“Ms. Cecil?” Elias pulled back The Roaring Cane.
“Didn't we just contact each other two days ago? Are you serious with this 'long time no see'?”
The raven tilted its head. A strange spiritual glow flickered in its bead-like black eyes, reflecting the wooden cottage behind Elias.
“Why not?” Ms. Cecil's voice flowed as smoothly as if they were speaking face-to-face.
“You can see me?” Elias raised an eyebrow.
“Uh-huh.” The raven's eyes rolled slightly, scanning the desolate gravel shore.
“It seems your treatment on this island isn't too bad. The scenery is quite unique.”
“You call this not bad?” Elias was instantly outraged.
He held up the hard piece of jerky he had been chewing on for ten minutes. “Look at this thing! This isn't food; it's a blunt weapon! The Wayland Company issued this purely to assassinate my teeth!”
He pointed to the roof again. “As long as this dilapidated house doesn't collapse on me while I'm sleeping, I'll have to thank the Moon Lord for his mercy!”
The raven let out a soft chuckle, the black feathers on its neck shaking slightly.
“Alright, stop complaining, wage slave. I have official business with you.”
“What is it?” Elias was about to stuff the jerky back into his pocket when he looked at the raven again. “Want some?”
“...”
“If you're not eating, I'm putting it away.”
“I am here on behalf of the Seventh Agency to formally thank you for your outstanding contribution to Hastings Port.” Ms. Cecil ignored his nonsense, adopting a strictly business-like tone.
Elias froze. “Thank? Contribution? Please, give me some practical benefits.” Elias gestured with his hand.
Ms. Cecil ignored him and continued, “The supply captain of Wayland Shipping, Mr. Crowley, handed over a heavily mutated aberration named Sarah to us intact yesterday.”
“Sarah?”
“Yes, her. That old captain walked away with an extremely handsome cash reward.”
Hearing the words “handsome reward,” Elias's heart twitched violently. But Ms. Cecil wasn't finished.
“However, when our investigators praised his bravery and loyalty, the old captain acted very humble.”
“He sincerely stated that he was merely a helmsman. The one who truly turned the tide, upheld justice, and suppressed the aberration was the outstanding keeper of the White Tower Lighthouse—Mr. Elias Rockland.”
“What the hell?!” Elias's eyes nearly popped out of his head. If his previous complaints about the dilapidated wooden cottage were just banter, right now, he was genuinely furious.
“That damned old sea dog... that shameless pirate with a brain full of barnacles!” Elias clutched his chest, feeling as if his blood pressure was about to spike into a stroke.
Wasn't it painfully obvious?! That wicked old geezer Crowley had turned around and sold the monster to the Seventh Agency, stuffing a massive pile of cash into his own pockets. And when he was done, to prevent being liquidated by the Wayland Company or some mysterious organization afterward, he casually threw Elias's name forward to act as his shield!
He gets the money, while Elias takes the blame. Is that something a human being would do?!
“Calm down, Mr. Rockland,” Ms. Cecil comforted. “From an objective, strategic standpoint, the old man was actually very clever.”
“Clever? That's called professional fraud!” Elias gritted his teeth.
“You must realize that as a veteran supply captain for Wayland Shipping, actively exposing an aberration from his company's core project carries the risk of being thrown into the sea by Thomas Wayland himself.”
“It seems he doesn't want to expose himself just yet,” Ms. Cecil analyzed incisively.
“Thus, finding someone to act as a shield is currently his best method of self-preservation. And you perfectly fit all the criteria.”
“...”
“Oh? And I don't need to hide my identity?” Elias stared at the raven on the doorknob, forcing himself to swallow a stream of curses. He understood the logic, but still.
“Wait a minute.” Elias suddenly realized something. He furrowed his brows, staring intently into the black bird's dark eyes.
“You just said Crowley only arrived at the port yesterday, yet you already know the interrogation records and the reward amount inside out? You're already in Hastings Port?!”
