Moon-phase Hymn

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

Ye Yan was busy organizing books on the first floor of the shop, while the witch named Julie remained imprisoned on the second floor.

He had specifically moved the witch to Baker Street to warn those other witches with ulterior motives that they shouldn't even think about pulling any tricks during their transactions.

After all, he had two big shots living right next door.

Either come and trade in the open, or wait to be hunted down and arrested by the Administration.

Parker suddenly pricked up his ears and let out a low growl toward the door. Ye Yan looked up to see an old woman carrying a vegetable basket slowly approaching the shop.

Her clothes were plain and her gait was unsteady; she looked no different from any ordinary old woman on the street. The only peculiar thing about her was the three bell-shaped earrings hanging from her right earlobe.

However, when she spoke, the voice that emerged was as crisp and melodious as a young girl's:

"Mr. Easton, I have come to keep our appointment as promised."

It was Miss Nightingale.

Ye Yan raised an eyebrow. Since she had handled both negotiations, it seemed his initial assessment of her had been wrong.

During their last encounter, this Miss Nightingale had seemed more like a mere mouthpiece. But looking at her now, she was clearly not just a medium, but an envoy capable of representing Witch Lane in full.

To be able to serve as the primary external contact for Witch Lane, her status was certainly not simple.

Parker stared fixedly at May, a low, threatening growl rumbling in his throat. Ye Yan gently stroked the back of the dog's neck to signal him to relax, while calmly sizing up the "old woman" before him.

There were clear signs of disguise on the other party's face.

He recalled the observation techniques Holmes had taught him; the muscles in this "old woman's" neck were far too fluid.

Perhaps May was not truly an old woman, but rather the young girl her voice suggested. Yet, Ye Yan lacked the detective's keen observational skills and had no way to judge if this was a trap set by the other party.

But it didn't matter.

"Witch Lane's sincerity is greater than I imagined."

Ye Yan said indifferently.

The fact that she had chosen not to possess Nightingale again but instead came in her own physical body made him look forward to this transaction all the more.

May smiled slightly, creating an eerie contrast between her wrinkled face and those clear, bright eyes.

"Mr. Easton, the trade item I have brought this time will certainly satisfy you. But before that..." Her gaze drifted past Ye Yan toward the stairs: "I would like to see Julie."

Ye Yan nodded, reached out to lock the shop door, and gestured for May to follow him up the stairs.

The wooden staircase creaked slightly under their feet, and Parker followed silently at the rear, his amber eyes locked tightly onto the old woman's exposed neck.

On the second floor, Parker stood guard outside the room, alert.

Jules was sitting in an armchair, polishing a handgun. Seeing them enter, he stood up, his right hand poised in a position to draw his weapon at any moment.

Julie was handcuffed to a chair in the center of the room.

Although she was no longer bound by ropes and was not in a state of unconsciousness, three days of imprisonment had left her looking somewhat haggard.

When she saw May's appearance, the corners of her mouth twisted into a mocking arc.

"You're just going to let me sit here like livestock waiting for the slaughter—"

May merely swept a glance at her.

The gaze was as cold as winter moonlight, and Julie's voice instantly caught in her throat.

"Mr. Easton," May took a sealed leather pouch from her vegetable basket, the wax seal bearing a crescent moon emblem: "I wonder if you have ever heard of the Moon Phase Hymn?"

Ye Yan frowned: "What is that?"

May smiled and turned her gaze back to Ye Yan: "This poem praises the transcendent, reality-defying beauty of a certain mysterious existence.

Legend has it that a poet witnessed an ancient sacrificial ritual in a dream, where believers were worshiping a goddess who perfectly balanced beauty and truth. Upon waking, he wrote this poem with a trembling soul."

She suddenly raised her eyes, her pupils shimmering with a strange silver-gray in the shifting light: "Interestingly, this poem has been passed down hidden within an ordinary piece of literature, and its name is the Ode on a Grecian Urn."

Ye Yan's eyes narrowed.

He hadn't had a deep impression of the Ode on a Grecian Urn before, only vaguely remembering the most famous line: "Beauty is truth, truth beauty."

However, the acquisition of the soul-quality Knock had restored all his memories; now, even this poem he had only glanced at once was etched clearly into his mind, every single word.

"Are you talking about Keats's Ode on a Grecian Urn?"

Ye Yan asked, wanting to confirm it with her.

"Yes, you are very learned." May nodded with a smile: "It seems you are familiar with this poem as well."

Having received her confirmation, Ye Yan's gaze shifted back to the seemingly ordinary manuscript.

In his past life, Keats used the reliefs on the urn to praise the eternity of art and explore the dialectical unity of beauty and truth. But in this world, the poet clearly had something else in mind; a more mysterious secret was hidden behind those verses.

This was no longer the art and literature of a Romantic poet, but a summoning prayer encrypted in a hymn.

"The true prayer is sealed within this," May said, a meaningful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

She held the parchment manuscript up with both hands and extended it toward Ye Yan: "I swear by the silver bells of the Midnight Mass that the contents of this prayer are absolutely authentic and complete. You may impart them to others as you wish; I trust this is sufficient to make amends for all the unpleasantness between us."

"I am indeed satisfied with your compensation."

Ye Yan slowly raised his eyes, not immediately taking the parchment: "But I am more curious as to why you are willing to use such a precious secret tome to trade with me."

Hearing this, May could not help but sigh.

"Regarding this matter, I can actually tell you the truth. Although this prayer is authentic and complete, we have no way to use it to communicate with that mysterious existence.

Because we are missing a key sacrificial item, a key capable of opening the Gate of Spirit Communication."

As she spoke, May's fingertips brushed the silver bell on her earlobe, her gaze toward Ye Yan filled with a sense of longing.

Jules's finger rested silently on the trigger.

Faced with the suddenly tense atmosphere, Julie shifted uneasily in her chair, the shackles emitting a crisp clinking sound.

"For years, we have tried countless substitutes: virgin blood, Moon-White Stone, and even..." May paused, her gaze sweeping over Julie's trembling hands: "...living sacrifices... but our spirit communication ritual has always remained in a semi-finished state."

Her voice sounded as if it were suppressing some kind of emotion.

"And this is precisely why we are so focused on the incident where you summoned a complete spirit entity. You were able to complete the summoning without a key, which allowed us to see the possibility of a breakthrough.

As long as we learn the secret within, our spirit communication arts will achieve a leap forward."

May smiled, her tone becoming light once again.

"Therefore, coming here today to clear up misunderstandings and trade for Julie's return was merely a reasonable opportunity for us to make contact with you."

She reached into the hidden compartment at the bottom of the basket once more and withdrew a piece of human skin parchment, tanned from the palm of a virgin: "The deal that we of Witch Lane truly hope to reach with you is to share the secrets of the spirit communication arts."