Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

The basement of Villa Audra smelled like a century-old morgue that hadn't been properly sealed off.

"Poor air circulation."

As soon as Orian stepped off the last step, he mentally gave this "restaurant visit" its first low score.

Although there are rusted weapons that have been passed down from the Middle Ages hanging on the wall.

In the corner, there was a pile of armor left behind by some unfortunate knight, attempting to create an atmosphere of "deep heritage" among the nobility.

But to an actuary, all that's there is is mold and oxidation.

And the nauseating smell of dried rose preservatives sprayed in excess to mask the stench of a corpse.

"This is your vampire clan's 'holy land'?"

Orion pulled out a snow-white handkerchief and covered his mouth and nose as if to block out some kind of virus, his voice muffled and tinged with disgust:

"Emlin, if you hadn't led the way, I would have thought we were going to illegally traffic human organs."

Emlyn White, who was walking ahead and holding his beloved doll, stumbled upon hearing this, turned around, and glared angrily:

"Shut up! This is the sediment of history! You tasteless country bumpkin!"

"Settling?"

Orion freed one hand, lightly wiping his fingertips across the dusty stair railing, then rubbed his fingers together in disgust.

"Back in my hometown, this would be called a sanitation dead zone. It seems Count Audra's cleaning budget is in serious deficit."

As they spoke, the two were already standing in front of the heavy black iron gate.

Push open the door.

The originally envisioned "high-end private club" does not exist.

The hall was dimly lit, with the only source of light being a few rickety silver candlesticks.

A young vampire was slumped on the sofa, holding a glass of red wine, looking like a drunken bat.

Seeing the two enter, the young vampire didn't even lift his eyelids, letting out a sneer that sounded like he'd choked on water:

"Hey, isn't this our 'great' Mr. White?"

His gaze, sharp as a knife, swept rudely over the doll in Emlyn's arms, finally settling on Orion:

"What? You couldn't make money working at that lousy pharmacy, so you're starting to bring humans here for a tour and charge them?"

You've disgraced the progenitor! Emlyn.

Emlyn's neck veins bulged instantly, and he was about to explode.

"Sir."

A cold, calm voice, yet conveying a sense of detachment and businesslike formality, broke in.

Orion didn't even glance at the young vampire.

He carried his briefcase and walked straight toward the middle-aged gentleman who was wiping candlesticks in the corner.

"The servants at your residence seem to lack a certain necessary decorum?"

Orion stood before the cassimin noodles, slowly adjusting his left glove, his tone carrying a restrained yet arrogant air that said, "I'm here to discuss an acquisition, not to tolerate barbarians."

"This rude noise is completely destroying what little dignity this basement has left."

"Could this gentleman please shut up? Or...?"

Orion turned his head and glanced at the young vampire on the sofa with the look one would give a used product:

"Have someone...throw him out?"

The young vampire instantly bristled, nearly crushing the wine glass in his hand, his fangs bared as he charged forward.

"Shut up, Rose."

Kasimi finally put down the white cloth in his hand.

The shrewd and worldly old vampire shifted his murky eyes, showing no anger but instead revealing a playful smile.

He didn't even glance at the young junior, but simply gave a slight bow to Orion:

"I'm sorry, you must be embarrassed. He's just a distant nephew who wasn't properly disciplined."

In short, the difference is obvious.

The young vampire named Ross's face turned a deep purplish-red, but he was pinned to the sofa by Kasim's oppressive aura, and could only glare at Orion with utter malice.

Orion nodded in satisfaction before placing the suitcase on the scratched long table.

"That's right."

He clasped his hands together, his posture elegant, like a food critic waiting for his meal at a Michelin-starred restaurant, not a penniless wretch buying a weapon on the black market.

"I can tolerate the poor environment, after all, it's a basement."

"But my time is very valuable, Mr. Audra."

"Serve the food."

Kasim raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the human's arrogance.

"Emlin said you wanted something a bit more 'violent' and hardcore?"

"It has to be not just violent."

Orion's fingers tapped rhythmically on the box, making a "tap, tap" sound, as if counting down to the upcoming slaughter:

"A wild beast has wandered into my territory, utterly reckless and unreasonable."

"I need a liquidation tool that can 'force' it."

"Ideally, it should be the kind of heavy-duty machine that can burn its bones to ashes with just a pull of the trigger."

Whether the noise is too loud or whether it might damage the plants is not within my consideration.

"Understood."

Kasimi parted his lips, revealing his gleaming white canines:

"You want to 'write off bad debts'."

Snapped.

He snapped his fingers.

From the depths of darkness, several silent figures emerged carrying trays.

"Since you're an expert, there's no need to look at those so-called 'high-quality' works."

Kasimi skipped over the first few trays and went straight to the end of the hall.

He put on a pair of heavy lead protective gloves and carefully pried open the lock on the lead box filled with liquid.

The movements were so gentle, it was as if they were untying the wires of a bomb.

"...These were the spoils of war of my grandfather, Marquis Nibais."

"From a high-ranking deacon of the 'Eternal Sun' who is oblivious to his own mortality."

