Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

In that dilapidated, dimly lit secret room, flickering with candlelight.

A young man dressed in a black classical robe is facing a bottle of potion that is bubbling with eerie bubbles.

His eyes were burning with the fervor of a gambler who had staked everything on the outcome.

"Ancestors, watch..."

He held up the medicine, his voice hoarse from excessive excitement:

"I am about to embark on that great and extraordinary path!"

I will surely restore the glory of the Abrahamic family!

Without any hesitation, he tilted his head back and gulped it down.

one second.

two seconds.

His once handsome face suddenly contorted, like a piece of wax melted by high temperature.

"ah--!!!"

The agonizing screams hadn't even left the sealed room before they were drowned out by an even more terrifying tearing sound.

boom!

Like a tomato that's been put into a microwave oven.

The young man's body exploded instantly.

Every piece of minced meat and every drop of blood seemed to possess its own independent life.

They wriggled and climbed frantically on the ground, making a sizzling, corrosive sound, trying to escape this doomed prison.

Eventually, the peristalsis stopped.

In the center of a nauseating pool of blood.

A strange, shimmering light began to gather.

It merged with the remaining severed finger of that person.

It slowly transformed into a simple, antique-looking key that gleamed with a brass luster.

And in that pile of tattered clothes.

There was also a silver pocket watch inlaid with diamonds, ticking away.

It was as if it were mocking this short and absurd life.

……

"when--!"

The deep, resonant tolling of bells from the St. Samuel Church in the North Quarter shattered my dream.

Orion suddenly opened his eyes.

He lay on the soft bed, his back covered in cold sweat, a feeling he shared deeply.

That was a spiritual intuition, a physiological aversion to the fate of that unfortunate fellow.

But Orion's eyes were frighteningly clear.

He showed no pity whatsoever; instead, he treated it as if it were a garbage report that seriously violated probability theory.

"idiot!"

Orion rolled out of bed, muttering to himself as he expertly folded the blankets:

"Knowing full well that the family curse is a deadly trap, they still dared to jump in with their eyes closed."

Mr. Men is barely able to protect himself, let alone rebuild his glory... that's just suicide.

"The entire Abraham family was wiped out by you bunch of gamblers who don't know when to cut your losses."

He walked into the bathroom and looked up at himself in the mirror.

The mirror did not reflect that pale figure that habitually floated in the corner of the ceiling.

There was only a neatly written note, but it exuded a cold, "notice rather than a discussion" vibe:

[Personal matter, requesting a day off, will return tomorrow.]

Orion's lips twitched.

Miss Sharon, who received a high salary of 1000 pounds.

Her reason for requesting leave is just like her fighting style—

Concise, deadly, and leaving him no room to refuse.

"Okay... as long as it's not paid leave."

As he brushed his teeth, he forcibly ignored the faint sense of insecurity that came with "the bodyguard not being home."

I quickly reactivated the "actuary" mindset in my head.

Although he dreamed about the origin of the "master key," it didn't affect his good mood today.

After all, yesterday's "jewelry store scam" was a resounding success.

But how to arrange the casting of Fors Wall, this new "actress," still needs careful consideration.

That kind of trick of using gibberish Chinese characters to act mysterious at aristocratic gatherings.

Using it once makes you a genius, using it twice makes you a fool.

The same trick, like chewed sugarcane residue.

The first time is a sweet miracle, the second time is nothing but nauseating residue.

The nobles aren't stupid; if he keeps playing coy, he'll be exposed sooner or later.

The next "fortune consultation" must have some solid, practical information.

Or... a bigger stage.

……

10:00 AM, Queens, Earl Hall's Mansion.

Sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling onto the carpet with its intricate patterns.

When Orian, dressed in a bespoke suit and carrying a briefcase, entered the reception room.

He was greeted by the butler's impeccable manners and the aroma of black tea filling the air.

Good morning, Mr. Zangwell.

Audrey Hall, lifting her ethereal skirt, walked in like a graceful lark.

She was wearing a light-colored lace dress today.

He wore a pure white fox fur vest draped over his shoulders.

She wore a soft hat adorned with an exquisite veil.

She looked both elegant and full of youthful energy.

The golden retriever Susie beside her wagged its tail, seemingly welcoming the guest who could see right through it.

Good morning, Miss Hall.

Orion gave a slight bow, his smile polite:

"The weather today is as bright as your mood."

It seems the goddess is always watching over the Hall family.

"Your compliments are always so delightful."

Audrey sat down with a gentle smile, her emerald eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Actually, I was planning to invite you to come along."

Have you heard that the Kingdom Museum is currently hosting a "Roselle the Great Memorial Exhibition"?

hum.

Orion's fingers, which were holding the teacup, paused almost imperceptibly.

Russell Memorial Exhibition.

finally come.

In that instant, countless streams of information flashed through Orion's mind—

When I first arrived here, I met "The Fool" Klein above the gray fog.

He boasted that he would use the card of blasphemy—

He used the clues about the "Black Emperor" as his membership fee.

