Gospel stared at Xyrene—that shimmering violet hair, those silver eyes, the poised and tempting figure, the generous chest, the short skirt, the white blouse under a fitted vest. Formal attire, yet radiating a distinct feminine allure.

He looked at her for a long moment… then looked down at himself. Pathetic. Well, that was expected; some had called him a poor bastard before. Even Xyrene herself seemed surprised.

So this was what she meant when she asked, "What is this state, Mister Gospel?"

Gospel didn't know what to say. No matter how much he tried to appear indifferent, it was difficult—especially before a woman. A woman like Xyrene. Someone from the upper tiers of society. He should have known that a visit like this required preparation.

Words failed him, but he managed to recover.

"Uh—ah, my state? What about it? I mean… yes, I look terrible, but only temporarily. Besides, that's not the purpose of my visit according to your last letter, is it?"

Xyrene replied with a sympathetic smile.

"Do you need help, Mister Gospel? Are you facing financial trouble? Something of that sort? I can assist."

He cleared his throat.

"Ahem, no, that's not what I meant. I am in trouble, but not that kind. I've just been… very busy lately. Didn't give myself enough time."

Xyrene smiled warmly.

"Very well, Mister Gospel. But I advise you to take a few days of rest. Please, take a seat."

Gospel felt a wave of comfort radiating from her—soothing, safe. He breathed and pulled a chair to sit. When he looked at his shoes, he noticed the mud dripping onto the floor.

He didn't know who to blame. Xyrene noticed and eased him with a soft laugh:

"I'm not going to scold you, Mister Gospel, nor take this as rude behavior. I know you've been going through a lot lately, so there's no need to worry. Besides, the servants have been idle. You're doing them a favor by giving them something to clean."

She was kind, cooperative, and more than willing to pay generously for his work—even though he wasn't expecting payment.

Before getting to the matter at hand, he asked something that had been bothering him:

"Is it wise to keep monsters around you, Lady Xyrene?"

She blinked, intrigued.

"Monsters? Mister Gospel, explain. I don't understand what you mean."

He clarified.

"The maid who brought me here—her neck was covered in bruises. The imprint of a man's hand."

Xyrene finally understood.

"Oh! So you noticed. What should I expect from someone like you? But what does that have to do with anything, Mister Gospel?"

Gospel elaborated, since she still didn't grasp his point—and although he had no right to pry, silence would've seemed strange.

"The man who walked out of your wing just before I entered. That's who I meant. It's not wise to keep someone like him around you."

Xyrene raised a brow.

"Oh? And what made you think that, Mister Gospel?"

He didn't want to bore her with details, but he also didn't want to leave the question unanswered.

"As you know, Lady Xyrene, my instincts have saved me many times from things that could have ended my life. That instinct tells me that person isn't someone I'd keep near me—especially around someone like you."

"Someone like me?" she echoed, puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Mister Gospel. But let me reassure you: the person you saw is merely a court paramour. A servant of mine. So there's no need to worry at all. And perhaps your instincts aren't working well these days—you did say you were in trouble. Maybe you need some rest—"

At that exact moment, Gospel's stomach roared: Grrrrr!

Xyrene blinked in disbelief.

"—and perhaps a few full meals as well."

She refused to discuss anything else until he went to the adjacent room to eat. Only after that would she speak.

He wasn't someone who ate much. He filled up quickly. When he returned, he wasn't the same man who had entered. Now he felt slightly stuffed—but in a comforting way. His stomach warm and full.

He apologized:

"Thank you for the hospitality, Lady Xyrene. As for your letter—the investigation bore fruit. I found something strange on the battlefield, though I was surprised to find it there of all places."

Xyrene didn't appear particularly interested. She didn't ask about his surprise. Instead she asked,

"And what is this… thing?"

Gospel answered,

"Something grotesque. A living mass made of plants, branches, blood, entrails… like feed or fertilizer of some kind. A mixture of everything organic."

