Chapter 1037: Section 1038 Three Ornaments

Angel had two things that Baltica coveted.

One was his right hand, and the other was Toby.

However, Angel had chosen not to engage in an exchange with Baltica at first, but the Graveyard Knight remembered very clearly that Baltica had once said that should Angel wish to trade in the future, he could find her in the Land of Repose.

Now seeing him reappear, the Graveyard Knight naturally assumed Angel had come to conduct trade with Baltica.

As it were, he was a guest.

“I would like to make a trade, may I?” Angel asked, speaking in Abyss Language so haltingly that it resembled a baby learning to speak.

No sooner had the question been asked, and without waiting for the Graveyard Knight to reply, Standean, who was standing on the other side of the bar’s entrance, suddenly erupted in laughter, “Kid, this isn’t a bar in Demon City, if you want to drink milk, you’d better look somewhere else.”

Angel, of course, heard Standean’s mockery. However, because his command of Abyss Language was quite limited, even though he heard him, he didn’t understand the specifics of what was said; thus, Angel didn’t spare Standean a single glance.

Angel’s attitude resulted in a cold snort from Standean’s nostrils. But in an effort to maintain his face’s perfectly elegant expression, Standean refrained from saying more. Also, the mark on Angel’s ear looked vaguely familiar to him and carried a subtle sense of threat; he felt as though he had seen it somewhere before.

In the next second, however, the perfect expression on Standean’s face suddenly froze.

Unlike before, the Graveyard Knight did not stop this linguistically odd young man but nodded instead, stepping aside deliberately, even extending a hand to gesture, “This way, please.”

The Graveyard Knight’s action finally caused Standean to abandon the expression he had so long maintained as he said coldly, “What do you mean, Knight sir? Why should this milk-nosed child be allowed inside? To trade? With what he has?!”

The change in Standean’s expression was duly noted by Angel.

Angel had not understood the earlier mockery by Standean, catching only a vague sense of the word “milk.” Now he caught the term “milky scent,” which led him to secretly wonder if this fellow could read minds, seeing his preferences perhaps? But he looked rather angry; was it because Angel was going in and he was stopped?

While Angel was pondering, the Graveyard Knight let out a derisive sneer, “Standean, you would do well to close your mouth. And do you really think I’m the one who decides which guests to choose?”

Before Standean could reply, a tantalizing voice that seemed capable of stirring the soul suddenly emanated from the curtains of the bar, ensnaring all present for a moment in stunned silence.

By the time Standean collected himself, he realized that Baltica, who had never spoken a word in the bar before, had actually taken the initiative to speak?

And it seemed she was saying,

—”Come in.”

The subject of this statement was, of course, not him, and with a bit of thought, Standean frowned as he turned his gaze to Angel.

How could this insignificant fellow actually manage to trade with Baltica? What made him worthy? Surveying Angel from top to bottom, Standean’s eyes were brimming with burning envy.

Angel could feel the prickling scrutiny from behind, but soon he paid it no more heed, as he had already stepped into the bar.

After Angel’s entrance, Standean’s face grew so grim that it seemed it might drip with darkness.

He felt like a joke standing at the entrance of the bar.

He couldn’t believe that Angel had anything to offer that would interest Baltica in a trade. If not even he could manage it, then how could someone whose strength was barely distinguishable from that of an ant?

While Standean’s jealousy was ablaze and his mind in turmoil, a sudden light “Ah!” was heard in the cemetery.

Both Standean and the Graveyard Knight turned to look, only to see a tall woman with short hair, unknown as to when she arrived, now seated on a nearby tombstone.

She was wearing very alluring attire, her skin dark, and perched upon two shapely, long legs, she sat upon the tombstone not far off.

Who was she? And how had she entered without a trace of life?

The hand of the Graveyard Knight slowly covered the long sword at his waist, preparing for battle against this unknown visitor.

“I didn’t expect that wretched human to actually go inside.” The newcomer was, of course, Fafnir, whose thoughts were full of complexity. She had also heard of the Resurrection Witch’s matters and was not unfamiliar with the rules of the Land of Repose. Baltica herself detested humans, and Angel’s disguise should have been obvious to her; yet, under these circumstances, Baltica had still allowed Angel into the bar, which was utterly perplexing.

It was just like when Odeclass had given that task to Angel without any reason.

Fafnir remembered being silently stared at across the boundaries of time and space in Wind Whisper Valley and suddenly, her lips curled into a smile. The secrets of this human seemed indeed manifold…

On the other side, the instant Angel swept aside the curtain to enter, every sound from the outside world froze at that moment.

It was as if he carried a soundproof barrier with him, isolating the bar’s interior from the outside world into two separate realms.

