When Fisher woke up, the sky outside had already darkened. He rubbed his forehead wearily and soon squinted at the moonlight outside the window. It was only when getting up did he realize that a quilt had been draped over him at so point.
He was stunned for a second before turning his head to glance beside him, only to see a squarely shaped book lying sideways next to him, staring at him with dead fish eyes,
"Yo, you’re awake?"
"..."
Fisher fell silent, ignoring the strange sense of déjà vu and resisting the urge to physically silence Emhardt by pulling him over. Instead, he rubbed his forehead, feeling the pressure on his body gradually ease. As he turned to get out of bed, he managed to anger Emhardt behind him to no end,
"Dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have bothered with you! I cover you with a blanket, and you can’t even say ’thank you.’ You’re such a scumbag!"
Fisher glanced back at him and suddenly rembered sothing. He addressed Emhardt,
"I just recalled sothing you ntioned. The Phoenix Species had once expelled the invading Chaos Species from the Northern Realm, but I don’t know the specifics... And last night’s curse was not only related to the Phoenix Species but also to the Chaos Species."
"I suspect that the extinction of the Phoenix Species has a close connection with the Chaos Species."
Huffing, Emhardt flew onto Fisher’s shoulder, glanced at his thoughtful expression, and then sighed before continuing,
"It’s indeed very possible. The Chaos Species are unimaginably high-ranking demi-humans that reside in the Spirit Realm. There are few accounts of them in the real world. If anyone in this world still has clues about them, it is probably only the Demon God Paimon, who is still hidden in the world."
"She had entered the Spirit Realm and road there for a significant ti. The knowledge about the Chaos Species I told you before was discovered in her notes... But if you ask , pondering those distant clues is utterly unnecessary for now. You’d do better to consider how to deal with your ex-girlfriend, and the one before her, and, ah, the one before that one... if you have any."
Fisher looked at Emhardt on his shoulder and, seeing as he had recently shown concern, decided not to bother about his sharp tongue. After sleeping for an entire day, he stood up and stretched his body, but felt hunger pangs after walking a few steps, so he decided to look for sothing to eat outside his room.
But Emhardt had a point. Elliog had ntioned this before, that he should focus on his own matters and the preparations he should make. He planned to borrow Helldor’s Magic Workshop later, to prepare so High Ring magic and to read the Soul Completion Manual.
The corridor was dead silent; even the room of Celti, the chanic, made no noise. Checking the ti, he found he had slept straight from morning to ten o’clock at night—no wonder he was so hungry.
He went to the kitchen and, not seeing Heidlin, got so bread and jam from a Maid who was still cleaning there. Eating the bread, he pulled out the workshop key Helldor had given him earlier and walked to the dining room’s lower level, where Valentina lived.
Speaking of which, although he didn’t have much interaction with Valentina, the boss, she didn’t seem as immature as Helldor had described. On the contrary, she was strong.
Most relationships are reciprocal. From Helldor’s care and loyalty toward Valentina, it was easy to guess that the real mber of the Turand Family, whom Helldor treated like a granddaughter, had great respect and dependence on him.
Precisely because of this, it was clear that she was tenacious beyond her years; she didn’t break down even when Helldor, who had barely kept his life going, died in front of her again.
Thinking this over, Fisher inserted the key of the Magic Workshop into the hole. As the lock turned, the warm light from inside the workshop imdiately spilled through the crack, illuminating Fisher’s face and making him look into the room with so surprise.
Soone inside?
"Ooh..."
He imdiately regretted opening the door because in that second, he not only saw the soft light inside the room but also heard a very clear sobbing sound.
As the door flung open, the room had not changed at all from Fisher’s previous visit, except that it was not Helldor, composed of machinery, sitting behind the desk, but a young Turand family lady in a wheelchair with her head bowed.
At the sound of the door opening, the pale-cheeked girl abruptly lifted her head to look at the doorway, her expression one of astonishnt as she locked eyes with Fisher for a second. Her mouth opened slightly, but tears kept falling, dripping continuously from her chin.
The handkerchief on the table was half wet; it was unclear how many tis she had used it to wipe away her tears, but her eyes remained like inexhaustible springs, constantly welling with hot tears. It would have been fine to vent her emotions alone, but it was inappropriate to be discovered by soone else...
In the silence, the atmosphere in the room slowly turned awkward. Emhardt, perched on Fisher’s shoulder, winked at Valentina, then with a teasing tone, turned to Fisher and whispered,
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