On the outskirts of Tingen City.
The morning sunlight was lovely, illuminating the house with its dark red chimney.
The front lawn glowed a vibrant, lively green under the sun's rays. On the second floor, a bedroom window stood open, and sunlight poured in, making the desk by the window gleam with golden light.
A notebook lay open on the desk, bathed in brightness, its text clearly visible.
The notebook read as follows:
"Aurora Order members residing in Tingen City, Sirius Arapis and Hanass Vincent, following orders from their superior, Lady M, successfully located a half-mad young man named Silas Londor, who seemed to carry the aura of the True Creator.
Following instructions, the two deceived and temporarily controlled him and his sister, awaiting further orders from Lady M."
"However, Lady M underestimated Silas's dangerousness.
As Sirius spent day and night with Silas, the aura emanating from him rapidly influenced Sirius, who was a Secrets Suppliant.
His perception grew increasingly distorted until he went completely mad. He decided to kill Silas and use him as a blood sacrifice, praying for the True Creator's descent.
Truly insane, but it all follows logic."
"Sirius successfully killed Silas, but his ritual will fail.
He will lose complete control and eventually be killed by the arriving Nighthawks squad, led by Dunn Smith, who will suffer subtle corruption from the out-of-control Sirius."
(The next few lines were crossed out. Below them were several hastily written lines.)
"Incredible! Illogical! Silas Londor was not killed by Sirius. On the contrary, he killed the other party and consumed the extracted Beyonder characteristic, becoming a Sequence 9 Secrets Suppliant."
"But things haven't reached an irreversible point yet! The letter Sirius wrote containing Silas's secrets was accidentally burned, so Dunn doesn't know how dangerous Silas is.
There's an Aurora Order informant planted in the police station who happened to learn about Sirius's death and urgently informed Hanass that very night."
"Driven to desperation, Hanass went all in, deciding to conduct a mad blood sacrifice ritual.
This was forbidden knowledge Lady M had bestowed as a reward, but because of its extremely low success rate, Hanass had never used it.
But tonight, his ritual will be extremely fortunate and succeed."
"After the successful ritual, Hanass will arrive at the Blackthorn Security Company using information provided by the mole in the police station.
He'll perfectly avoid the Nighthawks squad rushing to his house because they'll choose different routes, so not running into each other is completely logical."
"Hanass will invade when the Nighthawks' defenses are at their weakest. He will devour Silas and create tremendous chaos."
(More large sections of crossed-out text followed. Below them, a classical-style quill pen floated above the notebook, writing freely despite having no ink.)
"That damn Silas Londor! He's survived against all reason once again! The evil god's ravings had no effect on him whatsoever. He harbors even deeper secrets."
"He's just like that annoying Klein Moretti, constantly disrupting Ince Zangwill's plans."
At that moment, a somewhat pale hand grabbed the quill pen and solemnly began a new line, writing:
"But it doesn't matter. Ince Zangwill still has many opportunities left."
***
The next morning, at Blackthorn Security Company, in the break room.
The rustling sounds of someone rummaging through things woke Silas up. He sat up and saw his sister Cecilia with her back to him, organizing a tattered suitcase.
Outside in the hall, there was constant commotion, voices mixing together along with the sounds of furniture being moved.
Oh right, so much had happened last night.
As consciousness slowly returned, Silas recalled yesterday's experiences.
Accidental death, transmigration, his sister, cultists, an evil god, and the Nighthawks, a mad ritual... After Hanass died, his remains slowly extracted a small black sphere.
Silas immediately recognized it as the thing Sirius had forced him to swallow, the so-called Secrets Suppliant sequence potion.
After that, Dunn had arranged for him to sleep in the break room while continuing to investigate the case himself.
Come to think of it, I killed two people last night.
Silas lowered his head, looking at his own palms. His hands were pale and slender, completely different from how they looked covered in blood last night.
Yesterday, Hanass's roar had injured both his nose and ears, but after a night's sleep, neither area felt uncomfortable, nor were they bleeding anymore.
This made him somewhat suspicious of his own constitution.
Contrary to his expectations, he felt no guilt or discomfort. Was it because the Secrets Suppliant potion had distorted his perception, making him cold-hearted?
No, thinking back, Silas realized his personality had always been somewhat unpleasant, petty, and vindictive.
Besides, there was nothing to feel sentimental about. Those people had come to kill him; getting killed by him instead was exactly what they deserved.
Rather than worrying about the life and death of those crazy cultists, it was more important to focus on his newfound little sister.
He turned his gaze toward his sister once more.
Cecilia hadn't noticed Silas had woken up and was still organizing the suitcase.
Inside were several clean but shabby pieces of clothing, socks, some fabric scraps and thread, a few ceramic bowls, wooden spoons, a small amount of penny coins, a few pills wrapped in paper, and various odds and ends.
This was everything the two siblings currently owned.
The suitcase had been left at Sirius's house and couldn't be taken at the time because the crime scene needed to be preserved.
This had made Cecilia throw quite a tantrum, and only after Hanass had also been dealt with and the incident concluded did Silas proactively ask Dunn about it and retrieve it from the police.
The officer who'd come overnight to deliver the suitcase had been very displeased, since there was nothing of value inside.
He couldn't understand why Cecilia insisted on immediately getting back a broken suitcase, was quite unhappy about making a late-night trip, and left as soon as he'd tossed down the case.
The policeman couldn't understand, but Silas could at least grasp his sister's thinking.
It was simply the obsession of the poor.
After all, this was their entire family fortune. For the impoverished, wearing one less piece of clothing or missing a few meals could become a cause of death.
To survive, they had to desperately clutch everything they owned.
"It's still here! Thank goodness!"
Silas heard Cecilia's delighted voice. Looking up, he saw her pull a small brush from a gap in the suitcase.
Ah, I think I've seen that thing before.
Related memories automatically surfaced from his mind, and Silas remembered. It was a tool his sister used for work.
After their parents died, the siblings had lost their livelihood.
The meager survivor's pension couldn't fully support both of them, so young Cecilia had to shoulder the burden of earning money.
But in this era, there weren't many ways for a frail young girl to make money, especially when the frequently mad Silas needed constant care.
In the end, Cecilia had chosen to do piecework for a match factory, pasting matchboxes at home every day.
Filling a basket of matchboxes earned a little over two pence. She could fill two or three baskets a day, and combined with the pension, it barely kept the two siblings going for a few years.
So the former Silas, during his moments of lucidity, would often see this scene: his sister sitting sideways by his bed, her cute little face set in concentration, using that small brush to deftly paste matchboxes.
When she noticed Silas had woken up, she'd set down her work, flash him a happy smile, and bustle about taking care of him.
"Silas, you're awake!"
Just as Silas was wrapped in past memories, Cecilia finally noticed he'd woken up and turned around, smiling at him.
Seeing that radiant smile, Silas suddenly felt warmth and guilt surge through his heart.
He suddenly understood why the former Silas had been able to grit his teeth and persevere all those years in the evil god's mad illusions.
Perhaps it was for this very reason: to wake up and return to reality once more, to see that lovely, expectant smile waiting for his return.