Cyril raised an eyebrow and asked curiously:
"Can you influence them even when they can't see you?"
Steve, inside the painting, paused. Then he lowered his head, looking dejected.
"Uh, I can't."
Cyril smiled, took the painting off the wall, and said casually:
"The Church of Storms here doesn't exactly welcome me. We need to change locations—and identities."
Steve asked curiously, "Master, are you leaving this island already?"
Cyril shook his head slightly. "No, just changing hotels."
"After that, all I have to do is change my disguise again, and I'll be able to blend in here just as easily. I might not even need a disguise—just avoid certain groups of people."
"After all, without some high-ranking power interfering, they probably can't even draw a wanted poster for me."
At that, Cyril couldn't help laughing. The portrait he'd made while disguised could still point to him and form a strange connection with him. He'd never expected that.
Still, it was useful. Just like now: even if the local Church of Storms wanted to hunt him down and arrest him, without a portrait, all they could do was have the few police officers and Mandated Punishers who'd seen him search around.
If they wanted to report his unusual behavior to the Rorsted Archipelago headquarters, as Elland had, they could only send a brief message by telegraph.
Without a proper portrait, he could walk openly through Bayam without being wanted.
"I must be at odds with the Church of Storms. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been wanted by the local Church of Storms as soon as I went out to sea. It won't have any real impact, but it still puts me in a bad mood."
Muttering to himself, Cyril rested one hand on the doorknob and gently turned his wrist.
A faint