After a warm bath and changing into fresh clothes, I stepped out of the bathroom, patiently drying my hair with a towel.
As I passed by, I saw Frederick Clayton—the Head Butler—quietly speaking with a few of the other servants. Without saying a word, I walked right past them.
I hadn't taken more than a few steps when his voice followed me.
"My lord… please wait a moment. I'm coming now!"
I stopped where I was and turned back. I waited briefly, but it seemed he had no intention of ending his conversation quickly.
So I started walking again—only to feel him suddenly right behind me.
He must have made friends with ghosts to move so silently.
I exhaled and asked,
"What were you talking to them about?"
Frederick lowered his head slightly, glanced at the clipboard in his hand, and answered calmly,
"I was discussing the evening duties of the male servants with a few of them, my lord."
I gave a small smile.
"You're in charge of the male servants, correct?"
He simply nodded and smiled—his usual quiet confirmation.
I already knew that, of course. I just felt that if I didn't say something, he would keep staring at me.
Surprisingly, the drowsiness that had plagued me all day had vanished after the bath. I was both astonished and relieved.
At last I wasn't drifting off like an unconscious patient every few minutes.
On the other hand, the carriage ride back had been excruciatingly dull. After I decided to buy a watch, silence had reigned inside the carriage.
Fortunately, once we returned to the manor, the usual sounds and activity resumed.
Dukes are supposed to hate noise—but I found the quiet far more terrifying.
A short while later I reached my room.
I removed the towel from around my neck and handed it to Frederick. He said nothing—just gave his usual small smile and left.
Once he was gone, I entered the room.
It was already evening.
I wanted to know what the Ming trade delegation had discussed so far. Had they gone to the royal palace yet? Ordinary questions that any normal person would wonder about.
I walked to the desk, placed both hands on its surface, stared out the window, and murmured,
"Big Ben…"
I was about to push away from the desk when the voice returned.
"Deception."
At first it was quiet—bearable.
Then it repeated.
Louder. And louder.
I clutched my head tightly.
There was no headache this time—just the overwhelming noise drilling into my ears.
I dropped to my knees and pressed both hands over my ears.
The moment I did, the sound began to fade—quieter… quieter… until it stopped completely.
I slowly opened my eyes and stared at the edge of the desk.
I placed one hand on the surface and stood.
I looked out the window again and coughed twice to clear my throat.
I drew a deep breath, walked to the leather chair, and sat down.
I folded my hands on the desk and rested my forehead on them.
I didn't want to sleep.
I wanted to go see him.
Or perhaps he would come to me.
I closed my eyes gently and tried to empty my mind. Think of nothing in particular.
I waited.
The air and scent remained the same.
When I opened my eyes again, everything was normal.
I gritted my teeth and glanced at the clock.
13:30.
I repeated the process—forehead on folded hands, eyes closed.
Waited.
Opened them.
Still the same room. 13:31.
I did it again. And again.
I repeated it so many times that when I finally checked the clock again, it read 13:40.
One last time, I decided.
I closed my eyes once more.
This time the air around me grew colder. A gentle, chilly breeze brushed against me. No particular scent.
When I opened my eyes, I was exactly where I expected to be: the misty world whose name I still didn't know.
I turned slowly in mid-air, scanning the fog for the dark hand.
I was still searching when the voice came from behind me.
"What are you doing here this time?"
I spun around.
There it was—the massive, majestic dark hand, its deep blue eye fixed on me.
I smirked and stared straight into that central eye.
"Do you know anything about a voice that keeps saying 'deception'?"
The dark hand flexed its fingers slightly.
"No… A voice mentioning deception? No, I am not aware of such a thing, human."
I tilted my head upward and thought for a moment.
Then I continued.
"For nearly a year now I've been telling you to call me Elias…"
Before the hand could respond, I went on.
"What about Celestia?"
The dark hand's fingers froze mid-motion.
The great blue eye trembled faintly.
It stared at me with sudden intensity.
