“An Invisibility scroll isn't cheap!”
Xia'an pinched the off-white parchment scroll, heavily emphasizing the words “isn't cheap.”
The scroll was only as long as a palm.
It was wrapped in silver thread, its seal stamped with the wax seal of the Seventh Agency's logistics department.
This kind of consumable was gone once torn open.
Unlike the 【Arcane Eye】 summoned by Dabu, which at most cost a bit of spirituality once it dissipated.
“You're not exactly hurting for a single scroll, are you?”
Dabu crouched on the ground, looking up as he asked.
“Besides, can't we get reimbursed for mission expenses?”
“Who told you that?!”
The young investigator whipped her head around like a cat that had its tail stepped on.
Her grip on the scroll tightened.
“An Invisibility scroll is part of my emergency supplies!”
“Emergency!”
“It's not for you to use to peep on ordinary people!”
Dabu fell silent for a moment.
“This isn't peeping.”
“This is protective surveillance carried out to protect an important informant.”
Xia'an stared at him.
Dabu's expression was completely calm and unbothered.
It was as if putting the word “protective” in front of something illegal made the entire act immediately reasonable.
“So can the mission expenses be reimbursed?”
Xia'an asked again.
“I'm just guessing.”
Dabu said calmly.
“...”
Xia'an closed her eyes and took a slow breath.
“Stay far away from the accounting office from now on...”
Even as she scolded him, she didn't delay her actions.
Ophelia was still observing her surroundings in the distance.
If they hesitated any longer, she would be inside the house.
Xia'an pried open the wax seal with her thumb, grabbed both sides of the scroll, and tore it open with a sharp tug.
Rip!
The parchment split down the middle.
Dense arcane runes lit up along the tear, transforming into a distorting, transparent light.
Xia'an extended two fingers, guiding the spirituality within her body to press all the scattered runes onto the 【Arcane Eye】 hovering in front of Dabu.
The transparent light wrapped around the spherical eyeball.
The massive eyeball, composed entirely of arcane energy, rapidly faded.
First went its outer silhouette.
Then, the constantly spinning runic pupil inside.
A few seconds later, the 【Arcane Eye】 vanished completely from their sight.
Dabu stared at the empty corner.
As the caster of the spell, he could still clearly sense the location of the 【Arcane Eye】.
“The scroll's effect only lasts twenty minutes.”
Xia'an crumpled the ruined parchment, now devoid of spirituality, into a ball and stuffed it into Dabu's arms.
“Once time runs out, it will reveal itself.”
“If the person inside looks up and sees an eyeball floating right next to their face when that happens, you can go in and explain it yourself.”
“That's enough.”
Dabu commanded the 【Arcane Eye】 to rise.
The invisible eyeball floated around the broken wall and drifted toward the low-rise house.
By now, Ophelia had confirmed her surroundings were safe.
She pulled down her wide-brimmed dress hat, walked quickly to the door of the low-rise house, and knocked several times.
There was no immediate response from inside.
A few seconds later, the sound of slippers shuffling against the floor came from behind the door.
An old, wary voice asked through the wooden door:
“Who is it?”
“It's me.”
Ophelia lowered her voice.
Silence fell inside for a brief moment.
Then, several bolts were slid open one by one.
The heavy wooden door opened only a crack.
An old man with graying hair and reading glasses peeked out.
He had been guarded at first.
But when he saw the face behind the sheer veil, his eyes went wide.
“Miss Moore?!”
The old man looked utterly astonished.
He clearly couldn't fathom why the female reporter whom all of Hastings Port was hunting for would suddenly appear at his doorstep.
“How did you end up here?”
Mr. Hawthorne glanced down both sides of the alley, then hurriedly lowered his voice:
“You're wanted everywhere!”
“Your portrait is plastered all over the port and the train stations!”
“Mr. Hawthorne, it's a long story...”
Ophelia gripped the strap of her canvas bag in slight embarrassment.
“May I come in first?”
