~Hah. Did your System at least explain the benefit of this insanity cycle?

  I shook my head. “No, it ignored me when I asked for more information.”

  Apophis went silent, clearly pondering the situation. His purple eyes narrowed, gleaming faintly in the dim light. Then, with a slow hiss, he spoke again.

  ~Master, how much do you trust your System?

  The question caught me off guard, and I blinked in surprise. It was the same question Micah had posed to me once before.

  “I don’t have any reason not to trust it,” I said slowly, carefully choosing my words. Thus far, although the System might make fun of me occasionally, its actions overwhelmingly felt like it was doing everything in its power to assist me. “At the very least, I trust its goal is for me to save Adovoria, which would have aligned with my intentions regardless.”

  Apophis tilted his head slightly, his tongue flicking out to taste the air.

  ~Perhaps, he hissed softly, his tongue flicking the air as he spoke. The benefit of going insane and returning is akin to tempering. I once observed a practice in a cold realm where inhabitants subjected their bodies to extreme heat and then plunged into icy water, alternating between the two. The result was a hardened, resilient immune system.

  He coiled himself tighter as he spoke, his black scales shimmering faintly in the dim light of my room.

  “Maybe,” I replied, though my thoughts were already unraveling the more significant implications of the System’s message.

  The System had never provided advice or guidance unprompted like this. At the very most, it provided hints by increasing or decreasing my Intelligence stat.

  Why, then, would it go out of its way to provide direct guidance now?

  There was precedence to this, however. Grandov had revealed to me that he approached me in the bar of his Round 67 because the System gave him a hint that I was the key to beating the Game. That was apparent favoritism on the System’s part.

  But was it favoritism toward Grandov—or toward me?

  With both of us in the Game now, despite Grandov being 0.6 of a Player and having more access to Game functions, only I was provided info on where Grandov was at any given time. Grandov was not granted the same courtesy regarding my whereabouts.

  There was other evidence of assistance by the System. I had grown to suspect that the System was influencing some of the seemingly random elements of the Game. Sure, the Random Checker didn’t always work as I hoped, often providing useless bits of information. Still, when it mattered—when it truly mattered, the insights provided were exactly what I needed.

  It must be desperate for the Game to be won.

  That was the conclusion I kept circling back to whenever I dwelled on the System’s intentions—and, ultimately, how I managed to stomach its counterintuitive advice.

  “Since meditating is off the table, there’s no reason for me to linger here,” I muttered. There were far more appealing destinations where I could kill time—or rather, learn about their culture and power structures—while honing my control over Chaos Magic or Illusion Magic. Neither skill had seen any progress in this monk’s barren abode, which lacked both dead mana and mana potions.

  For now, I needed to go home. It would rain soon, and there was no point in wasting a chance to gleen insight from my favorite information broker.

  I didn’t have much to pack. I had already entrusted the ginseng to Leona for safekeeping and wasn’t keen to pull it out for my travels; it would be useless if the loop ended abruptly. Unfortunately she refused to store anything non-edible, stating that the time in the desert in the previous loop was an exception under extreme circumstances.

  “No. It’ll make me sick. I’ll only agree to store artifacts if you also agree to eat this spoon,” Leona had snapped earlier over dinner, ending any further discussion on the matter.

  “Leona should probably stay behind, though,” I noted. Putting her mind in order was a more pressing concern than having her follow me around. Besides, having burned the necklace that kept her invisible to a crisp, she could no longer stay invisible to individuals who could sense her true form. “But will she be safe on her own?”

  Apophis nodded his head in approval. His voice came into my mind, smooth and confident.

  ~As the young phoenix grows, so does her strength—exponentially. Thus, the order of her mind will be of utmost importance. But as for her safety? The monks will do her no harm. And I wouldn’t worry about her safety as much as the safety of anyone near her—friend or foe alike.

  Apophis relayed further details regarding Leona’s fiery outburst back in Ascot. She had incinerated the entirety of the wing I had been staying in. The only reason I had escaped unscathed was thanks to a miraculous combination of the Hindsight Reflex and A Fool’s Escape triggering in quick succession.

