Moon Phase Hymn

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

Ye Yan was arranging books in the bookstore on the first floor, while the witch named Julie was being held captive on the second.

He had deliberately moved the witch to Baker Street to warn any witches with bad intentions not to try any tricks during a trade.

After all, two heavyweights lived right next door.

Either come and trade openly.

Or wait to be hunted down by the Administration.

Parker suddenly perked up his ears and turned toward the door, growling. Ye Yan glanced outside. An old woman carrying a basket of vegetables was slowly making her way into the shop.

Her clothes were plain, and she shuffled as she walked, looking no different from any elderly woman on the street. The only unusual thing about her was the three bell-shaped earrings dangling from her right earlobe.

But when she spoke, her voice was clear and sweet, like a young girl's:

"Mr. Easton, I've come to meet you as promised."

It was Miss Nightingale.

Ye Yan raised an eyebrow. She'd been the one to handle both negotiations. It seemed I'd misjudged her.

During their last encounter, Miss Nightingale had seemed more like a mere mouthpiece. But now, it appeared she wasn't simply a go-between; she was an envoy empowered to represent Witch Lane in full.

Her position as Witch Lane's representative in external affairs was clearly no trivial one.

Parker stared fixedly at May, a low warning rumble rising in his throat. Ye Yan gently stroked the back of his neck, signaling him to relax, while discreetly sizing up the "old woman" before him.

There were clear signs of a disguise on her face.

He recalled the powers of observation Holmes had taught him. The neck muscles of the "old woman" before him were far too smooth.

Perhaps May wasn't really an old woman, but a young girl, just as her voice suggested. But Ye Yan didn't have a detective's keen eye, and couldn't tell whether this was a deliberate deception.

Still, it didn't matter.

"Witch Lane has shown more sincerity than I expected," Ye Yan said coolly.

Instead of possessing Nightingale again to come meet him, she had come in person, in her own body. That made him look forward to the deal a little more.

May smiled faintly. The wrinkles covering her face formed a strange contrast with her clear, bright eyes.

"Mr. Easton, the item I've brought will certainly satisfy you. But before that..." Her gaze passed over Ye Yan and settled on the stairs. "I'd like to see Julie."

Ye Yan nodded, locked the bookstore's front door, and gestured for May to follow him upstairs.

The wooden stairs creaked softly under their feet. Parker followed silently behind them, amber eyes fixed on the exposed nape of the old woman's neck.

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

Jules was sitting in an armchair, wiping down a pistol. At the sight of the visitor, he stood and kept his right hand poised to draw his gun at any moment.

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

She was no longer bound with ropes or unconscious, but three days of captivity had left her looking somewhat haggard.

When she saw May's disguise, her mouth twisted into a sneer.

"So you're just going to leave me here like some animal waiting to be slaughtered—"

May merely gave her a cool glance.

Her gaze was cold as moonlight on a winter night, and Julie's voice caught in her throat.

"Mr. Easton," May said, taking a sealed leather pouch from her basket. A crescent-moon crest was stamped into the wax seal. "Have you ever heard of the Moon Phase Hymn?"

Ye Yan frowned. "What is that?"

May smiled and turned her gaze to Ye Yan. "This poem praises the transcendent, ineffable beauty of a mysterious being.

"Legend has it that the poet witnessed an ancient sacrificial ritual in a dream. The faithful were worshipping a goddess who could perfectly balance beauty and truth. Upon waking, he wrote this poem with a soul still trembling."

She suddenly looked up, her pupils taking on a strange silvery gray in the shifting light. "Curiously, this poem has long been hidden within an ordinary work of literature. It is called Ode on a Grecian Urn."

Ye Yan's gaze sharpened.

He hadn't remembered much about Ode on a Grecian Urn, only vaguely recalling its most famous line: "Beauty is truth, truth beauty."

But after gaining the Soul Essence called Knock, all his memories had returned. Now, every word of even this poem he'd only glanced at once was clearly etched into his mind.

"Do you mean Keats's Ode on a Grecian Urn?" Ye Yan asked, seeking confirmation.

"Yes, you're very well-read." May smiled and nodded. "It seems you're familiar with the poem."

After May confirmed it, Ye Yan looked again at the seemingly ordinary manuscript.

In his previous life, Keats had used the urn's carvings to praise the eternal nature of art and explore the dialectical unity of beauty and truth. But in this world, the poet had clearly meant something else. A far more mysterious secret lay hidden behind those lines.

This was no longer the artistic literature of a Romantic poet, but an invocation prayer encrypted as a hymn.

"The true prayer is sealed within," May said, the corner of her mouth curling into a knowing smile.

She held out the parchment manuscript to Ye Yan. "I swear by the silver bells of the Midnight Mass that the prayer is entirely authentic and complete. You can teach it to anyone you wish. I'm sure it's enough to make up for all the unpleasantness between us."

"I'm quite satisfied with your compensation," Ye Yan said, slowly raising his eyes. He didn't immediately take the parchment. "But I'm more curious why you'd trade such a precious secret text to me."

At that, May let out a sigh.

"I can be honest with you about that. The prayer is authentic and complete, but we have no way to use it to contact that mysterious being.

"We're missing a key offering: a key that can open the Gate of Spirit Communication."

As she spoke, May rubbed the silver bell on her earlobe. Her eyes held a look of yearning as she gazed at Ye Yan.

Jules's finger silently settled on the trigger.

The sudden tension made Julie shift uneasily in her chair, her shackles clinking.

"For years, we've tried countless substitutes: a virgin's blood, Moon-White Stone, even..." May paused, her gaze sweeping over Julie's trembling hands. "A living sacrifice... But our spirit communication ritual has never progressed beyond an incomplete state."

Her voice seemed to hold back some emotion.

"And that's exactly why we've been so interested in your summoning of a complete spirit. You managed it without a key, which showed us there might be a way to break through.

"If we can learn how you did it, our spirit communication techniques will make a great leap forward."

May smiled, her tone lightening again.

"So, coming here today to clear up our misunderstanding and get Julie back was just an opportunity to make contact with you."

She reached once more into a hidden compartment at the bottom of her basket and took out a sheet of parchment made from the tanned skin of a virgin's palm. "The real deal Witch Lane hopes to make with you is to share the secrets of spirit communication."