Ammalia Cassalanter reveled in her scheme, quietly feeling proud of her own cleverness. In the mirror, Mephistopheles’s avatar’s eyes sparkled, and he spoke urgently: "Then you must make sure he comes—he’s an absolutely vital piece!"

There was a nervous energy to him. Years of experience instantly told him that the dancers Charles was hiding were clearly the very same girls who had signed soul pacts with him!

And if this Charles really is the one who managed to erase Regolas’s soul outright, odds were high he could also break the soul pacts binding these girls! After all, the latter would actually be much easier than the former.

If that was true... then Mephistopheles wouldn’t be able to claim the souls of these girls who had willingly fallen, and sending his avatar to the material world would have all been for nothing!

This made the whole affair extremely urgent. The archdevil’s avatar was now dead set on figuring out exactly what was going on with Charles!

"I must study him thoroughly!" he summarized. "And you need to get all those dancers he’s sheltering under my power as well!"

Ammalia Cassalanter nodded briskly. "Understood, I’ll get started right away!"

She got up and left, while the mirror’s surface flickered with Mephistopheles’s greedy gaze.

Still, if Charles really turned out to be an awakened bloodline warlock, blessed by a truly powerful divine ancestor, then even just seizing his energy would be enough to make the trip worthwhile.

Maybe even a big payday.

Ha! Let’s hope everything goes smoothly...

...

Meanwhile, at the monastery’s front steps, surrounded by a cluster of reporters, Sephera—dressed in her heavy nun’s habit—had her brows drawn and her hands on her hips, exuding anything but the gentleness and peace usually associated with nuns. If anything, she radiated sharpness, pure offense: "You think I don’t know exactly what you’re after? Please! I’ve met hundreds of reporters—I’m seasoned, trust me!"

"You guys only care about getting a big scoop. You want to frame Lord Charles for supposedly harboring criminals, then go all out to crucify him in the press!"

The battered reporters stood silent, heads down as if scolded. Then one, perhaps braver or just more naive than the rest, piped up: "But isn’t he covering things up? Keeping those girls inside the monastery and refusing to let anyone interview them—isn’t that just helping the nobles cover up their sins?"

With the ice broken, another quickly added: "Yeah, with the ministerial elections coming up, if we don’t use this chance to clean house and drag down all these corrupt officials, they’ll stay in power and hurt even more people in the future!"

"That’s right! Just let us in for a quick interview with those girls!"

The reporters pleaded with her. Sephera arched an eyebrow, then jabbed a finger at the first reporter and scolded, "If your report gets it wrong, you’ll be held responsible, understand?!"

"I’ve already explained a hundred times—our priest kept those girls safe for the investigation into the demon attack! They may have clues related to cultists. We’re keeping them out of the public eye so we don’t alert any snakes in the grass—not because of your tawdry tabloid fantasies!"

She flashed a mocking smile. "Honestly, where were you all when it was the Abyssal Lord invading and cults running rampant? Hiding in your newsrooms! How many of you actually came down to the battlefield to report on the Abyssal Lord’s moves? How many actually tried to uncover the real faces behind demonic cults?"

"All you want now is a few bucks off some dirty rumors, but you dress it up as some noble crusade, even smearing the actual hero who banished the Abyssal Lord and saved this city!"

With that, she swung open the monastery gates, shut them behind her with a bang, and left the cluster of reporters blinking in the doorway—left with no real options but to slink away.

Inside, in the third-level training room, Charles finished his daily regimen and went to the armory bath chamber for a good shower. After changing into fresh clothes, he headed for the dining hall for breakfast.

At his usual seat, Sephera had already laid out several newspapers—both the most influential portwide editions from the Times Group and a smattering of independent broadsheets.

He needed these to track public opinion and see whether his strategy was having the desired impact.

So far, things were looking good. Nearly a week had passed since the Cassalanter Grand Theater incident, and he could see the shift: some papers now doubted the existence of any orgies at all, suggesting instead it was clearly an organized cult murder. After all, not only had Lord Charles given interviews, but plenty of guards also confirmed that a demon showed up and started the fire—so the murders were probably its doing as well.

In other words: his strategy was working.

