Although they had deduced that the enemy was probably the Iron Hook Demon inherited by Jack the Ripper, Iver, the two others, and the child did not place complete faith in this conclusion and lower their guard.
To be safe, they still hid inside the abandoned chemical plant, watching the only entrance from the shadows.
Iver could not expose his abilities from the Path of Transcendence, so he could neither draw an Anti-Demon Magic Array nor explain the Iron Hook Demon's habits and weaknesses.
There was nothing else to do, so he simply found seats upstairs with Lu Lu and sat down to chat. They talked about music, poetry, and philosophy, discussed the nonexistent "I have a friend," and shared all sorts of secrets from across the continent, as well as the vulgar, disreputable rumors that circulated only among the common folk of the Bottom Layer. Time passed quickly.
They even found time to renew Little Iver's lullaby, making sure he would not wake up in a panic.
It was only then that they realized that the couple and Little Iver had not eaten breakfast. It was only a little past ten, yet they were already starting to feel hungry.
Fortunately, Little Iver was already four years old this year and had been weaned long ago. Otherwise, if he were still a baby and woke up hungry, unable to stop crying, Iver would probably have had to politely step aside for a moment.
A four-year-old child going hungry for two meals was not a major problem.
Iver himself had said so. He had said it was fine.
After all, according to the original history, Little Iver would be sent to an Orphanage in a few days. By then, going hungry and never getting enough to eat would be part of his daily life. But according to the Timeline of this fabricated world, Julio and Annie clearly would not have to die, and Little Iver should be able to grow up beside his biological parents.
Of course, the possibility of such a future could only exist in their idle conversation.
Although this dream world appeared incredibly real, with all sorts of sensations and even hunger, it was undoubtedly fabricated—it was filled with all kinds of incongruities in the details, constantly reminding the participants in the ritual that this was merely a temporary fictional world.
It was as though this would make people regard even the stories that took place during the ritual as illusory.
By contrast, Lu Lu, an inexperienced newcomer, seriously discussed the world's future development with Iver, trying to deduce why they had encountered such a problem.
She was even guessing that Iver Moriarty's biological parents had probably been killed by the Iron Hook Demon... But she could not figure out how Little Iver had survived. After that, she began enthusiastically enumerating every possible way they might have been attacked with Iver.
Sherlock mentioned once that "the story that happens in this world may not necessarily be the same as in the real world," but Lu Lu clearly did not take it in. He said no more and could not be bothered to listen. Instead, he turned and went exploring through the chemical plant, satisfying his curiosity and thirst for knowledge.
He had gained something, at least.
Sherlock found two bottles of pure water and a bottle of concentrated sulfuric acid in the abandoned laboratory. They could be used as spellcasting materials. After that, Sherlock began poring over the documents in the abandoned chemical plant, concentrating as he read through the various papers he had dug out.
He was like a detective invited to investigate an abandoned chemical plant, seriously looking into the incident.
As an adept of the Path of Wisdom, he was bound to have a fairly severe reading obsession. Compared with idle chatter, reading was a far more satisfying pastime for him.
"I more or less understand why this chemical plant was abandoned..."
Sherlock returned with a satisfied smile, looking pleased with himself. But just as he was about to tell Iver his deduction, he saw that the two were still chatting where they had been—they had started with art, gone around in a circle, and returned to art.
The newsboy, covered in dust, raised his brows and swirled the bottle of sulfuric acid in his hand. "You two still aren't finished?"
"Chatting is the exchange of souls."
Iver turned back with a beaming smile. "How could a conversation ever be finished? Family, life, dreams, what we read, what we do, what we think... Two hearts that are not the same, two souls that have yet to overlap, are like two finely carved gemstones. When they overlap beneath the sunlight and turn ever so slightly, they reflect countless colors onto the wall—that is the spark produced by different thoughts. I call that chatting.
"And if, just as they turn to a certain angle, they happen to reflect a dazzling beauty that catches the eye and remains unforgettable for a lifetime—that is the focal point of the soul. I call that love."
"I originally thought you might have come from the Harbor District and had ties to the gangs."
Sherlock spoke coolly. "Now I'm certain—you're definitely a rich family's womanizer. Smooth with everyone, sweet-talking, and glib.
"Did you read so many books just to make girls like you?"
Earlier, while reading the account books, he had also been listening distractedly to the sounds outside. Naturally, he could hear Iver's voice in this silent factory.
—This was indeed a knowledgeable and cultured man. He might not be as young as he appeared, or perhaps he had used a potion like Luo Le to maintain his youth... Perhaps he really was, like the priest Julio he was currently playing, a well-mannered middle-aged man.
But after hearing Iver's sophistry, Sherlock became certain that the other man was young.
His sophistry revealed boastfulness, childishness, and frivolity, along with a hint of lofty arrogance—though of course, he had the right to be proud. To possess such mature thoughts and such extensive knowledge at his age, he had already far surpassed his brainless peers.
"Fox" was indeed impressive.
Just not as impressive as Iver Moriarty.
Although Sherlock had met the real Iver only once, that young man, who had suffered fundamental injuries that even the Illumination Spell could not heal and could currently only recuperate in a wheelchair, was genuinely intelligent, polite, and humble.
Sherlock thought highly of him. If he had not been busy advancing, he might have exchanged words with him more often.
"Is wisdom shared with others no longer wisdom? Is truth shared with others no longer truth?"
