As the heavenly music faded away, the dark clouds in the sky tactfully dispersed, allowing the crimson moonlight to peek once more.
"Have you really thought this through? Once you step onto this path, there will be no room for regret."
"Haven't you always hoped I would become like you, a real witch?"
"What I wish for is that you figure things out on your own and willingly choose to become a witch, not become one because of love. Otherwise, your future will be filled with pain."
"Isn't that better? Only by experiencing pain can one draw closer to the Primordial Demoness."
"Alright. Tomorrow night I'll bring the Assassin potion to help you become an Beyonder."
"Where's Mother?"
"Heh, she's probably at some bar looking for a suitable partner."
Leaving behind this final mocking remark, Molaka put on her clothes and slipped away through the window, following the shadows.
A breeze drifted in from the window, dispersing the scent lingering in the room.
Mrs. Germani rose from the bed and walked to the full-length mirror. The crimson moonlight spilled across her smooth, delicate back.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror, gently touching every part of her own body, yet her face remained expressionless.
"If only this were Baron Campbell's hand… how wonderful that would be." Mrs. Germani silently murmured, imagining Hastur standing behind her, embracing her.
Unfortunately, the woman in the mirror remained completely alone.
...
Braveheart Bar.
Finally free from his busy work, Leonard once again stepped into this bar.
Sadly, he did not see Mr. Hastur, the man he had enjoyed drinking with that night, so he asked a bar attendant to inform Hastur if he showed up later.
Sitting at the bar, Leonard ordered three glasses of Southville beer in one go. He had successfully reimbursed 50 pounds of drinking expenses, so now he had plenty of spare cash. Having a few drinks wasn't a problem.
[ T/N: *Southwail Beer -> Southville beer]
After drinking for about half an hour, a graceful figure entered through the bar's front door.
She looked twenty-seven or twenty-eight, but her skin was snow-white and tender, like that of a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl.
Her features were exquisite, without the slightest flaw. Dressed in a complex black gown, her near 1.75-meter height made her legs appear especially long.
Beautiful, and incredibly alluring.
She walked in with an elegant stride, the corners of her lips curved in a faint smile, yet her eyes held a queen-like authority.
Everyone in the bar was drawn to her presence.
Leonard too couldn't help glance twice. She was indeed a stunning beauty.
One could say she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.
In every aspect, she was flawless.
The woman ignored the many gazes directed her way, came to the bar, skipped two empty seats, and sat down, ordering a blue-coloured cocktail.
Her long fingers lightly traced the rim of the glass. Her eyes seemed to sink into the blue liquid, focused and oblivious to everything else.
Within just three minutes, at least seven or eight people had attempted to approach her, all returning in defeat, leaving with dejected faces.
Leonard made no move. He simply drank his Southville beer, only occasionally lifting his eyes to glance at her.
He was a frequent bar visitor and had his own experience with women who came to bars to drown their sorrows.
A woman like this must be a nobleman's kept mistress, someone who lacked neither money nor admirers.
Such people liked interesting souls the most. Only by stirring their curiosity could one make progress.
Thinking he could pick her up with just a few drinks would be ridiculously naïve.
With women like her, patience was key: let her grow interested first, only then should one take the initiative.
Leonard understood this very well, so he stayed firmly in his seat, not intending to approach.
He drank quietly. His eyes sometimes carried an unintentional hint of nostalgia and weariness, making him look like a man with a story.
Stories, especially unknown ones, often had a unique charm for the opposite sex.
For women who came to bars to drink away their troubles, rule-abiding little boys were not their targets. Men with stories were the ones who stirred their interest.
After about an hour, the woman in the black dress finally rose and moved to sit beside the empty seat next to Leonard.
"You seem to have experienced quite a lot."
"It's all in the past. Now, I only care about the stories that will happen in the future."
Leonard's voice was gentle, tinged with weariness and fatigue. His face showed a fleeting trace of painful remembrance.
But that expression vanished quickly, replaced by calm and serenity.
