Chapter 75: A Tragedy Instead of a Conspiracy

The inside was decent enough.

The house was clearly middle-class at best. The walls had seen better days, with several patches where the paint had faded or peeled away. Some of the wallpaper had been scratched as well, though the marks looked far too deliberate to have been caused by claws.

Still, everything was clean.

The furniture was old but well-maintained, and there wasn’t much clutter lying around. Nothing about the place immediately screamed suspicious.

Which, admittedly, was almost suspicious in itself.

"What would you like to know first, Lord Brimstone?"

Seraph and I sat across from each other, with a small coffee table between us. A pot of tea sat untouched on its surface.

And to say things were awkward would have been an understatement.

I suppose that was to be expected. She had only agreed to this arrangement because she needed the money, after all. There wasn’t exactly any reason for her to be eager to get to know me.

"Let’s start with something simple. Hobbies, perhaps. What do you do for fun?"

Seraph took a whole minute to think of an answer, and in that entire minute, she only gave me a one-word response.

"Magic training."

"I-Is that it...?"

"I unfortunately don’t have much time for other hobbies, Lord Brimstone."

Her answer was so straightforward that I almost didn’t know how to respond.

Guess I’ll pivot from here. All I need to do is stall for long enough until my enhanced senses can find something wrong or weird about this place.

"Then what usually keeps you occupied?"

"The answer’s the same, Lord Brimstone. Magic training."

"Is that really all you do every day...?"

"Unfortunately, yes. As you can see, there really isn’t that much to talk about. I’m not someone you should take an interest in, my lord."

"Well, what about—"

THUD-CRACK!

The sound of something almost like a potted plant falling from the floor above made Seraph stand up immediately.

"E-Excuse me, Lord Brimstone."

She bowed and left before I could even get a word out.

And at that moment, I knew it was the perfect time to heighten my senses to their absolute maximum. Whatever she was doing upstairs, I was going to make sure I heard every single detail.

Click.

First was the sound of a door opening.

Then came a sigh from Seraph. "Honestly..."

Third was the sound of soil and broken glass being cleaned up from the floor, followed by what sounded like it being thrown into a nearby bin.

So it really was a potted plant.

All of it was boring so far, as if some random rodent had caused the whole thing. But thankfully, I didn’t stop listening just yet.

"Father, I told you not to move around too much in your condition."

D-Did she just say father?

I continued listening, but there was no reply to her words. Not even a single manly grunt.

Yet through my enhanced hearing, I could faintly hear the tremble in her voice and the subtle shaking of her body through the fabric of her clothes.

It was draining my mana to its absolute limit, but I needed to keep going.

"Don’t worry," Seraph continued quietly. "A duke’s son came to visit."

There was a pause.

"And he’s paying quite a lot of Aurion for my time. That means I can buy your medicine a week earlier than expected."

...What?

I slowly opened my eyes and calmed my senses when Seraph sounded like she was coming back down.

Suddenly, the shabby wallpaper, the old furniture, and the strange way she’d been acting all started to make a lot more sense. I had a feeling my little visit was about to become much more complicated than I’d expected.

The pieces clicked into place with a clarity that made my stomach sink.

Seraph Duvall. The ghost in human skin. The emotionless illusionist who’d traded a book for a role in a theatre production. The woman who had, according to Aqua’s intelligence, grabbed a bill stuck in a tree.

Her father was upstairs. Sick, maybe even dying. And she was paying for his medicine with whatever coin she could scrape together.

The abandoned neighborhood. The single lived-in house. The faded wallpaper and deliberate scratches. All of it painted a picture I hadn’t seen coming because I’d been looking for a conspiracy, not...

This.

The stairs creaked as she descended. When she stepped back into the sitting room, her expression had settled into its usual mask, but I could see the cracks now. The slight tension around her eyes, and even the way her fingers curled at her sides before she smoothed them flat.

"Apologies for the interruption, Lord Brimstone. Where were we?"

"Hobbies."

She blinked, then inclined her head.

"Ah. Yes. I believe we established that I don’t have any."

"Then how about I ask something else?"

Seraph settled back into her seat, hands folded in her lap.

"Very well."

"What’s your father’s name?"

The silence that followed was immediate and absolute. Her expression didn’t change. But the air in the room shifted, charged with the quiet hum of a spell being prepared.

"I don’t recall mentioning a father."

"You didn’t."

"So how did you know?"

The room’s temperature seemed to drop to zero.

"Before that, how much does his medicine cost?"

"What?"

"His medicine. How much?"

Seraph seemed to think about the question. Unsure if I had any ulterior motives for it, but when she found that an answer wouldn’t compromise anything, she answered.

"Twenty-five thousand Aurion."

That’s almost three weeks of my allowance from Father.

"And how long does one pack last?"

"It depends, but for my father’s condition... t-three days. Why does it matter?"

Twenty-five thousand Aurion was a ridiculous price for medicine. And considering the state of the Duvall household and Seraph’s desperate need for money, they were barely even affording it.

Could she be working with the Federation for money instead of ideology?

"I may be willing to help with his treatment."