Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 160 An Unexpected Arrangement

"During the ritual, you will see some blurry visions and feel some emotions. These may be symbols that guide you or metaphors for her current state. But remember, what you see may not be the whole truth, and may even be misleading. After the ritual, you will feel weak and may have nightmares for several days."

He looked at Green: "I can provide some of the materials. I have the black cat's whiskers and graveyard soil here. You'll need to find the silver mirror fragments yourself; they must be pure silver that hasn't been used to reflect the dead or in any other rituals. Your blood, you'll need to collect yourself. As for the medium—you only have this hairpin?"

Green nodded: "That's all. There's also a note she left, but there's no trace of her hair or dandruff on it."

"A hair clip—that would be passable, but the effect would be far inferior." Brother Cecil frowned. "Ideally, I'd have her hair."

Nails, or jewelry you frequently wear. Are you sure there's nothing else?

Green thought about it carefully and shook his head.

Brother Cecil sighed. "Then this is the only option. The success rate will be even lower, and the vision might be even blurrier. Are you sure you want to try?"

"Let's try." Green said decisively.

"Very well." Brother Cecil put away the parchment. "Tonight is the night of the Dark Moon," the tides in the spirit world are relatively calm, suitable for this tracking ritual. Come here at midnight. Bring the shards of the silver mirror and your blood. Remember, do not eat before the ritual; maintain spiritual purity."

"Yes," Green replied solemnly.

"As for you, child," Brother Cecil turned to Rachel, "you cannot stay here for the time being. The deathly atmosphere of the old cemetery is too heavy and will not be good for your recovery. I can write a note for you to go to the almshouse in the Great Cathedral and find Sister Alenia. She will arrange for you to stay temporarily and provide you with some calming herbs. We will decide where you go after Green has finished his business."

Rachel looked at Green, a hint of unease in her eyes.

Green nodded to her: "Do as the monk says. The Grand Cathedral is safer. I'll come find you after I'm done."

Rachel bit her lip, then finally nodded: "Okay."

Brother Cecil tore a small piece of paper from the table, dipped a quill in ink, quickly wrote a few lines, folded it, and handed it to Rachel.

"Turn right after exiting the gate, walk down the path, and the gray building marked with stars and a red moon is the almshouse."

Show this to the monk guarding the gate, and he will take you to Sister Misell.

"Thank you, monk." Rachel took the note and carefully put it away.

Green helped her to her feet, bowed to Brother Cecil, and took his leave.

Stepping out of the stone house, the morning sun had already pierced through the clouds and shone into the cemetery, dispelling some of the gloom, but the chill remained.

"I'll take you to the orphanage," Green said to Rachel.

Rachel shook her head: "No need, the monk said it's very close, I can walk there myself. You're coming over tonight, you need to rest and prepare."

"I'm fine."

She looked at Green, her eyes filled with gratitude and worry: "Be careful. That ritual sounds dangerous."

"I will," Green nodded. "You too, take care of yourself."

Rachel nodded vigorously, pulled her coat tighter, and turned to walk down the path.

After walking a few steps, she glanced back; Green was still standing at the cemetery entrance, watching her. She waved, then quickened her pace and disappeared around the corner.

Green watched her leave, feeling somewhat relieved.

He walked back to where he had tied his horse, mounted it, but did not leave immediately.

He needs to find a shard of a pure silver mirror.

As the heart of the parish, St. Milon should have shops selling occult materials or antiques. But it's too early now; the shops aren't open yet.

He thought for a moment and decided to return to the Oberhafen team's temporary base in Saint-Milon, a safe house that Olivier had purchased there. Eliza had given him the address and key, just in case.

"A shard of pure silver mirror—never seen on a dead person, never used in any other ritual—"

This sounds simple, but in the field of occultism, the requirements are quite demanding.

If it's an ordinary mirror that hasn't reflected death, it's easy to find. But silver mirrors were mostly used by high-ranking officials and nobles, or in mystical rituals.

Green didn't know any nobles, so he could only seek out the silver mirrors used by extraordinary individuals.

Following the address Eliza had given him, he walked through the winding streets of St. Milon and arrived at a quiet neighborhood near the city walls.

