The quiet of night enveloped Sefina’s detached villa.
On the desk, a solitary lamp cast a soft glow, illuminating the focused profile of her face.
As usual, she was writing a reply to her dear friend Theresa, the tip of her pen still moist with ink.
Like always, Theresa’s letters were filled with warm concern and encouragement, allowing Sefina to draw a rare, genuine comfort amidst the constant disguises and dangers of her missions.
Just as Sefina was about to fold the letter, a small black ring with an antique design in the corner of the desk suddenly emitted a faint purple light without any warning.
The glow of the ring pulsed gently, flickering like a slow breath.
Sefina paused her movements. She glanced at the ring, and a trace of understanding flashed in her garnet eyes.
“Is it time…?” she whispered to herself.
Setting down her pen, Sefina carefully picked up the ring and slipped it onto the middle finger of her left hand. A cold sensation spread from her fingertip.
Then, she moved to the bedside, undressed, and lay down, slowly closing her eyes, trying to relax both body and mind.
Gradually, Sefina’s consciousness began to detach, as if sinking into warm water, the sense of reality around her fading and drifting away.
When she “opened” her eyes again, the scene before her had completely changed.
This was no longer the familiar bedroom ceiling, but an endless, profound darkness—pure and boundless. There was no up or down, no left or right, only absolute void and silence.
Sefina’s “body” seemed to have transformed into some sort of ethereal existence, drifting within the darkness.
The only source of light came from ahead: a massive dark circular table scattered with a few ancient candlesticks.
The candle flames flickered unevenly, emitting a cold and faint glow that barely illuminated the outlines of several high-backed chairs around the table.
This was the Consciousness Space used by the Black Utopia for secret communications between its cadres.
Only through a specific Magic Ring could a thread of consciousness be projected here.
Black Utopia—a name full of irony and ambition.
Their reach extended far beyond the Aerian Empire, with secret infiltrations even into the Demon Territory, Blood Clan Principality, and other nations across the continent.
The organization was tightly structured.
At the top sat a mysterious and inscrutable leader, beneath whom was a deputy responsible for liaison and execution, followed by the “Seats” to which Sefina belonged.
The “Seats” were assigned according to the order of joining the organization, not based on strength. There were nine Seats in total, with Sefina ranked last.
The true identities, powers, and even races of the cadres were likely unknown to one another.
Orders were typically issued by the deputy or coordinated in this kind of Consciousness Space through vague forms.
Sefina’s “consciousness form” drifted toward the circular table and “sat” in the high-backed chair engraved with the number “9.”
Her form here was just a vague human silhouette, slightly lighter than the surrounding darkness, and her voice was automatically distorted by the space to sound neutral and indistinct.
Upon her arrival, a blurred figure was already waiting by the table, seated in the chair marked with the number “7.” His outline was equally vague, the number the only clear indication of his identity—
The Seventh Seat.
The last joint operation targeting a Blood Clan girl had been carried out with Sefina—the Ninth Seat—setting the bait trap, while the Seventh Seat was responsible for releasing and controlling the magically altered demon bats.
Tsk.
Unfortunately, the mission was ruined by that mysterious white-haired woman, ending in failure.
“You’ve arrived.” The Seventh Seat’s voice came through, distorted by the space to sound low and muffled, impossible to identify.
“Hm.” Sefina responded with a faint sound, equally stripped of any distinguishing traits.
“The last operation failed,” the Seventh Seat stated calmly, without revealing any emotion.
“The mission was intercepted by a strange white-haired woman. The target escaped, and we lost several demon bats, which drew the Academy’s attention.”
“Hm.”
Sefina’s vague silhouette moved slightly, as if nodding.
“We’ve already spooked them. The school is now searching in full force, intending to capture that Blood Clan girl alive. We must find and deal with her before they do.”
***
The Seventh Seat gave a short approving sound before adding:
“I’ve sent people to investigate that white-haired woman’s identity, but no leads have come back. She seems to appear and disappear as if from nowhere.”
Sefina’s hazy form took on a contemplative pose, though it was barely noticeable.
After a moment, she spoke with a calm decisiveness:
“Completing the mission and eliminating the target is the priority. As for that mysterious woman… we’ll investigate her origins once the mission is finished.”
“Agreed.” The Seventh Seat replied.
“But what’s the plan from here? The Academy’s patrols have never been tighter. Two of my demon bats were already discovered and eliminated by the patrols. Rushing in again would be very risky.”
Sefina’s silhouette turned toward the Seventh Seat. Though her expression was unreadable, there was a sense of composed confidence.
She spoke slowly, outlining her plan:
Sefina’s voice whispered clearly within the Consciousness Space, conveying the next steps and division of labor, but the details were like stones dropped into a deep pool, never revealing a ripple outside.
The Seventh Seat listened silently, occasionally uttering indistinct sounds to indicate agreement or ask for clarifications.
The candle flames flickered in the endless darkness, casting the two distorted shadows onto the cold circular table. A new conspiracy seemed quietly brewing in this absolutely secret Consciousness Space…
***
After the meeting ended, Sefina’s consciousness returned. When she opened her eyes again, she was still lying in bed, staring at the familiar ceiling.
“The Seventh Seat…” Sefina murmured the three words.
She had vaguely tried to probe the identity of the Seventh Seat before, but he seemed to deliberately conceal who he really was.
Who are you, really?