Chapter 742 : Interception

Eastern coast of Pritt’s main island, Tivian.

Under the daylight sun, Tivian was at last welcoming an unprecedented grand event. After nearly three years of tense and meticulous preparation, the Tivian World Expo had finally arrived at its opening day.

From early morning, the entire city of Tivian was abuzz with excitement. The celebratory atmosphere, which had been warming up for several days, now reached its crescendo. People had taken to the streets early to see festive marching bands playing jubilant music along the main avenues, followed by a variety of impromptu street performances. Locals and visitors alike lined the sidewalks, watching the parades while following the performers to their respective exhibition venues.

Due to the scale of the event and the overwhelming number of attendees, the royal government had set up numerous exhibition halls and sub-venues throughout the city. Each sub-venue had its own opening ceremony, and while all were grand in their own right, the main venue remained the most magnificent and extravagant of all—the Crystal Palace, the core pavilion of the entire Expo.

Once a vast shrubland in the eastern suburbs of Pritt, the site had been transformed into an immense plaza. Over the course of three years, thousands of workers had leveled the land, paved it with white stone slabs, erected towering columns and ornate fountains, installed landscaping and lifelike statues…

Various exquisite “works” were carefully arranged across this vast exhibition space. But at the very center stood the most spectacular “work” of them all: a towering glass structure woven from steel beams and glass panes, shaped like a cathedral—this was the Crystal Palace, now reflecting shimmering light under the morning sun, visible from miles away. Anyone approaching the area would have their eyes immediately drawn to this marvel of modern architecture.

Built specifically for the Expo, the Crystal Palace had long since been completed and had waited patiently for this very moment. Now, it was finally time for it to fulfill its purpose. In front of it unfolded a sea of people.

In the wide plaza before the Crystal Palace stood a massive temporary structure made of wood—a grand venue built in the shape of a theater, with semi-circular seating arranged in dozens of ascending tiers.

This wooden auditorium spanned more than a hundred meters in both length and width, occupying nearly half the plaza. At its heart, embraced by the semi-circle of seats, was a temporary steel stage. Behind the stage—and directly facing the opening of the seating area—stood a long, ornate row of temporary VIP booths, complete with individual shaded compartments and comfortable seats. These offered far greater comfort than the public seating.

And behind the VIP area stood the Crystal Palace itself. Its great doors remained firmly closed, guarded solemnly by armed sentries. Only once the King had delivered his address would they be opened.

At this moment, the vast seating area was a clamorous sea of people. Not only were all seats filled, but a large crowd had also gathered beyond the stands, trying all manner of ways to gain height and peek at the ceremony within. Some even attempted to sneak in, only to be apprehended by vigilant guards. Inside, audience members chatted eagerly, abuzz with anticipation as the event slowly drew near.

“So many people… I’ve attended many banquets and celebrations, but I’ve never seen anything on this scale.”

In one corner of the VIP section, a young woman dressed in a refined, pale-colored gown with golden hair pinned up beneath a tilted formal hat gazed out at the scene and spoke with a sigh. Her eyes flicked briefly to the nobles and foreign dignitaries gathered across the booths, then dimmed slightly as she continued,

“It’s just a shame Uncle Barrett couldn’t be here to see this. I remember how excited he was about what Tivian would look like during the Expo…”

The girl’s tone was tinged with melancholy. At her side, an aging attendant gently responded,

“Your Highness Princess Isabella need not grieve too much. The Duke’s passing is a great loss to the royal family, truly regrettable—but on a day of such joy, we should all lift our spirits and look forward. Otherwise, it would be a disservice to His Majesty’s tireless efforts.”

The servant addressed the royal girl with respect, and the one called Princess Isabella took a breath, then nodded slightly.

“You’re right, Nader… For the past three years, Father has devoted everything to this event. It’s the only thing he’s cared about in all that time. There’s still so much I don’t understand… but no matter what, I must face today with a more positive outlook.”

As she spoke softly, Isabella turned her gaze to the central royal throne in the VIP area. The king’s seat remained conspicuously empty. Not far from it, another main seat was also unoccupied—the one reserved for the Church’s representative, the Archbishop of Pritt, who had yet to arrive.

Standing in front of the King’s throne was a stern, broad-shouldered man with a heavy beard, wearing an archaic-style royal guard uniform distinct from the standard military attire. His hand rested solemnly on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes swept across the plaza with solemn vigilance, as if he sought to take in every detail.

