Arthur

"Where is he?"

The sudden voice from the side drew both their attention. They turned and looked at Shaya, who was still seated.

Moria came to his senses and said happily, "You're willing to help with this?"

As the highest leader of this nation, he possessed at least a basic ability to read people. He had noticed it earlier.

Compared to the Grim Reaper beside him, the one seated in the chair clearly held a higher status.

Though he did not know who Shaya was, he knew that if this being before him was willing to help, perhaps all of his children could be saved.

"If you are willing to entrust your son's Fate to me," Shaya murmured softly, his tone carrying an inscrutable implication.

Moria clearly sensed it. After a moment of silence, he said, "Whatever you intend to do, please let them live. I will give you the best reward I can offer."

Shaya smiled. "Your payment has already been made."

But Moria continued, "There is a hidden compartment beneath the bed where I sleep, and inside it is a box. Please take that box with you.

"There is a deed inside. It is for a small peninsula, and from now on, it will belong to you.

"There are also some other things inside."

He fell silent for a moment, then looked at Shaya with pleading eyes.

"They are not valuable. Please help me pass them on to Alicia.

"Of course, if you are unwilling, I will have no objection. Your will takes precedence.

"But if... if you happen to meet her."

His lips moved as though he wanted to say something, but some concern prevented him from knowing how to speak. Nervously, he kept rubbing his fingers together.

"You needn't be so nervous." Shaya raised a brow and smiled. "Compared to the payment you've given me, this is truly no effort at all."

What happened to Moria's son benefited both sides.

So for Shaya, it was practically like receiving an entire peninsula just for delivering something—and the recipient lived in his own home.

A few years earlier, Shaya would have classified something like this as a telephone scam.

Moria let out a breath of relief. He knew that someone of Shaya's status would not deign to deceive him.

He gave Shaya a deep bow, bending nearly ninety degrees at the waist.

Shaya said nothing, merely lifting his wineglass and taking a quiet sip.

Even if the person before him might as well have been a god.

As the emperor of an empire, he had already cast aside all dignity for his children.

By the time Shaya left the palace, the sky had completely darkened. There were no stars or moon in the night sky. The air was thick with moisture, and heavy fog spread through the streets, with the glow of streetlamps faintly swaying within it.

When he had first arrived in the Imperial Capital, he had noticed that the buildings here were tall and densely packed, creating a kind of "canyon effect." Dust, fog, and smoke could not easily disperse, so thick fog often formed.

The Industrial Revolution had only just begun, and industrial transformation required time. Pollution from such things was unavoidable.

In a few years, this city's fog problem would only grow worse. By then, the fog would contain more than just moisture.

Sebas had brought Moria into the Underworld. According to him, he needed to make some preparations.

His Book of the Dead could only display the recently deceased and provide targeted information searches, so it could not foresee that future war.

However, the Book of the Dead in the hands of the original text—the true Grim Reaper—was different. The Grim Reaper would also have premonitions of death, so he must have learned something as well.

He did not need to notify the Underworld, but during an event of such magnitude, the Underworld likely would not spare any attention for someone as insignificant as him. He could only rely on himself.

After leaving the palace and crossing several streets, Shaya arrived before a fenced building. At a glance, it resembled a school, though it was smaller than an ordinary one.

The sign over the entrance read: Blue Sky Orphanage.

Shaya walked straight inside. The environment was fairly good. It was spacious, with plenty of greenery and fresh air. The interior decoration was particularly refined—at the very least, it was clean.

The royal family should have provided regular funding for this orphanage.

Shaya walked down the corridor. Within the dim hallway, only one room was lit. The room was spacious and filled with toys, and children of varying ages played together inside.

One child sat in the corner, playing with a puzzle alone. His messy medium-length orange-red hair was especially conspicuous.

Everyone else around him had either blond or black hair. He was the only one with orange-red hair.

That was the target of Shaya's visit.

"What is your name?"

Hearing the voice, the child slowly raised his head.

He saw that an unfamiliar adult man had somehow appeared beside him and was looking down at him.

Those black eyes were deep and tranquil. No one could discern any emotion from them.

He looked around. Everyone was going about their own business. Even the orphanage staff present seemed unable to see the man, chatting with their colleagues as though nothing was amiss.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"You may call me Shaya," Shaya said. "Your father entrusted your Fate to me."

"My father?" He shook his head. "I don't have a father."

"Everyone has a father," Shaya said. "Everyone in this world has somewhere they came from. It is only that, like the others around you, they never appeared in your lives."

The child raised his head, his dark green eyes carrying the tranquility of a forest.

"Is he still alive?"

"He died a few hours ago," Shaya said.

The child said nothing. His eyelids lowered, and he bowed his head to continue silently working on his puzzle.

"You are very withdrawn," Shaya said. "And you do not like displaying your emotions. That is not a good thing at your age."

He looked around. "That is why you have no friends here, isn't it?"

"I don't need friends," he said without raising his head. "They are all too childish."

Shaya watched him quietly and spoke in a low voice.

"You have much to learn."

After a pause, he said, "You have three older sisters as well. Do you want to meet them?"

At that, he stopped moving his hands and slowly raised his head to look at Shaya.

"Do you believe me?" Shaya smiled.

"You are a good person," he said. "At least, you bear me no malice. My intuition has always been accurate."

His expression was serious, and those dark green eyes gave people the feeling that they could see through the human heart.

Shaya said nothing. His sisters could naturally use magic. Though it was because of Fate, it was only natural for this child, who shared their bloodline, to possess some special ability as well.

He looked around.

"I think I understand why you are unpopular here."

The child's ability was probably not mind-reading, but rather a greater sensitivity to malice and goodwill than ordinary people.

But it was clearly easy to mistake that for mind-reading, and no one would enjoy having someone who could read minds around them.

"It seems you have nothing here that you are attached to," Shaya said. "Good. That saves me a great deal of trouble."

He smiled gently. "Come with me, child."

The boy lowered his head and considered it for a moment. Silently, he fitted the final puzzle piece into place, then asked,

"Have you completed the paperwork?"

"What paperwork?"

He looked at Shaya somewhat speechlessly. "The adoption paperwork. How are you going to take me away without doing the paperwork?"

"I think if I take you away, they will not stop me." Shaya smiled.

As he spoke, Shaya tilted his head toward the door, signaling for the boy to follow behind him.

Somewhat doubtful, the boy stood and followed Shaya.

Just as Shaya had said.

Not a single person around them let their gaze linger on them. To everyone else, the two of them seemed like invisible people who did not exist in the room.

Though he had long grown accustomed to being ignored, this was definitely not normal.

Coming back to his senses, he looked at Shaya's back and could not help asking, "What did you do?"

"You still have not answered my question."

With his back to the boy, Shaya continued walking as he asked,

"What is your name?"

"Freddy. Friday," he said.

"Friday?"

He nodded. "That was the day I came here, and everyone calls me that."

"But that does not sound like a name," Shaya said. "Let me give you a new one."

The child apparently did not like that name very much either. He asked, "What name?"

Shaya thought for a moment, then extended a finger and tapped the air.

"I have it."

He turned to look at the boy behind him. A nearly imperceptible curve touched his lips, faint light glimmering in his eyes as he slowly said,

"From now on, your name will be

Arthur."