The buildings here were relatively low and old, and there were few pedestrians. Behind a three-story brick building, he found the inconspicuous wooden door—the safe house of the Oberhafen Night Watch in St. Milon.

The brass key unlocked the door, and a wave of dust and musty smell hit me.

The room was simply furnished with a wooden table, a few chairs, a fireplace, and some firewood piled in the corner. There was probably a small bedroom upstairs. Clearly, no one had been here for a long time.

Green tied the horse to the backyard, quickly swept the area in front of the fireplace, and lit the firewood.

The warmth gradually dispelled the chill and dampness inside the house.

He sat in front of the fireplace, took out the brass pocket watch from his pocket, and examined it carefully by the firelight.

The watch case was smooth and warm, with natural wear marks on the edges, making it look like a well-worn item. He gently pressed the button next to the crown, and the cover popped open.

The dial features simple Roman numerals, and the hands remain stationary, pointing to 3:17. A very small line is engraved on the inside of the case back.

The cursive script was almost impossible to read in the firelight.

Green leaned closer for a better look and could barely make out:

Beyond the reach of time, witness inevitability.

These words stirred something within him.

inevitable?

Does it refer to the inevitability of fate, or the inevitability of choice?

Regardless of which one it is, it confirms one direction: the fool is leading himself astray.

He closed the watch case and carefully put the pocket watch away from his body. Whatever its purpose, at least for now, it was just a pocket watch that wouldn't run.

Next is the issue of the silver mirror fragments.

Why not just go to an antique shop or general store, buy a small silver mirror, and then break it?

But how do you ensure it's "clean"?

Brother Cecil specifically emphasized that the mirror "had not been used to reflect dead people," implying that the mirror may have absorbed or reflected spiritual information related to death, which could cause serious interference in occult tracing rituals.

Perhaps—we could ask someone within the church for help?

The Great Cathedral of St. Milon must have had monks or nuns responsible for preparing the ritual items, and they should have had pure silverware that met the requirements.

But Green's current position is sensitive; he is a Night's Watchman of Oberhafen, yet he is conducting a high-risk blood tracing ritual in private without the permission of his direct superior, Clarice.

Making unsolicited contact with official staff of the Grand Cathedral may attract unnecessary attention and scrutiny.

"It seems I'll have to buy it at a high price from a high-end general store or a shop that specializes in silverware," Green thought to himself.

Just then, a knock on the door suddenly rang out.

Green sprang from the chair in front of the fireplace, his hand instinctively landing on the "Silencer" at his waist. He held his breath, listening intently.

"Tap, tap, tap."

The knocking was neither hurried nor slow, neither an emergency nor a malicious probe.

Who would know about this place?

The address Eliza provided was the backup safe house for the Oberhafen Night Watch squad in San Mirón, which was theoretically known only to the core members of the squad and a few support personnel like Eliza.

Moreover, this place has been unused for a long time.

Could it be a routine check by local San Miguel watchmen or "Red Gloves"? But if they are officials, they would usually identify themselves directly.

Green moved silently to the door, but instead of opening it immediately, he asked in a low voice, "Who is it?"

There was a moment of silence outside the door, then a steady and familiar voice came from outside: "Mr. Green, it's me, Leonard."

Leonard?!

Clarisse's personal butler?!

Green's heart skipped a beat, surprise outweighing his wariness. How did he get here? How did he find this place?

Did Clarice send him?

Countless questions flooded my mind in an instant.

Green took a deep breath, opened the door, and left it a crack.

Standing outside the door was Leonard, the middle-aged butler who was always impeccably dressed and had impeccable manners.

He was wearing a dark gray travel jacket and a matching fedora, carrying a small leather suitcase, with his usual calm expression on his face.

He saw Green and nodded slightly: "Good morning, Mr. Green. I hope I haven't disturbed you."

"Mr. Leonard?"

Green quickly scanned the dimly lit street behind him, but did not see anyone else.

"How did you find this place?"

"On Miss Astraea's orders," Leonard replied succinctly. "She suspects you may need some assistance."

