Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

In the afternoon, at the Harvest Church.

"I'm not going! That's a scam!"

"I am a noble vampire! How could I possibly act for humans!"

In a corner of the Harvest Church, Emlyn White, wearing an ill-fitting clerical robe and holding a broom, was turning his head away with an air of arrogance.

He looked paler than before.

Clearly, during this period, they were forced to work in this church full of "muscular brutes" and "life force".

For this proud vampire baron, it was nothing short of hellish torture.

Is it really a scam?

Orion sighed, but was not discouraged by the other party's rejection.

He casually pulled a photograph from his pocket and waved it in front of Emlyn.

The photo shows a brand-new, fully articulated doll in a Quaternary Gothic gown, displayed in the window of Backlund department store.

"Mr. Emlyn, I've heard that there are only three of these dolls in all of Backlund. And..."

Orion lowered his voice and whispered like a devil:

"If you had this appearance fee, you could not only buy it, but you could even furnish your empty room with a coffin bed that truly reflects the 'vampire taste'."

Emlyn's hand gripping the broom tightened suddenly, his knuckles turning white.

He struggled fiercely between "noble dignity" and "dream lover" for only about 0.1 seconds.

"...This isn't acting."

Emlyn snatched the photo, his red eyes burning with a raging fire known as the "soul of an otaku."

He tossed the broom aside, though a few seconds later he obsessively picked it up and straightened it.

He adjusted the non-existent bow tie:

"Ahem... I mean, as a vampire, I have an obligation to correct the distorted aesthetics of those Rune country bumpkins."

"If we don't go, that artwork will be bought by some ignorant nouveau riche. That would be a desecration of beauty!"

He raised his chin, reverting to his arrogant demeanor:

"Tell me, what time? Where? And... it has to be cash."

Orion smiled with satisfaction:

"Tonight, at Earl Levitt's mansion."

"Remember, you must bring out that arrogant look in your eyes that says 'everyone looks like trash'."

"That's the soul of the play."

Orion reached out and, like a true stage director, straightened Emlyn's collar, speaking in a persuasive tone:

"Imagine you're sitting on your throne in your ancient castle, swirling a glass of thousand-year-old Ormir wine, and before you..."

He pointed out the window to the ordinary people bustling about:

"Before me is a group of curly-haired baboons fighting over a rotten banana."

"That kind of contempt that comes from the depths of one's soul, that kind of pity that says, 'You degenerate primates don't understand art at all'..."

"Yes, that's it! That look! Hold on to it!"

"Even if someone throws money at you, you should still look down on them!"

……

Nighttime, the banquet hall of Earl Levitt's mansion.

Magnificent and resplendent, with elegant attire and graceful figures.

This is the center of Backlund's power.

The clinking of every glass of champagne could determine the passage of a bill.

At the recommendation of Earl Hall.

Orion finally met Count Levitt, who was slightly overweight, had a receding hairline, but whose eyes revealed shrewdness and arrogance.

After exchanging pleasantries, Orion gestured for a private conversation.

The three then went to the quiet smoking room.

"Mr. Rosago, Hall said you have something... that could change the course of the Navy?"

Count Levitt exhaled a smoke ring, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

"It's not about changing the landscape."

Orion opened the briefcase and gently took out the parchment, which had been specially aged and smelled of old mold and ink.

"It defines the future."

He spread the parchment out on the table.

Count Levitt glanced down casually.

In just one glance, his pupils suddenly contracted to the size of pinpoints.

The paper was covered with strange square characters.

That structure, that brushstroke, those symbols that are completely incomprehensible yet full of a strange beauty...

He is the older brother of an admiral.

He was fortunate enough to be in his brother's top-secret archives.

I have seen a few rubbings taken from the tomb of the great emperor called "Rossel Gustav".

That is the "Roselle script," which is widely recognized as unbreakable!

And the symbols on this piece of paper...

It's exactly the same style as those divine texts!

There were even some complex sketches on it that resembled "submarines" and "torpedoes".

This is actually a simple line drawing at an elementary school level, done by Orion based on his memory.

But at this moment, it is infinitely beautified by the filter of "Rossel's original work".

"Look at this line."

Orion's white-gloved fingers traced, with utmost seriousness, the oval shape that had been carelessly drawn by his trembling hand:

"This is more than just graffiti; it's the Emperor's ultimate reflection on 'fluid dynamics' in his later years!"

"This seemingly random curve is actually a 'double-layer pressure-resistant shell' structure designed to avoid the high pressure of the deep sea."

"And these ink spots... no, those aren't stains, those are the critical values ​​for cavitation in the 'Silent Propeller' marked by the Emperor!"

Under Orian's seductive explanation.

The graffiti in Count Levitt's eyes seemed to come alive.

They are no longer just lines, but steel behemoths silently cruising in the deep sea.

They aimed their cannons at the coastline of Rune.

"This...this is..."

Count Levitt's fingers began to tremble.

Orion lowered his voice and spoke in a seductive tone, like a devil's whisper:

"This is the final original manuscript of the 'Rossel Manuscript: Naval Warfare'."

"What's recorded inside is something even the Intis couldn't create... the Deep Sea Ghost!"

Count Levitt stared intently at the yellowed parchment on the table.

My finger hovered over those Chinese characters for a long time before finally withdrawing it.

He was arrogant, but not stupid.

As the brother of an admiral, he has always been known for his "prudent" approach to political investments.

Based solely on Orion's side of the story.

And a few scribbles that do indeed look like "Roselle script".

That wasn't enough to make him immediately pull out a huge sum of money.

"Mr. Rosago."

Count Levitt raised his head, his eyes flashing with the shrewdness and scrutiny of a seasoned politician:

"I must admit, your story is very moving, and this manuscript also looks...very historically significant."

"But this is a huge sum of money, and it even involves national security!"

I cannot make a decision based solely on your assessment.

He stood up, straightened the collar of his tuxedo, and made a decision that would strike fear into the hearts of ordinary swindlers:

"Since this is a charity gala, Hall is not the only one present."

"There are also many nobles who have studied antiquities and the culture of Roselle."

"There were even a few extraordinary advisors from the 'Archaeologists' Association."

"Why don't we take it to the banquet hall and let everyone... take a look?"

If it were a typical scammer, they would probably be terrified by the prospect of a "public appraisal."

But Orian pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, and a knowing smile flashed behind the lenses.

Public appraisal?

This is truly a godsend!

The highest level of fraud is never one-on-one persuasion, but rather "mass hysteria".

When a group of self-proclaimed superior people get together.

As long as one person takes the lead in pretending to know, the rest of the people will nod frantically in order not to appear ignorant.

"Of course, Your Excellency."

Orion gracefully closed his briefcase, made a "please" gesture, and spoke with impeccable confidence:

"Truth always becomes clearer through debate."