Is it really Swart you're looking for?

  Goethe calmly sat down, following the natural flow of the situation.

  Along with the other men in the hall, he watched with interest as Swart, his face full of surprise, walked with the young maid down a corridor to the side of the hall, the one leading to the stairs to the second floor.

  Unlike the envious looks of the other men, Goethe was deep in thought.

  He didn’t believe Miss Sheila would have sought out Swart without a reason.

  There must be something behind it.

  As Goethe pondered, suddenly a crumpled paper ball was thrown into his lap.

  He silently opened the note, which clearly read—

  Washroom!

  Goethe squeezed the paper, crumpling it back up. As everyone's attention was still focused on Swart, he turned and walked toward the washroom at the corner of the hall.

  "Here."

  Morey's voice came from... the ladies' side.

  Goethe frowned.

  He didn’t enter right away, instead standing at the door.

  Then Morey emerged from inside.

  Seeing Morey, Goethe furrowed his brow even more tightly.

  In fact...

  He felt the snacks he'd just eaten churning in his stomach.

  A blue dress, a white shawl, heavily made-up face, especially the lips, bright scarlet, with unshaven stubble around the edges. His hair, clearly styled, looked rather amateur, aiming for natural curls but instead resembling a bird's nest. In his hand was a parasol, and upon noticing Goethe, Morey gave him a playful wink.

  Ugh!

  Goethe couldn’t hold back.

  Since learning he'd meet Morey at the Garden Club tonight, Goethe had imagined their encounter many times. But he never expected it to be like this.

  The first time he met Morey, he wore a black tuxedo, a white shirt, and a stacked front collar. Even though his tuxedo was worn and fraying, he still carried himself like a gentleman.

  But now?

  He looked utterly ridiculous.

  "I'm so sorry you have to see me like this!"

  Morey said apologetically, lifting ‘her’ skirt slightly.

  Seeing Morey so familiar with this, Goethe instinctively took a step back.

  "Please believe me, I have no interest in wearing women's clothing. I dressed like this because I had no choice."

  Morey explained, ‘her’ tone embarrassed, and ‘she’ seemed to instinctively adopt a shy expression.

  If it had been a young woman making that expression, it would have been charming.

  But a middle-aged man doing so...

  Ugh!

  Goethe couldn't stop himself from dry heaving in disgust.

  "I don’t judge anyone’s preferences as long as they don't affect others."

  Not wanting to linger on this matter, Goethe emphasized his stance and quickly changed the subject.

  "Can you finally tell me everything now?"

  With that, Goethe put aside his discomfort and stared directly at Morey.

  Morey blinked.

  Goethe could only squint in irritation.

  But he didn’t give up.

  "This afternoon, you had Swart investigate me."

  Morey didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he countered with a question.

  "I don’t want to lose my life carelessly."

  Goethe nodded firmly.

  "Being cautious and careful might not guarantee a longer life, but it’s enough to make others take notice. A month ago, Allen Crowley, the official agent in charge of the supernatural, and his two assistants, and their whole team, were wiped out!"

  "In their logs, the last entry said 'The Fog Killer!'"

  "And wherever 'The Fog Killer' appears, that’s where we are now, the Garden Club tonight!"

  Morey said, but Goethe frowned.

  He’d suspected the official supernatural team had been taken out, and it was clear the 'Fog Killer' had done it.

  It also made sense that 'The Fog Killer' would show up at the Garden Club tonight.

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  But what puzzled him was why Morey was so certain of it.

  Seeing the confusion in Goethe’s expression, Morey quickly explained.

  "Fortune-telling!"

  Goethe was taken aback.

  This was an answer he had never considered.

  Could fortune-telling really be that powerful?

  If it were, why not just find the 'Fog Killer' directly?

  Why all this trouble?

  "Fortune-telling isn’t all-powerful, especially the results. Only truly expert practitioners can interpret it. If 'The Fog Killer' hadn't killed Allen Crowley and his two assistants, that master wouldn’t have intervened."

  Morey quickly clarified.

  "Mm."

  Goethe, who didn’t know much about the supernatural, could only nod. His desire for that kind of power grew, but he knew this wasn’t the right moment to ask.

  He pushed ahead with another question. "What about my family? Why did they suffer misfortune?"

  Morey’s expression turned serious.

  "That's exactly what I need to explain to you!"

  "Goethe Wayne, 'Wayne' should not be your surname. Your real surname is... Modus!"

  "Goethe, Modus!"

  "Of course, you might not be familiar with this name, but in terms more commonly known to people, you should have heard of it—"

  "George!"

  Morey said the name with authority.

  "The one imprinted on the coin?"

  Goethe froze.

  When he read the part about the 'Witch’s Blessing,' he had naturally understood he had a bloodline of exceptional origin, called the 'Mad King.' But he had never imagined the 'Mad King' was actually George I.

  "Yes, the king imprinted on the coin—the one known as the 'Founder of Tessin,' 'Protector of the Maga Isles,' 'Son of the Dragon,' 'Blessed by Fairies,' 'The Invincible Knight'—King George I."