“Uh-huh.” Ms. Cecil let out a light hum. “I set off immediately after receiving your intel.”
“The scale of this incident has already exceeded the handling limit of the local branch.”
The raven hopped twice, adjusting its stance.
“Anyone with eyes can see that this sea fog attack on Hastings Port was absolutely orchestrated by Thomas Wayland behind the scenes.”
“You crushed his plans in Hope County, causing him heavy losses. Now, he has no choice but to seek other methods.”
A hint of smugness crept into Ms. Cecil's voice.
“Speaking of which, Mr. Rockland, you really ought to thank me.”
Elias was somewhat baffled by this out-of-the-blue statement.
“Thank you? Thank you for watching me get used as a shield by that old sea dog?”
“Thank me for saving your life,” Ms. Cecil said calmly. “My first-hand investigation report bypassed all intermediate levels and was submitted secretly to the Director-General himself.”
“Therefore, your name and detailed file are currently classified as top secret within the Seventh Agency.”
“As long as the Director-General doesn't leak it, Thomas Wayland's moles within the agency won't be able to trace anything to you.”
“For the time being, you won't be completely targeted by the massive power of the Wayland Group.”
Elias did not relax because of this. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the handle of The Roaring Cane.
“Are you sure your security measures are foolproof?”
“If Thomas Wayland doesn't know about me, then why did the madmen of the Mist Veil Society find me so precisely two days ago?”
The raven shook its head, a glimmer of contemplation flashing in its eyes.
“This is highly likely a private operation within the Mist Veil Society.”
“A private operation?” Elias frowned.
“You have to understand the employment and cooperative relationship between them,” Ms. Cecil explained.
“The Mist Veil Society and the Wayland Company have never been of one mind; they are merely a temporary alliance based on mutual interests.”
“The current situation is that whoever holds the 'Pendulum' first holds the right to speak.”
“They are full of suspicion and wariness toward each other.”
“Therefore, it is perfectly normal for some specific intelligence regarding the Pendulum to not be shared.”
At this point, the raven's tone grew serious, its voice dropping.
“Mr. Rockland, you must clearly realize one thing.”
“Once Thomas Wayland himself finds out that you were the one who ruined his plans...”
“By then, the hardness of your jerky will be the least of your concerns.”
“You'll have to think long and hard about which method of death will allow you to look relatively decent.”
Elias felt a chill run down his spine.
Being wanted nationwide by an industrial tycoon who was as rich as a country and wielded supernatural power—that was a picture too beautiful to contemplate.
“Fine. The big boss doesn't know yet. I suppose that barely counts as good news.”
Elias twitched the corner of his mouth.
“And that old man Crowley bringing you into the Seventh Agency's field of vision is actually a double-edged sword,” Ms. Cecil evaluated.
“On one hand, having more higher-ups know your name objectively increases the risk of your identity being exposed.”
“But on the other hand, the benefits are equally obvious.”
The raven fluttered its wings.
“This will allow those at the top to quickly realize your value.”
“This way, if you are ever pushed into a corner by the fanatical cultists of the Mist Veil Society or the Wayland Company, the Seventh Agency will grant you protection out of respect for your achievements and worth.”
Elias nodded in silence.
He was a smart man and could naturally weigh the pros and cons.
A sense of security was there.
But what about the money?!
What he lacked most right now was money!
Elias sighed, looking at the black bird somewhat listlessly.
“So, Ms. Cecil, did you come here just to tell me this?”
“Of course not.”
“You also know the situation the Seventh Agency is currently facing...”
Just as Ms. Cecil was about to get to the point, a sound came from inside the dilapidated cottage.
The raven's voice stopped abruptly.
Its black feathers ruffled violently in an instant, making the bird look like a spiky ball.
“Who's there?”
Ms. Cecil's voice was filled with absolute vigilance.
“Is there someone else here with you?!”
Rate on N.U.
