The maidservant supervisor with black hair and dress walked along the corridor illuminated by soft light, the rhythmic tapping of boots echoing in Lord Bomai’s ears. The crisp sound even began to cool his overly turbulent mind. Realizing that his mental state was indeed gradually improving, this noble from the inner court couldn’t help but look at the other party, "Miss Diana, thank you for your mental solace..."

"A mere trifle—as your earlier state was not suitable for meeting His Majesty," the maidservant supervisor said indifferently, then stopped in front of the door, "Go in, His Majesty is waiting for you."

Unbeknownst to him, they had arrived at the end of the corridor.

Standing at the door, Lord Bomai couldn’t help but swallow, looking at the black door with gold patterns in front of him—this reception room, located in the residential area, was very special. With his noble rank, he seldom had the chance to come here. Yet now, Emperor Rosetta had sent his maidservant supervisor to guide him and allowed him to have an audience here...

This made all kinds of speculations surface in the lord’s mind.

Then he composed himself, gently knocked on the door, and entered after receiving permission.

Inside the room, carpeted thickly and softly, bright lights spilled from the ceiling, illuminating the furnishings of the reception area. The emperor was seated on a high-backed chair by the window, turning his head to look this way.

"Close the door, Lord Bomai," Emperor Rosetta Augustus nodded at the late-night visitor, "and sit on this chair. Tell me why you chose to see me so late at night."

Lord Bomai immediately turned around to close the door, then took two steps forward and sat opposite Emperor Rosetta. He felt sweat breaking out on his forehead and his heart pounding—he finally reached the moment he could speak, but found that most of the immense courage he had accumulated before leaving his home was drained along the way. With every breath, his will weakened and the fear of death slowly overshadowed him.

Emperor Rosetta’s deep eyes quietly watched him, and under that gaze, Lord Bomai momentarily gathered his courage again, breaking the silence with an unusually hoarse voice, "Yo... Your Majesty, I first plead for your forgiveness. I am guilty of treasonous deeds... I can’t promise I will finish speaking, so please remember every keyword I say—

"Your Majesty, the Throat of Orlandeau! Gawain Cecil is involved! Lair of the evil cultists! The Eternal Sleepers!"

An icy chill pierced through his soul, climbing up his spine. Lord Bomai felt a stabbing pain in his entire cervical spine, his brain buzzing—death was imminent. He had triggered the alarm, and his brain must be dying quickly. He was about to pay for his years-old greed for power and forbidden knowledge...

The only solace was that his numerous mental rehearsals before leaving home had paid off. He managed to say all the keywords in the shortest time before his brain died, avoiding any damned "final omission." This way, even if His Majesty couldn’t grasp the full message he wanted to convey, he could at least investigate based on the keywords, then...

Keep that terrifying Wanderer from Outer Realm out at the Empire’s gates.

Lord Bomai quietly leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes peacefully, awaiting the arrival of death.

Seconds later, he discovered he was still breathing, and death did not arrive as expected.

His brain throbbed, and his heart felt slightly unwell, but nothing resembled the signs of impending death—rather, it seemed like mere nervousness.

Lord Bomai confusedly opened his eyes and looked down at his body, instinctively murmuring, "I... haven’t died?" 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"It seems so," Emperor Rosetta’s calm voice brought the confused and startled Lord Bomai back to his senses. Looking up, he saw His Majesty the Emperor quietly observing him with a faint hint of amusement in his expression, "Lord Bomai, you appear to still be alive."

Before the poor Bomai could voice his confusion, Rosetta gestured to the side, "Diana, the lord needs a chilled glass of invigorating wine."

The next moment, the black-haired maid supervisor emerged from somewhere, holding a glass of wine gradually chilling. Even as he took the wineglass, Lord Bomai seemed not to have processed what had happened. He instinctively thanked, instinctively sipped the wine, and the chilly sensation finally restored some of his thinking ability, "Your Majesty, I..."

