Chapter 112: Invitation

At noon, Orlando sat in the duty room of the Red Sun Group stronghold.

Duty room was a generous term—it was really just a small room at the end of the corridor, furnished with an old desk and two chairs.

A stack of expired magazines and an unfinished report form sat on the desk.

Light rain pattered against the window glass outside.

Orlando yawned.

Last night, Prunier had dragged him to her room, and while she was washing her face, he’d transformed back into Orlando and escaped.

When Prunier saw him this morning, her entire face was puffed up like a cat whose fish had been stolen.

Footsteps echoed from the corridor.

Soundless footsteps.

The door opened, and Hui walked in.

Today he wore a dark long coat, its hem swaying lightly at his knees.

His half-black, half-white hair drifted slightly in the breeze from the corridor.

His heterochromatic eyes—left gold, right red—looked especially vivid under the dim light of the duty room.

He closed the door and gave a slight bow.

“Miss Olivia, I apologize for the wait.”

Orlando froze for a moment, then instinctively glanced toward the door.

“…What’s with that address?”

Hui smiled as he walked over, pulled out a chair, and sat down across from Orlando.

He raised one finger.

His knuckles were slender, his nails trimmed cleanly.

“Two reasons.”

“First, it was the commander’s request.”

“Commander?”

“Prunier Commander. She specifically instructed me to address you with respect in private. As for why… you probably know better than I do.”

Orlando remembered how Prunier had muttered to herself in the corridor last night, then recalled her puffed-up face this morning.

He roughly understood.

Hui tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening a notch.

Apparently spending several nights playing games with Prunier in his Olivia form, plus calling her “big sister” a few times, had a more dramatic effect than he’d imagined.

Hui raised a second finger.

“Second, as the only daughter of the Silver Dragon Queen, you deserve an honorific.”

Orlando’s hand, resting on the corner of the desk, curled slightly.

“Prunier even told you that?”

“Yes.”

Hui’s tone was as casual as if he’d been asked “Is it raining today?”

“However, there’s no need to worry.”

He placed his hands back on the desk, fingers interlaced, resting on the surface.

“In front of others, I will still address you as Mr. Orlando.”

Orlando silently marveled.

As expected of a man who called himself a merchant—he said not one word more than necessary, and didn’t skimp on respect where it was due.

He knew everything he should know, and didn’t pry into what he shouldn’t.

“So, Hui, what important matter did you summon me here alone for?”

Someone like Hui wouldn’t ask for a private meeting just to exchange pleasantries.

Orlando had a rough idea—when a merchant came knocking, he always had a contract in hand.

Hui reached inside his coat and pulled out a brown paper file folder.

He placed it on the desk and pushed it over with two fingers.

The paper bag bore the emblem of the Red Sun Group—a firebird holding a gear in its beak.

Orlando pulled out the documents inside.

It was a guard commission contract.

“Please take a look, Miss Olivia.”

The terms filled two dense pages, but the core content could be grasped at a glance.

As he read, Hui began to speak.

“This time, our goal is to reach a deal with the Urske noble Vishkov to expand the Red Sun Group’s economic channels.”

Hui’s tone was light on the words “economic channels,” as if he were talking about something completely ordinary.

But there was nothing ordinary about border trade.

“This is the first time our Red Sun Group is conducting trade outside the Empire, and with the organization’s funds currently tight, we can’t afford any mistakes.”

“The Urske border is highly dangerous. The route passes through frontier zones with chaotic military discipline, scarce supplies, and occasional activity from the Winter Night Church. We need you, Miss, to serve as our guard.”

Orlando’s gaze fell on the compensation column.

Five thousand silver coins.

He counted the zeros again to make sure he wasn’t mistaken.

In this era when the Federation’s Great Depression hadn’t fully dissipated, five thousand silver coins were enough for an ordinary family in Rantesti City to live comfortably for two years.

How much was the monthly rent for this Red Sun Group stronghold?

He placed the contract back on the desk.

“That’s indeed a considerable sum.”

“The Red Sun Group never mistreats its companions.”

Hui’s hands remained interlaced on the desk.

He didn’t fidget with his collar, nor did he show any anxiety at Orlando’s hesitation. He simply waited quietly, his smile unwavering.

Orlando was thinking about something else.

The money wasn’t bad.

But money wasn’t what he needed right now.

