Mr. Death in the Steam World

Moen stared at Clara's clear, light brown eyes, several thoughts racing through his mind.

Phils is a top student at St. Alice Magic Academy, so her spells shouldn't malfunction at a time like this.

in other words......

"Brother?" Clara tilted her head and waved her hand in front of his eyes. "Why are you spacing out? You haven't answered the question I asked you earlier."

This girl is only twelve years old, but she's too smart for her age; she's not so easy to fool.

If you just make up some excuse to brush it off, she'll definitely start overthinking things, and might even sneak out to "investigate."

He needs to give her an answer that will keep her in line.

"That lady just now, her name is Phils, she is... well, just think of her as someone who specializes in handling things that ordinary people can't handle."

"That uncle's name is Arthur, he's a priest at the church, or something like that."

"Things that ordinary people can't handle?" Clara blinked. "Like the black smoke I coughed up?"

"Yes," Moen said. "Your illness this time isn't a regular cold or fever; it's because... you inhaled something unclean."

"That priest helped you expel the unclean things, so you feel much better now."

"oh......"

Clara nodded obediently, seemingly believing her brother's words.

After she fell asleep again, Moen tiptoed out of the bedroom and left the door slightly ajar.

Lucy was crouching at the end of the corridor, her amber eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light.

Moen crouched down and stared at the black cat for a long time.

"Lucy, what are your thoughts on Clara's situation?"

"Meow."

Lucy tilted her head and looked at him with an extremely innocent expression.

Moen sighed, feeling like he'd gone mad to ask a cat.

He stood up, walked to the window, and his consciousness sank into the depths of his mind, touching the "Mirror of Alice" that floated in the void.

The celestial mirror rippled, and three consciousnesses simultaneously responded to his call.

"I have a question for you," Moen said, getting straight to the point.

"My sister was put to sleep, but it doesn't seem to work on her. Divine magic, however, does. Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

The fairy mirror was silent for a few seconds.

"It might be a medium," the Cheshire Cat's voice rang out first. "In the supernatural world, this is called a medium."

"A medium?"

"Yes." The Cheshire Cat's tone became serious.

"A medium is an extremely rare constitution. People who possess this constitution are born as vessels for spirits."

"They welcome all spirits and can accommodate a much larger amount of spirits than the average person."

"But at the same time, they are also extremely sensitive to the nature of spirits—they do not accept all spirits."

"What do you mean?"

"It means—" the Queen of Hearts' voice suddenly interrupted, "that only what we, the Sons of God, use is spirit."

"You magicians use magic that is artificially processed from spirits. Mediums will only turn their backs on things that have been artificially processed."

"As for divine arts, the power of the gods is the purest spirit in the world, and mediums will not only not reject it, but will welcome it with great enthusiasm."

Moen frowned, keenly catching the unfamiliar word in her words.

"The Son of God? What is the Son of God?"

The Queen of Hearts scoffed.

"Oh, I remember now, you magicians call us containment objects, right? Humans are always so arrogant."

Her voice carried an ancient and timeless quality.

"All our power comes from the gods. We are the children of the gods, the legacy they left in this world, and proof that they once existed."

"Only you humans, with your blasphemous power, transform pure spirit into what you call magic, and smugly believe you have grasped extraordinary truth."

How arrogant, and how foolish!

Moen fell silent.

The Queen of Hearts' words contained a great deal of information, and he needed some time to process them.

The contained objects are children of gods, their spirits originating from the gods, while the magic used by human magicians is a product of "artificially processing" these spirits.

Clara is a medium who welcomes pure spiritual energy, but instinctively rejects processed magic.

No wonder the Flower of the Other Shore was able to control Clara so easily back then—the Flower of the Other Shore was a containment object, and it used pure spirit. Clara's spiritual medium not only did not resist, but actively accepted it.

No wonder Arthur's magic was so effective on Clara—the essence of magic is to invoke the power of the gods, which is a perfect supplement for mediums.

No wonder Phils's sleeping spells were completely ineffective—magicians use magic, and mediums naturally have a rejection of such "blasphemous" products.

At this moment, all the fragments fit together perfectly.

Clara is undoubtedly the medium the Cheshire Cat was referring to.

Looking at the sleeping Clara, Moen knew that, at least on the surface, everything was getting better.

But his intuition told him that things were far from over.

Arthur's parting words, "I can't say," and his extremely unpleasant expression, remained like a thorn in Moen's heart.

What could be the power that makes pastors of the Holy Church keep it a closely guarded secret?

There must be some secret hidden behind this. He wanted to find out, but he didn't know where to start.

Go to the city library and rummage through those dusty old documents? That's too inefficient, and you might not even find anything truly useful.

He needs a reliable helper and a learned mentor.

Professor Pip's name is almost obvious.

"No sooner said than done," Moen stood up, his gaze sweeping around the room before finally settling on the dressing mirror in the corner.

Clara brought it from her old home; she usually used this mirror to comb her hair.

The power of the "Mirror World" surged from his palm, and the mirror that had been reflecting the room's scene immediately rippled.

Once the ripples subsided, the mirror returned to normal, but Moen could clearly sense that the mirror had established a connection with "Alice's Mirror".

If he so desires, he can instantly teleport back here, no matter where he is, through the Mirror of Immortality.

"Your Majesty, Mr. White Rabbit, Mr. Cheshire Cat."

"I have to go out for a while, so I'll leave the house in your care."

The Queen of Hearts' voice rang out first, tinged with a hint of languor:

"You want me to guard your house? You certainly know how to order people around."

"It's not about guarding the house, it's about protecting my sister." Moen's tone was very serious.

"If anyone tries to harm her, or if anything unusual happens, notify me immediately. I will send a teleport back through the mirror."

"Don't worry, kid, we'll look after the little girl for you," White Rabbit's voice rang out.

"Don't just order us around, remember to help us find a way to break free from assimilation!" the Cheshire Cat said with a laugh.

Moen silently thanked him in his heart.

After tidying up, he walked to Clara's bedside, leaned down and gently kissed her forehead.

"My brother's gone out," he said softly. "You should rest well and don't go out."

Clara mumbled a soft "hmm" in her sleep, it was hard to tell whether she actually heard it or was just dreaming.

As night was about to fall, Moen quickened his pace and hurriedly slipped into the twilight.

If all goes well, I should be able to see Professor Pip before he leaves the school.