Jiang Ming walked through the crowd of people clinking glasses, his gaze sweeping across the edge of the hall. Then, his footsteps halted.
In the most inconspicuous southeast corner of the hall, under a dim crystal chandelier and leaning against a high wall painted with a war mural, stood an object.
A Telephone Booth.
It was so abrupt and out of place, as if it had been cut directly from an oil painting of an old city and mistakenly pasted into this banquet hall.
Jiang Ming could not even comprehend the logic of its existence. In an age where everyone carried a portable communicator and various transcendent messaging methods existed, why was such a heavy, retro public Telephone Booth placed in the heart of a Lower City gang manor’s main hall?
He stood a few paces away, frowning slightly as he examined the quiet red iron box.
It was like a silent riddle, a punctuation mark that did not belong to this narrative.
“Jiang Ming!”
At that moment, two distinct female voices — one cold and clear, the other calm — called out from behind him almost simultaneously, interrupting his stare.
Jiang Ming turned around.
Lillian and Elvira were standing side by side in the flickering light and shadows not far away. One was dressed in white like moonlight pouring down, cold and noble, not to be profaned. The other was in dark blue like the midnight sea, silent and mysterious, hiding a sharp edge.
Their appearance instantly made the surrounding vanity and noise seem a bit dull and coarse by comparison.
They were like two stars that had fallen into the mortal world, their radiance so pure it was blinding.
Without giving him any more time to observe the Telephone Booth, the two walked toward him with synchronized steps. Lillian wore an impeccable smile, while Elvira’s expression remained calm, her red eyes locked onto him.
In the next second, the familiar sensation of being restrained returned.
Lillian’s hand naturally slid into his left arm, her fingertips cold, her grip gentle yet firm. Almost at the same moment, Elvira’s hand clasped his right arm, her movements lacking the hesitation from before, replaced by a more direct determination.
Before Jiang Ming could even utter a single word, he was swept away by these two forces. Compelled to turn around, he left the red Telephone Booth behind and merged back into the main flow of the banquet hall.
Everywhere the three of them went, the attention that had briefly scattered was once again pulled back like a magnet. Admiration, envy, speculation, and curiosity… various gazes wove into an invisible net that followed them closely.
One in black, one in white, and in the middle, the silent young boundary wearing a black tuxedo.
They once again became the most unavoidable and imaginative scenery in this filthy, magnificent palace.
Jiang Ming sighed silently in his heart and gave up his pointless resistance.
He straightened his posture and cast his gaze toward the auction stage in the center of the hall, which was gradually being illuminated by the lights.
Elvira tilted her head slightly, her breath brushing against Jiang Ming’s ear. Her voice was kept extremely low to ensure only he could hear. “Based on the items displayed so far, aside from the final ‘grand finale’ pieces that haven’t appeared, everything else is standard fare — Alchemical Armaments, ores of unknown origin… nothing particularly dangerous worth noting.”
Almost simultaneously, Lillian’s voice came from the other side. “Everything I gathered from my end was just useless idle chatter. The information from the merchant circle socialites is mostly limited to vanity and superficiality.”
Her gaze did not leave the blurry figures in front of them, but Jiang Ming could feel that her focus was not actually on anything real. Deep within those crimson eyes lingered a distant nostalgia, piercing through the swaying crystal lights and noisy voices to gaze upon an afternoon or night that had long since vanished into the river of time.
‘How long has it been…’ Lillian asked herself silently.
When was the last time she had walked side by side with him at an event like this? Even in such a filthy and strange environment, and even if he had completely forgotten everything, how much time had actually passed?
She had traced the silhouette in her memory countless times while sitting on her empty throne. Now, his actual warmth and scent were within reach, yet their souls were separated by the thick wall of forgetting.
‘How… ironic.’
A sigh of self-mockery dissolved in her heart, though it did not show on her face.
Just then, a very bold thought wound its way into her mind —
Maybe… she should just do it tonight.
Her gaze shifted quietly, falling on Jiang Ming’s clean jawline and his slightly moving Adam’s apple. Alcohol was an excellent catalyst, and chaos was the best curtain.
With her methods, making him pass out drunk and then making the “raw rice into cooked rice” would not be difficult. A hundred years of longing had burned into ash, and the current impulse carried a heat that could start a prairie fire.
However, in the next second, she immediately dismissed this tempting shortcut.
‘I want to win. But I want to win fairly and squarely, to win until he is convinced… so that even if he recovers all his lost memories one day, he won’t be able to find a single fault or say a single “no” to everything that happened today.’
She did not want a shell conquered by alcohol or tricks. She wanted the soul that once stood beside her, the soul she once looked up to, and the soul that once broke her heart, to once again walk toward her, completely whole and of his own free will.
The road was still long.