She gave me this address and told me to come and meet you as soon as possible.

A guess? Green was startled.

Did Clarisse know she would come to St. Milon? Did she even anticipate that she would use this safe house? Had she been monitoring her movements? Or did Eliza inform her of the situation after she left?

Regardless of which approach it takes, it's clear that Clarice wasn't abandoning him; she simply chose a different method.

Green stepped aside: "Please come in."

Leonard carried the suitcase into the house and closed the door behind him. He quickly glanced around at the simple surroundings, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing.

"Did Clarice say anything else?" Green asked, turning around as he closed the door.

Leonard placed his suitcase against the wall, took off his hat and coat, and neatly draped them over the back of the chair before looking at Green. "Miss only gave two instructions. First, to assist you to the best of my ability, provided it does not violate the core principles of the Church. Second, not to linger here after you have finished what you are doing."

He paused, then added, "The lady emphasized that this is not surveillance, but necessary risk control. The matter you are investigating is very complex, and she needs to ensure that you don't find yourself in an irreparable situation without backup."

Green remained silent for a moment.

Clarice's considerations were indeed thorough. Acting alone was extremely risky, especially after last night's experience at the tavern and the dangerous ritual that was about to take place.

Having someone as experienced as Leonard assisting is undoubtedly a huge help. Although he is just an ordinary person, his handling of certain details certainly far surpasses that of an ordinary person.

"I understand." Green nodded. "Thank you for your concern, Ms. Clarice, and thank you for coming all this way."

I've indeed encountered some issues and might need some help.

"Speaking."

Leonard walked to the fireplace, naturally picked up the fire tongs, poked at the firewood to make the flames burn brighter, and then pulled...

He sat down on another chair, his posture upright, as if this were not a simple safe house, but a neat study.

Green sat back down, gathered his thoughts, and decided to reveal some information. Since Clarisse had already sent Leonard, concealing crucial details was pointless and might even hinder cooperation.

"I came to St. Milon to visit an old monk named Cecil, seeking help with a ritual to trace blood ties."

Green said slowly, "My cousin Emily has disappeared. She—is involved in my aunt's death. But I suspect she was influenced or controlled by some external force."

Leonard listened quietly, his face showing no surprise, only his eyes becoming more focused.

"Brother Cecil has promised to hold a bloodline reckoning ceremony for me at his residence in the old cemetery tonight at midnight."

Green continued, "I need to prepare some materials, one of which is a pure shard of sterling silver mirror, untouched by death or other rituals. I'm having trouble with that."

Upon hearing this, Leonard smiled slightly. He didn't respond immediately, but instead leaned forward slightly and opened the leather suitcase he had brought.

The box has an ingenious internal structure, with various items neatly organized inside.

Several sets of neatly folded clothes, a first aid kit, several sealed metal canisters, some tools, and a small square box carefully wrapped in dark blue velvet cloth.

Leonard took out the small velvet box, placed it on the table, and pushed it toward Green.

"Mr. Green," his voice was steady, "the young lady specifically instructed me to give this to you when she sent me. She said, 'He might need this.'"

Miss? Clarice?

A thought struck Green, and he reached for the small velvet box. It wasn't large, but it felt quite heavy. He gently opened the lid.

The box was lined with soft white silk, and a small, exquisite silver mirror lay quietly in the center.

The mirror is oval, about three inches in diameter, with a handle and frame crafted from simple, flowing foliage patterns of sterling silver. The exquisite craftsmanship gives it a warm glow in the fireplace light. The mirror is bright and clear, as if it had never reflected anything before.

Green carefully picked up the mirror.

It was icy to the touch, but quickly warmed by his body heat. This mirror was even "cleaner" than the new mirror he had seen in the silver shop. This "cleanliness" was not physical newness, but a deeper state, as if it had been purified or protected by some powerful force.

"This is—" Green looked at Leonard.

"A sterling silver mirror that meets your requirements."

Leonard explained, "The lady said it was a little trinket she acquired many years ago, which she has kept carefully, never using it, nor reflecting anything unclean. Its material and condition should meet Brother Cecil's requirement for the purity of ritual materials."