Lord Hypnos

Ludwig's lunch was quite sumptuous.

As a special agent from the Obsidian Hall, Ludwig naturally enjoyed the finest hospitality.

If categorized by cultural tradition, dishes served for banquets within the Loselin Empire cultural sphere generally follow the order of cold appetizers, salad, soup, main course, pasta, and dessert, accompanied by at least two different types of table wine.

These two wines must include one mild and one robust variety to cater to the different tastes of the guests.

However, at such banquets, dishes must be served sequentially to prevent them from becoming unpalatable due to heat loss; naturally, a train could hardly satisfy such a requirement, so Vernon had specifically placed candles beneath each dish.

The appetizer was a cold platter of sour cream and chopped onions with smoked salmon, alongside Iberia ham rolls with rosemary and mozzarella.

The vegetables were prepared in the style of the Southern Archipelago: a salad of dandelion greens and plantain leaves drizzled with blackberry juice.

The soup was prepared in the Rusian Theocracy style: a borscht stewed with beef shank and red beets, seasoned with a dollop of sour cream.

The main course was a golden, crispy Vienna schnitzel, served with buttery mashed potatoes and shredded sauerkraut.

For dessert, there was a cream apple strudel exuding a faint, sweet aroma, and a slice of lemon tart, which Ludwig quite enjoyed.

The two wines were a Grüner Veltliner with notes of lime and apple, and Ludwig's personal favorite: a smoky, citrus-scented Highland Scotch whisky. Ludwig himself was a bit of a rustic; he couldn't appreciate the sour and astringent tannins of red wine.

In truth, Ludwig's favorite drink was sweetened sherry, but unfortunately, there was none on this train; fortunately, the Grüner Veltliner was a passable substitute.

This meal cost about 3 Marks, equivalent to half a month's wages for an average worker. Of course, the largest portion of the price came from the two fine bottles of wine; in any era, such items are the most expensive things on the table.

Just as Ludwig's hand reached for his cutlery, his body suddenly shuddered involuntarily.

A peculiar chill crept into the room through the door crack, dyeing everything it touched in a gloomy blue-white. Pristine frost emerged silently, climbing the window glass like a spiderweb and obscuring the sunlight and scenery outside.

The lamps flickered without a sound, and pale, ghostly light flowed down through the cracks in the lampshades.

The biting winter of the North descended upon the room in silence; the air seemed to freeze, making skin feel brittle, while the settling snow swallowed all ambient sound. It was as if a lonely dirge sung by a gravedigger echoed in his ears, finally fading into silence within the cold earth.

The shattered frost, the deathly atmosphere, the silent dirge—everything heralded the arrival of a truly significant figure.

But Ludwig had no time to ponder the meaning of it all.

The frigid aura sprouted from every corner, seeping through Ludwig's skin into his muscles and blood vessels, reaching his marrow in an instant.

For a moment, Ludwig felt as if his very soul were about to freeze.

Yet, at that very instant, as if sensing the crisis, Ludwig's beautiful soul fire surged upward!

That golden-red-and-black flame swirled like a vortex, absorbing all of Ludwig's spiritual energy in the blink of an eye. Immediately following, a golden-red flame erupted like the fury of a sun, violently surging through Ludwig's limbs and bones with a berserk intensity.

In a single heartbeat, the biting cold that had invaded Ludwig's body was completely purged by this scorching power.

However, much like a solar flare, once the flame had cleansed the foreign force from within, it appeared to lose its momentum. Yet, this momentary warmth was enough for Ludwig; he did not hesitate to pull a metal box from his waist pouch.

Pushing open the lid, three syringes lay quietly inside, the glass tubes glowing with a golden-red light.

These three syringes contained Wyvern Blood Essence, and Siana's elegant handwriting had thoughtfully labeled the injection order for Ludwig. Ludwig's hand reached immediately for the syringe labeled [No. 1], but it was gently pressed down halfway by an aged hand.

"No need, young man," a warm, elderly voice spoke. "I believe I do not count as your enemy."

Ludwig hesitated for a moment, let out a soft breath, and flipped his fingers to close the metal box and return it to his pouch. The disparity in power between them was simply too vast—so vast that the success rate of a desperate struggle was near zero, and so vast that the other party had no need to deceive him.

Having realized this, Ludwig's mindset became much more relaxed, and he turned to look at the newcomer's face.

It was an old man with a kind and gentle appearance, his back slightly hunched from age. His complexion was deathly pale, as if he suffered from a chronic, incurable lung ailment, but the ice-blue eyes deep within his sunken sockets were remarkably sharp.

The old man acted like a polite, elderly gentleman, lifting the tails of his tailcoat to sit elegantly in the seat directly opposite Ludwig.

At the same time, the cold air that had been lingering in the room was gathered back into the old man's sleeves at a speed visible to the naked eye. The frost turned into dew, the lamps regained their warmth, and the gloomy blue-white filter quietly faded from his vision.

A few seconds later, only the ice cubes floating in Ludwig's glass of Grüner Veltliner served as proof that the chill had not been a hallucination.

"Good afternoon, young sir," the old man smiled at Ludwig, his demeanor quite warm. "I apologize for interrupting your lunch, but given that this train will arrive at its destination in three hours, I had no other choice."

"I am the [Mourner] Makito Demask Plano—though I prefer to be called Lord Hypnos."

As he spoke, he picked up a knife and fork. "Young sir, I hope you can forgive an old man who has traveled from afar; his stomach is feeling a bit hungry now. If you are willing to share this lunch with him, I think he would be quite pleased and grateful to you."

"Of course," Ludwig said respectfully. "Ludwig von Hastings. It is an honor to meet you, Lord Hypnos."

"Hastings?" Lord Hypnos raised an eyebrow at the name. "An ancient surname. It reminds me of that last queen of the Plantagenet dynasty. It seems you were not just one of the common masses in your past life; no wonder you were able to successfully escape the clutches of the Black Tide Society."

Damn it, Ludwig cursed inwardly. How did a name he'd made up on the spot end up involving secret history!

Fortunately, Lord Hypnos's next sentence allowed Ludwig to breathe a sigh of relief:

"But that is no longer important. You are no longer who you once were. I can see that your soul has been liberated, and you now possess something far nobler than lineage or bloodline."

As he said this, Lord Hypnos couldn't help but feel a bit sentimental:

"Come to think of it, I was right to make this trip. Originally, I was just curious about what those children in the Black Tide Society were up to due to the shifting of the stars, just like that time twenty-four years ago."

"I never expected to discover such a fine seedling."