And she had enough patience and capital to accompany him as they slowly walked through this Second Act.
***
Jiang Ming returned to the main auction hall with the re-converging crowd.
The lighting was more focused than when they had left, almost entirely concentrated on the auction stage covered in deep red velvet.
Jiang Ming’s gaze immediately moved to the area behind the stage.
There was no auctioneer.
The high podium where someone usually stood was empty. The deep red curtains were tightly closed and motionless.
His heart stirred, and he quietly activated his Spirit Eye once more. The ghostly blue vision spread out like flowing mercury, quickly scanning the spatial structure of the entire auction hall.
There was no Void Domain.
This meant that the auction hall was currently still connected to the real world on both a physical and most transcendent levels, having not been completely cut off or sealed.
This seemed like good news; at least the evacuation route theoretically still existed.
Just as he was deep in thought, the curtains on the side of the auction stage slid open silently.
However, the person who walked out was not the auctioneer with the exaggerated smile he expected.
It was four musicians dressed in pure black formal wear. They held violins, flutes, and other classical instruments. Walking with synchronized steps, they quietly approached the music stands and chairs pre-positioned on the side of the stage and took their seats.
Immediately after, the tall, thin man who had hosted the first half of the auction also stepped out. The smile remained on his face.
He walked to the front of the stage, cleared his throat, and his voice carried clearly through the amplification system across the suddenly silent hall.
“Distinguished guests, before the most exciting part of tonight’s auction begins, please allow us… to offer a small interlude.”
He bowed slightly in a respectful posture.
“Next, please enjoy a selection from the Requiem, performed for you by the Nightingale Echo Orchestra. May this melodious music soothe the restlessness in your hearts and prepare your souls.”
As soon as he finished speaking, he did not wait for any reaction and quickly retreated into the shadows at the side of the stage.
The guests below looked at each other, whispers of confusion and bafflement rising like a tide. Playing a classical Requiem as a prelude to the grand finale at a Lower City auction filled with gangs and treacherous deals? The taste was too bizarre, even carrying a hint of mockery.
Jiang Ming’s brow furrowed tightly. His Spirit Eye remained locked onto those four musicians.
When the first mournful note seeped from the violin strings like cold spider silk, quietly winding around his sense of hearing, Jiang Ming felt something was wrong.
The melody was deceptively familiar. On the surface, it was a solemn Requiem, but inside, it seemed mixed with sounds that did not belong to any human.
As the music flowed, an inexplicable drowsiness, like damp mist, rose without warning to the edge of Jiang Ming’s consciousness, attempting to drag his clarity into a swamp of chaos.
He suddenly bit the tip of his tongue. The slight sting and the taste of blood jolted his mind. Almost at the same time, he felt the pressure from the strength on both his sides suddenly increase.
Lillian’s eyes were tightly shut, her long eyelashes trembling slightly. Her previous composure and coldness had vanished completely. She was almost entirely leaning against him, her arms wrapped around Jiang Ming’s left arm like vines, her fingertips sinking deep into his clothes, her knuckles turning white. Her lips moved, repeatedly murmuring broken words, her voice as soft as a sleep-talker’s, yet carrying a bone-deep fear and plea.
“Jiang Ming… don’t go… don’t… don’t leave again…”
On the other side, Elvira’s reaction was just as intense. She did not close her eyes, but her red pupils had lost their focus, staring blankly at the empty air in front of her, her pupils slightly dilated. Her hand gripping Jiang Ming’s right arm also tightened, the force so great he almost felt his bones protest.
‘This isn’t right!’
Alarm bells rang in Jiang Ming’s head. Their state was too abnormal! There was something wrong with this music! This was no ordinary performance!
A name struck his thoughts like a bolt of lightning.
The Bliss Troupe!
Only those madmen who used art as a ritual and emotions as sacrifices, pursuing the ultimate sensory experience and mental manipulation, would use such methods! This wasn’t a warm-up; this was the prelude to a ritual!
‘But shouldn’t this be the Traveling Merchants’ territory? Why are the madmen of the Bliss Troupe here?’
The auctions held by the Traveling Merchants were trusted because they generally maintained the order of the trading city until the transaction was over.
He couldn’t wait any longer!
Now was not the time for such doubts.
Jiang Ming’s gaze instantly became sharp as a blade, and all hesitation and doubt were cut away. He struggled to free his right hand, and while catching the sagging Elvira, his right hand swept past his waist.
Between his fingers, he already held four throwing knives.
Swish — swish-swish-swish!
Four streaks of ghostly blue cold light tore through the heavy air, flying toward the musicians’ instruments on the stage!
The wind enveloped the throwing knives, granting them even more terrifying piercing power and precision. The Spell-breaking Runes on the blades glowed slightly as they flew.
First, cut the sound; then, break the ritual!