle. "You need not tell him what I desire just yet. Simply present your terms—he will see if he finds them appealing." "Are you still offering your pledge to lift the curse upon the Abraham family?" Master Fotherst carefully sought confirmation. Klein nodded, pointing to the weathered table with the "0–61": "Alternatively, the 'Ancient Box' itself." Anything requiring a 0-level sealant was absolutely no ordinary matter—whether it was Miss Justice, Audrey, or the Hermit, Gauthier, both had suddenly come to this realization. The magician, Forse, placed greater weight on the promise of lifting the curse, having firsthand experienced the profound misfortunes of the teacher's family. Without hesitation, she solemnly replied, "Very well." The "Saint of the Shadow" pressed his head tightly against the ground, muttering wildly: "Brutis has died... 'A Secret Mage' carrying a Seal of Class Zero has perished... There's a Tarot card on the scene—the 'Hermit'... The two enemies who attacked were both Saints—one a 'Mystic', the other a 'Controller'... An organization that uses Tarot cards as identifiers, one that believes in the ' Fool'... Germán Sparo... Azké Egés... ..." After speaking without control, the "Saint of the Shadow" Ksma shed tears of frustration and sorrow: "I repent. I repent. I repent..." ... Several days later, in an apartment in the port city of Priz, in a particular room, Dorian Gray Abraham, dressed in disguise, received a letter from his student, Firth. He carefully reviewed everything, confirming there were no issues or unusual signs, then picked up the letter opener and removed the letter inside. The letter began with the usual greeting, followed by a direct statement from Fother: “…we have slain the 'Saint of Secrets,' Butis, and secured the items upon him…” …Dorian, who had intended to simply scan through it, suddenly froze at this sentence, reading it back and forth several times, forgetting to continue. Dorian had a deep understanding of Butis’s strength and was well aware of how formidable a "Master of Secrets" could be. Yet now, his new student—only a year into his teaching—had reported Butis’s defeat with remarkable calm. For a moment, Dorian’s mind echoed only thoughts of "impossible," "lies," "a plot," questioning whether Fother had already been taken under the control of Butis and the Aurora Order. Within any major power, Sequence 4 extraordinary beings are absolutely senior figures—crucial members. How could someone be killed so easily and so casually? Dorian's Adam's apple moved slightly as he forced himself to focus, continuing to read the letter: "…we have secured the 'Box of the Ancient Days'; I'm sure you're familiar with it…" As he read just one more line, Dorian's eyelids fluttered, and he felt the letter in his hands grow heavy—so heavy it seemed like a great stone. Of course, he was well acquainted with the "Box of the Ancient Days"—it was the Abraham family's Tier-0 seal artifact, a testament to their former glory. "…the one killed was Butis, holding the 'Box of the Ancient Days'…" Dorian grew increasingly astonished, sensing that the situation had surpassed his expectations, yet unexpectedly, he also felt a quiet possibility emerge—perhaps it was the very 'Box of the Ancient Days' that truly killed Butis. How dangerous the Tier-0 seal artifact truly was, he was very well aware of! At the same time, he finally noticed a word: "we." This was the first time Forth had indicated she had a companion, a collaborator. Of course, Dorian had suspected it all along, merely choosing to remain silent about it. Indeed... Dorian sighed, eager to read on: "This action taken against Boutis is being proposed by a friend of mine who wishes to demonstrate his goodwill to you. He has offered to enter into an agreement with you—either by offering the 'Box of Old Days' or by making a promise to lift the curse upon the Abraham family—would you be interested? He does not know where you are, and I will not tell him; you are entirely free to decline..." The promise to lift the curse? Dorian immediately skipped over the "Box of Old Days," savoring the passage that held such profound significance for him. Through their previous correspondence, he had now fully grasped the essence of the family's curse—both sorrowful and inevitable—and in the midst of his suffering, a quiet hope had begun to take root. Before this, who could have imagined that the very cries for help from their founding ancestor were the ones causing generations of descendants of the Abraham lineage to spiral out of control? It was like a cruel joke from fate. Dorian had no idea whether the "Mr. Door" truly understood the consequences he had brought upon Him, nor how to articulate the complex emotions swirling within him—yet he found himself inevitably seeking ways to restore "Mr. Door" and fully lift the family's curse. Though the path seemed exceedingly dim in hope, it was already sufficient for the Abraham