"First, answer my question," Rosetta looked into Bomai’s eyes, "Were you shrouded in the fear of death just now? Do you carry a curse that could kill you—triggered by saying certain keywords? Is its operation linked to your psyche or something that monitors thoughts and actions?"

"Yes... yes, Your Majesty," Lord Bomai answered honestly, "It was supposed to be so, but why..."

"This room blocks all mind-related spells," Rosetta adjusted his position in the chair and said nonchalantly, "In fact, it blocks almost all spell effects, including self-rooted curses, remote psychic monitoring, and psychological suggestions that lead to suicide, as well as all timed harmful spells."

Lord Bomai gradually widened his eyes, his face filled with undisguised incredulity.

Rosetta, however, ignored him, instead turning to a corner of the room, "Lady Windsor Maple, thank you for your protection—but please continue to maintain the protection effect. We cannot yet be sure if the ’curse’ on Lord Bomai will trigger later."

Only then did Bomai notice the fourth person in the room—that legendary-level president of the Mage Association seemed to have been standing there all along, but it wasn’t until Rosetta spoke that he saw the lady in an elegant lavender gown gracefully step forward.

She carried in her hand an arcane orb seemingly condensed entirely from magic power. The orb’s surface flowed with symbols, and its invisible force protected the entire room.

In his shock, Lord Bomai instinctively murmured, "Why..."

"Since the day before yesterday, four people have died mysteriously while trying to ’report’ something," responded Windsor Maple, holding the orb. The legendary mage looked at Bomai, her eyes brimming with arcane energy that seemed to penetrate all secrets, "The details are shockingly consistent—they tried to say something to others before death or hinted at information through cryptic means, yet they perished the instant they acted on those thoughts, their brains burnt out."

"Two of them died in the Obsidian Palace, while the other two went to find Duke Ferdinand and Duke Sevin," Emperor Rosetta added, "Perhaps more situations like this have happened, but they have not yet been reported, or they didn’t even have time to reach the person they wished to confide in and died at home by inadvertently uttering a keyword."

Lord Bomai was dumbfounded, fear and trepidation unavoidably etched onto his face.

So he didn’t even have a chance to say those well-thought-out keywords... Fortunately, during his rehearsal at home, he hadn’t dared to turn the thoughts in his mind into actual words or actions, only superficially simulating them on a conscious level...

"After the occurrence of such an event, the think tank of the Royal Mage Association immediately analyzed the possible reasons. We believe a certain crisis has happened, while many informers are attempting to alert the royal family. However, all these informers are controlled by some mind-monitoring spell or have been implanted with curses that activate automatically upon key words," Lady Windsor Maple said calmly. "Currently, the Royal Mage Association and wanderer troops spies are secretly monitoring the entire Orlandeau, seeking potential ’informers’ and trying to bring them to this room, ensuring their survival in the process.

"But you voluntarily came here, Lord Bomai, which counts as our unexpected gain."

Rosetta nodded and looked into Lord Bomai’s eyes: "Fortunately, Lady Windsor’s powerful force successfully blocked that potential curse, which proves part of our judgment was correct, and you, Lord Bomai...now prove that our other judgment is also correct. Explain in detail what those keywords mean. What crisis is threatening my Empire?"

Lord Bomai blinked, finally calming down completely after fully understanding the situation, with a certain serene detachment and a hint of luck across life and death. He smiled bitterly, saying calmly: "Your Majesty, I was tempted by power and knowledge, accepting a ’gift’ that I should not have accepted, I...am an ’Eternal Sleeper’.

"Your Majesty, in the Throat of Orlandeau, there is a secret lair. It is shrouded by a powerful mental suggestion field and extensive dream restrictions, yet it has always been overlooked by everyone..."

...

North of Orlandeau, south of Shadow Marsh, a black-painted magic-powered train was quietly parked next to the newly constructed platform.

This is the earliest completed magic-powered train station within the Typhon Empire, and also one of the transit hubs leading to the neighboring Cecil Empire.

