After the resentful spirit opposite him disappeared,
Reading through them one by one, Emlyn roughly grasped the pattern of Ernest Boyd's movements: This vampire viscount had no fixed routine in his daily life—he would either stay at home, visit an exhibition, go to an estate outside the city for wine tasting, accompany a female companion to browse the major department stores, or ask some ladies to pose as models for painting. He lived like a normal wealthy man.
However, recently Ernest had been going to the Saint George district every other day to oversee the renovation of a furniture factory he had invested in, trying to get it back into operation as soon as possible.
Thus, this vampire viscount's life had developed a pattern: every other day, the same places, the same route, the same restaurant for lunch.
Emlyn pressed his temples with his fingers and carefully extracted three suitable scenes from the materials: First, inside or at the entrance of the furniture factory Ernest Boyd had opened; second, Saint Hillan Square, where Ernest would stop on his way home for lunch and to feed the birds; third,
All three places were crowded and chaotic, but Backlund Bridge had too few access points—if both ends were blocked, the only way to escape was to jump into the river, which would be a fool's choice. Saint Hillan Square belonged to Saint Hillan Cathedral, the center of the
And once a preference was set, living beings unconsciously started to find more justifications. Emlyn was no exception. The more he thought, the more convinced he became that Saint Hillan Square met almost all requirements: First, Ernest would spend a considerable amount of time there, having lunch at a restaurant serving Sevillas-style cuisine—after all, this vampire viscount had been born in Sevillas County.
Second, it was a junction for several tram stops, crowded with people from the middle and lower classes, where incidents often happened.
Third, from there, if one did not cross Backlund Bridge, they would enter the Bridge South District, not too far from the Harvest Church.
Finally, at exactly twelve noon, Saint Hillan Cathedral would emit steam, turn levers, and ring a great bell, drawing everyone's attention.
This was the place... Emlyn quickly made up his mind, adjusted his tie with his right hand, and anticipation filled his red eyes.
Just then, he suddenly frowned, noticing something was off: Saint Hillan Square was almost too suitable for action!
It was as if every condition had been met!
Wouldn't Ernest be wary of my revenge? How could he allow himself to linger in such an environment? Even if he were too stupid to realize, wouldn't the counts have warned him? Emlyn's lips curled slightly, and he already understood the reason: Saint Hillan Square was the spot the upper echelons of the vampire clan had "chosen for him"!
Ha... Emlyn chuckled, not letting his smile fade.
He decided that very day to apply to Mr. Fool for a gathering of just a few members and invite Mr. Hanged Man to discuss the detailed action plan!
This differed from the previously agreed-upon framework; it required going into every detail, considering every problem!
...............
At 11:45 a.m., Saint George District, Saint Hillan Square.
On the third floor of a restaurant at the northwest corner of the square, inside a private room.
A figure stood by the window, holding a glass of liquid as red as blood, gazing leisurely at the fountain and the bustling crowd.
He was tall and lean, dressed in an evening suit fit for a ball. His pale hair with a silver sheen and bright red eyes combined into a slightly eerie handsome appearance, and an almost imperceptible smile hung on his lips.
"Count, won't there be any problems? Emlyn is not what he used to be—that's clear from the hunt for the followers of the 'Primordial Moon'," said a middle-aged man in a dark formal suit as he walked to the window, a hint of worry in his voice.
The man addressed as the count turned his gaze to Emlyn White, who was standing at the edge of the square listening to an itinerant violinist, and chuckled: "Our preparations can handle even a demigod, let alone this little fellow who has yet to become a viscount.
"Moreover, we don't actually intend to do anything—our only objective is to identify and confirm. That's far simpler than preventing someone from escaping."
As he spoke, the pale-haired, red-eyed man raised his right hand slightly and twisted the ring on the ring finger of his left hand.
The ring had a silver band and was set with a strange gem of deep blue.
...............
In a carriage heading toward Saint Hillan Square, Ernest Boyd laid his right hand over his left and naturally turned the ring with the deep blue gem on his ring finger.
His gaze drifted out the window, and he saw a horseless omnibus approaching slowly from farther down the street. A newspaper boy of about ten or eleven, slinging a satchel over his shoulder, hawked papers along the street. Quite a few bicycles wove through the crowd in Saint George district, replacing the carriages that had been common the previous year.
Here, people in light blue or gray-blue work overalls and newsboy caps far outnumbered those in formal suits and top hats.
Ernest withdrew his gaze and gave a quiet chuckle, showing no fear of what might happen next—in fact, he seemed almost eager.