In the girl's memory, she saw Bayonetta talking to a noisy white box. It wasn't until Solomon entered the dining room that he realized the "white box" was actually a telephone. When he placed the girl on a chair, Bayonetta waved the receiver at him, her face wearing a mischievous smile—this month-long vacation at the estate was supposed to be a peaceful break. The Honor Guard training camp, Latovinia, Lara Croft's search for the Quetzalcoatl resurrection site—every matter demanded attention, but Solomon had already planted the seeds. Now all that remained was to wait for the harvest according to plan. At least, that was how he understood it. To everyone else, vacation meant a good time to do the things work never allowed.
Solomon didn't know whether the misunderstanding was his or everyone else's, but either way, he had to take the call. "It's Minerva. She invited us to an art salon," Bayonetta said, handing him the phone. "I knew you wouldn't be able to say no, so I accepted for you."
He sighed and took the receiver.
The witch leaned lazily against the marble wall of the dining room, arms crossed, openly and unapologetically "eavesdropping" on the call. Solomon pressed the speaker button and gave her a look. Bayonetta simply lifted her chin in mock indifference, but Solomon had noticed more than once that she was clearly paying attention. After hearing Athena's request, Solomon said helplessly, "I wish next time it could be a CERN symposium. Why would you think I'd be more interested in a fashion show than in those Methuselahs from the Mekhan region? They discovered the Higgs boson, after all."
"I know Jane Foster is the one who attends the most galas with you, but you have to come this time."
"I'd rather eat snow peas at Jamie Oliver's restaurant than go to a fashion show."
The witch almost burst out laughing. She had rated that exclusive restaurant as one of the worst in London, and Solomon loathed snow peas. He couldn't understand how such a demonic vegetable still existed, and he firmly believed not every organism on Earth had a reason to. Bayonetta patted Solomon's arm as he calmly replied, "Trust me, I'm serious. No, even if Taylor Swift were there, I still wouldn't go. Besides, I'm on vacation—which means I don't want to see anyone—"
"You have to come. Lorna too. She's of age for her first social season, and you're the gallery's art director," Athena said. "You haven't forgotten about Vanessa, have you? I need your help."
"—When exactly did I become your gallery's art director? Was it when I was freshly of age? Then Vanessa left New York, so… you really should've told me sooner. I don't want to be in the public eye. My greatest enemy is the IRS. And honestly, I don't even remember how old I am anymore—whatever's printed on my ID is definitely too low… Fine. But Bayonetta and Jeanne must attend too. I won't suffer this alone. Don't worry, I'm sure their wardrobes full of a thousand dresses will come in handy. We'll burn through at least one skintight evening gown a night."
"He's just joking! That's absolutely not true!" Bayonetta blurted out. Her cheeks flushed, and flustered, she hurriedly ended the call. But Athena had already caught on. Just before the line cut, Solomon heard her laughter.
"You actually want your adoptive mother to think I'm some—" Bayonetta was both mortified and furious. For someone as proud as her, this kind of emotional turmoil was rare. But she didn't expect what Solomon would do next.
"There's a child here, you pig!"
The girl's eyes widened as she watched Solomon scoop up the witch in his arms. She clapped gleefully and shouted nonsense words in delight. In her eyes, it was like watching a fun performance—she even hoped Solomon would do it again. Her cheers earned her a scowl from the witch, who immediately began plotting when she could ship the little creature back where she came from.
"After afternoon tea," Bayonetta muttered, patting the Arcanist on the head. "Jeanne will be at the table soon. It's two-on-one this afternoon. When are you going to name that girl? She can't live like this forever, all giddy and dumb. You need to start educating her. At least… at least teach her not to crawl into our bed in the morning and cuddle up against you when neither of us is wearing clothes!"
"I'm sure Dana will teach her. As for the name… I already have an idea."
Miriam. The name "Miriam" made a perfect root for her. In the Bible, it belonged to Moses' sister—a prophet. If Solomon wanted to shield the girl from the power of the First Demon Pillar, then the most effective method was to use his own strength to protect her. The name would define her as the voice of Solomon—a far stronger and more direct role than simply a protector. Generally, a true name could be thought of as a mathematical formula that decoded the soul. To understand that formula was to know every secret of the individual.
Secrets are power. That's why extra-dimensional beings feared their true names falling into others' hands—because it meant total control, even the power to threaten their very existence. Solomon possessed the true names of the 72 Demon Pillars. Aside from the loyal Phoenix, all others saw him as a threat. Without their true names, negotiations with Malbus would never have gone so smoothly. Candy alone would never have convinced him to abandon his forge and betray the rest. That's why the First Demon Pillar, Baal, was so intent on killing Solomon—because the one who held Marduk's true name and its binding sigil posed too great a threat. As long as Solomon lived, the Seventh Throne could never be Marduk's. Every attempt it made to interfere in the material universe would be intercepted. Solomon could detect even a sneeze from it—anywhere.
Take this girl, for example. Once she fell into Solomon's hands and received his direct protection, the First Demon Pillar's plan utterly collapsed. It could no longer descend into the material universe through her soul.
That's why Commander Constantine had rushed to a S.H.I.E.L.D. warehouse to steal boxes and files—he needed the technology to create special magical lattice materials. These materials were first used to isolate and suppress the girl's connection to the extra-dimensional realm, preventing her from being possessed by the First Demon Pillar. Now, naming her served that same purpose. Until Baal was locked in a coffin and ten thousand nails hammered into the lid, Solomon would never rest easy.
"That name is awful, darling," Bayonetta said after being set down. She stroked the girl's hair. As an Umbra witch and magical expert, Bayonetta knew that becoming a proper witch wasn't just about fighting—it required knowledge in alchemy, summoning, mythology, and history. She immediately saw through Solomon's plan. On one hand, she admired his kindness. On the other, she believed giving the girl direct protection was too risky. Others might use the girl's name to trace fragments of Solomon's own true name.
"I'll handle this," she said. "There are plenty of gods in this world—there must be a solution, right?"
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