Iver countered, "I read books so I can explain them to others—is that not also a form of Dedication? There will always be people who cannot read, but that does not mean they are abandoned by the great philosophers. It is merely that, like a blind man's eyes, a lame man's legs, or a deaf man's ears, they lack the organs that would allow them to read. Apart from that, they are still mature souls, entitled to pursue the light and seek the truth."
The black-haired, blue-eyed young priest narrowed his eyes, his mature and handsome face revealing a foxlike smile.
Sherlock raised his brows and said nothing.
Although the words still sounded like sophistry... they were not unpleasant to hear.
But Sherlock soon realized that Iver had merely changed to an argument that would make himself feel happy.
"No wonder you're called 'Fox.'"
Sherlock mocked him mildly. "I've heard that the Primordial Empire in the East of the desert once had a saying about 'foxly charm.' It tells of a silver-tongued fox that bewitched a ruler."
"Then I think you know too little. According to the Primordial Empire, in the Path of Wisdom, a fox is called 'a thousand-year-old creature that communes with Heaven.' In the Path of Adaptation's astrology, it represents Wei Su Jiu, foretelling many children and abundant blessings. In the Path of Authority, it means, 'When the white fox arrives, the people benefit; when it does not, the lowly grow arrogant and unrestrained.' And in the Path of Love, there is also the saying, 'It arrives when a king is not swayed by beauty.' That means that if a ruler does not covet beauty and diligently governs the country... only then will the fox appear."
Iver fired back in the same language without pause. "Then does my appearance not prove that Avalon is flourishing?"
...Did you actually believe what you were saying?
Iver's words left Sherlock momentarily at a loss for a response.
Especially after learning that "Lu Lu" was Princess Isabel, he became even more afraid to say anything. Compared with Sherlock, Lu Lu clearly had a much better impression of foxes... If she went back and repeated a few words, he would be saddled with the blame for no reason.
—Sure enough, "Fox" had also guessed who Lu Lu was.
That was why he had deliberately said this. And why he had intentionally approached "Lu Lu"...
Sherlock had originally come over to stop the sheltered little princess from being bewitched by "Fox." As it turned out, Fox's erudition far exceeded his imagination... He had even read the Original Codex from another continent. If so, the secrets he had mentioned during their conversation might not all have been stories and lies...
Thinking of this, Sherlock instead felt a measure of admiration for Fox.
That was how the Path of Wisdom was. They pursued mysteries and truth, but not to leave behind a legacy or teach them to others.
Learning alone was enough to bring joy, and exploring the truth itself was enough to become the meaning of life. From this perspective, if Fox walked the Path of Wisdom, he might even be considered Sherlock's senior.
Sherlock raised his brows, but his tone became gentler instead. "I was wondering whether the third dual-path practitioner might be you. Your knowledge and intelligence have already surpassed many fools who presumptuously walk the Path of Wisdom. If that isn't the case, would you be interested in taking the path of a mage?
"If you are willing, you can come find me. You know where I am... I can help you set foot on the Path of Wisdom."
"Ah, there's no need."
Iver shook his head. "I read books for practical reasons. If you want me to read simply for the sake of reading, I may not have the patience for it."
"How unusual. A person of the Dedication Path saying that he is practical."
"There's no contradiction. My goal is to redeem all living beings."
At this, he smiled. "You may not believe me now.
"But one day, I will save Avalon... and this entire world from peril."
"...No, I believe you."
Sherlock paused, then answered softly.
Because when "Fox" said this, the subtle smile on his face—the one that always made him seem like he was probably up to no good—faded, leaving him far more serious instead.
At that moment, Sherlock had the distinct feeling that Fox was telling the truth.
Perhaps a cunning fox lied the moment he opened his mouth, deceiving people without even needing to draft his lies... But perhaps this was the only sentence that was true.
Seeing the atmosphere between Iver and Sherlock suddenly fall silent, Lu Lu grew somewhat flustered.
She had been tired from holding Little Iver for so long, so she had placed the child's head on her thigh. He was lying beside the chair, sleeping with his head resting on her lap.
Lu Lu did not really understand what the two men were talking about—she had not understood the long stretch of foreign languages Iver had spoken.
But she instinctively felt that they might have quarreled. It might have had something to do with her.
Worried that she might have done something wrong, Lu Lu's expression grew tense.
Whenever she became tense, she would stand up to speak—because according to the etiquette Isabel had learned, doing so as the person under protection would appear more formal and polite. But the moment she exerted herself, she nearly sent the child, whom she had completely forgotten about, crashing to the floor. Fortunately, Sherlock reacted quickly and rushed over to cushion him with his hand, preventing Little Iver's head from hitting the ground.
The three of them scrambled around for a while before barely managing not to wake Little Iver.
"...You should watch the child properly."
Iver was somewhat helpless. "Should I take him?"
Sherlock sighed and said nothing.
Lu Lu had already forgotten what she had stood up to say.
Embarrassed, she reached up and twirled the hair at her temple, murmuring, "Let me think about what I wanted to say..."
But just then, her expression suddenly changed.
"...Mmph!"
Lu Lu felt her abdomen churning, and a sudden burst of pain struck her—like menstrual cramps magnified three or four times. Her face instantly turned pale, her legs went weak, and her entire body began to tremble violently.
She staggered forward two steps.
Iver had only just caught her when Lu Lu vomited a mouthful of dirty blood onto the ground, then began coughing violently.
Mixed into the dark red blood were black clots that looked almost like jelly.
Before you continue