The night they fought Lawrence the Archpriest, there was something everyone seemed to have forgotten.
At the time, Seriu had been with Eve. Perhaps it was Seriu's talent for fading into the background that caused it to slip from notice—but Lloyd remembered it clearly: the two of them had been together.
Which meant that when Lawrence moved to seize a hostage, his true target had likely been Seriu. Only, with the situation spiraling out of control, he chose not to reveal his intent—and took Eve instead.
As Lloyd spoke, Seriu felt the blood drain from her veins. She knew exactly who Lawrence was. She had witnessed that battle with her own eyes—had seen that overwhelming, irresistible power.
"You… why would you think it was him?"
She shook her head, still unable to believe it.
"If it really were him, wouldn't he have just attacked outright?"
With power like his, no one could have stood against him.
"Perhaps… he was occupied with something else. Something that left him no time."
Lloyd's thoughts drifted back to the subterranean breeding grounds. If nothing had gone wrong, that madman had already melted the Sacred Coffin—had released whatever lay sealed within… the Holy Grail.
"Of course, this is only speculation."
He hesitated, leaving the deeper suspicions unspoken.
Those strange visions he had seen before—perhaps they were not hallucinations at all, but fragments from the Gap. In that place, he had glimpsed a crimson figure.
Melanthozo had once said that demons were the ones who could wield the Gap to its fullest extent. If the Grail had truly been released, then granting Lawrence some ability to interfere with the Gap was not beyond reason.
"Lawrence… what is it you're trying to do?"
Lloyd murmured. His gaze shifted to Seriu, and a new question surfaced.
Why her?
His thoughts tangled into knots. Everything rested on conjecture. Until the truth revealed itself, no one could know how this would end.
He exhaled slowly, fatigue creeping in—when suddenly, a shrill metallic whistle split the air. Having dealt with Suaran Bureau often enough, Lloyd knew exactly what it meant.
Hoofbeats thundered to a halt nearby. His expression hardened as he slipped his knight's sword behind his back, stepped to the door, and pushed it open.
As expected, mounted police had surrounded the estate, rifles raised, their barrels aimed straight at him as they shouted warnings.
But before anything could escalate, a voice called out—
"Lloyd?"
"Wait—that's one of ours!"
In this cursed moment, hearing those words felt strangely comforting.
A man dismounted and hurried over. Lloyd took one look—and froze.
It was Press.
"What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?"
They spoke in unison.
Silence followed—brief, taut—before Lloyd broke it first.
"A troublesome commission. It involves certain… confidential agencies."
As an ordinary officer, Press knew nothing of demons. Thanks to the work of the Purge Mechanism, he believed Lloyd was now employed by some classified institution within Old Dunling.
Press nodded, easily slipping into the narrative forming in his mind.
Some high-level operation, then… though this was the Stuart family estate. Could it be that the Queen had finally decided to move against these openly colluding nobles?
"Then why are you here?" Lloyd asked cautiously.
He did not know the conditions for invading the Gap—but one thing was certain: before the attack began, even he could not have guessed whose Gap Lawrence would appear within.
Which meant every mounted officer before him could, in theory, become an enemy.
"Gunfire, Lloyd!"
Press nearly snapped.
"This is the inner district! Mounted patrols run twenty-four hours a day—let alone the Duke's estate!"
The damned crack of a Winchester rifle had echoed down half the street. Reports came flooding in; the patrols rushed over, suspecting some lunatic had tried to assassinate the Duke—perhaps even wipe out the entire household.
"…I see."
Lloyd pressed a hand to his forehead. He had forgotten. This was Old Dunling—a place governed by law.
Even if that law held no dominion over demons.
"Llo—"
"What now?"
The relentless succession of events was wearing thin on him. He turned to Press—only to find the officer staring at his face, hand inching toward his holster.
Something was dripping.
Lloyd glanced down. His hand was slick with blood—dark, fresh.
Not his own.
It belonged to the intruders.
As the thought formed, Press, as if compelled by something unseen, leaned forward and peered through the doorway.
The stench of blood hit him first.
Then the sight—
A slaughterhouse.
Blood. Severed limbs. Ruin everywhere.
His stomach lurched violently; he nearly retched up his dinner.
And then—he saw her.
A young girl sat on the stairs, her white nightdress disheveled, stained red. She looked as though she had been frightened beyond comprehension, her gaze hollow, unfocused.
If Press was not mistaken… this was Miss Seriu Stuart.
He swallowed hard.
In the span of a few seconds, his mind raced—should he shoot Lloyd and run, or call for his fellow officers to open fire on the entire estate?
Watching the rapid shifts in his expression, Lloyd knew exactly what he was thinking.
"Wait. It's not what you think."
"Lloyd, you've worked at the Bureau too. People say that every day."
Most of them ended up behind iron bars.
Press took a slow step back. Just as he drew breath to shout, the night was pierced once more by the thunder of hooves.
A black stallion, pulling a black carriage—so dark they seemed fused with the shadows themselves—burst through the mist.
At last, the ones Lloyd had expected arrived.
Red Falcon had come, leading the forces of the Purge Mechanism.
Presented with their cryptic authorization, the mysterious unit swiftly took control of the scene. Press stood there, stunned.
So this really was a high-level operation?
Had the Queen truly moved against the Stuarts?
No one offered him an answer. The mounted officers of the Bureau were dismissed at once, and heavily armed soldiers sealed off the street.
"You took longer than I expected."
Lloyd cast Red Falcon a glance and pushed the door open wider.
The Purge Mechanism had been his contingency. Their network of Geiger counters blanketed Old Dunling; though Lawrence's corruption had damaged some, it had not affected this area.
Sensing danger, Lloyd had activated his own secret blood to trigger those detection devices.
Still, he had not expected them to arrive so slowly.
"We were fast enough," Red Falcon shot back. "We're not demon hunters—we need time to prepare our equipment."
"Enough of that. I need your help."
"Oh? That's a surprise. What do you need?"
Red Falcon's curiosity showed. Even a demon hunter, it seemed, could not stand alone forever.
Without a word, Lloyd dragged the two unconscious intruders forward and dropped them before him.
"Find out who they are."
He met Red Falcon's eyes, his voice low and grave.
"This… is connected to Lawrence."