Early in the Anzu era, when the Cecil Empire was still the ’Cecil Principality’, work related to this was already underway. At that time, the duke of the Cecil Clan and the Typhon Empire signed a trade agreement, connecting Typhon through a railway line at the foot of the Dark Mountain Range, marking the beginning of ’modern trade’ between the two empires. The station here today is an extension of that ancient railroad and one of the projects of the ’Cecil Railway Investment Company’ in Typhon.

High-powered magic crystal lamps were hung on the central lamp posts of the platform, their light dispelling the darkness nearby and illuminating the surface of the dark, mechanical serpent, the vast and heavy steel machinery casting cold and hard lines under the night sky. The staff inspecting and repairing the train walked under the light, but from afar, they looked as small as ants winding around a sleeping giant beast.

For Typhon, where the magic-powered train and railway project has just begun, this advanced but expensive and intricate thing is far from being widely used for civilians. In most cases, it serves as a transportation line used by industrial cities within the empire’s interior to consume raw materials and a means for cargo transportation with Cecil. Additionally, since it is late at night, the only civilian train on this line has stopped, making the huge platform look quite sparse in personnel.

Two platform inspection staff were exchanging shifts in front of the train – this last train of the day was about to depart for Cecil, loaded with Typhon-produced textiles and alchemical raw material preparations. Besides this train, there were no other scheduled trips tonight, leading to the staff appearing rather relaxed.

A figure flickered at the rear of the train and swiftly moved inside the vast industrial machinery.

The area’s lights were perhaps somewhat faulty, appearing particularly dim. Not a single patrol staff was in sight.

With a refined manner, wearing a monocle, Yuri donned a black coat and walked briskly inside the steel-made ’corridor’. He crossed the connecting gates and cargo carriage filled with numerous crates, in the shadows near those crates, several pairs of eyes lifted from the darkness, and quickly lowered again.

Stepping into the last carriage, more gazes were cast from the side.

"All personnel are aboard," Yuri said succinctly, in a low voice, "We depart in fifteen minutes. To avoid encountering checkpoints and Typhon passengers boarding midway, until the train stops at White Sand Station, we must avoid making sounds and not cross the second-to-last carriage. Everyone, be prepared."

"Instructions have been given," Wendy’s gentle voice came from beside him. "How’s the situation outside?"

"No need to worry," Yuri said in a low voice. "There are key figures and half of the frontline technical personnel are from the Cecil Clan – technical handover and training periods aren’t over yet, and Typhon needs Cecil people here to teach them hands-on how to control this massive complex machinery and manage the railway system. So, tonight, everyone interacting with this train is reliable."

Wendy exhaled softly, then her gaze slowly swept across the carriage. She recalled the shock felt the first time she saw the magic-conducting machinery and the station filled with unfathomable technology outside, and couldn’t help but say softly, "This creation is truly unimaginable..."

"Yes, if the conditions allowed, I really hope to study how this thing moves," Yuri Charvin sighed, "Hopefully, there’s a chance after reaching ’the other side’..."

"I’d rather meet Miss ’Witch Giply’, see the magic broadcast," Wendy chuckled. "It’s said...there’s even a singing-related ’program’, with tens of thousands of people listening at the same time."

Yuri immediately shook his head: "Best not, your singing might lull people into eternal sleep."

Wendy quickly countered, "I can sing normally too, Archbishop Yuri."

"Archbishop...let’s abandon this title from now on," Yuri said, sitting on a nearby crate, with a low tone, "Call by names, forget the past, or simply add ’sir’ and ’madam’ works too..."

"That’s a good idea," Wendy nodded gently, "But Mr. Yuri, you’re sitting on Mr. Magnan’s head, he’s probably started cursing."

"I can’t hear anything anyway," Yuri lightly patted the crate beneath him, his face showing indifference, "And it’s merely a ’corpse’."

Wendy shook her head helplessly, then opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but her expression subtly changed in the next moment.

Almost at the same time, Yuri’s expression slightly changed too.

All Eternal Sleepers of bishop level and above, at that moment, received an emergency notification from Megal III -

A mind has abnormality escaped the Eternal Sleeper network.

’Informer’, has appeared.