Seeing blood covering Lucian's mouth, chin, and chest, the security guard completely ignored his claims of being "fine" and said urgently, "Mr. Evans, hold on! Do you have any healing potions on you? If not, I have a bottle here. If that's still not enough, I'll go to the Golden Cathedral and fetch a bishop to heal you!"
The security guard's "devotion to duty" startled Lucian. Having a bishop come to treat him would easily expose the anomaly in his soul. With great effort, he fished out an ordinary healing potion — the kind purchasable at a church — and slowly drank it down. Then he waved his hand dismissively. "It's just a scratch. I'll be fine after the potion. And don't forget, I'm a knight too. My recovery ability is quite strong. That assassin was skilled, but you scared him off before he could finish me."
Hearing Lucian speak steadily, if a bit weak and punctuated by coughs, the security guard finally relaxed. He drew his longsword and stood guard at Lucian's side without moving a step, fearing more assassins might appear.
He did add a word of caution, however: "Mr. Evans, many dark bloodline powers are insidious. Even if the surface wound doesn't look serious, it may be silently corroding and destroying your innards. By the time it fully manifests, even the high-level healing arts of a cardinal won't help. So after dawn, you should go to the Golden Cathedral and have a bishop examine you thoroughly."
"Thanks for the reminder. I'll assess my condition after dawn. As a knight, I think I can judge my own body," Lucian said, feigning stubbornness.
"Very well." The security guard said nothing more. Many people were like this — terrified of death, yet deeply averse to anyone suggesting something was wrong with them. As long as an injury or illness hadn't flared up, they clung desperately to wishful thinking, dreading the hassle and fear of seeing a doctor at a charity hall or a priest or bishop at a church.
Not long after, Elisa and Joel, escorted by private guards, rushed into Lucian's room. Seeing that apart from his "pale" complexion and "unsteady" gait there was no horrifying sight of blood, the hearts hammering in their chests finally settled back down.
"Poor little Lucian — which damned bastard tried to assassinate you?! You're just a musician, not a knight, not a priest..." Elisa wept as she spoke, her voice trembling with fury. "Could it — could it be a rival in music?"
"Elisa, don't let your imagination run wild. What musician could afford a Great Knight-class assassin?" Joel had already gathered some information from the security guard. "Little Lucian, did you notice anything?"
At that moment, Natasha flew in through the window with Camille. Her nose twitched faintly — she seemed to catch the lingering scent of blood that hadn't fully dissipated. Her expression turned oddly complicated, and then, with startling severity and an oppressive aura, she demanded: "Lucian, what distinguishing features did the assassin have?"
"Just a mass of shadows, but it gave me a familiar feeling — it seemed like a heretic from Silver White Horn..." In front of everyone, Lucian naturally wouldn't mention seeing a clown or a pair of black gloves. Instead, he pinned it on Silver White Horn, which had a grudge against the musician Lucian I. Evans.
"It's them?!" The color drained from Elisa's face, and she stumbled back a step, barely keeping her feet. Being kidnapped by Silver White Horn and having her fingers severed was a nightmare she refused to revisit.
Joel's fists clenched tight, and his low voice trembled with extreme rage: "They actually dared to come after you for revenge, little Lucian!"
Silver White Horn had, quite perfectly, taken the blame.
After escorting the emotionally volatile Joel and Elisa back to their rooms and dismissing the security guard, Natasha fixed Lucian with a half-amused, half-knowing look: "Lucian, did you stage the assassination attempt yourself, or did a real assassin come, and you simply seized the opportunity?"
"A real assassin. Probably a fifth-rank Great Knight. Wearing black gloves and a clown mask." Lucian answered without concealment.
Natasha tilted her head slightly: "That does sound familiar..."
"It was the Night Watch squad leader, the Joker," Camille replied simply, maintaining her usual impassive expression. "I've seen him during several joint operations with the Night Watch."
Once someone joined the Night Watch, their records were strictly classified. Only the Tribunal's higher-ups and the cardinal or bishop overseeing that diocese could access the information — it was never disclosed to anyone. They were addressed by code names or aliases in daily life.
They lived perpetually in the shadows. Some of them wore masks, hoods, or cloaks at all times to conceal their faces. Natasha therefore didn't know the specifics of the Night Watch in the Vaorite diocese — which was also why Lucian had made no connection when he first heard the name "Joker." Back when he had orchestrated the clash between the Night Watch and Silver White Horn in the Melzer Black Forest, he hadn't gone near the scene himself, so he naturally never knew which Night Watch members were involved or who survived.
"So it really was the Night Watch..." Upon confirming the identity of the Black Gloves, Lucian felt a complicated mixture of gravity and relief. The gravity came from the Church's Night Watch having their eyes on him — they were like mad dogs that once they bit down, they never let go easily. The relief came from the fact that they had resorted to this kind of direct probing, which meant their suspicions hadn't received endorsement from the upper echelons. Otherwise, any cardinal could have simply taken advantage of the banquet or concert to quietly cast an identification or detection Divine Art and settle the matter with ease.
Camille's expression remained rigid as she stated: "He's one of the Night Watch who survived the battle against Silver White Horn in the Melzer Black Forest."
She harbored absolutely no goodwill toward "the Professor."
"So that's who it was. No wonder he felt familiar." Natasha, who had participated in that battle, clapped her hands.
Just how much damage had the Professor inflicted on them? Lucian finally understood why the Night Watch had been so relentless in investigating him.
"But this is actually a good thing. The fact that he moved to probe you directly means they don't have conclusive evidence, and the Church's leadership doesn't suspect you," Natasha said with a smile. "I had originally planned to have you feign a serious illness, let someone else conduct the concert on your behalf, and then — right as the concert concluded — have the great musician be called to the Lord's grace. That way, you'd avoid being tested by a suspicious cardinal at the Sacred Hymn Hall. But it seems now that perhaps it won't be necessary."