“Captain Morogh is already here… but Father still hasn’t arrived? And I haven’t seen Brother Harold either…”

Noticing the scene near the throne, Isabella muttered aloud. Her attendant replied at once.

“His Majesty has not yet been seen. As always, he avoids direct contact with the nobles and officials… He only communicates through the captain of the royal guard. Since this morning, no one has seen him in person.

“As for His Highness Prince Harold… he also serves as Director of the Serenity Bureau. He must be handling critical and discreet security matters today. His absence is understandable.”

“I see…”

Isabella’s eyes dimmed with disappointment. Ever since King Charles IV’s drastic change in personality three years ago, she hadn’t exchanged a single word with her father. Even she, once his beloved daughter, had been unable to approach him. She had hoped that today, she might at least speak with him… but that now seemed unlikely.

“I hope… that after today, Father might come back to us…”

So she prayed silently in her heart.

Just then, she suddenly felt a faint, strange sensation. She abruptly turned toward the crowd, eyes scanning the dense ocean of people in the stands, as if trying to find something—or someone. But after a few moments, she slowly gave up, unable to spot anything concrete.

…

At the main venue, amidst the lively crowd, on a premium viewing platform with an excellent vantage point, Dorothy sat composed in a white blouse, high-waisted black skirt, white stockings, dainty leather shoes, and a small netted hat, her hair elegantly pinned up. She gazed into the distance at the VIP seating. After focusing briefly on Princess Isabella, she shifted her eyes elsewhere.

“Oh wow… there really are so many people. I’ve watched a lot of performances in the past, but I’ve never seen such a huge turnout. Today’s truly an eye-opener…”

Sitting beside Dorothy, Nephthys—dressed in a plain white gown with high-heeled sandals, her bare arms adorned with gold accessories—gazed at the spectacle in awe, her expression tinged with a trace of helplessness.

“After three years, we finally made it to this day… I mean, I am a Tivian native. I used to really look forward to this Expo… I never imagined it’d get tangled up with some cult conspiracy. Who knows how it’ll all end… I hope it won’t be too terrible…”

Nephthys sighed quietly in North Ufigan, her voice tinged with resignation, clutching her head. Beside her, Dorothy replied gently.

“Given the number of factions involved this time, I don’t think there’s much hope for a peaceful ending. At this point, we just have to do what we can. If we can reduce the impact, even a little, then that’s what we aim for.”

As Dorothy responded, Nephthys glanced around the plaza again before speaking.

“Since I knew there might be risks at the main venue, I managed to get a bunch of my classmates to head to the satellite venues instead. There are so many people here… I have no idea how those cultists plan to intervene…”

Hearing her words, Dorothy fell into thought.

“So far, I’ve only unraveled part of the Eight-Spired Nest and Blackdream’s plan. I’ve already discovered the plot involving ceremonial symbols hidden in the souvenirs… but I still don’t know what else they’ve prepared…”

Her thoughts drifted back to the carriage ride the previous day, when she had spoken with Little Fox and her black cat grandfather.

…

“This symbol…”

“You recognize it?”

Sitting across from the black cat in the carriage, Dorothy held up the rain-drenched umbrella, its original print now faded to reveal a strange hidden mark. She asked directly, sensing the cat knew something. The black cat paused briefly, then answered gravely,

“It’s a symbol developed by the Blackdream Hunting Pack, based on moth worship. It’s used in their ritual ceremonies… but why is it on this umbrella?”

“What sort of rituals would use this symbol? Can you explain?”

Dorothy pressed on. The black cat hesitated, then replied.

“It’s used in a lot of different rituals. It’s a general-purpose symbol meant to amplify ritual influence—especially to expand the range of the effect.”

“Expand the range of influence?”

Dorothy’s gaze sharpened slightly as she turned toward the carriage window and looked at the flood of Expo souvenirs bearing the Expo emblem lining the streets.

“If these symbols are scattered throughout the city, could Blackdream use them to spread a ritual’s effect across all of Tivian?”

She asked seriously, and the black cat nodded.

“These symbols act as receivers for the main ritual’s power. Normally, they don’t give off any mystical signature. But once the ritual is activated and infused with spirituality, they’ll begin to work.

