The Clown, who had suspected from the very beginning that Lucian Evans had a close relationship with the Professor, had already considered the possibility that the two might conspire to frame him before arriving at No. 116 in the Gisu District. For instance, they could have Lucian Evans feign a grievous injury at his hands, and then have Natasha, Camille, or someone from the Duchy's intelligence department conveniently witness and intervene, resulting in his death or capture. But after careful deliberation, the Clown realized that such a frame-up would have significant holes. If they killed him on the spot, those within the Tribunal who sympathized with him would never accept the conclusion without question — at the very least, they would insist on a rigorous interrogation of Lucian, which could only spell trouble for someone already riddled with suspicion and closely tied to the Professor. Natasha, for her part, could not arbitrarily oppose the Church when it made perfectly reasonable demands, and the other nobles would not back her either — in the relationship between the Church and the nobility, both sides had certain lines that neither would cross lightly, and the Church held the stronger position. And if they merely set a trap to capture him, as long as he didn't die on the spot, his chances of turning things around were considerable. How exactly had Lucian been injured? What did the wounds look like? Did they match the characteristics of his bloodline? He himself had come here while pursuing the Professor — this could be corroborated by Sage, Viscount Klein — so why had Lucian appeared at No. 116 in the Gisu District in the middle of the night during his recovery? Most crucially, since his conscience was clear this time, he could demand that the Church use Divine Arts and other means to interrogate him and administer lie detection — these would completely prove his innocence! But Lucian Evans had died in the most bizarre way imaginable, utterly beyond anything the Clown had anticipated. That image was frozen in his mind — a falling angel with broken wings, blossoming like fireworks — and for a moment, he simply could not collect himself.
In that instant, the Clown truly believed that Lucian Evans was dead, because if this were a corpse disguised through short-term transformation to frame him, then unless Lucian never appeared again — never again showed himself as the great musician Lucian Evans — it would be completely pointless. Killing him by accident would only make the Church suspicious, and they would certainly demand a rigorous interrogation. After a brief moment of distraction, the eyes visible through the grotesque mask on the Clown's face suddenly contracted to needlepoints. He spotted Natasha hovering frozen in midair. She wore an exquisite purple court gown that hugged her figure perfectly — her legs long and straight. Her eyes shimmered with lustrous light, her lips a vibrant crimson-pink, heroic yet breathtakingly beautiful, like a noble lady stealing away to meet her lover in the dead of night. Of course, at this moment Natasha's gaze had utterly frozen. She stared at the blossoming "fireworks" of flesh and blood as though her soul had fled her body.
Run! Run! Run! These were the only thoughts flashing through the Clown's mind. Not a single second more should be spent in front of a woman who had just witnessed her most intimate lover being dismembered — especially when that woman possessed devastating destructive power. In moments like these, reason held no sway whatsoever! Driven by mortal danger, the Clown unleashed every ounce of potential within him. Invisible black threads seemed to rise into the surrounding air, and he stepped along them, gripped them, and in two or three bounds escaped to the edge of the woods behind the villa. But at that very moment, he heard a roar saturated with fury and sorrow — or perhaps closer to a wail — that made the earth and air nearby tremble. "No good!" The Clown dove into the forest, but a streak of silver-grey sword light cleaved through everything and slashed at his back. The sword light rapidly transformed into an invisible, distorted, eerie rift. The considerable distance vanished in an instant. Layer after layer of Divine Arts radiance and magical item light flashing across the Clown's body were sliced through like ordinary paper. The Clown's body suddenly twisted, his entire form becoming like a toy puppet wrapped in countless black threads. The threads snapped one by one, and a gash nearly splitting it in half appeared on the black puppet. Then the Clown reverted to his original form, but the right half of his body separated from his torso and fell to the ground, innards and blood spraying everywhere.
