Deep inside the Order Bureau, there was a cramped conference room.
The overhead lights cast a pale, deathly glow, illuminating eight figures seated around a rectangular metal table. There were four men and four women. They varied in height and build, their attire ranging from simple uniforms to practical civilian clothes. At this moment, however, the casualness of their daily lives had vanished, replaced by solemnity and vigilance.
“Guys, how long has it been since the whole crew was together like this?” A blonde man broke the silence. He leaned back in his chair, unconsciously spinning a brass shell casing etched with runes. He tried to sound lighthearted.
“That’s exactly why everyone is so on edge, Luther,” a woman with short, neat purple hair replied. Her hands were folded on the table, her knuckles prominent. “This kind of lineup … it’s not common.”
“One Divine Revelation, four Royal City, and three White Tower.” Luther stopped spinning the shell and pressed it onto the table with a soft *thud*. “What does Rex want to do? Flip Opeth City off the map and then flatten it?”
“Who knows?” This time, the speaker was a middle-aged blonde man sitting opposite the head of the table. His hair was already streaked with gray. He was hulking and steady. “Even if he isn’t flipping the city, it probably isn’t far off.”
Just as he finished, the heavy alloy door slid open silently.
Rex walked in. He wasn’t wearing his formal Director’s coat, opted instead for a dark shirt with sleeves rolled up. Exhaustion shadowed his eyes, and there were faint dark circles beneath them.
“Everyone … how have you been?” Rex wasn’t in the mood for small talk, and his voice was husky. He walked to the head of the table but didn’t sit in the main chair. He pulled a neighboring chair over and sat down, casual as if joining an old friend’s card game. He knew everyone here too well to bother with pleasantries.
“Great, thanks to you,” Luther smirked. “Playing hide-and-seek with those complete lunatics from the Bliss Troupe. They run, I chase — having the time of my life.”
“Cut the crap, Luther.” The gray-haired man, Ron, locked his eyes onto Rex’s face. “Rex, you aren’t the type to call a tea party. Out with it. What is so important tonight that you had to dig all of us out of our respective quagmires?”
Rex rubbed his brow and even let out a small yawn. “Nothing earth-shattering, Ron,” he said flatly.
No one believed him. The tension didn’t ease. Eight pairs of eyes, like eight calibrated gun barrels, pointed silently at him. Rex met their gaze, the exhaustion on his face fading slightly.
“Tonight, in the Lower City, the Traveling Merchants are holding an auction,” he said, getting straight to the point. “I need you all to take action and secure one of the items.”
Silence. For a few seconds, there was absolute quiet, save for the hiss of air through the vents. Then, massive question marks appeared on everyone’s faces.
‘Was that it?’
One Divine Revelation, four Royal City, and three White Tower — a force capable of paralyzing or destroying a medium-sized city’s defenses in short order. And it was all for … an auction item?
Even for a Forbidden Object from the Traveling Merchants, there was rarely a precedent for such a massive mobilization.
“… What the hell is it?” Ron’s brow furrowed deeply.
Rex looked at him and slowly uttered three words: “The Wishing Machine.”
—
Jiang Ming moved through the crowd, which was filled with flickering crystal light and thick cigar smoke, trying his best to look like an idle playboy. He held a glass of champagne he hadn’t touched, his gaze wandering aimlessly over the masked guests. He tilted his head slightly toward the empty air by his shoulder and whispered, “I say, why are you sticking to me instead of following your sister?”
The light and shadows in the air beside him warped slightly. Elvia’s translucent Spirit Body appeared. She was floating listlessly, and upon hearing him, she immediately puffed out her cheeks.
“It’s so boring over with Sister,” she grumbled, her voice entering Jiang Ming’s consciousness directly. “I can’t eat yummy things or drink cold drinks. I’d rather stay with you, Brother.” With that, she spun gracefully and sat sideways on Jiang Ming’s empty left shoulder, her small legs dangling.
Suddenly, as if remembering something, she hurriedly pressed down on the illusory hem of her white spirit dress, her small face showing a hint of panic.
However, nothing happened. The hazy skirt passed through Jiang Ming’s head and shoulder without resistance, as if they existed on two slightly offset layers. At the moment her skirt’s shadow intersected with his physical body, Jiang Ming clearly captured a sense of loss through their spiritual connection.
“Let me ask you a question,” he said, taking a sip of champagne. “If … and I mean if … there was a chance to grant you a wish. Any wish. What would you ask for?”
Elvia stopped swinging her legs. She propped her translucent arms on top of Jiang Ming’s head, resting her chin on her palms, and actually began to think seriously.
“I don’t know …” After a long while, she shook her head, her voice carrying a child-like confusion. “Elvia hasn’t really thought about that.”
She looked toward the backstage area, even though the walls blocked her view.
“Ever since I became like this, I’ve always been with Sister. Wherever she goes, I go. Whatever she wants to do, I help her. To me, having Sister be safe and happy is probably the best wish I could have.”
“That is her wish,” Jiang Ming countered calmly. “Not your own.”
He had seen too many people who tied their self-worth entirely to another person’s path, mistakenly believing that the strong desire for “the other person to be well” was the complete answer to their own lives. In loose, popular psychology, this might be hastily labeled a “savior complex,” but Jiang Ming knew that behind it often lay a deeper self-concealment and cowardice.
Elvia froze. She looked down at her translucent fingers. “Then … what would count as my own wish?” she asked softly, filled with curiosity.
Jiang Ming placed his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and tucked his hands into his coattail pockets.
“Let me rephrase the question. Suppose … tomorrow is the end of the world. An unavoidable disaster that no one survives will swallow everything. There is no future, and no hope remains. You and your sister will both die together in that end.”
He paused, then continued. “At the final moment, before everything returns to nothingness … what would you want to do?”
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