The rune Victoria had given pointed toward Wolfgang—”Beneath the throne lies the plain that guides the ancestors.”

He’d already made a trip to Wolfgang, but he still hadn’t figured out the Holy Relic’s whereabouts.

As for Urske—permafrost year-round, war bears roaming, the Winter Night Church rampant—it hardly seemed like a place with clues to Angelic ruins.

But.

The demons.

The thing the Winter Night Church worshipped—Nyarlathotep.

The gray mist that attacked him in the Dark Alley at Wolfgang, the sensation that voice left in his mind—he still remembered it.

What were the demons?

How could the Winter Night Church worship them for centuries?

The fragment sealed inside Shishouzhe’s body came from it—how did that fragment get there?

The answers to these questions were all in Urske.

Maybe he could actually find something.

“If you’ve made up your mind, miss—”

“Hold on.”

Hui stopped, his palms slightly open in a “go ahead” gesture.

Orlando flipped the contract back and tapped the second page with his fingertip.

“The Urske border is tightly guarded and freezing cold. How do you plan to get there?”

Hui smiled faintly, as if he’d expected the question.

“We’ll take the train directly.”

His slender fingers tapped lightly on the desk.

“The Vostok Express. It departs from the Empire’s eastern border, passes through twelve northern stations, and terminates at the Urske border city of Akhmatova. That’s our destination.”

Akhmatova.

Orlando searched his memory for that name.

He didn’t find any records of ancient ruins or angelic remains, but there was one impression—

The Sacred Mountain?

“This Akhmatova you mentioned… what kind of place is it?”

Hui seemed to tilt his head slightly, his gaze thoughtful as he glanced at Orlando.

“A small border city at the foot of Mount Sergei.”

“Anything special about it?”

“Nothing else particularly notable.”

Hui replied lightly.

But his heterochromatic eyes flickered under the light, the gold and red briefly merging for an instant.

“However, that sacred mountain itself is a local legend. The snow on it is said to never melt. At the summit lies an ancient holy lake, and the locals believe the lake water can reflect a person’s deepest fears.”

“Have you been there?”

“No.”

Orlando picked up the contract from the desk and scanned it from start to finish again.

The terms were fine.

Hui drafted contracts the same way he handled himself—everything that needed to be written was written, and nothing unnecessary was added.

He reached for the pen on the desk.

Hui smiled and stood up, pushing his chair back into place.

“There’s no rush to sign the contract, miss. You can take a day to think it over.”

“No need.”

Hui’s eyes curved slightly.

“Your meaning is?”

“I’ll go with you.”

He signed his name at the bottom of the contract.

Using the name Orlando.

The pen paused on the paper, leaving a small ink dot.

“I don’t care about the money, but I need to look into some things.”

Hui took the contract, glanced at the signature.

He said nothing, simply tucked the documents back into his inner pocket and refastened his coat buttons.

“Also, regarding this matter—”

“Don’t let the commander know.”

Hui finished the sentence for him.

His smile remained unchanged, but the corners of his eyes seemed to deepen slightly.

“That was my intention exactly.”

Orlando leaned back in his chair.

Outside, the rain grew heavier, drumming against the glass like someone tapping their fingertips on the other side.

“When do we leave?”

“Three days from now. I’ve already reserved two tickets for the Vostok Express in advance.”

“Two?”

“One for me, one for you, miss. We’ll get off at Akhmatova Station.”

Orlando stared at Hui’s smile and suddenly couldn’t tell whether this man was genuinely sincere or just extremely clever.

Ask him about one thing, and he answered flawlessly.

What you didn’t ask, he wouldn’t volunteer.

But when you needed to know something, he always had the answer prepared in advance.

“Even the tickets were booked ahead of time.”

“A merchant’s duty.”

Hui reached the door, his hand on the handle.

He turned back.

“Oh, and Miss Olivia, there’s no need to worry too much about the Commander’s information blockade over the next few days. I’m a tight-lipped man.”

“I hope so.”

Hui pushed open the duty room door, and the breeze from the corridor swept in, lifting a few strands of his black-and-white hair.

“Oh, and by the way.”

He turned back.

“The baked pies in Akhmatova are said to be quite famous. You might want to try some when you’re hungry, miss.”

“After all, the blood of the Silver Dragon should get hungry a bit faster than ordinary people.”