  Unfortunately, that also meant that one of my most powerful trump cards had already been played, as A Fool’s Escape could only activate once per Round.

  “I’ll request a carriage,” I said. “Though given the distance, it won’t arrive until morning time.”

  * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  “I need to go,” Remlend said, rising from the outdoor table where he and a handful of Frey Manor’s servants had gathered. They were sharing a late meal and sorting household materials in preparation for the showers expected in the next day or two.

  The soft glow of stone lanterns bathed the courtyard in warm light, providing sufficient lighting for them to do their work. The summer air was cool and fragrant with the scent of distant jasmine blooms that Jarvis had recently planted.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Ah, it’s that thing again?” a young maid exclaimed.

  Another servant chuckled, shaking his head. “That Luca boy—pulling his pranks even when he isn’t here.”

  Remlend’s expression remained neutral as he adjusted his sleeves. “It’s a task he assigned me, so I must perform it,” he said simply.

  The other servants exchanged puzzled glances. Remlend couldn’t blame them for their confusion regarding Luca Frey. Until recently, he thought of Luca Frey as nothing more than an idiot, much like everyone else. And truth be told, the task Luca had given him did seem like nonsensical busywork at first glance.

  But the state of affairs within the Frey manor had seriously changed.

  Recent events had convinced Remlend that Luca Frey was no longer the boy everyone thought they knew. He was confident that Luca was afflicted with the Golden Eyes Curse, destinying the boy to either madness or genius. Whatever the truth, Micah Frey clearly believed in the latter. He had followed every instruction Luca ever gave, no matter how odd, with increasing intensity as of late.

  “Also, it’s young master Luca,” Remlend corrected, his voice firm.

  The man who had spoken earlier grimaced and averted his gaze. “Right, right—young master Luca.”

  Around the table, the mood grew tense. The other servants shifted uneasily, their glances darting toward the shadows as if fearing unseen ears.

  Their caution wasn’t unwarranted. The Frey household had been on edge ever since the day of the betrayals. In one fell swoop, three members of the staff had been exposed.

  There was Kaiden, who attempted to take Micah’s life, only to meet his end at Luca’s hand.

  Then there was the lesser-known case of Denise, who was caught poisoning Luca’s tea but was spared from death due to Luca’s unexpected mercy.

  And Charles—a figure who had served the Frey household longer than most—was revealed to be a traitor aligned with the Guardians of Luminal. This third discovery appeared to have been uncovered by Luca Frey as well—the man was taken downstairs into the dungeon immediately after Luca had a private meeting with Micah.

  The message was clear: crossing Luca Frey, the once-dismissed family member was a grave mistake.

  Remlend’s gaze lingered on the young servant he had corrected moments ago. The shift in tone when addressing Luca hadn’t gone unnoticed by anyone at the table.

  But there was one thing that puzzled Remelnd.

  Why had Luca spared me?

  He presumed his Wallflower Curse helped him evade detection thus far. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Luca Frey knew far more about him than he let on.

  Perhaps he’s choosing to ignore me? Remlend mused as he made his way through the manor’s gardens. The faint sound of crickets accompanied his steps.

  Luca’s alliances with Sedna Ozeryn hinted at layers of plans and arrangements Remlend couldn’t begin to unravel. Whatever the case, there was one thing he knew for sure: the young master’s reach extended further than anyone had anticipated.

  And perhaps I am better off staying within that reach than attempting to escape it.

  With that thought, he quickened his pace toward Frey Manor, a looming silhouette with its dark towers against the backdrop of the star-filled sky.

  A sudden explosion shook the estate, the sound originating from one of the towers and reverberating through the grounds.

  Remlend’s eyes moved toward the left-most tower.

  That was the workshop of Sarka Jarbez, the genius inventor Luca Frey had recently scouted. Rumor had it that she was on the brink of completing a small portal and something far more dangerous. Judging by the blast, it was likely the latter that had emitted it.

  Explosions were nothing new in Frey Manor. Elda Frey’s workshop on the ground floor often erupted with thunderous booms, accompanied by her unmistakable maniacal laughter. However, ever since a private meeting with Luca and receiving a mysterious notebook, she’d been more fervent than ever in her craft.