The inside of the bar was just as cramped as it appeared from outside, save for the bar itself, with only a few scattered tables leaning forlornly against the wooden walls.

“You’ve come after all.” A voice that resounded with extreme grace, coupled with a light chuckle, reached Angel’s ears.

—This was the universal language of humans.

Angel shifted his gaze to the bar.

A woman in a bright red dress, with her wavy hair in large curls, had a long-stemmed pipe entwined with smoke lying across her palm. She leaned on the back of the bar, one leg crossed over the other.

She didn’t wear any shoes; her pale, delicate feet were small and exquisite, with round, supple toes painted the same vermilion hue as her nails.

She was not exactly beautiful, with narrow upturned eyes and slightly thick lips that bore a crimson mole at one corner.

But the longer one looked, the more charming she appeared.

Angel bowed respectfully and said softly, “Good evening, the enchanting Miss Baltica.”

…

Angel sat on a stool in front of the bar, with a high-stemmed glass placed before him. The glass contained a claret liquid that emanated a sweet, sickly fruit aroma.

Sitting across the bar was Baltica.

She propped her cheek against the back of her hand gracefully, her entrancing tresses falling over her lips.

“Do you really plan to trade these few trinkets with me?” Baltica looked down, her gaze falling on three peculiar items displayed on the bar in front of her.

A standing crystal harp, a diamond-shaped monument inscribed with strange loops, and a ring depicting a serpent biting its own tail.

“On what basis do you think I would be willing to trade?” Baltica arched an eyebrow, puffing on her long-stemmed pipe. With the smoke whirling around her, it was impossible to tell her mood.

To be honest, Baltica didn’t see anything particularly special about the three items before her.

As a merchant, she was known for her keen eye. She had once recognized at a glance two valuable items on Sinafa, which speaks volumes.

And these three items, while indeed commendable in appearance, particularly the strange loops on the diamond-shaped monument that seemed to hold a bizarre charm, at most, they comprised some peculiar nodes of energy. But these were not compelling enough for her to take a special interest; she didn’t believe that these items possessed any magic power that could move her.

So, although a faint smile still lingered on her lips, she was actually getting a bit impatient inside.

Angel: “Miss Baltica, why don’t you give them a try?”

“Give it a try?” Baltica casually picked up the crystal harp on the left, her slender fingers caressing it. “Very well, I’ll give you a chance. I hope it won’t disappoint me.”

She activated the first crystal harp, and instantly, her world changed; a melody she had never heard before echoed in her ears…

While Baltica was experimenting, Angel’s eyes also rested on the three items.

These three items, or rather two items and one accessory, were actually part of Angel’s collection of works from when he practiced alchemical illusions. They weren’t his most extraordinary pieces but were among the most distinctive.

The first crystal harp was essentially a music box disguised as an actual harp, infused with alchemical illusion.

However, within this music box, unlike before, he didn’t stingily leave just one piece of music, but rather combined several nocturnes that shared similar charm yet varied in styles.

Lyrical, lingering, sorrowful, melancholic.

Baltica held the crystal harp for nearly two hours, never once leaving the illusion during that time.

Only when the illusion was nearly over did Baltica set the crystal harp aside, her lips slightly turning up in a smile, without saying much.

The music box within the crystal harp was indeed nice; the music was very interesting and matched the nights of this frozen old world perfectly.

Moreover, Baltica herself enjoyed music greatly, evident from her constantly humming songs the last time — this was also why Angel decided to bring out the music box.

She liked this music box a lot, but since she had finished listening to the music, it was already etched in her memory.

Therefore, for her, the allure of the crystal harp had somewhat diminished.

Baltica felt like she had gained an advantage, and the impatience that once filled her heart had now vanished.

The music in the box, though she had memorized it, she had to admit that the accompanying illusion was well worth exploring. So, when her gaze drifted to the second monument-shaped item, anticipation couldn’t help but fill her heart.

As she picked up the second item, Angel aptly added, “This is the Monument of the Strange Loop. I hope Miss Baltica likes it.”

Baltica activated the second item, and as her world transformed once more, a hint of fascination appeared in her eyes.

The Monument of the Strange Loop was, of course, a reference to the little game that had addicted the likes of Sanders and Kanter — Monument Valley.

The protagonist of Monument Valley, like Baltica, was female, which naturally made the immersion stronger for her than for Sanders, Kanter, and the others.

This time, Baltica immersed herself in the illusion for even longer, nearly four and a half hours, and reluctantly exited. The time was too short, and playing from a mortal’s first-person view in the illusion meant that a lot of its ingenious designs took time to unravel. Thus, Baltica felt regretful — she hadn’t managed to play through the Monument of the Strange Loop to its ending.

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