"The future… who can see through the future? Can you?"
Her voice was low and beautiful, like fragile stained glass, as though she might burst into tears at any moment.
This was a woman burdened with far too many sorrows.
Leonard thought for a moment and said, "The future I see has no pain, no sorrow, none of the troubles of life, only pure happiness."
"Is there nothing worth grieving over in your heart?"
"As long as one learns to forget, grief becomes nothing more than an insignificant mark in life."
The woman gazed into Leonard's eyes, softly exhaling a fragrant breath. "My experience tells me… you're far less calm than you appear."
Leonard smiled. "Your presence disturbs people's hearts. I can suppress it, but I can't avoid it."
"You're good with words. Unfortunately, it's too late tonight. Tomorrow night, if you're still here."
Leaving those words behind, the woman in black paid her bill and turned to leave the bar.
Many patrons who had been silently watching raised their thumbs at Leonard. Some even whistled crudely.
Leonard kept a calm smile, but inside he felt an inexplicable joy, a sense of satisfaction he had never experienced before.
He was already looking forward to their reunion tomorrow night.
Late at night, Leonard paid his 2 pounds and 3 soli bill and left the bar.
After walking a while, he hailed a carriage.
Returning to his home in the North Borough, Leonard hummed a self-satisfied tune while taking a bath.
Back in his bedroom, lying on the bed, the enchanting silhouette of the woman in black replayed endlessly in his mind.
Unable to suppress his joy, he said, "Old man, on a scale of ten, how would you rate my performance tonight?"
"Ten." A voice echoed deep within him.
Leonard was shocked. "Old man, you actually gave me full marks! Was I really that impressive tonight?"
"Of course. With just a few exchanges, you left a deep impression on her and even set an appointment for tomorrow night. Such performance definitely deserves full marks."
Leonard chuckled. "Old man, don't exaggerate. I only gave myself nine."
"Oh? And where did the missing point go?"
"Sigh… I couldn't win her over on our first meeting. That proves I still have room to improve."
"You've actually learned to be humble. How rare."
After enjoying his excitement for a while, Leonard suddenly realized something. "Old man… you're not secretly mocking me, are you?"
"You're overthinking. I think highly of you. Keep it up."
"…" Leonard still felt something was off. The old man was never this agreeable.
Yet tonight, he was unusually supportive… Had he finally noticed Leonard's hidden potential?
"Tomorrow night…"
Leonard giggled foolishly, then pulled the blanket over his head. A few muffled laughs escaped from underneath.
"Hmm… I seem to have forgotten to ask her name. How rude."
...
Hillston Borough.
Hastur visited the law firm today. Lecturer Fron wasn't there, he was busy dealing with school matters and told Hastur to check in when convenient.
The law firm's operations were already on track. Very few matters required Hastur's personal decision; most were handled by the lawyers Fron had trained.
With nothing else to do, Hastur browsed the firm's financial reports from the past month.
At first, he showed no reaction, then his eyelids twitched, and finally his face filled with shock.
This law firm really made money!
In just one month, after paying all lawyers' and assistants' salaries, the firm still netted about 3,000 pounds profiy.
Currently, Manager Harley's factory, with nearly two hundred employees, barely made that much profit.
Yet the entire law firm had fewer than twenty people and produced such a huge amount of wealth.
Knowledge truly could be turned into fortune.
In the afternoon, Hastur went out. Greg mentioned that a noble from Southwell County was looking to sell his land there.
That piece of land bordered Hastur's territory.
With his healthy finances, Hastur naturally wouldn't miss such an acquisition opportunity.
And he wanted to learn more about the situation in Southwell County.
Even though the Campbell family's territory was there, he knew very little about it.
"I really need someone to help manage the territory for a while." Hastur sighed. He still needed to stay in Backlund to work on his title promotion and couldn't leave.
Otherwise, he would love to play the role of a local tyrant in his own territory, far from the capital, like a sovereign. That must feel great.