“To affect the whole city, they’d need to plant these symbols densely all over. But even if inactive, their strange shape would attract attention from both Beyonders and ordinary people. So… wait a minute…”

Mid-sentence, the black cat realized something. He glanced outside at the street, then at the mark revealed on Dorothy’s umbrella. A moment later, he spoke with clarity.

“Don’t tell me… they hid the symbols inside the Expo emblems printed on all these souvenirs? The entire city is covered in them…”

It was a horrifying conclusion. Dorothy replied calmly but firmly.

“Let’s test it.”

She had her corpse marionette driver stop the carriage at a street corner, then had him fetch several different souvenir items for her to examine.

Every item bore the Expo emblem. Upon rinsing them with water, the vibrant designs at first remained intact—but within moments, the colors began to fade. Not all colors vanished, however. A dull yellow-gray hue remained—and reformed into a moth-shaped symbol.

Seeing the results, both Saria and the black cat widened their eyes.

“Grandpa… all of these souvenirs have the same symbol! The printed emblem was just a cover—once washed, the real image is exposed!”

Saria exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch. The black cat responded grimly.

“Most of the dyes and inks used in the emblem are designed to wash out easily. Only the symbol’s pigment doesn’t fade. Those colors were combined to form the ‘normal’ Expo emblem. But once the water washes the top layers away, the moth symbol underneath appears. These people… they actually thought of using souvenirs to spread their ritual symbols…”

As the black cat spoke, Dorothy had already fully understood the heart of the plan.

One of the conspiracies orchestrated by the Eight-Spired Nest and Blackdream was to use Expo souvenirs to covertly distribute their ritual symbols across Tivian. Through prearranged deals, they provided specially treated dyes and inks to the factories producing the souvenirs—dyes that washed out easily, revealing the hidden moth symbols underneath. Once distributed citywide, all they had to do was wait for a heavy rain, and half the symbols would be activated and exposed, quietly planting mystic symbols throughout the entire city without anyone noticing.

Crucially, they only tampered with the supply side—replacing ordinary dyes with their own—so they didn’t need to embed agents in the manufacturing, logistics, or distribution process. This explained why Adèle had found nothing when she investigated those factories and warehouses. Blackdream’s and Eight-Spired Nest’s people weren’t involved in any of those layers—so there was nothing unusual to be found.

Of course, not inserting personnel into the downstream chain reduced their risk of exposure—but introduced its own risks. For instance, those two warehouse thieves—genuine, petty criminals—had stolen what they thought were just low-grade dyes meant for souvenir production. But those stolen dyes ended up being supplied to mid-to-high-end fashion workshops instead, leading to a well-known clothing brand in Tivian producing garments that faded quickly.

Had it been a generic brand, this might’ve gone unnoticed. But the brand in question was one even Adèle favored, and the sudden quality issue created a significant stir. The Eight-Spired Nest had plenty of undercover agents and corrupted elites among the city’s upper class. Some of them might’ve bought clothes from that brand, noticed the fading, and reported it. Higher-ups in the Nest would then realize that dyes meant for the ritual had ended up somewhere else—triggering an investigation.

They found that the cause was two petty thieves swapping out the dyes—but even then, they couldn’t be sure whether it was truly random. So they sent Gregor—an operative embedded in Tivian—to conduct a deeper check. As a Serenity Bureau Hunter, Gregor had the proper legal cover to interrogate suspects and access resources for mystical analysis.

They didn’t need to mobilize someone like Harold, one of their most deeply embedded agents. Gregor was sufficient.

But what the Nest didn’t know was that Gregor was a double agent.

Sending him to investigate drew Dorothy’s attention—and she had now unraveled almost the entire plot.

“So… to activate all these symbols, the Eight-Spired Nest and Blackdream are just waiting… for a single well-timed rainstorm?”

Dorothy whispered, stroking her chin. She now understood clearly where to focus her first line of defense.

…

Back at the main venue of the Expo’s opening ceremony, Dorothy raised her hand to shade her eyes as she gazed up at the cloudless blue sky, thinking silently to herself:

“According to the earlier divination, the only direction from which large rainclouds and moisture would enter Tivian today is from the eastern sea. The Eight-Spired Nest will likely have already corrupted the Prittish Beyonder assigned to intercept those clouds and will let the storm pass through. On my side, the only one who can stop such a massive rain front… is Anna.”

