The second floor of House Number Seventeen was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the window. The courtyard walls loomed high, and though candles flickered, the house had only just been purchased by Will.
If any monk happened to notice the candlelight, unaware that the house had been bought, an inquiry could easily turn into trouble.
Adam furrowed his brow, his mind clouded with thoughts of recent events.
Traveling by night was always a gamble—an uncertain risk, relying on the hope that the Church's experts were not watching and that his luck would hold, allowing him to reach his destination undetected.
He had known this all along, yet he had no other choice. After all, this was the Church's domain. Daylight travel would be even more dangerous; if he were to act out of place and attract attention, a simple report would bring the Church's scrutiny.
But after many successful nocturnal excursions, Adam had grown complacent. He had vaguely sensed something was amiss but had brushed it off, neglecting the risks inherent in his nighttime activities.
"This is a lesson I must remember," Adam silently vowed to himself.
"A safer way of travel needs to be prepared," he mused, furrowing his brow. Roya City enforced a strict curfew, meaning only two groups were permitted to move about at night: the patrolling soldiers and the patrolling monks.
"Some nobles also have the right to travel at night." Many of the Church's monks had ties to the nobility, turning a blind eye to certain oversteps of power.
"If I can gain the assistance of a noble, perhaps night travel could become safer."
But as he pondered further, Adam realized that the current state of war would not sustain these rigorous patrols for long.
"Nobles have many interests that cannot be made public—smuggling among them," Adam mused, gently tapping the mask on his face. "The cover of night is ideal for the movements of the mutants and the nobles who profit from them. Eventually, these widespread patrols will prompt the nobles to intervene and restrain the Church."
"Lord Rupert," Adam thought, a new plan forming in his mind. Mansela was at a crucial point—his smuggling operation could not afford interference. However, Rupert had always sought to compete with Mansela. If managed well, Adam was confident that, with the nobles' fragile moral code, they would be open to cooperation with the mutants.
"And this could also provoke Mansela, making him relax his control over the smuggling network. Perhaps, through Gold, I could get involved in Mansela's smuggling operation."
"The key is how to convince Rupert that we mutants can help him defeat Mansela." Adam mentally plotted.
Originally, there was no such rank as "Sir" among the nobility—the lowest rank was baron. However, over time, some barons' achievements had waned, lowering their status. Though their merits still held some weight, they were nowhere near as effective as before. As a result, the rank of "Sir" had emerged.
"Any knight's greatest goal is to restore their ritual," Gold had once explained when discussing the nobility, and the idea sparked a plan in Adam's mind.
"Lord Riggs?" A clear voice interrupted his thoughts. Adam did not turn to face the newcomer but continued to gaze out at the night sky.
The person approached him, and a subtle scent of perfume wafted through the air, making Adam wrinkle his nose. For mutants, any characteristic that might expose their identity needed to be concealed, and the overpowering scent of perfume was a glaring giveaway.
"Could also be a tracking method," Adam thought. He was certain that as long as he didn't take precautions or get too close, the scent would cling to him, making it easy for someone with a keen sense of smell to track his movements.
Although Adam hadn't looked at her, he had already memorized the distinct traits of the mutants he'd briefly observed. Golden hair, a strikingly beautiful face, a tear mole near the corner of her eye—her allure was undeniable. With a figure to match, she commanded attention, and even before Adam's arrival, most people's gazes had been fixed on her.
"Did you leave the symbol at the door?" Adam sensed a similar aura emanating from her.
"Just a small trick," the woman giggled softly, covering her mouth. "I'm Legiana. I run a few clothing stores and have some assets. I'm here to acquire the Tears of God ritual from you, Mr. Riggs."
Among strangers, people usually addressed each other by their last names, but only those familiar would use first names.
"You can go to Will."
"But I want more..." Legiana's words were carefully chosen, her tone light yet suggestive, leaving just enough room for interpretation. The subtle implication lingered in the air, a deliberate ambiguity that invited speculation.
Considering her mutant identity, Adam even suspected she might be a rare succubus or a vampiric enchantress.
Her slender hand, glowing pale under the moonlight, reached towards him in an almost teasing manner, but stopped just short of touching him, as if some invisible force held her back.
The moment their proximity neared, an intangible force enveloped Adam, and as he turned to face her, the pressure seemed to explode within her mind.
In an instant, Adam's figure seemed to fill her entire field of vision.
The night breeze stirred, and Adam's monk attire billowed, while the dull mask on his face almost seemed to come alive. His eyes, cold and impassive, now burned into Legiana's mind.
Under the moonlight, Adam stood as if untouched by the world—a picture of purity and grace. Yet, combined with the increasingly unnerving mask and his indifferent eyes, everything about him felt eerily distorted.
A blend of sanctity and seduction existed in him, yet it was harmonious, radiating an unexplainable aura that overshadowed her presence.
Compared to his overwhelming presence, Legiana's own allure seemed trivial, almost crude.
Before someone like him, Legiana felt an intense surge of inferiority.
"He's smiling, he's definitely smiling!" Though separated by the mask, Legiana swore she could sense the faintest curve of Adam's lips, the shadow of a smile that only intensified her heart's frantic pounding.
Her heart seemed to stop, pierced by an invisible arrow.
It wasn't until Adam turned his gaze back to the night sky that Legiana seemed to come alive again, her heart pounding wildly, and a flush of red appeared on her previously pale face.
"Th-then... I'll withdraw now, Mr. Riggs," she stammered, quickly retreating downstairs.
Adam shook his head, marveling at the audacity of someone who dared attempt to charm him, especially with a lesser allure.
He took a moment to collect his thoughts before noticing a wildflower blooming in the yard under the cover of night. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to simply enjoy the sight of the flower blossoming.
As it fully unfurled, Adam smiled, a simple joy rising in his chest.
He stored that fleeting joy in his heart, calming his emotions as he turned toward the entrance of the second floor.
The elderly human who had ushered Adam in earlier stood respectfully, waiting.
When Adam turned, the old man bowed low and quietly said, "Will has completed the ritual. Due to health reasons, he asked me to extend his regards, Lord Riggs. Is there anything else you would like to command?"
"Prepare a list of attendees for tonight's gathering and deliver it to me at the next meeting," Adam instructed. "Once things settle, I'll leave a notice for the next gathering."
"Understood, Lord Riggs," the old man replied earnestly. "If you need anything, feel free to call upon me."
"Go now," Adam nodded slightly, dismissing him without further words.
As the old servant departed, Adam pondered how he might leave here and return to the Bookhouse.
At dawn, the curfew would lift, and many of the townspeople would be out for work. By shedding his disguise, he could easily blend into the crowd and return home.
But such an approach could easily create an opening. After all, someone suddenly returning home at such an early hour would surely raise suspicion.
Adam's gaze fell on a wooden barrel in the backyard of a nearby house.
When the sun rose, he slipped out of the second-floor window.
"Adam, out this early to fetch water?" a neighbor called.
"Yes, didn't sleep too well, seemed like it was noisy last night," Adam replied, carrying a bucket of water as he walked toward the Bookhouse, exchanging pleasantries with the locals.
"I heard the Church's monks have been rounding people up, caught quite a few..." the gossip flew, and with that, Adam made his way back to the Bookhouse without incident.