Herag was not in a hurry and waited patiently at the door for the young man to go inside and announce his presence.
After a short while, a middle-aged man with graying hair briskly walked out—it was Blanc, the butler of the Morri Family.
Seeing Herag, Blanc smiled and said, "Mr. Herag, we meet again."
"Hello, Mr. Blanc, you look quite spirited," Herag responded.
Herag and Blanc had known each other from before, and there had been no conflicts between them.
"Well enough. It's said that Mr. Herag is here to investigate matters related to the Abyssal Cultist. Could you tell me more about it?" Blanc inquired.
Herag explained, "Recently, there was an incident involving an Abyssal Cultist. The mastermind of the event was a woodcarver named Max, whom you may have heard of. We've received information that Miss Amisha had once received a woodcarving gift, and this carving was made by Max himself."
"We need to retrieve all woodcarvings made by Max, so we're here to conduct an inquiry."
Blanc pondered for a moment, then nodded, saying, "I see. Please follow me, Mr. Herag, the young lady is at home."
Herag followed behind Blanc, entering the expansive estate of the Morri Family.
There were many people inside the Morri Family estate, but a mere glance could reveal everyone's hierarchical status.
As the butler, Blanc commanded respect, and other servants would bow to him, clearly indicating his position.
Herag followed Blanc for about ten minutes before stopping outside a courtyard.
Walking through the estate, Herag felt that one unfamiliar with the grounds could indeed get lost in the Morri Family home.
"Please wait here, Mr. Herag, I'll inform the young lady," Blanc said softly.
"Very well, Mr. Blanc, please excuse the trouble," Herag replied.
Blanc nodded and proceeded into the courtyard behind him.
This courtyard differed from others in style; it began with a garden leading to a three-story villa inside.
Shortly after Blanc went inside, Herag heard a series of light, quick footsteps from within.
Herag looked up to see Amisha in a golden gown jogging out. Upon seeing Herag, she tidied her hair by her ear and slowed her pace.
"Herag, you've come to see me?" Amisha hadn't heard what Blanc said earlier but dashed out upon hearing Herag had arrived.
Since Herag stopped responding to her messages, Amisha felt quite disheartened, but refrained from actively seeking him out to avoid being bothersome.
Now suddenly learning that Herag had come to see her, Amisha felt pleasantly surprised.
"Miss Amisha, have you ever received a woodcarving made by Max?" Herag asked directly.
Amisha was puzzled by the question, "A woodcarving?"
She was a bit slow to process, sensing a discrepancy between what she expected and what Herag was discussing.
Herag nodded, "That's right. According to records, you once received a birthday gift that was a woodcarving. This woodcarving was crafted by Max, the Abyssal Cultist. Miss Amisha, do you know where it is now?"
Amisha took a moment to digest this information, then realized Herag was handling official business, not visiting her specifically, leading to another dip in her spirits.
Seeing Herag's serious expression and knowing it involved the Abyssal Cultist, she understood the urgency.
Right now, the most important thing was to cooperate with Herag to resolve this matter; everything else could wait.
Amisha thought carefully, "A woodcarving... let me think..."
Every year, she received numerous birthday gifts from various people across society.
Among them were suitors, elders, friends, and business partners of the family.
With so many people giving gifts, how could Amisha possibly remember who gave what?
Many gifts remained unopened, and she wasn't even aware of their contents.
"Which year is this birthday gift from?" Amisha thought for a long time but couldn't recall anything related to a woodcarving, so she asked for the year instead.
Herag glanced at the parchment in his hand and confirmed, "It was the birthday gift you received last year, Miss Amisha."
Amisha pondered for a while and then called, "Blanc, where did you put last year's birthday gifts?"
"They should be in the warehouse to the west, Miss," Blanc replied with a bow.
The group soon arrived outside a large house, clearly used for storage.
Blanc fetched the keys and opened the warehouse doors.
Under normal circumstances, outsiders would not be allowed in.
But now, as Herag was handling official Serlandir business, even the Morri Family had to cooperate.
Once Blanc opened the door, Herag stepped inside the warehouse and saw it was filled with items.
There was a bit of everything, and some items seemed like goods for trade.
Herag scanned the room and discovered some precious herbs stored inside.
These items would be treasures outside, yet here they were stored like ordinary goods. It showed just how wealthy and indulgent the Morri Family was.
"In which area are Miss Amisha's birthday gifts stored?" Herag asked, turning back.
In such a large warehouse, searching individually would be too time-consuming.
Blanc thought for a while and said, "I'll ask the servant in charge of the warehouse for the specific location. I'm not sure myself."
As a busy butler, Blanc had no idea where Amisha's birthday gifts were stored.
After a while, a servant responsible for warehouse management came in, "Butler, Miss."
Blanc looked at the servant and asked, "Muse, where are the gifts from Miss Amisha's last birthday stored?"
A flicker of something strange flashed in Muse's eyes, noticed by no one except Herag.
"They should be over there," Muse recalled after a moment and pointed northeast.
"Lead us there," Blanc instructed.
"Alright," Muse nodded and led the way ahead.
The group followed, while Herag's expression turned somewhat curious.
He glanced at Muse, seemingly deep in thought.
"Are these the birthday gifts from Miss Amisha's last year?" Herag asked, looking at the mountain of gifts before him.
"Yes, sir," Muse replied. Although unaware of who Herag was, Muse knew his status must be unusual, or Blanc and Miss Amisha wouldn't have accompanied him here.
Before Herag was a pile of gift boxes of various sizes, each uniquely wrapped, forming a small mountain on the floor.
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