Chapter 21: The Debt Collector
The silver bell swayed gently.
In a trance, Funis seemed to recall that afternoon again.
A girl as pure as a white lily had personally fastened the silver bell for her. In the faint glow, the girl's smile was warm, like a breeze of spring brushing past her heart.
“Miss Crystal, my name is Moira…”
“Please remember…”
Funis jolted awake from her sleep.
The silver bell was shaking violently.
Her head was a little dizzy.
She usually took off the bell before sleeping. Falling asleep with it still jingling beside her head like this was rare—Funis didn’t believe herself to be that careless.
The bedsheet was damp.
The girl confusedly lifted the quilt.
Only when she saw a certain black-haired witch wearing nothing but a corset, sitting at the edge of the bed and flipping through a stack of copper boards under the faint light filtering through the curtains, did Funis finally recall what had happened on this bed last night. Her fair little face flushed bright red.
“Finally awake.” Chescia turned her head with a mischievous smile. “Did you have a pleasant night, my dear girl?”
Funis immediately pulled the quilt up to wrap her bare upper body tightly, shrinking into the corner of the bed and trembling all over as she warily watched this dangerous witch.
“I wasn’t especially excessive, was I? Just outside…” Chescia shrugged helplessly.
“But you were far too skilled,” Funis said seriously. “I’m beginning to suspect, Miss Witch, just how many girls you’ve seduced before?”
“Does it matter to you? Are you jealous? Or do you think it’s unfair?” Chescia rested her chin in her hand, meeting the girl’s gaze with great interest. “But I’m a succubus who’s lived nearly a thousand years~ You should know what succubi love to consume the most.”
Funis wavered slightly.
She was now a succubus too, and she knew her usual eating behavior was just to satisfy the greed of her taste buds. Except in cases of significant fluid loss requiring hydration, most physical nourishment was meaningless to succubi.
Succubi were a special type of lower demon who fed on dreams and emotions, whether their own or others’. Fear, joy, touch, jealousy—any of these could be converted into the energy succubi relied on to survive.
But these were too shallow, too bland. The energy converted was still limited.
Only at the most intense and unforgettable peak of passionate intercourse did the emotional climax reach its pinnacle, the surging tide of energy intoxicating.
Succubi loved that moment most.
“So… was I to your taste? Compared to them… those other girls…”
The silver-haired girl pulled the sheet up to cover half her face, averting her gaze from the witch.
Funis didn’t even know what she was competing for. She had no reason to care about the witch’s opinion. Their relationship was nothing more than mutually beneficial. But the defiance buried in her bones made her feel an indistinct dissatisfaction.
Chescia burst into laughter, clearly amused by the girl’s cute reaction.
“Your taste is like a dessert after a meal—a little cake covered in butter and chocolate syrup. I can imagine how rich and fragrant it is, but I never dare to bite too hard.” The witch spoke softly.
“Why?”
Funis didn’t quite understand the faint sorrow in Chescia’s expression.
“Because only enemies let me feast boldly from head to toe. I drain them clean before they die, letting them depart this world in the most blissful moment of their lives.” Chescia tapped the edge of the copper boards lightly. The clack-clack sounds echoed through the small room. “In other words, my little cake, the girls you’re jealous of are all dead. I killed them myself.”
“That’s just twisted…” Funis wasn’t happy at all. “Besides, I’m your enemy too. You killed my family. I took your sister away. We both have reasons to hate each other.”
“You’re not worthy yet. Far from it.” Chescia tossed several copper boards toward Funis. “That’s why you need to work harder, push yourself further.”
Funis caught the stack of metallic-glossed boards. “What are these?”
“A schedule covering the entire week, drawn up this Monday. Today is Wednesday.” Chescia stood up from the bed, stepping gracefully in high heels to the full-length mirror. “The schedule’s owner clearly has good planning habits—a necessary quality for a competent manager.”