After all, no matter how much the press tried to paint the nobles as villains, they kept repeating the same conjectures. Without witnesses, without evidence, readers would grow bored and start doubting the narrative.

If the reporters couldn’t reach the key players, the smear campaign lost its force—public sentiment would naturally swing back, improving the nobles’ position.

And the smart people would realize that keeping Charles in charge of the girls—and keeping them away from the media—was actually the key, so naturally they wouldn’t press for retribution against them.

Just like that, the girls’ crisis was largely resolved.

All in all, everything was moving as planned—no nasty surprises.

That way, these innocent girls could go on with their lives—though it might not be the life they ever pictured.

As he pondered this, the dining hall door opened and a tired-looking Sephera walked in.

Charles stood up, moved to support her, and said gently, "You worked hard today. The reporters didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?"

Having just fended off all those media hounds trying to smear the nobility, Charles knew full well they would come after him if they couldn’t get to the girls.

That’s why he kept refusing every request for interviews. These were the kind of reporters that would twist any word for a headline. Letting them near would only lead to trouble he couldn’t manage—even with the sharpest answers.

So every time a reporter showed up, Sephera would use the pre-arranged excuse and send them packing. She was a nobody compared to Charles, so even if the reporters tried spinning their stories, none would stick directly to him.

Besides, Sephera’s acid tongue made her more than a match for any number of hacks—though, being outnumbered, even someone with witch-level endurance would get worn out after a long day of this.

Luckily, she’d held firm, and now they had a precious window of opportunity.

Seeing Charles’s concern, Sephera smiled and hugged him. "It’s nothing, Master. Fending off a few mortals is easily within my skillset."

"Besides, South Harbor District’s out of the way, hard to reach, and a grim place at that—after one visit, most reporters don’t want to come back. It’s really not so bad."

She wore a look of proud satisfaction. Charles reached to gently caress her hair. "You still did a great job, sweetheart."

Resting her head on his chest for a moment, she added, "Though, this afternoon, we did get an invitation—seems to be from the Cassalanter family. But I was busy dealing with reporters at the time and nobody marked it urgent, so I didn’t show you right away."

She reached inside her clothes and took out an unopened envelope. "Here it is, Master. Take a look."

Charles frowned. "An invitation from House Cassalanter—to me?"

"This... you sure there’s no mistake?"

A little unsure, he took the letter, opened it, and read it slowly. Sephera sidled up, hugging his waist, reading along.

When he finished, Charles suddenly realized: the letter was straightforward—House Cassalanter was grateful Charles had safeguarded the dancers and kept them out of reporters’ reach. Without firm evidence, the scandals surrounding both the nobility and the Cassalanter Grand Theater couldn’t be proven.

Their network, reputation, and power had all been preserved. Ammalia Cassalanter was thus very grateful, hoped to resolve any previous misunderstandings, and invited him to dinner to set things right—possibly laying the groundwork for deeper cooperation.

Sephera laughed first. "Looks like House Cassalanter knows how to read the room! They know how powerful you are, Master—that’s why they’re falling over themselves to suck up!"

Charles smiled and nodded. "Of course—they’re in deep water right now. Just as things started looking up, another storm has left them scrambling inside and out..."

He smiled, but a flash of concern crossed his mind.

Sure, nobles always played the surface game—drinking together one night, stabbing each other the next.

But any family who could collude with devils above and criminal gangs below, like the Cassalanters, didn’t seem to be the type to deal with rivals by strictly legal, above-board means...

Should I go?

He wasn’t sure for a moment, so he turned to Sephera. "Should we?"

Sephera nearly blurted, "Of course!" but saw his serious look and paused to amend, "Well, yes—they could be up to something."

"But from what we’ve seen, as long as I and eldest sister go with you, there’s no chance they can actually threaten you."

"So I really see no reason not to accept—don’t you?"

She finished, stealing a glance at Charles as her heart pounded, worried she might be totally out of step with him—and lose even more ground to Hattie.

To her relief, Charles just looked thoughtful and nodded. "You’re right. With our current abilities, there’s nothing to fear from them."

