Empress Borough — at Viscount Glaint's Manor
The gathering at the manor was made up of respected educators—members of the Educators' Union. Despite its name suggesting a link to workers' unions, it was in truth an association reserved for the most accomplished and well-connected scholars, many of whom were close to nobility. As such, the event drew a mix of nobles, aristocrats, and academics, all gathered beneath the glittering chandeliers of Viscount Glaint's estate.
Viscount Glaint himself, proud and sociable, stood at the heart of the room, speaking amiably with several noble guests. Among them was none other than Audrey Hall, daughter of the Hall family. The Viscount had naturally assumed the role of the Union's honorary host and patron; after all, his late father had founded the association before it was renamed the Educators' Union shortly before his passing.
"Ah, good evening, Mr. Moriarty!"
A deep, heavy voice pulled William James Moriarty's attention away from his quiet observation of the crowd.
He turned, and his gaze fell upon a plump man with a broad smile and refined attire—a tailored three-piece suit, silk top hat, and polished shoes that gleamed under the candlelight.
It was Dudlene Roesbrewy—a fellow professor of mathematics, known among colleagues as the Green Aristocrat due to his Nobel family coat of arms a green leopard surrounded by roses . An envious scholar, and one of the few men Moriarty quietly suspected might have had a hand in his death.
In the five days between the Tarot Club's first gathering and this evening's banquet, Moriarty had already narrowed down his list of possible culprits. Yet evidence was scarce. Still, the moment Dudlene approached him of his own accord, the man had betrayed himself.
How so? From the fragmented remnants of Moriarty's memories—those fused with Xianshi's—he recalled that Dudlene was a sly, slippery man. He always maintained an impeccable façade, polite yet secretly proud. But there was one constant: he would never initiate conversation with Moriarty. His jealousy ran too deep for that. He would always wait for Moriarty to approach first, keeping the balance of civility intact.
That he now did the opposite meant only one thing—he was afraid.
Not guilty, no. It was the fear of the dead—the terror that Moriarty might know too much, that the Beyonder he had once hired had turned against him. There was no other reason Moriarty should still be alive.
"Good evening, Mr. Roesbrewy," Moriarty greeted smoothly, taking a sip of red wine. Its flavor was rich, full-bodied, and faintly tangy. "Have you enjoyed the evening so far?"
"Ah, quite! Though I must say it's been rather dull without you here, haha," Dudlene laughed, his voice hearty yet edged with nervousness.
"You're too kind, Mr. Roesbrewy," Moriarty replied with a polite smile. "Well, I suppose I should see how the others are finding the event."
He excused himself with practiced grace, weaving through the crowd—until he accidentally brushed shoulders with another man.
"Ah, my apologies…" Moriarty began, glancing up at the stranger.
The man had bronze skin, an average height and build, black hair, brown eyes, and gentle, composed features. He looked familiar—another professor from Tingen University—though Moriarty had never met him face to face before.
"Ah, it's quite alright," the man replied calmly.
Azik Eggers.
His tone was soft, steady, and oddly soothing. Yet unbeknownst to Moriarty, something stirred within Azik at that moment—a strange, hollow sensation, as if a long-forgotten memory had brushed against his mind. A familiar image flickered before his inner eye: a man with bronze skin, amber-red eyes, and brown hair—faical features eerily similar to Moriarty's own, sharing that same soft sharpness of face.
Moriarty, unaware of the fleeting recognition, continued on through the banquet.
As the evening waned and the crimson light of the moon faintly touched the windows, the awards ceremony began. Three honorary guests were called to the stage, each receiving a medal and a modest sum to support their research.
Hours passed; the night grew still.
When the event finally ended and guests began to depart, Moriarty stepped into a carriage—right behind Dudlene's. Leaning forward slightly, he instructed the driver, "Follow the one ahead."
The carriages rolled through the quiet, lamp-lit streets. After several minutes, Dudlene's stopped before a refined, well-lit hotel. Moriarty watched as the man climbed out and entered the building.
Once he was certain of the location, Moriarty gave a faint nod and ordered his own driver to continue onward, alighting a few streets away. From there, he began his approach on foot, his figure blending with the darkened edges of Empress Borough's night.