When the name “Holmes” slipped from the raspy voice of the Third Seat, the consciousness hidden beneath Sefina’s vague outline did indeed skip a beat, though her surface remained calm, and her heart barely stirred.
She had long anticipated that this identity might attract attention, perhaps even suspicion.
At this moment, she felt more like a detached observer, listening in on the conversation between the Seventh Seat and the Third Seat.
The silhouette of the Seventh Seat wavered slightly, as if searching its memory for related information.
After a moment, the voice—distorted by the warped space—sounded with a trace of realization:
“Holmes… is that the lady detective who has become quite renowned on the Western Continent in recent years?”
“Yes.” The Third Seat confirmed blandly.
The Seventh Seat continued, with a note of caution in the tone:
“I have never met this Holmes in person. But… now that you mention it, the woman who appeared that night does bear some resemblance to the rumored descriptions.”
The voice shifted, raising doubts: “But white-haired, blue-eyed, tall women are not so rare in this world, Third Seat. Are you sure the assailant was her? A mere resemblance hardly proves anything.”
The Third Seat’s reply was still steady, almost emotionless: “I can’t be certain. She’s only a suspect. On the Western Continent, she once destroyed one of my laboratories.”
“Some of the organization’s other officers have had their actions hindered by her as well. Her movements are elusive, her motives unclear—a troublesome person who needs watching.”
Sefina remained silent, her heart settling slightly. As she suspected, it was only suspicion, and the clues pointed to the Western Continent.
She had already foreseen that the “Holmes” identity could not be hidden in the mist forever, and had rehearsed the possibility of exposure.
But never could they imagine that the “lady detective” they spoke of, with even a hint of apprehension, was sitting right in front of them at this very moment—as the organization’s “Ninth Seat”.
At this point, the “gaze” of the Seventh Seat turned to Sefina, the vague silhouette tinged with inquiry:
“Ninth Seat, you had direct contact with that woman. Aside from white hair and ice-blue eyes, did you notice any other distinguishing traits?”
“For example… rumor has it that Miss Holmes is fond of wearing a monocle, and also… possesses a strange and powerful weapon that can attack from afar without using magic.”
Sefina’s consciousness gave a slight shake of the head, the distorted voice flawless:
“No. Our encounter was brief, and she wore no monocle. As for weapons… she used ordinary magic, and I saw no unusual weapon that did not rely on magic.”
She deliberately denied these crucial details, muddying the waters further.
The atmosphere settled into another moment of tense silence. Sefina could sense that the Seventh and Third Seats’ speculation about the “white-haired woman” had diverged, uncertainty creeping in.
And the Seventh Seat was likely still perplexed as to who, exactly, had ambushed them with that bizarre weapon on that night.
Yet just as this delicate stalemate hung in the air, a sudden voice, without warning, intruded upon the silence of the consciousness space:
“Seems… you all are running into a bit of trouble.”
The voice, warped by the space, was neutral and low, but Sefina still caught a chill of familiar dread in its undertone. Her heart jolted, and she instinctively looked up.
By the round table, where the seat marked “0” had stood empty, at some unknown point a vague silhouette had appeared.
That outline seemed to wear the shadow of a tall top hat, sitting at ease as if it had always been present, only now choosing to speak.
It was the Adjutant.
Sefina’s consciousness, hidden beneath her blurred form, instantly tensed, alarms blaring in her mind.
Within [Black Utopia], the one Sefina dreaded most—aside from the enigmatic, never-seen Leader—was this ever-elusive Adjutant.
He was responsible for all contact and coordination among the officers, knew the true identity of every “Seat”, and his whereabouts were impossible to predict.
Although his strength had never been fully revealed in front of Sefina, the fact that he held the position of Adjutant meant his power was unquestionably profound, easily overshadowing her on paper.
“Adjutant, sir?” The Third Seat’s raspy voice sounded, seemingly surprised by the Adjutant’s sudden appearance, yet still calm in tone.
“Do you have instructions for us? Is there a new mission? Or… do you know who destroyed my laboratory base?”
Sefina’s heart hung in suspense, her focus sharpened to the extreme. The Adjutant was far too mysterious; his movements were utterly unpredictable.
Could it be… he was also near the capital that day? Did he even witness something? The thought sent a chill crawling down her spine.
No, that can’t be.
Sefina swiftly rejected this dangerous idea. If he had been present, with his strength and position, he would never have stood by and let her destroy the base. He could not have been there.
Sure enough, the Adjutant’s voice, filtered through his mask, remained indifferent, with an air of detached indifference:
“I don’t have any intelligence. I just happened to pass by, and caught a bit of your conversation.”
Sefina secretly let out a breath of relief. Good… nothing had been exposed.
It seemed he had no direct evidence.
However, the Adjutant immediately shifted the topic, his indifferent tone now carrying an undeniable weight:
“There is one thing I need the Seventh and Ninth Seats to pay special attention to within Oselenka.”
His voice was slow and clear.
“It may appear within the Academy, or… it might already be there.”
He did not say what “it” was, merely left a suspenseful warning.
Sefina’s heart sank. It seemed new trouble was on the way.