After a long pause, it returned to normal and answered.
"Yes… I know. Celestia—or as it is also called, the House of Angels—located in the White Sky. It is the place where angels establish and select Celestial Laws and Celestial Principles. Why do you ask?"
I rested my hand under my chin and looked at the dark hand again.
"Can you explain more?"
The hand drew back slightly, flexing and unflexing its fingers.
"I am no celestial being or angel—I do not possess vast knowledge. But this much I know: the White Sky lies above the Divine Pillars. I also know that Celestial Principles are inviolable… while Celestial Laws can be broken."
Still floating above the mist, I brought my hand to my mouth and thought.
If Celestial Laws can be broken, then why establish them at all?
If Celestial Principles cannot be broken… what exactly are they?
And what are the Divine Pillars?
I pointed my index finger at the dark hand.
"I need your help with something."
The reaction was exactly what I expected.
"I have no convincing reason to assist a human."
I lowered my hand.
"You've helped me from time to time over this past year… Help me once more."
The answer came slowly—strangely.
"That is true. But I cannot send sight directly through the eyes of the Celestial Heaven or the Divine Pillars. Even if I could pass beyond the Celestial Heaven, I would only enter the lower strata of the White Sky. I cannot retrieve anything from Celestia itself, human."
I frowned, thinking.
What exactly is the difference between the White Sky and the Celestial Heaven?
Where do the Divine Pillars lie between these layers?
I snapped my fingers and gave a small smile.
"Then investigate the Gray Man for me. A person… or perhaps a being… who always wears mostly grey clothing."
The dark hand lowered its index finger toward me.
"You think me a toy?"
I waved my hand dismissively.
"You want to be rid of me. And as I told you several months ago… once I understand enough about this world… you'll never see me again."
The dark hand withdrew its finger and vanished into swirls of dark blue mist.
I waited to return to the material world.
Suddenly the mist beneath me parted.
I plunged into absolute darkness.
No mist above or around me—just pure black.
In that void, lidless deep-blue eyes opened.
One was larger and slightly crooked.
As that larger eye trembled, my eyes snapped open in the real world.
The sunlight had weakened.
I rose from the chair and walked to the window behind me.
The sky had turned golden-orange—twilight.
I glanced at the clock.
16:30.
Roughly three hours had passed in this world.
I had already noticed over the past year that time flowed differently in the misty realm—even the very first time had been like this.
I exhaled.
"This world… is only a lie to me. To every human here, it is real. But to me… because of all the differences… it is one great deception."
I smirked, ready to mock myself for such a meaningless thought—when Frederick's knock came at the door.
"My lord… it is time to prepare for Baron Romeo's wedding."
I turned toward the door.
"Very well—come in. This time I give you permission to choose my waistcoat and coat."
Frederick opened the door quietly.
"I am grateful for your trust, my lord. Then we had best select the attire as quickly as possible."
He was a man, after all. I was sure choosing wedding clothes would take no more than two minutes.
One hour and thirty minutes later…
I had just put on the final coat when Frederick said,
"Yes… this is perfect, my lord."
I gave a half-hearted smile.
"Very well—then I'll go with this. No need for a top hat."
I had thought—because he was a man—that choosing formal wear would be quick.
Damn him. It had taken over an hour.
I left the room with Frederick.
As usual, we descended to the second-floor corridor, then the main staircase to the first floor.
The Security Advisor looked utterly exhausted. He was slumped on one of the downstairs sofas with a newspaper draped over his face.
I didn't know why—but he must have been worn out from guard duty.
After crossing the courtyard and boarding the carriage with Frederick and William, we set off toward Belgravia as Frederick instructed.
I hoped I wasn't too late. As a duke, arriving on time was a matter of dignity.
I drew a deep breath and gazed at the gas lamps being lit one by one along the street.
The most beautiful thing in this world was those flickering gaslights.
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Meanwhile, in the main hall on the first floor of the manor, the Security Advisor sat lost in thought.
"I hate the water well…"