Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

Orion did not sit down.

He stood in the solemn light and shadow of St. Samuel's Church.

Like a young nobleman inspecting his own estate.

He held a gold-embossed business card between two fingers and handed it over elegantly.

Fors Wall quickly stood up and took it with both hands.

The business card had a substantial feel and a faint cedar scent. It bore only a single line of simple, cursive lettering:

Rosago Zangwell | Independent Actuary & Macro Strategy Consultant

No address, no title.

This extreme use of white space, on the contrary, exudes a sense of a top-tier circle that "those who know, know."

"that……"

Fors held the business card tightly, her voice slightly hurried with nervousness:

"You just said...aren't you Mr. Tower's junior? Then Mr. Tower, he..."

"To be precise."

Orion interrupted her, his tone light:

"I am just an outsider in the Abraham family."

But I was lucky enough to get in through some special financial channels.

I've managed to establish a tiny... connection with that ancient, important figure.

He looked at Fors, then suddenly blinked his left eye, making a wink that only young people would understand:

"You know, big shots always have some mundane matters that are inconvenient for them to handle personally."

This is where we, as "middlemen," come in.

This playful gesture instantly shattered that suffocating class barrier.

Fors's tense shoulders relaxed.

It's a living person.

And he seems like an easy-going young man.

Orion scanned the church hall with a shrewd look, then gave an apologetic smile:

"Miss Wall, although the goddess doesn't mind."

But discussing such materialistic private transactions under His watchful eye is always a disturbance to the believers.

"Shall we go somewhere else?"

Fors nodded quickly:

"Of course, I'll do as you say."

……

Two minutes later.

The two walked side by side on the bustling streets of the North District.

Orion did not deliberately create distance, but maintained a subtle sense of closeness.

To passersby, they looked like a young couple enjoying a pleasant afternoon.

The man was handsome and dashing, and the woman, though somewhat reserved, was undeniably pretty.

"I used to be a clinic doctor."

With her head down, Fors looked at the tips of her shoes as she honestly confessed the details:

"Later, because of some interests, I switched careers and became a freelance writer."

He currently has a serialized column in the *Deroles Daily* and has also published two novels, so he could be considered... a writer.

"Writer? That's a profession that requires insight into human nature."

Orion casually offered a compliment, but his steps naturally turned at an intersection.

The guidance was extremely smooth, without any coercion.

When Fors came to her senses, she found herself standing at the entrance of the Valiag Jewelry Store.

This is Backlund's most extravagant den of iniquity.

It is said that even princesses of the royal family have their jewelry custom-made here.

"Mr. Zangwell?" Fors was a little confused.

"I want to pick out a gift for one of my older female relatives."

But I know absolutely nothing about women's preferences.

Orion took Fors's arm very naturally, his tone filled with an irresistible enthusiasm:

"Do me a favor, Miss Wall, just for reference."

Before Fors could refuse, the arm that was holding her tightened slightly, with a gentle yet domineering force, and "invited" her through the revolving door.

……

Inside the store, the crystal chandelier shone so brightly it was almost blinding.

The sales assistant immediately came forward, her gaze lingering for a second on the two people's intertwined arms.

He then flashed that professional smile that said, "I understand, the big fat sheep has arrived."

"Sir, are you looking to see an engagement ring? We just received a shipment of sapphires from the Southern Continent."

"Let's take a look first."

Orion did not deny it.

He led Fors to the counter and casually pointed to several rings that could buy Fors' entire life.

"Try this."

He picked up a ring, grabbed Fors's somewhat stiff hand, and, like a doting fiancé who spends lavishly on her, tried to slip it onto her finger.

Just as Fors was trembling with fear at the absurd scene.

Orion's voice suddenly lowered, to an extremely flat tone that only the two of them could hear:

"Mr. Tower's assessments have always been so rigorous as to be inhumane."

Fors's fingers trembled suddenly.

To obtain the recipe for "Master of Tricks", you usually need to complete three A-level missions.

For example, hunting a Crimson Hound in the Southern Continent, or stealing a Pirate King's nautical chart from the sea...

As Orion examined the size of the ring on her finger, he casually pronounced her death sentence:

"Excuse me for speaking frankly, Miss Wall."

In your current state, you'd probably become the excrement of vicious dogs in the very first mission.

Fors' face turned deathly pale instantly.

The despair of having her nascent hope extinguished in an instant almost made her lose her balance.

"but."

Orion then changed the subject.

He put down the ring, his eyes becoming clear and sincere, like a close friend offering advice:

"That's the rigid rule of the Abraham family."

I'm just an unofficial staff member.

"For an actuary."

The so-called Sequence 8 formula.

Essentially, it's just a 'trading document' that can be circulated.

"Since it is a material, it can be exchanged for value."