“Inspecting ship docks… inventory checks… factory…” Funis flipped through them quickly. “The activity area is mostly concentrated in the Blackwater River District. This person holds considerable power there. Even nearby Bloodwine Society members follow his orders.”
“A debt collector from the Blackwater River District. This is his schedule.” She reached a conclusion. “How did you get something like this?”
“Is this what you wanted, little cake?” Chescia teased Funis while putting on a formal gown. “The sisters from the Society worked hard to find this for you. Among them are clever girls well-versed in different engine technology. I’m often proud of them.”
Funis bit her lower lip, hesitating.
In the entire year she’d been forcibly brought to the Black Rose Society, she hadn’t interacted much with the girls under Chescia’s command—she still held a grudge against witches, even though she was now one herself.
“I’ll thank them when I get the chance,” Funis said softly.
“Mm, very good. A lady should know her manners.”
Funis spread out the schedules before her, beginning to contemplate how to create a one-on-one encounter with the debt collector.
If she wanted to extract the location of the Bloodwine Society’s secret warehouse from him, the most direct method was threat—either find leverage he couldn’t easily abandon or directly endanger his life.
But either way, Funis didn’t want any bystanders interfering on site.
With the schedule in hand, she could find the debt collector at any of the listed time slots. The only issue was that she didn’t know whether she could match him. Acting rashly would be very dangerous.
“Don’t catch a cold. Put your corset on.” Chescia tossed the snow-white corset on the floor onto the girl’s face.
Her upper body was indeed chilly.
While spreading the copper boards earlier, Funis had unconsciously dropped the sheet covering herself. For a lady, this was far from elegant.
She took the corset off her face, only to find a sketch portrait drawn in bold pencil fluttering down. Funis guessed it had been thrown over together with the corset.
As she fastened the back straps of her corset, she lowered her head to observe the vivid portrait.
The man had short spiked hair, prominent cheekbones, a gaunt face with sharp features, and small eyes that looked fierce and piercing. Clearly not a friendly person.
“Encoded sketch by an automated mechanical doll.” Funis found a neat signature on the back of the oiled paper. “Was this also provided by the Society’s witches?”
With a string of different engine codes, one could have an automated mechanical doll generate a sketch on site. It was the information age—what once seemed unbelievable was now commonplace.
But the problem was, portrait codes were private information typically used only in formal documentation. How had the Society gotten them?
“Graycloud Fortress’s Temperance Court branch in Georgeson District had records of his information. One of the girls hacked the Court’s info vault and dug up the debt collector’s full background.” Chescia smiled faintly.
“You even dare to hack Church institutions?” Funis was shocked. “Wait—when did the Temperance Court open a branch in Graycloud Fortress?”
“Why wouldn’t we dare? Anyone working under me must be bold and meticulous.” Chescia looked pleased. “As for the branch, it was established around seven or eight months ago. A few agents and law officers from the Kingdom of Correnzo made a deal with Lord Joseph, who allocated a piece of land in Georgeson District for them as a base.”
Funis rubbed her temples, feeling a bit dizzy. “Thank you for the information, Miss Witch. I was overreacting. I apologize.”
“Seeing you so lively puts me at ease. This battle won’t be easy, and you’ll need to keep a clear head.” Chescia tied a pretty bow at her bodice and checked her reflection in the mirror, lifting her skirt slightly to confirm everything was in place.
“This debt collector—he’s a Transcendent?” Funis asked.
“Wez Howard, 26, originally from Correnzo. He fled to Graycloud Fortress after reaching adulthood to escape debt. Lost half his right arm in a gambling match, and since then, he’s used a steam-powered mechanical prosthetic. People in the Blackwater River District call him ‘Ironfinger’.”
Chescia pulled out more copper boards, the densely engraved letters making Funis dizzy.
And those engravings coldly recorded a person’s life story.
“He is indeed a Transcendent, and his Sequence is higher than yours.”
The witch spoke calmly.
“Generosity Path, Eighth Sequence, ‘Warden’.”