Seeing how tired Sephera looked, Charles’s heart softened. "Alright, let’s all go together. Sephera, go tell Theresa: this time, you’ll both accompany me, and we’ll see exactly what game these people want to play!"

Sephera let out a long breath, then flashed a delighted grin. "Yes, Master!"

She hurried off to find Theresa, while Charles pondered just how strange this situation was.

No, something doesn’t add up... Though, now that I think about it, it makes sense. The Cassalanters have no idea that not only do I know Regolas, I even know all his secrets.

So to them, I appear ignorant. I must seem to have no clue about the cambion that appeared in the theater or the Cassalanter connection. No reason to approach them as an enemy.

But I’ve taken in all these girls who made pacts with a devil, and while others may not realize this, the Cassalanters should be fully aware...

Wait—maybe House Cassalanter wasn’t the real mastermind behind killing all those nobles?

Maybe they got duped by Regolas, too?

That would make sense—for as many young nobles as were lost, their own family would never escape unscathed, unless Ammalia Cassalanter was completely insane. And she didn’t strike him that way.

Charles didn’t know for sure—this was just a hunch, and he had no proof to back it up.

So a hunch could only be a hunch—it shouldn’t guide his next moves.

Still, if these people only wanted to keep the peace, Charles had no problem with that. It wasn’t like Malena was aiming to restore her family and seize power, so destroying House Cassalanter wouldn’t gain him much anyway.

But if the matriarch harbored darker ambitions...

Well, maybe—maybe not, but unless House Cassalanter knew more than he thought, there was no real threat while they stayed in Liberl Port for dinner.

With Blackstaff Madam’s badge in hand, Charles made up his mind.

...

On the agreed date, evening, Mithral District.

Charles’s carriage rolled to a stop outside the Cassalanter gates. The guards, seeing his credentials, promptly sent someone inside to report. When Charles stepped down, he saw two middle-aged nobles—one a short, scrawny man with a drooping mustache and a stony face, the other a large, heavy-set woman caked with makeup and crimson lipstick, looking like she’d eaten someone alive—coming to the gate surrounded by a legion of maids.

Seeing Charles arrive, the pair stepped forward. The woman was the first to speak, her booming laugh echoing down the lane: "Hahaha! We’ve all heard of Lord Charles’s grace and presence, but seeing you in person makes all the rumors seem too modest!"

She lavished Charles with praise, but he just smiled in return. "Thank you, but there’s still much I need to learn from everyone."

Behind him, Sephera climbed down, following close at his heel. She offered Ammalia Cassalanter a graceful smile. She wasn’t in her usual heavy nun’s habit today, but a sleek black suit, her pink hair in a sharp ponytail—a look that was polished, striking, and radiated the aura of a true career woman.

Charles introduced her as his secretary, explaining that she’d handled all the reporters recently—a clear message between the lines, which Ammalia immediately picked up on, showering her with compliments as she led the party inside.

Despite Mithral District’s sky-high land prices, the Cassalanter estate boasted broad, shady lawns studded with rare sycamore trees, valued for beauty, not utility—a mark of pure luxury.

Charles and Sephera followed the couple, trailed by a parade of extravagantly dressed girls, along a pebble path to the front door of the villa.

Inside, plush carpets embroidered with golden maple leaves covered the floor; above, soft crystal lamps glittered from the ceiling of the lavish parlor.

They all slipped off their shoes, padded in socks across the thick carpet, and made their way to the dining hall. The grand marble table was already groaning with roast chicken, duck, goose, fine salads, caviar, and bottles of red wine already breathing and perfuming the air with a heady aroma.

Near the head of the table was a small stage, apparently built for the family to enjoy private performances over dinner.

Led to their seats by Ammalia Cassalanter, Charles, Sephera, and the others tucked into their meal. Sephera, beside Charles, sipped her red wine, arching an eyebrow and shooting a sidelong glance at Ammalia—her lips curling into a faintly mocking smile.

But she kept silent, appearing the model guest as she continued to eat.

After dinner began, the butler ordered the waiting girls onto the stage. Soon, accompanied by ethereal music, they began to dance, captivating the audience.

~~~

Get early access to 360+ advanced Chapters on Patreon!

patreon.com/PokemonStoryWeaver

~~~