lineage, for at last, a ray of light had emerged in the darkness. After an indeterminate length of time, Dorian folded the letter and murmured, "Kindness... such kindness truly inspires fear." Then he fell silent again, his expression shifting between gloomy and bright, his inner resolve deeply contested. Clang! The wall clock chimed precisely, and Dorian was jolted awake. His expression gradually grew resolute, and finally, he made up his mind. After making up his mind, Dorian felt a great deal lighter, even managing a smile. He first burned Firth's letter, then simply packed his belongings and headed straight to the steam train station in Priz. His destination was the southern Wilshire region—not to escape, but to make preparations. He intended to hand over the family heirlooms and magical recipes to a relative now settled there, then return to Priz to meet Firth, his student, in Beckettland. There, he would meet the kind and strong one. In advance, he would take a potion that would impose a powerful curse rooted in his spirit, requiring him to take another specific potion at regular intervals to sustain his life. This way, even if he were controlled and unable to commit suicide, he would soon die from the inability to take the necessary doses, as his spirit faded—thus preserving the critical information from being revealed. For Dorian, this journey had already ceased to matter in terms of life or death. For that fragile hope, he was willing to sacrifice his very life. Bekland, North District, beneath St. Samuel's Church. After returning from a case discussion with the "Accused," the "Mechanical Heart," and members of MI9, Leonard sat down at his office. At that moment, his mind echoed with the slightly weathered voice of Parvesh Soloyas: "They've finally pinpointed the exact location of the Jacob family's treasure and are about to enter." "Ah?" Leonard was momentarily stunned, unable to respond. During the previous gathering of the "Fated Ones," he had shared the news of the Jacob treasure, since no one knew what was inside and no one was willing to pay a premium. His primary goal had not been a transaction, so he had only secured a few rare spirits. He then lowered his voice: "Old man, how did you know?" "Hmm, I've certainly sent out duplicates to monitor the situation," Palis Soloyasde replied with some irritation. "Don't you think you're underestimating an angel of the 'Theif' path?" Leonard chuckled dryly. "Old man, you're in great shape—already have extra duplicates on standby." "I'm at Level 2 in the sequence," Palis Soloyasde said, giving a short laugh. "Now, stay put inside the church. Keep yourself safe in case of any unforeseen events." "You're worried the treasure might have hidden traps?" Leonard asked thoughtfully. "How could a treasure left by an angel of the 'Theif' path possibly lack traps?" Palis Soloyasde scoffed. "I can't even predict what might go wrong, but staying beneath the church is absolutely safe." Leonard nodded, speaking in a low voice: "I hope everything goes smoothly, old man. You promised me—if I succeed in securing the extraordinary trait from Level 2, you'd give me one item of Level 1 sealing material from what they provide." He wasn't particularly concerned about what he'd gain, but rather, this way he could ease the sudden tension in his chest. "Don't you find the word 'stole' a bit off-putting?" Palis chuckled, then fell silent, seemingly focused on monitoring the situation at Jacob's treasure. After about an hour, He deeply exhaled in Leonard's mind: "Though there were many traps and unforeseen complications, the goal was ultimately achieved. Heh, I only took the trait and one sealing item; the rest I'll consider their compensation. Just stay here a little longer—wait until I absorb the trait before we leave. Then everything will be settled." Leonard immediately relaxed, leaned back, crossed his legs, and began to read the newspaper leisurely. By evening, Parés Soloyasde finally spoke again: "That's enough." His voice carried many emotions, yet so complex that Leonard could not quite distinguish them. Seeing that nothing further seemed to be required and that the old man might still need time to absorb it all, Leonard stood up, rubbed his temple, and left the Saint Samuel Church, returning to No. 7 on Pinstreet. As he passed through the hall, he suddenly noticed someone seated on the sofa. The person wore a classical black robe, wore a soft hat with a pointed crown, rested their right foot on their left leg, and was reading a newspaper with ease. Noticing Leonard's arrival, the man lifted his head, adjusted the single-lens glasses resting on his right eye, and offered a playful smile. PS: Two-period period, and get a monthly pass! PS2: Recommend a book: "Even After I Die, I Get Stronger." When Mashu dies, he journeys to a world where the highest level of power is held by scientists—there's an interesting "scientific oddity" system in place.