Indeed, Dorothy’s only controllable extraordinary with power beyond Crimson-rank and aligned with the Storm Path was Anna in her Heroic Spirit Armament state. Only someone of Crimson-rank in the Storm Path had the power to resist and redirect a storm of that scale. Anna had already set out, and Dorothy had instructed her to hold off the rainclouds and maintain clear skies over Tivian at all costs.

By the time Dorothy discovered the plan involving the souvenir ritual marks, the items had already been distributed on a massive scale. It was impossible to recall them with her limited manpower. The only viable solution was to prevent rain, and thus prevent the symbols from being activated en masse. That task fell to Anna alone—and it wouldn’t be easy. The Prittish Beyonder corrupted by the Spider Queen was also likely a Crimson-rank.

Since Anna had only recently departed, and Dorothy had instructed her to monitor the clouds closely and only take action after they were deliberately released, it would probably still be a while before she engaged the corrupted royal Beyonder. Dorothy estimated that the Eight-Spired Nest’s plan would activate some time after the opening ceremony had officially begun.

“With Anna handling the weather, the storm front should be held off for now. But the question is… is spreading the ritual symbols through the souvenirs really Blackdream and the Nest’s only plan? Even if they fail to carry out the main ritual, they must have other contingencies in place.”

“Like that warning from the black cat... about the Dreamscape incursion…”

…

“Dreamscape incursion?”

Dorothy had asked curiously in the carriage the day before, reacting to the black cat’s warning. The cat nodded and explained further.

“That’s right. Even if you manage to obstruct their ritual, you still need to be prepared for them to resort to direct, forceful methods via the Dreamscape.”

The black cat spoke seriously. After a slight pause, he continued in an even graver tone.

“Tivian is home to the Radiance Church’s archbishop, and the city is under the surveillance of the Layered Vision. In theory, any Crimson-rank Beyonder or above would be detected if they operated within the city.

“So, if the Eight-Spired Nest and the Blackdream Hunting Pack want to execute a surprise attack with Crimson-rank and above combatants, their best bet is to use the Dreamscape as a gateway.”

“Gu Mian—that guy—can transform someone into a dream-form version of themselves and enter the Dreamscape. Once there, that dreamform can wait outside a chosen target’s dream cocoon for the right moment. When the target falls asleep, the dreamform sacrifices them—fusing them with their dream cocoon to create a gate connecting the Dreamscape and the real world.

“Using that gate, hidden forces from the Nest or Blackdream can bypass the Layered Vision entirely and appear right in the heart of the venue, executing a highly efficient strike.”

The black cat, sitting before Dorothy in the carriage, calmly flicked his tail while recounting his theory with sharp focus. Dorothy listened intently, then asked.

“That’s your hypothesis… but are you sure they’ll use this method?”

“I thought it through from their perspective. Honestly, there’s no more efficient way to get past the Layered VIsion. According to what you told me, most of Pritt’s upper government has likely been compromised—but the King and the Church remain outside their control. That’s why they still have to act in the shadows.

“If they want to end this quickly, they need a method to bypass rank detection entirely. The Inner Realm method—like Dreamscape infiltration—is perfect. And among all Inner Realms, none are closer to our world than the Dreamscape.”

The cat’s tone left no doubt—he truly believed this was their plan. And Dorothy had to admit: it made sense.

On the day of the Expo opening, the Church had expanded the Layered Vision’s detection field, covering much more than usual. Even the previously weak zones—like the sky and the sea—were now under heavy guard, especially after that previous werewolf’s “long jump.” Clearly, the Eight-Spired Nest and Blackdream regarded King Charles IV as a difficult target—they weren’t taking any chances. Plus, the Archbishop of Pritt would be standing beside the king that day.

Storming in head-on through the Layered Vision would never be as effective as a surgical strike. So the black cat’s theory was quite credible.

“Then… where do you think they’ll place these ‘gates’?”

Dorothy asked.

“Anyone present that day could be one,” the cat replied without hesitation.

“Those nobles, those ordinary citizens… there could be death-sworn zealots hidden among them. Or perhaps, innocent people unknowingly turned into gates by Gu Mian.

“In short, when the day comes, there won’t just be one gate. There could be many. And not just through Blackdream agents—some could be unaware civilians. With my current power… I can’t identify them all.”

