[Backlund—West Borough]
"Achoo! Achoo!"
In faraway Backlund, Emlyn suddenly sneezed several times in succession.
He found it strange. Given his identity as a sanguine—not to mention his apothecary abilities—catching a cold should have been nearly impossible.
Pulling his hat back on and shrugging into his coat, Emlyn turned to a man in the room with brown hair, crimson eyes, and a nose so high it appeared almost deformed. "Your Excellency, Viscount, I merely wanted information about an abandoned castle. Why would this involve the Marquis?"
Viscount Ernest Boyar shrugged. "I've no idea. I took your pounds to investigate, thinking it a simple matter. Next thing I knew, His Lordship summoned me. When he learned you were the one inquiring, He ordered me to bring you here."
Frowning slightly, the Viscount added, "This castle…it doesn't involve some major secret of the Sanguine, does it?"
Emlyn stiffened. "Of course not! A friend heard rumours of an ancient wraith haunting the ruins and asked me to look into it."
"Odd. He doesn't know the castle's location but claims it holds an ancient wraith?"
"Hah! The black market's full of such tales."
Just then, a dignified middle-aged gentleman emerged. "Emlyn, Grandfather is occupied. He won't be meeting you today."
"Ah?" Emlyn blinked. "Then…?"
The gentleman—Cosmi Odora—handed him a slip of paper. "Here are the coordinates of that castle."
"Oh! Th-Thank you, Lord Cosmi." Hesitating, Emlyn ventured, "This castle…it isn't tied to any important secrets of our kind, is it?"
Cosmi smiled. "If it were, do you think I'd hand its location to you?"
"...Fair point."
"Now, Grandfather requires rest."
Emlyn promptly excused himself.
Cosmi, meanwhile, turned around and walked back into the depths of the house. He passed through several secret doors and entered a spacious grey hall. At the centre of the hall rested a heavy coffin, forged from black iron, its surface engraved with arcane sigils and mystical seals.
"Grandfather, the coordinates have been delivered."
A hoarse, aged voice reverberated from within the coffin: "Mm."
After a pause, Cosmi asked, "That castle, though once ours, has been ruins for a century. Why the sudden interest?"
"You'll learn in time. Keep watch."
"Understood."
The iron coffin fell silent once more.
———
[Bansy Island]
Over dinner, Edward and Verdu continued their conversation.
"Mr. Verdu, have you uncovered anything noteworthy during your stay here?"
"Nothing substantial," Verdu shrugged. "The locals dismiss the rumours as fabrications. 'Pirate nonsense,' they say. Beyond the harbour, Bansy is mostly untamed forest. Toxic mists sometimes rise with the weather—likely what drove those explorers and pirates to hallucinate and slaughter each other."
Edward feigned contemplation. "Makes sense. If there really were treasure on this island, the locals would've dug it up long ago. No way outsiders would even get a shot."
The man raised his glass with a smile. "We're of the same mind. But I think while the treasure might be fake, the ruins could be real."
"Oh?"
"Notice how the islanders' customs—even their cuisine—are unlike anywhere else? That implies a cultural lineage worth tracing. And where there's heritage…" He leaned in, eyes alight, "...there may be ruins. Documenting such a discovery would finally make my self-taught historiography worthwhile."
"Why 'finally'?" Edward prodded.
Verdu set down his cutlery. "Most historians spend lifetimes studying others' findings. No matter how profound their papers, they're still building on another's foundation. But to unearth a forgotten history? That's legacy—your work becoming the bedrock for future scholars."
"A compelling perspective."
Pleased by the agreement, Verdu toasted. "You're an adventurer too? I haven't seen you on the island before."
"I came to Bansy to find someone."
"Oh?"
The man looked surprised, then a thought seemed to strike him. "A friend of yours went missing during one of those previous expeditions?"
"Medici, huh? Not many people know that surname these days."
A glint flashed through Verdu's eyes. "Back in the Fourth Epoch, the Medici family was a prestigious household. They disappeared after the War of the Four Emperors. I've only come across tales of them in some very old books."
"I…see."
Edward scratched his head. "I didn't even know that surname was so impressive. Maybe it's just a coincidence."
"That's possible too."
Verdu dabbed his lips with a napkin. "Tell you what—I've gotten familiar with the island these past few days. I'll help you ask around."
Edward looked genuinely flattered. "Ah…that's really too much trouble for you."
"Hahaha, when you're out and about, it's all about helping each other out."
As he spoke, he suddenly lowered his voice. "If I'm not mistaken, you're a Beyonder, aren't you?"
"Uh?"
"If we run into any danger, I hope we can rely on each other."
Edward hesitated. "But I've only just started…I'm still a low-sequence Beyonder…"
"I'm scarcely better off. All the more reason to collaborate, no?"
Edward finally made up his mind. "Alright! Then I'll be counting on you."
Verdu waved at the waiter. "The bill, please."
"Now, let's search for your friend."
———
The next day.
Bansy Harbour.
The storm raged until dusk before finally abating, leaving the island steeped in the petrichor of sodden earth.
Verdu and Edward stepped through puddles, returning to the Green Lemon Restaurant.
A young woman was leading her daughter out of the dining area as they arrived. Edward courteously held the door open for them as they passed.
"Thank you."
The young woman gave a slight nod. Her little girl chirped sweetly, "Thank you, Mister!"
Seeing a girl that age now easily made Edward think of Lilith. He wondered how she was doing—was she running wild with Susie now, or secretly studying hard?
"Excuse me, ma'am," Edward suddenly remembered something and asked, "Have you ever heard of the surname Medici here on the island?"
The young woman shook her head. "No, I haven't."
"Alright, thank you."
The two of them walked into the restaurant and sat down. Verdu asked, "Are you sure your friend moved to Bansy? We've asked every resident on the island, but no one has that surname."
Edward's voice held a hint of uncertainty. "Her letters mentioned moving to Bansy. They were postmarked from the island's telegraph office too."
"But we've already asked the telegraph office." Verdu sighed. "What are you planning to do next?"
"I don't know."
Edward shook his head. "I'll probably take the next ship off the island, but before that, I'll still try to look for her."
"Is there a particular reason why you're so determined to find her?"
"Not really," Edward replied with a smile. "We grew up together. After she moved away, we never saw each other again. I finally got permission from my family to come out and search for her. If possible, I hope to bring her back to Backlund with me."
Verdu chuckled. "Sounds like you and your friend are quite close. Childhood sweethearts?"
Edward scratched his head in embarrassment. "You could say that."
"I see. I used to have a friend like that, too. Untill…" His voice softened. "Forget it. It's all in the past."
"Your friend moved away too?"
"No."
Verdu shook his head. He took out a pocket watch, opened it, and quietly gazed at the small photo inside.
On the empty space next to the photo was a line of words:
"Forever in memory—Christine."
Suddenly, with a crisp snap, he closed the pocket watch and looked outside the restaurant.
"It's getting foggy."
Out on the street beyond the Green Lemon Restaurant, a light mist had crept in at some point. The nearby two-story houses had all their windows and doors shut tight, shrouded in darkness, as if they hadn't been lived in for a long time.
"Nighttime…the foggy Bansy…"
Verdu took a deep breath and said solemnly, "—is the closest this island ever gets to the truth!"
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.