  "Are you saying that I’m part of the royal family?" Goethe asked with a teasing tone.

  It wasn’t truly teasing, but a way to cover up the unrest deep inside him.

  He clearly remembered that, according to the "Witch's Blessing," he should have been the one to put an end to the "Mad King's bloodline." If George I and the "Mad King" were the same person, then what made the current Tessin royal family?

  Impostors?

  Or perhaps... green with envy?

  But, no matter what, just look at the way Morey is respecting him.

  Goethe knew this wasn’t something he could address right now.

  "This might disappoint you," Morey replied, his voice carrying a somber note.

  "In January of 1860, the royal family and ministers issued the 'Exile Act' from that moment on, the royal family stopped recognizing any bloodline of His Majesty George I that had been left outside, because... there were just too many!"

  "His Majesty was incredibly energetic, with over a hundred recorded offspring, not to mention the countless others scattered around. It’s simply staggering."

  "So, Goethe, you're not alone. If we include distant relatives, you probably have hundreds, or even more, family members."

  Morey chuckled, shaking his head.

  But Goethe felt even more bewildered.

  The true bloodline of the "Mad King" had been severed, yet there were still hundreds of descendants carrying his name. This was truly ironic.

  And then... the "Witch"!

  What had happened back then for the "Witch" to hate the "Mad King" so much? Did she wish for the "Mad King's" bloodline to be eradicated?

  Goethe pondered these questions as Morey continued.

  "The 'Fog Killer' first appeared in the capital, Bode."

  "He killed five women with special professions in Bode’s eastern district, using disembowelment as his method, and then disappeared without a trace."

  "We exhausted all efforts to catch him, but we found nothing because every time he struck, it was on a foggy night. That’s why he was given the name 'Fog Killer.'"

  "Just when we thought he had vanished, he reappeared this time in Lustre..."

  At this point, Morey glanced at Goethe before continuing.

  "The death of your family was likely the 'Fog Killer's' revenge."

  "The earlier manhunt for him had been ordered by a royal family member. The royal family couldn't retaliate directly against Tessin, but they could take out the distant branches of the bloodline to vent their frustration."

  "Aaron Crowley must have discovered this and tried to stop it, but failed... and lost his life in the process."

  Goethe’s expression hardened.

  "Alright, so what should we do now?" he asked coldly.

  Once again, he assumed the role of the vengeful young man.

  Clearly, Goethe had performed so well earlier that the character had become ingrained, and Morey, without any suspicion, let out a faint sigh.

  "Capture him!" Morey said firmly.

  "Or..."

  "Kill him."

  Morey spoke with conviction, then, as the official in charge of Lustre, added, "Of course, as promised, I’ll do my best to ensure your safety."

  "And the 'Fog Killer' will definitely come after me."

  "Based on his pattern of targeting special professional women, particularly young and beautiful ones, as soon as he notices me, he’ll come after me. But don’t worry, I have a real identity here: Beatrice, a poor girl who had to sign a short-term contract with the Garden Club to treat her sister’s illness."

  Morey spoke with confidence.

  So much confidence that it nearly broke Goethe's carefully crafted cold exterior.

  "Let’s put aside the name Beatrice and the 'young and beautiful' bit. At the very least, you should be a woman, right?"

  "Right now, you look like a creepy man in women’s clothing!"

  Goethe couldn’t help but mentally mock him.

  "You still don’t understand the 'mystical side'!"

  "You don’t get 'Supernatural power' either!"

  "Goethe, do you know..."

  "Magic potions?"

  Clearly noticing Goethe’s skepticism, Morey swiftly pulled out a test tube from his hand and uncorked it, drinking it down in one gulp.

  As he breathed in, Morey underwent a dramatic transformation.

  His skin became fair, smooth, and glowed under the light like milk.

  His facial features, proportionally adjusted, became refined and beautiful.

  His figure grew taller, with a gown that couldn’t hide his elegant ankles.

  Even his messy hair now looked naturally beautiful.

  As for the originally gaudy makeup it now exuded a wild charm, reminiscent of a lazy female leopard lounging on a tree.

  Beautiful, yet dangerous!

  Makeup, beautifying, filters, nothing compared to this!

  Goethe couldn’t help but silently admire.

  And once again, it proved an old saying: Clothes, makeup, and how they look depend on the face.

  Just like now, Morey's face changed everything!

  He was truly stunning!

  Goethe couldn’t help but compliment ‘her’ beauty, but then he remembered how Morey looked earlier, and his lips twitched.

  "Let’s go!"

  "It’s our turn to make an appearance!"

  Morey’s voice softened, and ‘she’ raised ‘her’ arm gracefully.

  But just as they were about to leave, Goethe suddenly recalled something.

  "According to that fortune teller, the 'Fog Killer' will definitely appear at the Garden Club tonight?"

  "Of course!" Morey said with certainty.

  Goethe’s expression changed immediately—

  Swart!

  Now he understood where the problem lay.