The black cat said this solemnly, and Dorothy, upon hearing it, grew visibly more serious.

…

Back in the present, at the main venue of the Expo, Dorothy looked at the vast crowds of attendees and dignitaries and thought to herself.

“If Grandpa Black Cat is right… then among this crowd, there are an unknown number of gates. Right now, Blackdream and the Nest are waiting for it to rain—waiting for the moment the ritual is activated. And then they’ll launch their ambush through the Dreamscape gates… take control of the venue. It’s highly likely.”

“They’ve hidden their key assets among this massive crowd. Even if I want to find them, it’ll be extremely difficult. But… when it comes to finding someone in a crowd, I have a professional.”

With that thought, Dorothy pulled a pocket watch from her coat and glanced at the time. Then, she murmured softly.

“Now then… our dear superstar should be heading out right about now.”

…

Tivian, East District.

In a bustling section of East Tivian, brightly decorated with festive banners and lights, a massive theater stood tall. Before its grand entrance, a large crowd had gathered—some holding bouquets, visibly excited and eager, others equipped with cameras and notepads, clearly journalists. They all appeared to be waiting for someone.

As time passed, the theater’s doors slowly opened. A figure emerged, followed by attendants—and the waiting crowd erupted into cheers.

“Adèle! Miss Adèle!”

“Miss Briouze! Over here!”

“Miss Adèle, may I ask you a few questions?”

The moment she appeared, both reporters and fans surged forward. Bodyguards stepped in immediately to keep the crowd at bay.

“Everyone, today’s a busy day. If you have questions, let’s save them for another time~”

Wearing a sleek black fitted women’s trench coat and a large sun hat, Adèle smiled gracefully at those around her. Surrounded by adoring fans, she moved forward with practiced poise. Parked ahead at the roadside was a carriage awaiting her.

Adèle was on her way to the main venue of the World Expo to perform in the opening ceremony. There, she was scheduled for a critical presentation to be shown to the world.

Her stride was elegant and confident. But just before she reached the carriage, several figures stepped out from the crowd and blocked her path. On closer inspection, they were uniformed police officers.

“Miss Briouze, please wait a moment.”

The officer in front, a mustachioed man, spoke sternly as he addressed Adèle. She furrowed her brow slightly at the sight of uniformed security typically only seen at key venues.

“Gentlemen… is something the matter? If it’s not urgent, could we address it later? I have something important to attend to…”

She tried to speak diplomatically, but the head officer smiled and replied,

“Miss Briouze, we understand you're in a hurry to perform at the Crystal Palace. But we’ve just come from there—we’re with the event staff. We’ve been sent to inform you of a last-minute program update. Your segment has been reassigned to the Second East Tivian Sub-Venue, so there’s no need to go to the main venue anymore.”

Adèle blinked, slightly surprised, then asked with a touch of skepticism.

“My performance… has been moved to a sub-venue? That can’t be right, officer. I received a personal invitation from Sir Sorin of the Opening Ceremony Committee. He called me ‘the Pearl of Tivian’—said I was an indispensable part of this event… Are you sure there hasn’t been a mistake?”

“No mistake, miss. Look—here’s the official directive from the committee. It’s specifically addressed to you, and fully signed and stamped. It should prove our claim.”

The officer handed her a few pages of documents, which Adèle took and scanned. She shook her head in disbelief.

“It all looks official enough… But why would they issue such a formal document for a simple schedule change? Why won’t they let me appear at the main venue? Could I at least contact Sir Sorin to confirm this?”

In response, the officer pulled out an envelope.

“This is a letter from Sir Sorin himself. It explains the reasoning. He believes that, as the Pearl of Tivian, your dance should be offered to the wider public—to ordinary citizens—rather than just the wealthy guests attending the main venue. He feels this would benefit your future career.”

As he spoke, Adèle opened the envelope and skimmed the letter. A cold smile crept across her lips.

“Hmph… what a laughable excuse. Please move aside, gentlemen. I’ll go speak with Sir Sorin personally.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Briouze. We can’t allow you to go to the main venue. That’s the committee’s order. We’re under instruction to ensure you proceed to the sub-venue immediately.”

There was no mistaking the coercive tone in the officer’s voice. Adèle’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Oh… how strict you all are. Not even a little leeway?”