The Clown's mind began to blur, but he knew he could not afford to pause for even a moment. To escape from a Sky Knight — and one with a top-tier bloodline at that — he had to seize every fleeting opportunity. If Natasha's first sword had failed to kill him, then there was still hope! Powerful willpower allowed the Clown to endure the excruciating pain and wounds that would have incapacitated the vast majority of bishops, and his speed did not diminish as he fled through the dark forest, hiding as he ran. At the same time, he calmly contorted his body, enclosing his blood within an invisible membrane so it would no longer spill, leaving no trace behind. He knew that if Natasha launched another sword strike, he would have absolutely no way to dodge it, and the likelihood that Natasha would suddenly forget him and stop attacking was virtually zero. But no matter how small the hope, he had to fight for it — he could not surrender just because he felt despair! Even though he loathed Lucian Evans, the spirit of never giving up that resonated through his music was something every knight should possess!
A miracle seemed to occur. By the time the Clown vanished into the darkness, Natasha's second sword strike had not come. ………
"Valdo, are you going to stop me?" Natasha gripped a silver-white sword that gave off no light, her eyes cold and terrifying. Valdo, the Acting Director of the Vuoillit Tribunal, stood firm despite the invisible pressure of her aura sending his hair whipping wildly about. He said calmly, "Your Highness, I have already sent the Night Watch to apprehend the Clown. And until the matter is fully clarified, I believe it would be best to keep him alive. Tell me — what exactly just happened?"
Since the Clown had been methodically searching through each room one by one, the Acting Director Valdo had arrived on the scene just as Natasha's sword strike descended upon him. Naturally sympathetic to the Clown, he had intervened to prevent Natasha's second attack, lest she "silence the witness." In the distance, Camille — who had apparently been afraid of disturbing something earlier — now finally flew over.
"The Clown killed Lucian." Natasha's response seemed to suppress infinite fury, her silver-purple eyes turning cold and merciless.
"What?!" Every member of the Night Watch, Valdo included, cried out in shock. Juliana, who had just arrived at the rear of the villa preparing to "pursue" the Clown, stumbled and nearly fell, her face draining of all color. The great musician Lucian Evans — dead?! They were just as stunned as the Clown, having never anticipated this possibility in the slightest!
Natasha appeared to have abandoned the pursuit of the Clown, leaving the matter to the Night Watch. She closed her eyes and said, "I watched Lucian die before my very own eyes. And the Clown was right beside him." Her tone was desolate and sorrowful, steeped in heavy grief.
Looking at the lawn before the villa, where not a single intact piece of flesh remained, Valdo quietly drew a breath. Given her status as Countess of Violet and their intimate relationship as lovers, if she declared that she had witnessed Lucian Evans die with her own eyes, there could be no reappearance of a living, breathing great musician a few days later. And judging by the method and considering the motive, it was indeed entirely possible that the Clown was the culprit.
"Your Highness, I understand your feelings. Please do not grieve too deeply. I am certain Mr. Evans would not want you to forget joy." Valdo traced a cross over his chest. "He was so brilliant, so outstanding, that the Lord called him early to His side, so that he might continue his music upon Heavenly Mountain." After offering these words of comfort, Valdo's expression turned solemn. "However, Your Highness, I must now ask you some questions and verify whether the blood belongs to Mr. Evans. This is not a matter of doubting you — it is standard Tribunal procedure. I hope you can understand."
Before Natasha could nod, Valdo remained cautious and vigilant, fearing she might suddenly lose her reason. Though they were both sixth-rank, she possessed a supreme bloodline and was in the throes of extreme grief — he might not be able to withstand her.
After several seconds of silence, Natasha opened her eyes, her silver-purple irises cold and fathomless. "Ask your questions, Mr. Valdo."
She truly was a princess more masculine than most men — Valdo felt a surge of genuine admiration for Natasha in that moment. He instructed the Night Watch members who had not pursued the Clown to examine the blood, and carefully chose his words: "Your Highness, why did you come here in the middle of the night? Wasn't Mr. Evans still in recovery? Even if you wished to meet at night — ahem — couldn't you have chosen the villa where Mr. Evans is currently staying, Sir John's residence, for your tryst?"
