Dammit, this was just me having sharp intuition, not me jinxing things!
The nearby Governor's Guard and the Watchers' mystery hunters immediately sprang into action. A group of men surged out from several rooms to reinforce security on this floor, while seven or eight guards split off to head toward the stairwell.
Outside the conference hall, a crowd of church dignitaries dispersing from the meeting had their attention drawn by the scream. Had it not been for Lynch's earlier reaction, these people would have simply left through other exits. But with Lynch having raised the alarm, several high-ranking figures nearby realized something was amiss and that something terrible might be about to happen.
Archbishop Trinlais of the Black Night and Archbishop Bru of the Church of the Sun exchanged a glance and gestured with their hands. Several knights from both churches stepped up to take the lead while the group of church dignitaries followed behind, calm and collected, completely unbothered by the tense atmosphere surrounding them.
That was except for the four churches from Friedman—and especially Pope Serina.
The moment the scream rang out, she had already rushed ahead with her retinue, not forgetting to grab Lynch by her side as she left.
“Wait, wait, wait!”
Lynch's eyes darted around as he quickly broke free from the rogue woman's grip. He whispered into Mrs. Nightingale's ear for a moment. The elderly woman pondered briefly before nodding and turning to leave. Only then did Lynch catch up to Pope Serina, arriving at the stairwell together.
The conference hall was on the fourth floor, and the scream had come down from the fifth floor.
Rushing up to the fifth floor with the Pope of Joy and her entourage, they saw a hotel maid being pinned to the ground by several people. Yet she was still writhing frantically, biting and scratching in an attempt to break free from their restraint.
When he saw her from a distance, Lynch had assumed she was just another infected person experiencing an onset, but as soon as he drew near, he dismissed that thought.
The difference was obvious: infected individuals were hyper-aggressive, actively biting any living creature nearby. This maid, on the other hand, was biting and clawing merely as a means to break free from being held down. She likely wasn't infected. On the bright side, perhaps she had simply been scared out of her mind?
Looking into her completely unhinged eyes, Lynch knew he wouldn't get a chance to ask what had driven her mad. Scanning the surroundings, there were no eyewitnesses, nor was there anything present that could have terrified her to this extent.
Yet this made him feel even more uneasy; the unknown was always the greatest source of fear.
What did she see? Should I try a physical method to restore her memory?
Before Lynch could act on his violent impulse, a soft, sultry voice suddenly hummed softly in his ear, like a midnight lullaby:
“Listen to the melody of the Lord. May a moment of peace wash away a lifetime of suffering.”
Following the words, a delicate finger pressed against the center of the maid's forehead.
【Authority: Art, Ability: Requiem】
The madness on the maid's face quickly ebbed away, replaced by a gentle, soothing expression as clarity returned to her unfocused eyes.
“Speak. What did you see? Quickly.”
“B-Bugs... It was terrifying, giant bugs...”
Fear resurfaced in her newly restored eyes, but she managed to squeeze out a few words nonetheless.
Before she could say any more, Pope Serina withdrew her finger, left a lipstick mark on her own fingertip, and pressed it onto the maid's forehead.
“I shouldn't have woken you. I'm sorry. Get some rest; you will forget everything and recover.”
【Authority: Joy, Ability: Fading Memories】
The maid closed her eyes as instructed. Her breathing turned steady, and her body ceased writhing.
Lynch took a deep breath, realizing he wasn't being overly paranoid. Giant insects lined up perfectly with the fluttering wings he had heard.
Could it really be insects this time? But where are they?
There were none.
When they questioned the guards patrolling the fifth floor, they learned that besides the state guests, their retinues, security personnel, and waiters, no one else had come up to the fifth floor—let alone giant insects or unfamiliar faces.
The fifth floor was far from vacant, with patrolling personnel and guests everywhere. It was impossible for someone not to notice a giant bug. It seemed Lynch's worry was merely a false alarm, and the maid's scream was nothing more than a coincidence.
Nevertheless, the female Pope glanced back at Lynch and immediately ordered the guard knight beside her to lead the way and check on the young prince's safety.
In the world of the occult, any seemingly coincidental occurrence could be the manifestation of an omen—to say nothing of premonitions from those with high inspiration. Those who dismissed such hunches usually met gruesome ends.
At this point, the guard captain no longer dared to talk big and dutifully led the way. Yet Lynch couldn't find it in himself to be glad; right now, he wished more than anyone that this was all just a figment of his imagination.
Whether Prince Louis lived or died had nothing to do with him, but if his fear was justified, he harbored strong doubts that the fire kindled by their enemies would eventually consume the people around him.
That was something he was utterly unwilling to let happen, which was why he stayed glued to Pope Serina's side.
As for the representatives of the other churches and the Lande guards, they followed behind. The situation appeared serious, and they wanted to gain first-hand information to adapt swiftly to any developments. Out of courtesy, however, they maintained a respectful distance, relying entirely on the guard captain to guide them.
The delegation from Friedman had been arranged on the top floor, the best section of the Medea Hotel, boasting top-notch views and amenities. Their forty-five-person delegation occupied over fifty suites across three entire corridors on the fifth floor.
While the hotel as a whole was guarded by Lande's official security forces, these three corridors were guarded by Friedman's own guards alongside knights provided by the churches, rendering them virtually impregnable. Yet, for the royal family member's safety, the Friedman delegation had implemented one final precaution.
They randomly selected one of six rooms as the young prince's bedroom, rotating it daily. Aside from the two security chiefs, no one knew in advance where the prince was staying—not even Ms. Serina, who was entrusted with taking care of him.
Following the guard captain, the group quickened their pace. The corridors were quite lively, and along the way, they encountered several groups of people from various countries—some even in pajamas—who had been drawn out by the scream to see what was going on.
Though Lynch's doubts grew, both he and Pope Serina needed to see the young prince with their own eyes before they could rest easy. Fortunately, the corridors assigned to Friedman were not far, and in less than ten minutes, they turned into a magnificent hallway.
This was presumably Prince Louis's quarters for the night. However, the scene in the hallway filled everyone with utter horror.
A door happened to open, and young Prince Louis XVI stepped out, looking up at a figure in a hooded cloak standing outside. Meanwhile, the three guards in the corridor paid no mind to this, leaving the young prince completely exposed in front of the intruder.
The onlookers quickly realized why. The hooded figure turned around and, seeing a group of high-ranking church leaders arriving alongside the Friedman delegation as well as numerous curious representatives from other nations, flashed a satisfied smile. Then, with a sudden swipe of their arm, they drove a blade straight into the defenseless young prince.
As the hood slipped back, it revealed a face familiar to many.
Sophia Ross, Eldest Princess of the Kingdom of Lande.
Lynch instantly realized his deduction was correct. As long as a member of Lande's royal family killed a member of Friedman's royal family in plain sight of everyone, Friedman would have a flawless casus belli to declare war, and nothing could stop it.
What was worse, the moment the gesture was made, the situation became irremediable—even if the assassination attempt failed.
It was an open plot. They had been checkmated.
Rate on N.U.