“Quick! Hurry inside!”
The old man snapped to his senses and quickly threw the door open.
Ophelia squeezed inside.
Hawthorne didn't close the door immediately.
He held the doorframe, leaning half his body outside to watch warily for a good while.
What he didn't know, however, was that a massive, invisible eyeball was currently drifting past his feet.
It entered the room and immediately rose, lingering in the shadows near the ceiling.
Dabu's vision shifted accordingly.
The interior of the low-rise house wasn't large.
It consisted of a living room and a narrow hallway leading to the back.
Bundles of old newspapers were stacked against the walls, and several brown glass bottles containing developer fluid sat on a wooden shelf. Near the kitchen door stood an old-fashioned flashbulb camera covered with a black cloth.
The fireplace burned brightly.
The air was a mix of printing ink, chemicals, and the damp scent of old paper.
Ophelia took off her dress hat and let out a long breath.
Hawthorne closed the door and bolted it shut again.
To be safe, he walked quickly to the window and drew the curtains tight on both sides.
The room, which had been relatively bright, suddenly darkened.
Only the firelight from the fireplace illuminated their faces.
“What on earth is going on?”
Hawthorne gestured for Ophelia to sit on the armchair in front of the fireplace.
He didn't sit down himself.
Instead, he stood beside her with his hands behind his back, looking at her with a face full of worry.
“The newspapers say you stole trade secrets and that you're a commercial spy.”
“Is any of this true?”
Ophelia placed the canvas bag on her knees.
“I did steal Wayland's documents.”
She explained honestly.
Hawthorne froze.
“What they're saying is true?!”
The old man suddenly straightened up.
“How did you manage that?!”
His reaction was less of anger and more of sheer shock.
Wayland Capital was wealthy enough to rival nations across the entire Kingdom of Velen.
Its shipping companies, factories, and security department controlled a vast array of industries stretching from Landon to Moon Bay.
Let alone entering their archive room, an ordinary reporter who even tried to pry a bit of information out of a Wayland employee would likely receive a lawyer's letter and a termination notice the very next day.
Yet the young woman before him had walked right out with their documents.
“I just... did it.”
Ophelia answered vaguely.
The exact process was simply too difficult to explain.
“But I didn't come to catch up with you today!”
Ophelia brought the conversation back on track.
“I have a set of negatives.”
“They prove that Wayland abuses its employees, regularly sending frontline workers to die on isolated lighthouse islands.”
The shock on Hawthorne's face quickly turned into excitement.
“I knew it!”
He slapped his palms together and leaned in closer.
“What do you need me to do?”
The old man rubbed his hands together, eager to jump into action.
“Help you develop the photos?”
“Ever since that business with the Hartley Spinning Mill, I knew you were destined for great things!”
“Back then, you dared to charge into the warehouse right against the factory guards' clubs.”
“I said back then that this girl would land a major scoop sooner or later!”
Ophelia felt a bit self-conscious under his praise.
She raised her hand, cutting off Hawthorne's mounting excitement.
“I need a camera.”
“A camera?”
“Yes.”
Ophelia spoke honestly:
“Right now, I only have the negatives.”
“But no photos.”
The smile on Hawthorne's face froze.
This statement left the old man utterly baffled.
Weren't you here to have me develop the photos?
If you have the negatives, why do you need a camera?
Had being on the run for days finally broken this girl's mind?
He glanced at the flashbulb camera covered in black cloth near the door, then turned back to Ophelia.
“Wait a moment.”
Hawthorne raised both hands, trying to follow her logic.
“You have the negatives.”
“But you don't have the photos.”
“So you're not looking for me to develop the negatives, but to borrow a camera?”
“Exactly.”
“Then why don't you just give me the negatives?”
“Because they aren't the kind of negatives you're thinking of.”
Ophelia didn't know how to explain it either.
A projection stone was something that belonged to the supernatural world.
Elias had only taught her how to use it, but hadn't explained how she should describe its mechanics to an ordinary person.