The card was hidden inside a bookmark in one of Russell's manuscripts in this exhibition.

In the original fate line:

Klein had to take a huge risk.

Infiltrate the museum in spirit form.

Stealing right under the noses of the Mechanical Heart and Big Sister.

It was even because of using that unfortunate "master key".

This led to a terrifying ordeal involving a demon dog that got lost.

Demon Dog...

Upon hearing this word, Orion's gaze darkened.

If it were just that dog, that would be fine.

But what he is most worried about is the butterfly effect.

In case of his appearance.

What caused Klein to run into that night was not that mentally challenged dog.

What about Jason Beria, who has already received word of the deal and may have even been promoted to Sequence 5?

Behind that madman stands the Twilight Hermits Society.

We can't let Krishnamurti take that risk!

Orion quickly started calculating in his mind.

Since this is the "membership fee" I promised, then I should pay it myself.

Moreover, what need is there for infiltration in this situation?

Now that I am standing in the light, at the center of the aristocratic circle.

Why not stage a "substitution of the prince" in broad daylight?

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, and with the tight security of the Mechanical Heart, the card was elegantly exchanged.

This is the aesthetic that a "master of magic" should possess.

"Emperor Rosell?"

Orion put down his teacup, a perfectly measured blend of fervor and admiration in his eyes:

"They were the greatest pioneers of the Fifth Age."

As an actuary, I have always greatly admired his concept of "industrialization."

"It is my honor to be able to view the Emperor's relics with you."

"Very good!"

Audrey clapped her hands with delight:

"My father specially coordinated with the steam church so that we could have a better visiting experience."

We can have a short, dedicated session before the official start.

"Viscount Grelint and his entourage will also be there."

Orion's smile deepened.

Special session.

This means that the biggest uncontrollable variable is physically isolated.

Only a group of blindly confident nobles remained in the arena.

And those mechanical hearts that focus all their attention on the crowds outside the museum.

This is simply...

A gift from fate.

……

2 PM, Kingdom Museum.

At the Earl of Hall's command, the side door was opened to the group of nobles who were trying to avoid the crowds.

In the empty exhibition hall, only the echo of leather shoes stepping on marble could be heard.

"Mr. Zangwell, look at this 'Thinking Chair'!"

Viscount Grelint pointed to the extravagantly carved...golden toilet in the display case, his face full of admiration.

Orion suppressed a twitch at the corner of his mouth and pushed up his glasses.

Use an aria with an academic atmosphere.

This toilet has been interpreted as a mystical altar that "empties worldly filth and receives the torrent of truth".

This is utter nonsense about "the most vulgar being the most elegant."

They completely fooled all the nobles, including Audrey.

Even the way he looked at the toilet instantly became philosophical.

Taking advantage of this persuasive momentum, Orion quietly moved closer to the display case where the original manuscripts were kept.

Just then, my spiritual intuition skipped a beat.

He subtly turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd and toward the closed secondary exhibition hall.

In the shadows, an inconspicuous figure was pressed against the base of the wall.

They are clearly conducting some kind of professional "site reconnaissance".

……

Meanwhile, in the shaded area of ​​the secondary exhibition hall.

Klein, who was using the alias "Sherlock Moriarty" as a detective, was pulling his hat brim down low.

Using the skills he learned during his time as a night watchman, he attempted to observe the security layout of the main exhibition hall.

He also set his sights on this exhibition.

The goal was clear: the card that had been used as a bargaining chip when joining "The Tower"—

"Black Emperor" card.

Those nobles are so lucky...

Klein looked enviously at the group of elegantly dressed men and women, mentally calculating his own empty wallet.

Sudden.

His gaze fell on a figure surrounded by a crowd.

The man in the bespoke suit had a tall and straight figure.

But in every gesture, there was a familiar sense of composure that made his teeth ache.

That back view... doesn't it look a bit like Orian, who took several days off due to a stomachache?

No, their temperaments aren't entirely the same.

Orion is the kind of mischievous troublemaker.

This man... is just like a peacock spreading its tail feathers.

Klein shook his head, preparing to observe from a different angle.

Just then.

In the main exhibition hall, the loud-voiced Viscount Grelint suddenly let out a heartfelt exclamation:

"You are so knowledgeable! You seem to know everything!"

"Mr. Zangwell!"

Om-!

The surname was heard throughout the empty hall.

Like two cold bullets, they instantly struck Klein's eardrums.

Zangwell?!

Klein's feet, which were moving, suddenly froze in place.

His pupils instantly contracted to pinpoints, and an uncontrollable chill shot up his spine to the top of his head.

Tingen City.

Blackthorn Security Company.

The man with only one eye.

The culprit who took away 0-08, killed the captain, and plunged everyone's fate into tragedy—

Ince Zangwell.

Zangwell...

Why does this surname appear here?

Is it a coincidence? Or... a relative of that one-eyed man? Or even him in disguise?

The immense psychological trauma and stress caused Klein's mind to go blank for a moment...