“All right, Miss Morton, your onboarding procedures are complete. For the next couple of days, please prepare at home for the Contract Ceremony. Once the church approves it, we will send you a formal letter of notification.”
Harvey Mitchelson paused writing and looked up.
“Thank you, Mr. Mitchelson,” Roxie nodded.
Knock knock—
There was a knock at the door.
“Manager, sorry to interrupt, Mr. Hughes has arrived.”
Mary Wheeler’s voice came from outside the meeting room.
“Then I won’t keep you.”
Hearing this, Roxie picked up the small pouch on the table, ready to stand.
“Wait a moment, Miss Morton.”
Harvey half-straightened, raising a hand slightly.
“Mary, please let Mr. Hughes in.”
As he finished speaking, the meeting room door opened.
Mary walked in first, carrying a tray with coffee, followed by Herman Hughes.
Mary set the coffee on the table and politely nodded at Roxie, then looked toward Harvey and asked,
“Manager, would you or Miss Morton like more tea?”
“No, thank you. I don’t need any.”
“Neither do I, thank you.”
Roxie said this while shifting her handbag, as someone had already taken the seat beside her.
After Mary closed the door and left, Harvey Mitchelson gave a slight nod of greeting to the man who had just entered.
“Mr. Hughes.”
“Mr. Mitchelson.”
Herman replied and then nodded toward Roxie.
“Miss Morton.”
After the brief greetings, Harvey sat upright and explained why Roxie was kept there.
“Here’s the situation, Miss Morton.”
“The gentleman before you, Mr. Hughes, is an unregistered Contract Holder, with the Path being ‘Detective’.”
The term “unregistered” referred to the Registration Act that Harvey had just explained to her.
This Act was a treaty specifically for Contract Holders, drafted and passed after consultation among the major true god churches, and ratified by the Kingdom of Sman, Empire of Auga, Kingdom of Tekor, and Union Kingdom of Sman.
Military personnel who commit crimes are tried in the Military Court, while Contract Holders causing social harm are dealt with by the local Inquisitorial Court.
Official Sealed Contract Holders are recorded in each country.
Their files are kept in two copies: one with the affiliated church, and the other sealed within the Intelligence Agency as a top secret.
Contract Holders registered in the Kingdom of Sman receive a Medal that serves as an identity certificate.
There are six ranks of Medals, each engraved with different designs and the owner’s initials on the back.
The ranks from lowest to highest are: Maple Leaf, Thorn, Rose, White Dove, Elk, and Lion.
While explaining, Harvey showed Roxie the Medal pinned inside his wallet — a beautifully crafted Rose Medal.
“He is currently Path Nine.”
Harvey said this while tapping the covered pen on the paper.
“Although he is an unregistered Contract Holder, Mr. Hughes’ identity is somewhat special. There is a reasonable explanation for his Contract Ceremony and spiritual materials.”
Upon hearing this, Roxie’s misty blue eyes flicked sideways, casting a glance at the man beside her.
She wasn’t surprised — this guy constantly talked about putting a great noble’s head on the chopping block, so he must have some background, maybe a fallen noble’s son.
But Path Nine?
Pfft! She didn’t buy it.
Roxie mentally scoffed but didn’t intend to betray her accomplice.
Then Harvey continued:
“Mr. Hughes has registered as a Contract Holder but does not plan to join either the church or the kingdom.”
“Instead, he acts as a Dark Sentinel, secretly assisting church operations.”
Herman had hinted at this to her a couple of days ago — a classic undercover story, like a Tony Leung script.
“As a Dark Sentinel, apart from the retained registration records,”
“Only two people know his identity.”
“One is the person assisting with the registration, the other is the Official Sealed Contract Holder responsible for information exchange.”
Harvey looked at Roxie as he spoke.
“Miss Morton, you and Mr. Hughes have been through life-and-death situations together. Your mutual trust far exceeds others.”
Roxie’s lips twitched ever so slightly.
Stop.
This guy’s credit in her heart had long since gone bankrupt.
“So, I’m considering assigning you to handle information exchange with Mr. Hughes.”
“Of course, if you have other considerations, I can assign this task to Yvette or Maren.”
This was exactly what Roxie wanted — it would give her a legitimate reason to meet Herman often at the church.
“No problem at all.”
“I trust Mr. Hughes’ abilities very much, and I believe our cooperation will be very pleasant.”
Roxie said, turning slightly and extending her hand.
Now it was her turn to invite her accomplice.
Herman looked at Roxie’s fake smile and couldn’t help but chuckle as he grasped the soft little hand again.
“Pleasure to cooperate with you, Miss Morton.”
Roxie’s arm stiffened, and the toes in her brown leather boots involuntarily curled upward.
“!!!”
Damn it, what is this dog doing?!
He was drawing circles on her palm with his index finger!!!
Roxie’s wide misty blue eyes rippled like a lake reflecting a sky full of stars.
Unfortunately, no amount of anger in her gaze could intimidate him — it only added a touch of elegance.
Encrypted call, Roxie Morton: Stop drawing your damn circles on me and let go!
Decrypting, Herman Hughes: Roger that.
Then he drew even more vigorously — his strokes could be described as calligraphic.
Just as Roxie was about to pick up her bag and give this shamelessly bold, no, flamboyantly gay detective a piece of her mind with the classic “throw bag, pour coffee on him, finger-slap-and-swear” combo, he finally released her hand.
Well, forget being a ‘detective’ — ‘fortune teller’ suits you better.
Harvey, exhausted after nights spent staring at the ‘Portrait of Harry,’ naturally had no energy to notice the subtle battle hiding in the clasped hands.
He took a large sip of coffee, then ran his fingers through his thinning hair and said,
“In that case, Miss Morton, I won’t keep you. Mr. Hughes and I still have some matters to discuss.”
“All right, goodbye, Mr. Mitchelson, Mr. Hughes.”
With that, Roxie left the meeting room without hesitation, carrying her small bag.
On her way to the exit, she rubbed her palm and cursed the unscrupulous detective in her heart.
Her mouth pouted, almost on par with Leah’s.
“Ah, Mor—”
Mary, just coming out of the pantry, happily bumped into Roxie and wanted to say something, but the girl was in such a hurry that before Mary could finish calling her name, Roxie had already pushed open the door and left the association.
Mary glanced down at the boxed ice cream in her hand.
Saint Marguerite brand ice cream, sweet and sour strawberry flavor.
Beneath the half-open lid, the white ice cream looked like the glow of sunset clouds, tinged with an enticing rosy hue.
“Why does Miss Morton’s face look like this ice cream?”
Mary muttered and took a big spoonful of strawberry ice cream.
Mmm, sweet and sour — her favorite.