A faint smile appeared on Natasha's face, heartbreakingly beautiful: "This is where he used to live. In the music room of that very bedroom, he played the first movement of Moonlight for me, and told me that whenever he saw moonlight, he would think of me… So tonight we wanted to come here and reminisce about the past." As she spoke the latter part, she seemed afraid she would break into tears and pressed her hand over her mouth.
Valdo, who had involuntarily conjured a flood of romantic scenes in his mind, silently cursed himself — how could he harbor such thoughts without an ounce of sympathy or compassion at a time like this?
"Your Highness, I understand." Valdo nodded gently.
After he had asked several more questions, a bishop-rank member of the Night Watch flew over and whispered in his ear: "Moonlight bloodline — it is indeed Lucian Evans's blood."
"Mr. Valdo, the Clown took a full-power sword strike from me. He should not survive more than an hour. I hope you can locate him quickly." This, Natasha explained, was the true reason she had not given chase.
Suddenly, her gaze shifted, and she spotted a small iron ring-like object on the lawn. She swooped down, picked it up, and her expression softened into something tender and sweet, yet also sorrowful and brooding.
"It has the exact same feeling as the first movement of Moonlight. I never expected to see Her Highness show such a feminine side — truly worthy of being the Violet of Vuoillit." This was the thought that arose spontaneously in Valdo and several music-loving Night Watch members. When a woman who was normally tough, commanding, and heroically beautiful suddenly displayed such an expression, the stark contrast made her seem all the more achingly beautiful, like something out of a dream.
As for what that iron ring was, Valdo knew full well — it was the ruined Holm Crown Ring, a keepsake from Natasha's mother. Now it seemed to also serve as a token of their love.
"Your Highness, please do not grieve so. This was our fault — we failed to apprehend the Clown in time." Valdo offered another word of comfort.
Natasha shook her head. "It has nothing to do with you. You had already sentenced the Clown to death before — it was his own cunning that allowed him to escape. Mm, it has nothing to do with the Church."
Hearing Natasha's understanding words, Valdo nodded with satisfaction and relief. What he feared most was that this incident would create an irreparable rift between the Church and Natasha, the future ruler of Vuoillit. "Your Highness, you are truly a devout believer and a wise sovereign."
Once Valdo and the others began inspecting the villa and its surroundings, Natasha quietly let out a breath of relief. The "love words" she had spoken earlier made her feel oddly strange — somewhat cloying to the point of nausea, and also tinged with an indescribable, inexplicable feeling. But the primary reason for her relief was that Valdo had not grown suspicious, and matters were proceeding in the direction she had hoped. As a devout believer, she had no qualms whatsoever about occasionally undermining the Church in order to protect her dear friend and uphold the standing of the nobility. However, using the scheme she and Lucian had orchestrated to thoroughly destroy the Church's authority, poison its relationship with the nobility, and shatter its image in the eyes of the people — that was something she was unwilling to do.
"I hope Lucian can understand. Everyone has their own principles and lines they will not cross."
…………
Inside a villa, a middle-aged man in a black hooded robe sat in a high-backed chair, his eyes devoid of light.
"I never expected the always silent and reserved Morning Star to be the traitor." The Sage's face was pale and weak, as though he had lost a considerable amount of blood. When he had been observing each apprentice's reaction upon hearing the news from Arcane Council headquarters, he had actually already seen through most of it.
The Professor before him remained entirely shrouded in the black robe. Then a hand reached out, and in blood wrote several words upon Morning Star's body: "The traitor's end."
"Professor." The Sage did not quite understand the Professor's actions. "Sir Professor, why leave the corpse, the warning, and the code name? Wouldn't it be better to simply make Morning Star vanish, and blame everything on the Clown, on the Church?"
"Leaving it like this will direct all the hatred and attention toward you."
"To deter other potential traitors." Lucian smiled faintly, while silently murmuring to himself, "She has already helped me so much — how could I let her be put in a difficult position?"
(To be continued)