It doesn't necessarily have to be life.

Fors looked up abruptly, a light rekindling in his dull eyes:

"Then... what do I need to pay in return? Gold pounds?"

She was even prepared to go bankrupt.

Orion's smile deepened as he looked at the fish that had taken the bait.

He didn't answer immediately, but shook his head and waved his index finger in the air:

"No, Miss Wall, I don't need the money."

"I am the special fate advisor of the Earl of Hall and the Earl of Levitt."

boom.

These two surnames were like two mountains, crashing heavily into Fors's heart.

The Hall family! They are one of the most powerful noble families in Rune!

The Levitt family is also a giant of the same level!

The young man in front of me... is actually an advisor to such a top-tier wealthy family?

Mr. Zangwell's status is terrifyingly high!

"As a consultant."

Orion's eyes were clear, and he timely threw out the real bait:

"I have too many noble affairs to handle."

And my current assistant...

Despite his loyalty, he was a stubborn Fenneportian.

That rigid aristocratic demeanor made him completely incapable of handling flexible work that required acting skills.

"This has created a bottleneck in my business."

Orion sighed, his face filled with a thirst for talent:

"I need a more well-rounded, more sensitive, and more understanding partner..."

Fors blinked.

She understood.

Is this... hiring her?

The surprise came too suddenly, followed by immense fear.

"But……"

Fors shrank back, looking somewhat inferior.

"I used to be just a clinic doctor."

Now I'm just a writer of third-rate novels...

I don't understand finance, and I've never seen much of the world. I'm afraid I won't be up to the task..."

"No, Miss Wall."

Orion interrupted her.

His eyes became fanatical and determined, like a master con artist weaving a dream for his prey:

You underestimate yourself.

"Doctor, having witnessed so much birth, aging, sickness, and death, you possess the 'insight' to see through pretense."

"Being a writer makes you adept at weaving logically closed-loop stories, and you possess the 'creativity' to construct reality."

"In this world of fame and fortune, these are the most valuable assets!"

As for financial knowledge? That's the cheapest thing; I'll teach you.

"I don't need you to understand actuarial science, I just need you to cooperate with me in certain situations... and act out a few plays."

Fors was stunned.

So... I'm actually that amazing?

Under the highly inflammatory language of Orion.

She felt like she was a genius born for this job!

The time is right.

Orion pulled out a pre-prepared parchment contract from his pocket and gently pushed it in front of her.

"Take a look."

"As long as you are willing to spend about 10 hours a week as my part-time assistant."

"The 'Master of Tricks' formula, the complete rules for playing the role, and..."

Orion pointed to the number at the end of the contract:

"Eight pounds a week is all yours."

£8!

Fors' eyes instantly turned into the shape of gold pounds.

She could write endlessly for a month, but her royalties weren't always a stable 30 pounds.

Can you earn £8 for just 10 hours a week?

This isn't work, this is charity!

"I'll sign!"

Fors didn't even bother to read the terms carefully, fearing the other party might change their mind, and grabbed a pen to sign his name at the end.

The contract is reached.

The moment she signed.

Orion pointed to a silver ring set with a deep blue sapphire on the counter and nodded to the sales assistant:

"This one..."

Before Fors could react...

Orion had already taken the ring and elegantly and unequivocally slipped it onto her middle finger.

The icy touch sent a shiver down Fors' spine.

"Huh? This..."

"Wow, they're such a perfect match!"

The sales assistant let out a professional gasp of surprise.

"Miss, your fiancé is so good to you."

"No, no, it's a misunderstanding..."

Fors frantically tried to explain.

"A gift to mark our meeting."

Orion didn't give her a chance to take it off.

He had already paid the bill, and his nonchalant demeanor made the air in the entire shop seem expensive.

He leaned close to Fors, just centimeters from her ear, and whispered:

"Take it, my partner."

"At the same time, as a mentor in the 'apprentice' pathway..."

I'm going to teach you the first lesson of the 'Master of Tricks':

Orion straightened up and gave the still bewildered writer another charming wink:

"The so-called magic trick is about manipulating everyone... at will."

After saying that, he picked up his suitcase, turned around and walked into the afternoon sunlight, leaving behind only a dashing silhouette.

Fors stood there, stunned.

After a long while, she looked down at the priceless sapphire ring on her finger, and then at the contract in her hand.

and many more.

She suddenly felt that something was wrong.

£8 a week is indeed very tempting.

But... what does the "Job Responsibilities" section say?

[Job Responsibilities: Including but not limited to playing the role of a down-on-her-luck socialite, a madwoman searching for her pet cat, a fortune teller wandering the sewers...]

Fors's hands began to tremble.

Is this really a legitimate actuarial assistant?

Why did she feel like she had boarded a terrible pirate ship?