The dock district of the imperial capital had never known what silence meant, and in all three hundred and sixty-five days of the year, moments when the bells could be heard were few and far between. But tonight was different—the impending coronation celebration had everyone thinking about taking a break, and this increasingly violent downpour had driven every sailor and laborer off the docks entirely.
Only a faint speck of firelight remained moving slowly through the vast empty streets in the curtain of rain, like a solitary fish in the deep sea searching for the way home.
Troy wore a heavy cloak of the same make as Perl’s, and she carefully shielded a kerosene lamp at her chest that rattled and clanged against the wind and rain.
She hadn’t brought an umbrella, because considering what she was about to do, a wide-brimmed felt hat was clearly more practical than an umbrella.
Thankfully, years of maintaining the house had kept her in decent shape—as Perl often said, the body is the foundation of all undertakings. She had built herself a sturdy frame, sturdy enough to support walking all the way here through wind and rain on a night like this.
Troy’s mind was in a complete whirl at the moment. She was well aware that what she was doing right now lacked rational thought. She could even feel her forehead burning and her throat gradually growing dry.
But she forced herself to stay calm, telling herself it was nothing more than a psychological effect. Even if Death’s Decree truly existed, even if the rat that bit her really did carry a lethal pathogen, it would take time to incubate before symptoms appeared.
“Useful thinking always precedes useful action.” That was Perl’s advice to her not long ago, and those words originally came from Bremer’s teachings to Perl.
At least for now, her body shouldn’t be showing any abnormalities. She could still move and breathe freely.
But by the worst-case estimate, there could be thousands of others in this city in the same situation as her. The only difference was that she had already realized she might be a walking corpse, while those people would just curse these damned vermin and then keep writing complaint letters to the government or the imperial palace.
“Knowledge is always better than ignorance—is that saying true?” Troy said softly in the wind and rain.
“No.” She gave her own answer. “Knowledge may not save my life, but ignorance will definitely kill everyone, and it will do so quickly.”
But based on what she had observed along the way, while there were still some rat carcasses along the roadsides and in the gutters, the situation was far less severe than the newspapers described. The rat infestation had been reduced to an acceptable level, allowing Ailian’s coronation ceremony to proceed as scheduled.
But if the plague truly existed, what would this grand celebration turn into? In the event of a deadly epidemic outbreak, what would happen when crowds were packed onto the streets as densely as grains of wheat?
“At that point, even the doctors would be at their wit’s end.” Troy muttered to herself.
If her reasoning held, then what she was doing now was not merely racing against death, but engaging in something greater and more sacred—something a true healer ought to do.
Of course, perhaps this was just an excuse her feverish brain had conjured for her irrational behavior. If that were truly the case, then as the judge of this inner debate, she was willing to give herself the green light.
“Yes, Troy, you are doing the right thing.”
Her back, which had been bent by the howling wind, slowly straightened. The rain lashed her cheeks painfully, but she still gritted her teeth and stared ahead into the pitch-black road.
In the distance came the footsteps of the White Robe Patrol. Troy immediately extinguished her kerosene lamp and hid in the shadow of a cargo ship.
Only after the footsteps had completely faded did Troy relight her lamp and continue onward.
The pitch-black lake surface churned with enormous waves, crashing violently against the embankment. The spray blotted out the moonlight, and the roaring sound completely drowned out Troy’s voice.
————————————
Claudia had already ordered her men to dispose of her lackey’s body and had temporarily taken the tavern’s bartender to a place where he could be kept quiet. After all, not only had that bastard witnessed her clandestine meeting with Werner, but more critically, he had seen her use magic in full view.
She hadn’t forgotten to turn off the tavern’s lights and flip the sign at the entrance so the closed notice faced the empty street.
Using magic without reporting it to the government was no small crime these days.
But as long as there were no witnesses, there was no problem. She had gotten by like this for eleven years, and by this year, she had finally paid off every last debt her fallen family had incurred.
However, the money she’d earned over the years was only enough to completely sever ties with her past. To establish herself firmly in the Association or break into high society, she would need a hefty sum.
To erase her past, she had sacrificed eleven years of her present. So to win her future, how many more presents would she have to sacrifice?
Countless people spend their entire lives trying to escape a past that relentlessly hounds them, chasing a future that’s always out of reach, constantly sacrificing the present in between, and eventually dying in that endless race—becoming dust that is neither great nor insignificant.
Dust that is nothing, worthless, and negligible.
But just now, an Inquisitor of the Holy See had given her a chance—a chance to obtain the future she deserved in one stroke, the future her talent should have earned her.
A chance to avoid living out her days in fear, or dying in some street brawl as an unidentified corpse.
In the rain, Claudia wore only a fitted white shirt. Her suit jacket had been left draped over her lackey’s face, covering that purple-red visage of his that could make children cry all night long.
She wore a pair of pitch-black leather gloves, fished a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, pulled one out and put it between her lips, using her hand to partially shield it from the rain while snapping her fingers at the tip with the other hand. Wisps of blue smoke rose from between her fingers.
She didn’t rush to take a drag. Instead, she stared blankly at this street that was both familiar and unfamiliar, letting the rain soak her hair and shirt. Her gaze was eventually drawn to a rat by the roadside.
There was clearly no light source around—even the moonlight was blocked by the overcast clouds—yet the rat’s eyes were extraordinarily bright, like two diamonds glinting in the darkness.
Claudia felt that this rat, meeting her gaze, was smiling. Was it mocking her for being trapped in a choice?
Indeed, being this indecisive wasn’t like her. She had always been decisive and ruthless—that was the secret to getting where she was today.
“Thanks for the reminder… but I might be about to make a mistake.” Claudia stared at the rat, took a deep drag of her cigarette, and slowly exhaled.
The rat seemed to lose interest in her as well, turning to scurry away. Just then, a cold gleam flashed through the air, and a pillar of ice instantly pinned the rat to the ground.
No matter how it struggled, the ice pillar, driven deep into the stone pavement, didn’t budge an inch.
Gradually, the rat stopped moving.
Even in death, its warm blood hadn’t managed to melt a fraction of the frozen pillar.