“We’re almost there.”
Elvira’s voice broke the brief silence inside the carriage.
Almost at the same moment her words fell, Jiang Ming looked up. Through the thin film of dust on the front windshield, he saw a massive shadow abruptly rising at the end of a skyline filled with low, dilapidated buildings.
It was a gargantuan structure that looked completely out of place with its surroundings. The stone exterior walls were heavy and gray, retaining the complex yet crude decorative style of the old era, though many details had been worn away by time.
High-reaching spires pierced into the murky smog, and dim, unstable yellow light leaked from several narrow windows, looking like the half-closed eyes of a giant beast under the gloomy canopy.
“One of the landmarks of the Lower City, Opas Mansion,” Elvira said as she steadily drove the car toward it. “Usually, the gang leaders entrenched in various districts, docks, and factories of the Lower City use this place as a stronghold, a council chamber, or… a stage to flaunt their power.”
The car rolled over the pitted road, drawing closer to the building.
Unlike the refined and light new architecture of the Upper District, this place radiated a primal authority based on violence and possessiveness.
“Of course,” she added, her gaze sweeping across the relatively open area in front of the mansion where human silhouettes could be seen shifting, “it’s also frequently used to ‘receive guests’ or host certain banquets that aren’t quite convenient to hold in the Upper District.”
The three of them stepped out of the car. The cold air immediately wrapped around them. Jiang Ming straightened the collar of his tailcoat, his eyes scanning the heavy oak doors of the mansion.
A burly guard stood on each side of the door. They wore formal attire, but their eyes moved like scavenging hyenas under the dim porch light.
Lillian moved in with natural grace, her ice-cold fingers sliding into the crook of Jiang Ming’s arm as she gently took hold of his left side. Her movement was as fluid as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times, and her snow-white hair swayed slightly with her steps.
Elvira’s gaze touched the overlapping arms for a fleeting second before shifting away. She said nothing but walked a few steps to Jiang Ming’s other side and reached out, taking hold of his right arm. Her movements were somewhat stiff—not as practiced as Lillian’s—but her grip was firm, her fingertips even exerting a bit of pressure.
Jiang Ming couldn’t help but puff out his chest.
Jiang Ming might be an expert in the psychology of love, but he was definitely not an expert at actually being in love. On the contrary, his romantic experience was pitifully sparse.
Unless one counted his time playing dating sims.
Right now, he felt as helpless as a novice hero who had just left home and immediately encountered two demon kings.
Jiang Ming wanted to struggle, but he found that they held his arms like two pairs of iron pincers.
The guards’ eyes swept over the three of them, lingering for a moment on the two ladies’ expensive gowns, before one growled toward the interior, “Guests!”
The oak doors swung inward, and warm, cloying air rushed out, carrying loud music, the aroma of food, and the sound of murmurs. A middle-aged waiter in a worn velvet vest and greasy hair stood inside. He was clearly more observant than the guards outside; his eyes quickly scanned the invitation in Lillian’s hand, and a professional smile plastered onto his face. However, his gaze curiously circled the three individuals standing in such an intimate posture.
“Welcome to Opas Mansion, honored guests. Please show your…” He didn’t get to finish.
“This is my fiancé, Jiang Ming,” Lillian spoke first. Her voice was cold and pleasant, yet it carried an undeniable tone of declaration.
She even tilted her head slightly, giving Jiang Ming a perfectly timed, shy, and timid smile, her crimson eyes overflowing with affection.
The smile on the waiter’s face froze. He looked at Jiang Ming, whose left arm was held by Lillian, and then turned his gaze to the right.
“He is my boyfriend,” Elvira added immediately. Her voice was slightly louder than usual—clear, sharp, and direct. She looked up, her red eyes staring straight at the waiter without a hint of shyness, only bold honesty. The hand gripping Jiang Ming’s right arm tightened by another fraction.
The air seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second.
Jiang Ming was also stunned. ‘Since when did I have a girlfriend and a fiancée? How come I didn’t know about this?’
The waiter’s gaze shifted back and forth across Jiang Ming’s face—a face that was currently calm and expressionless, as if he were completely oblivious to the “status declarations” happening on either side of him. Then, the waiter stole a quick glance at the two women who were vastly different yet equally stunning.
the muscles in his face twitched, and his well-trained smile nearly collapsed.
He opened his mouth, seeming as though he wanted to confirm something, but in the end, he only gave Jiang Ming a deeply, incredibly complex look. He stepped aside to clear the path and bowed. “…Please come inside, the three of you. May you have an… enjoyable night at the mansion.”
Only when the silhouettes of the three disappeared into the flickering light and shadow of the noisy hall did the waiter straighten up. He watched the direction they had gone—specifically the back of the black tailcoat being claimed by two peerless beauties—and muttered a sigh of envy, jealousy, and utter confusion that only he could hear.
“Tsk… those lords and ladies from the Upper District… they sure play in some damn messy ways.”
Inside, a short corridor connected to the boisterous main hall. The music was deafening, crystal chandeliers swayed with light, and a crowd dressed in all sorts of attire surged through the haze of smoke and the scent of alcohol.
—
Deep within the mansion, in a room isolated from the noise downstairs.
The light was dim, with only an alchemical lamp in the corner emitting a phosphorus-green glow that barely outlined two figures wearing dark gray hoods. The air was stagnant, filled with the heavy scent of old wood mixed with some strange spice.
“Have they arrived?” the figure on the left asked, voice hoarse.
“They have,” the figure on the right replied shortly. The voice was steady yet hollow. “But there is a change in the plan. Two more have come—one for Glimmer, and one for Holy Spear.”
A brief silence followed. The ghostly green light reflected on the deep shadows of the hoods, flickering slightly.
“It does not matter,” the first speaker said slowly, a sense of certainty bleeding through the hoarse voice. “The mundane barriers shall be breached today. The extra Glimmer and Holy Spear… are nothing more than dust accidentally falling before the altar. They cannot change the direction in which the fire burns.”
The other person nodded slightly. A sigh, or perhaps a breath of satisfaction, seemed to come from beneath the hood.
“The ritual is ready,” the hoarse voice continued, each word sounding like a decree of fate. “Our prayers shall finally find an echo.”
Both individuals simultaneously raised their arms, which were hidden by long sleeves, and made a strange, synchronized gesture in front of their chests. Their fingertips faced each other and curved inward, as if they were cupping something invisible, or perhaps mimicking some non-human mouthpart.
“And our Supreme King…”
The voice dropped, dissolving into the thick shadows of the room, leaving only a final phrase that struck the dead air like a tempered vow:
“…shall finally descend.”
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