"Hm. And where is it now?" she asked calmly.

"Unfortunately, I couldn't retrieve it. When I discovered it, too many eyes were watching—temple, church, houses, even clubs. All I could do was seal the thing radiating that vile energy and send it to the Church for further study."

Xyrene tapped her fingers on the desk. She wasn't upset at all—on the contrary, she seemed pleased. But she hid it well.

"Don't worry, Mister Gospel. I won't hold that against you. You did what you had to do. And what about the information I asked you to gather?"

Gospel had expected humiliation when he walked in. Instead, he received understanding.

"As for the weapon's location, I found no direct lead. But there are rumors—among the upper circle of the black market and among Scar Bearers. After digging deeper, I discovered that someone hired a guild named Raging Floods to explore the ruins in Mortalis Vale...

The well known Ruins of the vault of Sin!"

He continued,

"Care to guess who was behind the recent events?"

Xyrene replied,

"The people from the Raging Floods guild?"

Gospel nodded.

"Yes. One side of the conflict that day belonged to them—Valgean Fork. But the other party's identity couldn't be uncovered. Something was shielding them. Farsight couldn't pierce it. A veil surrounded them."

Which meant the information Xyrene had traded from Lady Astreda was correct—one of those weapons had resurfaced. Rumored to be one of the seven Cursed Pacts, The God's False Replica."

Xyrene smiled, utterly unfazed. She had expected this. She had her own plans. She silently thanked Estreda for such a precious piece of intel.

She already knew how to use this information to her advantage. Gospel, on the other hand, had lingering doubts—especially after seeing Xyrene's condition earlier.

She didn't give him the chance to question her. She knew him well—while he knew almost nothing about her beyond a blank page in his mind.

She asked him about the current situation following the recent events. Gospel summarized:

"The Church and the Temple have redirected their attention toward fugitives from the southern regions. Rogues and bandits are increasing. Profitable trades like slavery are rising, and the kingdom wants regulation to benefit from it. The Church and Temple will justify their actions under the banner of 'protecting and aiding refugees from the southern war-torn kingdoms.'

But the southern nobles—and the people—don't like what's happening. They feel helping foreigners will only harm them. But there's nothing they can do. The Church and Temple are pressuring royal institutions. I heard an entire barony in the south was wiped clean."

He continued,

"As for what happened last time—they're not giving it much attention. They have a suspect in custody now. But the thing we discovered and the sample I sent them will complicate matters and force the upper circle to speak up."

Xyrene blinked.

"A suspect?"

Gospel nodded.

"I heard they apprehended an odd fellow in the northern district shortly after the clash. It's said he accompanied one of those involved."

Xyrene smiled and thanked him:

"Mister Gospel, you have my sincere gratitude. You helped me without asking for anything in return. You truly are everything they say about you. I can't let you leave empty-handed. But since I know you won't accept gifts or money…"

She leaned forward, enchanting smile in her eyes.

"Then consider me indebted to you. If you ever need a favor—anything—I'll be here to grant it."

Her smile almost made him falter.

"No—no, that won't be necessary, Lady Xyrene—"

She clasped his hand between hers, warm and firm. He felt the heat of her fingers, the quiet insistence. He tried pulling back, but she held him still.

He could only accept defeat.

"Very well. If a time comes where I need something, I'll let you know, Lady Xyrene. And until then… I'll keep your seal in case you need something from me."

He excused himself and left, head swirling with thoughts.

Inside, Xyrene chuckled softly to herself—remembering something. The smile faded quickly, like a mask slipping away.

She opened the drawer of her desk slowly. Her smile returned, piece by piece. Inside were several small glass bottles—bottles containing something that, had Gospel seen them, would have answered many of his questions.

The preserved remains of those same tendrils they had found.

'hmmmm... Slowly that's how it goes!'

A faint smile Formed on her face.

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