Her voice held a trace of playful charm, and her alluring demeanor and graceful posture stirred the guards—visibly affecting them. A flicker of desire ignited in their hearts… and that flicker suddenly flared into a blazing fire, spreading uncontrollably.

“This… well, maybe we could… huh!!”

Just as the guards were about to yield under the weight of their own longing, strange markings appeared faintly on the skin beneath their uniforms. A blinding, stabbing pain erupted in their minds—like countless needles driving through their brains. The agony jolted them from their daze, making them stagger.

The pain cleared their heads instantly. The lead officer, now gasping for breath, turned to Adèle with narrowed eyes and said,

“Haa… haa… I’m afraid there’s no compromise, Miss Adèle. Please head to the sub-venue now. We’ll be accompanying you.”

Adèle’s expression darkened slightly. Her tone turned cool.

“So… you really don’t intend to back down.”

“Haa… haa… I’m afraid not. These are our orders. If Miss Briouze insists on going to the main venue… you’ll have to go through us.”

The officer looked directly at her as he spoke. Adèle fell silent for a moment, staring at the men before her.

Fans in the crowd watched anxiously, concerned by the scene unfolding. Reporters snapped photos and scribbled furiously, documenting this sudden newsworthy moment.

To the onlookers, it seemed that Adèle was caught in a difficult dilemma.

But in truth, Adèle was silently offering up a prayer in her heart.

“O great Aka, Recorder of All Things… please connect me now…”

…

“Adèle’s been blocked?”

At the main venue of the Expo’s opening ceremony, seated among the vast audience, Dorothy furrowed her brows as she received Adèle’s prayer and processed the situation. She had anticipated that something might go wrong on Adèle’s end—but not quite in this way.

“Adèle’s unique identity isn’t much of a secret within Tivian’s mysticism world… Many people know about her special traits. She even performed at the Temple of the Goddess of Beauty during the attempted assassination of Falano, in front of countless members of high society. With that kind of visibility in both the mystic and mundane worlds, there’s no way the Eight-Spired Nest wouldn’t have her on their radar.

“Even if they couldn’t definitively determine whether she posed a threat to them, letting an uncontrolled Beyonder like her step into the main venue would always be a risk from their perspective.

“At last year’s New Year’s Gala—the one where Duke Barrett was assassinated—one plan after another failed until they finally had to bring in the Night Demon to salvage it. And Adèle was on stage performing at that gala.

“They may already suspect that Adèle played some hidden role in the failure of that operation. Even without direct evidence, it would still make sense for them to eliminate her as a variable from this opening ceremony.

“King Charles IV only personally oversaw the construction of the Crystal Palace—he hasn’t had the energy to manage the actual ceremony itself. That gave the Nest the opening they needed to corrupt the organizing committee and quietly cut Adèle’s performance from the main venue.”

“They really are being thorough… trying to eliminate all instability. The Eight-Spired Nest is nothing if not cautious.”

Rubbing her chin, Dorothy looked pensive. She had just been thinking of relying on Adèle to help locate targets in the crowd—only for this sudden restriction to arise. It was inconvenient.

“What should I do, Little Detective…? These guys won’t let me through, and now they’re provoking me. Should I just flatten them all and go anyway?”

Adèle’s voice rang in Dorothy’s mind again. Dorothy immediately responded with stern urgency.

“No. Absolutely do not resort to force. That’s exactly what they’re waiting for. Don’t play into their hands. If you make a move now, you can forget about performing at the main venue today.”

There was reason behind Dorothy’s firm tone—one rooted in the delicate political situation.

Right now, Charles IV might be opposed to the Eight-Spired Nest, but that didn’t mean he was allied with Dorothy either. Based on everything she’d pieced together so far, Dorothy suspected that Charles was currently in a state of total isolation—trusting no one. Even Misha had been attacked when she tried to approach him tentatively. In his eyes, anyone could be a threat.

If Adèle were to fight her way past the guards, Charles IV would have no way to assess her true allegiance. Considering that the Nest and Blackdream likely now controlled the opening ceremony committee, if Adèle tried to force her way into performing, it would seem suspicious—very suspicious. The king, already paranoid, might decide to shut her down on the spot.

Even worse, if Adèle insisted on performing after being barred, she could ignite direct conflict between Dorothy’s side and the king himself—exactly the scenario the Eight-Spired Nest likely wanted most.