She hesitated, settling on a crude summary:
“It probably... requires a bit of witchcraft.”
Hawthorne's gaze grew even more concerned.
Ophelia didn't explain further.
She opened her canvas bag, retrieved a dusty stone from the innermost compartment, and placed it on the open floor before the fireplace.
The stone was barely the size of a palm.
If it were tossed onto the side of the road, even a child gathering coal cinders wouldn't spare it a second glance.
Hawthorne stared at the stone.
He silently wondered if the girl had truly gone mad.
Going through all this trouble to knock on his door.
Evading a city-wide manhunt.
Only to pull a stone out of her bag and claim it held the evidence of Wayland's crimes.
It sounded less believable than the street peddlers selling protective amulets.
“Miss Moore.”
The old man chose his words carefully.
“I know a very good doctor.”
“When it comes to the mind...”
“I haven't gone mad.”
Ophelia cut him off.
She reached into her bag again and pulled out the small glass vial Elias had given her.
The vial contained a small amount of glow-amber powder.
Following Elias's previous instructions, Ophelia poured the glow-amber powder beneath the projection stone, then used tongs to pull a tiny piece of burning charcoal from the fireplace.
“Step back a bit.”
Hawthorne instinctively took two steps back.
Ophelia placed the charcoal onto the glow-amber powder.
Tiny blue flames ignited instantly.
There was no heat.
And no smoke.
A pale blue spirituality spread rapidly across the surface of the projection stone.
Hum—
A low, soft hum vibrated from within the stone.
The next second, the environment of the entire low-rise house transformed.
Dark, gloomy stone walls rose out of thin air, covering the yellowed wallpaper.
The fireplace, sofa, and bundles of newspapers remained exactly where they were.
But in their vision, all of it was replaced by a damp, cold lighthouse basement.
Specimen jars filled with shriveled materials lined the walls.
Yellowed logs and discarded tools sat on a dusty wooden table.
Water seeped from the surface of the stone walls.
In the center of the room lay a horribly shriveled corpse.
On the table, the logbook proving the keeper's identity was clearly visible.
This was the setup Elias had prepared beforehand.
It would serve as corroborating evidence alongside the documents Ophelia would publish.
The image was not a flat picture plastered onto the walls.
It enveloped every corner of the room.
“Bloody hell!”
Hawthorne's cloudy old eyes bulged.
He stumbled back half a step, entirely unaware that his lower back had hit the edge of the table.
“This is the 'bit of witchcraft' you were talking about?!”
Ophelia didn't answer.
The awkwardness and hesitation on her face had vanished.
When her gaze landed on the corpse, her lips turned slightly pale, and her fingers tightly gripped the fabric of her skirt.
“Lord of the Raging Sea above!”
Hawthorne had lived a long life, but he had never seen anything like this.
Meanwhile, behind the broken wall across the street,
Dabu was equally unprepared.
He had been observing the conversation inside the house through the 【Arcane Eye】.
One second, he was looking at an ordinary living room stacked with old newspapers.
The next second, damp stone walls pressed in from all sides.
A shriveled corpse abruptly materialized right in front of him.
Because the 【Arcane Eye】 was hovering high in the room, the shared vision Dabu received put him almost face-to-face with the corpse's shriveled, distorted features.
“What the hell is that?!”
Dabu leaped up from the ground.
His back slammed hard against the broken wall, shaking loose a shower of brick dust.
“What's wrong with you?”
Xia'an looked at the startled Dabu and quickly reached out to press his shoulder.
“You're already a mature investigator.”
She said dismissively:
“Stop overreacting, will you?”
Dabu's face was pale as he pointed to his own eyes.
“See for yourself.”
As he spoke, he transferred the shared vision of the 【Arcane Eye】 to Xia'an.
The spiritual connection was established.
The cold, damp lighthouse basement inside the house, along with the shriveled corpse in the center, crashed into Xia'an's vision all at once.
“What the hell is that?!”
Rate on N.U.