  Remlend had noticed those notebooks. Several members of the Frey household had received them. He was curious as to what secrets these notebooks possessed, but as it was outside the scope of his duties, he didn’t care enough to investigate the matter. The risk was not worth it.

  As he entered the grand hallway, he passed Micah Frey’s office. The heavy door was shut, with yet another late-hour meeting taking place, no doubt. A constant stream of guards, mages, and political figures moved in and out, no matter the hour.

  Micah had always managed to maintain an air of effortless calm despite his endless responsibilities. Lately, however, his workload had doubled. There were new threats on all fronts, including whoever had sent undead soldiers to target Luca in Ascot. And there were new, unusual alliances—most notably the truce with Claude Noire. That tenuous agreement, too, had come about after a secret meeting between Claude and Luca along the road in Humpton Forest.

  And then there was the looming financial disaster. The fallout from the failed vote in the Noble Council to support the Financial Arcane Solutions had left Micah scrambling to contain the damage. It was a situation made all the more challenging by the whispers that he himself had played a role in ensuring the vote had failed.

  Remlend ascended the staircase to Luca Frey’s bedroom. Henry stood on watch outside the door, offering a slight nod as Remlend entered.

  Inside, the room was quiet and neat. Luca’s desk, clearly seldom used, stood near the window. Remlend walked over, pulling out the chair with a soft scrape. Glancing at his wristwatch, he noted the time: 10:59.

  Perfectly on schedule.

  His task was simple but peculiar: sit at Luca Frey’s desk at the top of each hour during the Remlend’s usual working hours. This was his final task for the day.

  “I’ll send you a message. Make sure you’re there to receive it,” Luca had instructed him with a cryptic wink. When asked how the message would come, Luca had only added, “You’ll know.”

  Remlend leaned back, his gaze shifting to the window.

  Was the message supposed to come by dove?

  However, that idea didn’t make much sense as the Frey Manor had a messenger bird tower, and all the birds made their way there.

  Another possibility was that Luca Frey had long forgotten about Remlend. It had been nearly a week since the task began, and no message had arrived despite checking every hour. Perhaps whatever method was intended had been lost to the obscuring effects of Remlend’s Wallflower Curse.

  He sighed, drumming his fingers lightly on the desk. Whatever the reason, he would stay until the clock struck eleven, as he always did.

  Remlend’s eyes followed the sweeping motion of his watch’s large hand as it completed its circle. The hour struck 11:00. He waited a few minutes longer, just in case. However, as usual, there was nothing.

  Rising from the chair, he prepared to leave when a sudden flash of light froze him mid-motion. A translucent blue screen materialized in front of him, its style reminiscent of the messages used by the Guardians of Luminal, albeit he’d only ever heard of it and never seen it.

  [ Remlend, this is Luca. Please send a carriage to these coordinates to arrive tomorrow morning. ]

  Though momentarily startled, Remlend’s reflexes took over. Grabbing a sheet of paper from the desk, he jotted down the coordinates with his right hand. Meanwhile, his left hand reached for a map of the continent.

  Tracing the location with his index finger, he frowned. The coordinates pointed to the heart of the Desolate Desert, on the edge of the Daylan Dynasty’s territory. According to the map, there was nothing there but endless stretches of sand and clay.

  A second message appeared before him before he could dwell on the oddity.

  [ Ah, and one more important thing. ]

  [ Make sure no one on the carriage has any Duex coins on them. Use alternative forms of payment—gemstones, gold, or anything else. Check the cushions and the floor thoroughly. Not a single Duex coin must remain. ]

  “Of course, young master Luca,” Remlend replied aloud. “I’ll have the carriage prepared immediately to ensure it arrives on time.”

  He waited a moment, half-expecting another message or perhaps a confirmation of his response. But there was only silence.

  Remlend tucked the paper with the coordinates into his pocket. As peculiar as the task was, he had his orders.

  Turning toward the door, he straightened his posture and walked out. The Desolate Desert was a long way off, and there was no time to waste.

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