The lead box is opened.

hum!

There were no signs whatsoever.

A pale, scorching, and domineering beam of light instantly pierced through the dimly lit basement!

It's like someone detonated a flashbang in this moldy cellar.

"what!"

Emlyn screamed and shrank behind the door, clutching the doll.

The young vampire named Ross reacted as if he had been doused with sulfuric acid, covering his eyes and rolling to the back of the sofa, his body emitting plumes of acrid black smoke as he let out a pig-like scream.

Orion remained seated.

Although the light stung his eyes, he still had the leisure to move his suitcase to block the direct sunlight.

"The spine of the Priest of Light".

Kasimi's voice sounded somewhat distorted in the light, and he was also hiding in the shadows:

"Within a radius of 500 meters, there are 3000 indiscriminate purification impacts per second."

"For just £12000, you can have a sun that never goes out underground in Backlund."

"This is true depth..."

From behind the sofa came the young vampire's weak yet still vicious mocking voice:

"Can't afford it, can you? Human... This is a divine item! Even if you sold yourself, you wouldn't get a fraction of it..."

Snapped.

The lead box was closed, and the world returned to darkness.

Orion took off his glasses and slowly wiped away the tears that had been brought to his eyes by the bright light.

His movements were elegant, and due to frequent practice, he exuded a natural aristocratic air.

But beneath that calm exterior, a hysterical roar was raging within him:

"Twelve thousand pounds?!"

"Are you out of your mind! Why doesn't that old vampire just rob Miss Justice's bank?!"

"This money is enough for me to buy a steam yacht and then keep a dozen dancers on it to dance into the next century!"

Where am I supposed to swindle this money? Kidnap the four Earls of Levitt and sell them, along with their underwear?

Unless my skull is filled with a walnut that's been repeatedly crushed by a door, I wouldn't spend twelve thousand pounds on a flashlight!

But this damn poverty must never be written on your face.

That was the last shred of dignity for an "actuary".

then.

Orion put his glasses back on, leaned back, and let out a very soft but extremely mocking laugh.

"this one?"

The air froze instantly.

Even Kasimi was taken aback.

Orion extended a long, slender finger and pointed at the lead box, as if looking at a beautifully packaged pile of excrement:

"Mr. Audra, please allow me to speak frankly."

"This is an expensive, glowing piece of suicidal industrial waste."

Without giving the other party a chance to refute, he raised the first finger:

"First, it's too slow."

"Does opening a box require unlocking three locks? And wearing protective gloves?"

"In a duel, that's called 'suicide.' By the time I've gone through that whole process, the enemy's blade will already be rusted inside my stomach."

Next, the second finger:

"Secondly, it's too stupid."

"Indiscriminate coverage within a 500-meter radius?"

Orion shook his head, his tone full of disappointment and frustration:

"I'm going to kill people, not to be a human bomb."

This weapon can kill the user, the hostage, and even a stray cat passing by.

It's pointless except to prove that the designer's brain was slammed in a door.

Finally, the fatal blow.

Orion pointed to his eyes, offering the most outrageous, yet most irrefutable, reason:

"Most importantly—their taste is terrible."

"This pale light is just like the operating table in a cheap clinic in the East District."

It lacked any sense of holiness and was filled with the nauseating smell of disinfectant.

Having said that, Orion stood up, looked down at the lead box, and delivered his final verdict:

"Twelve thousand pounds?"

"This thing might fool laymen if it were placed in a museum."

"But in my eyes..."

He straightened his cuffs, his tone as indifferent as if he were tossing away a piece of waste paper:

"It doesn't even deserve to take up space in my suitcase."

In the corner, Emlyn listened, dumbfounded.

Although he felt something was off, it sounded... kind of reasonable?

Even Kasimi was stumped by this combo.

He had expected the other party to be amazed or ashamed because of the price.

Who would have thought that this human... would actually complain about the "color temperature" of a divine artifact?!

"cough……"

Kasimi coughed twice, trying to salvage some face for the Audra family:

"Mr. Zangwell's taste... is indeed unique."

"certainly."

Orion patted the briefcase, concealing the fact that it contained only a paltry £1500 in cash.

He glanced at the tray beside him, his tone softening slightly, like a tolerant gourmet:

"I am a pragmatic person."

"Since the main course is too dry, let's take a look at your... homemade dishes."

He pointed to the tray, a hint of mockery playing on his lips:

"This 'home-cooked dish' better not disappoint me."

Kasimi took a deep breath, his fingers stiffly gripping the corner of the black cloth, and suddenly ripped it open—

empty.

The tray was completely empty.

Without any warning, the old vampire's face turned deathly pale.

As if he had seen the most terrifying thing in the world, he staggered and knocked over the candlestick behind him.

"No...this is impossible! The seal was intact just now!"

"Where did it go?!"

"Mr. Zangwell!!"

Kasimi let out a piercing scream, her voice distorted, her finger trembling as she pointed at Orion's body:

"Don't move... whatever you do, don't move..."

"It... is climbing up your trouser leg..."