Therefore, under no circumstances could Adèle use brute force—at least not openly.

“Adèle, just go along with them for now. Head to the sub-venue. I’ll figure something out. Stay in contact—and walk slowly.”

Dorothy’s voice was calm but determined. Adèle replied soon after.

“Alright… I understand, Little Detective. I’ll leave this to you—let’s hope you come up with something good…”

Hearing that, Dorothy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. After a moment of silence, she turned to Nephthys beside her and spoke.

“Senior Nephthys, there’s still time before the opening ceremony begins. I have a task I’d like to ask of you.”

“Huh? What is it now?”

Nephthys blinked in confusion. Dorothy replied directly.

“Time’s tight. Head into the East District right now. I’ll explain everything as you go.”

“Oh… well, since it’s you asking, Miss Dorothy… alright. I’m heading out. Save my seat!”

Nephthys smiled and stood up, heading out of the stands via a side staircase.

Once Dorothy watched her leave, she turned her focus back to her other networks. She activated a communication link.

“Hello… is this Mr. Black Dog? This is Scholar. I have a mission I need you to take on…”

…

Tivian, East District.

In front of a bustling theater on a lively street, Adèle—who had stood silently for a moment—suddenly stirred. She sighed softly, then looked at the officers in front of her and spoke.

“Alright, fine. You win. I won’t go to the main venue.”

Her words prompted a faint smile from the lead officer, who replied.

“We’re very grateful for your cooperation, Miss Briouze. Please, step into the carriage—we’ll escort you to the Second Sub-Venue of East Tivian.”

As he said this, he gestured invitingly toward the carriage. But Adèle brushed him off without so much as a glance.

“It’s close enough. No need for a ride—I’ll walk.”

With that, she turned and began walking briskly down the road without looking back. The officers exchanged glances, then followed her in silence.

So it was that Adèle walked in front, the guards trailed close behind, and a large throng of fans and reporters lingered further back. The officers stuck to her like shadows, unwilling to let her out of their sight for even a moment.

“Persistent, aren’t they…”

Adèle thought to herself as she walked. She swept her gaze along the sidewalks and up at the windows of nearby buildings. From the corners of her vision, she could sense hostile desires aimed her way—many of them.

“So it’s not just the ones behind me. There are quite a few watching from the shadows as well. If there were more White Ash-rank enemies among them, I’d have a hard time dealing with this head-on. The Little Detective was right—I can’t go in swinging. What I need now… is an opening.”

Adèle strolled at a leisurely pace, heading toward the sub-venue, unhurried. All around her, both overt and covert eyes trailed her every step. But none of those watching were in any rush. After all, their goal wasn’t necessarily to escort Adèle to her destination—just to ensure she didn’t escape to the main venue.

It would be exceedingly difficult for Adèle to shake them off without using force. But she wasn’t worried yet. She was waiting for an opportunity.

And soon, it appeared.

Turning a corner, Adèle arrived at a bustling intersection where a large crowd had gathered to watch a parade of musicians and dancers.

The moment she laid eyes on the crowd, an idea struck her. Almost immediately, someone in the audience noticed her.

“Ah! Look—it’s Adèle!”

“What? Adèle from Tivian?!”

“It really is Miss Briouze! She looks exactly like the posters—so beautiful!”

The moment someone called her name, nearly everyone turned to look in her direction. In an instant, the street exploded with excitement. People surged forward from every side, chanting her name, calling out greetings, and rushing toward her in a frenzy of admiration.

The sea of bodies completely engulfed Adèle, swallowing her from sight. The guards behind her could no longer see her at all. Human walls rose up between them, blocking their view and cutting them off entirely.

The Eight-Spired Nest’s disguised officers tried to force their way through, but the enthusiastic crowd only grew larger and more chaotic. Their efforts to clear a path were futile—and given the identities they were posing as, they couldn’t very well start beating civilians just to get through.

“We’ve lost visual on her. What now?”

One of the officers turned to the commander, who simply sneered.

“She thinks she can escape us with a stunt like this? That’s underestimating us, Miss Briouze.”

The commander smirked darkly. He had more than one way to track her down in the chaos.

He was confident.

They’d prepared thoroughly.

With them here—Adèle would never make it to the main venue to dance her dance.