Chapter 225 Transaction
The professor didn't expect to see this crazy "great prophet" again so soon.
York had been fidgeting since dinner began, and afterward, he finally coyly said he wanted to see the Curtain and Nightingale Repertory Theatre's outdoor pre-show. Since it was a rare request from her brother, Marcyline readily agreed. Not only did she agree, she also dragged along everyone she could.
When Orel saw the face of a certain tyrant, his features twisted uncontrollably for a moment. He pulled Maxine aside and, trying to lower his voice, roared, "How did you get him out?!"
This guy simply wanted to be integrated with his work and coffee every moment. The assassin never thought that an activity full of humanistic atmosphere like "watching a drama" would have anything to do with the big devil.
The red-haired girl looked bewildered. "Well, I said there were a lot of people and it was lively, and then he agreed..."
Ole: “…”
"The case is solved." The assassin said coldly, "I guess he wants to get some information."
Anyway, it can't be that they are just participating in the harmonious and friendly team-building activities of the protagonist team.
The purple velvet curtains of the Curtain and Nightingale Repertory Theatre shimmered like stars in the night sky. Brass spotlights were fixed to a makeshift outdoor scaffolding. By adjusting the lenses, the brightest circular spots of light from three sides were fixed to the center of the stage. Although it was just a warm-up performance and required a hefty entrance fee, many people still came to join in the fun.
The air was filled with a wonderful aroma of burning herbs and spices. Actresses dressed as clowns, with their thighs and breasts exposed, shook tambourines and asked for tips with sweet smiles. Some clever vendors had already nimbly moved among the crowd, selling cider, pretzels and date candy.
Nova couldn't help but frown. He raised his head and carefully sniffed the strange smell in the air. To be honest, he didn't really like crowded places like this. On idle nights, he would rather curl up on the sofa and read a book - an overly noisy environment would affect his thinking efficiency.
Fortunately, Azuka was always by his side, gently holding his shoulders from time to time and deftly leading him away from the crowded crowd.
The lights suddenly met, and accompanied by the cheers of the crowd, the curtain was slowly pulled open, and a graceful figure in a red dress appeared in the center of the stage with her back to the audience.
"Miss Nightingale!"
York, standing nearby, had already screamed with excitement, his face flushed crimson—his voice was drowned out by the even louder cheers. The fanatical crowd was involuntarily surging forward, their enthusiasm seemingly excessive. Their enormous, frenzied shadows were nearly engulfing the curtain.
The stage seemed ablaze. Sharp plucked strings pierced the air, accompanied by fierce drumbeats. A woman in a red dress spun suddenly, her thick, curly black hair like seaweed dangling with swirling silver chains. Her fluttering skirt resembled a blazing flame. Her bare toes, punctuated by the sound of bells, kicked up countless sparkling fragments on the ground.
This is the story of Princess Aurora, who, in order to find out the truth behind her father's sudden death, refused to marry the Duke, and fled the palace, disguising herself as a wandering dancer and performing on the streets to make a living.
With the movement's first brief pause, the nightingale finally faced the audience. A bright red rose blossomed beside her ear, and an intricate half-mask, painted with the motif of a nightingale, concealed her features, revealing only a snow-white chin and alluring red lips. Despite her passionate and frenzied dance, her expression was profoundly stern, even mournful. The unyielding Princess Aurora, bold in love and hate, resurrected within her.
A bard dressed in strange and exaggerated clothes appeared on the stage. He knelt on one knee in front of the princess, played the lyre and expressed his love for her affectionately.
The professor slowly narrowed his eyes.
A new acquaintance, a suspected great prophet who calls himself Captain Magnus... and an old acquaintance, the priestess Apatara who was once abandoned by the god of love.
The princess's dance steps were still passionate. She refused the bard who tried to dance with her, refused the rich businessman who threw large sums of gold coins to her, and refused the nobles who wanted to force her to leave. Usually at this time, Gerard would appear as a hero to save the beauty.
But this time, the beautiful girl in the red dress made an inviting gesture towards the stage, and Nova suddenly felt a chill all over his body.
Sure enough, three spotlights suddenly cast a heavy shadow over him without warning.
professor:"……"
York, standing beside him, had red eyes and looked like he wanted to pounce on him and bite him to death. Stupid kid, clearly mentally affected—damned priestess.
Everyone thought this was a new interactive segment added by Curtain and Nightingale Repertory Theatre to liven up the atmosphere. For a moment, countless gloomy and angry gazes instantly surrounded the pale young man, looking as if they wanted to tear this lucky person who had been invited by Nightingale into pieces.
Marcyline frowned. She didn't think that His Majesty, with his character, would be willing to go on stage and be played by a fool. The red-haired girl wanted to step forward to help, but was held down by Orel.
"Wait a little longer." The assassin crossed his arms across his chest, gloating as he waited to watch the show - no matter whose show it was, didn't he see that his good friend hadn't made a move yet?
The clear, smoky-gray pupils instinctively contracted under the bright light, and the black-haired young man narrowed his eyes, gazing across the crowd at the priestess on the stage. As time passed, the crowd grew restless, booing in unison, and the smile on the priestess's lips finally began to stiffen.
That guy didn't seem embarrassed at all by being watched, but the others seemed a little at a loss.
"Burned snake blood resin mixed with primrose powder. A very low-quality hallucinogen, a staple of seers and self-proclaimed psychics." The young man's voice seemed shrouded in ice, piercing through the cheers. The audience closest to him shuddered. "Is this what you're using to cause a crowd exhilaration?"
The Big Devil's little class started. Ole, who had noticed it from the side, couldn't help but reveal a smug smile that said "I told you so", but no one knew what he was so proud of.
The priestess seemed to say something. The next moment, a crimson mist silently enveloped the entire amphitheater. The audience began to drift into a trance, their faces filled with ecstatic smiles. Apatra, on the stage, closed her eyes and began to whisper a prayer to summon the gods.
Maxine grabbed her brother, whose eyes were beginning to glaze over, and dragged him behind her. Was this woman called "Nightingale" serious? She regarded her with disbelief. The best fighters were all here.
"Wait a minute." The professor stopped his own man who was about to take action.
Apatra knew very well that Azuka was a god, and considering the other party's loyalty to the goddess of love, Analene, it was unlikely that he would betray his own god in front of Azuka.
Sure enough, nothing happened until the prayer ended.
A woman in a red dress stood alone on the stage. She ignored everyone and slowly took off her mask, flashing a strange, creepy smile that seemed both sad and angry at the black-haired young man under the spotlight.
"Look, she disappeared." The priestess' voice was soft, hoarse and tired. "No matter how much love I gave to her, no matter how much desire I gathered for her, no matter how much I prayed... she still disappeared and never appeared again."
The professor met her gaze expressionlessly. Nonsense! Of all the gods still alive, the God of Love was the most unfortunate, having already lost two soul fragments. If she had even a little more sanity, she would never so easily descend upon the world again.
"How do you know my whereabouts?" The cold-blooded tyrant seemed to have no intention of showing any sympathy to the fanatic on the verge of collapse.
"You know Magnus." Before Apatella could answer, he shifted his gaze to the bard beside him, "He told you."
The bard covered his chest with his hands, revealing an exaggerated heartbroken expression. "Oh my God, sweetheart! This hurts me so much. Do you think I'm this kind of rude, annoying person who invades other people's privacy?"
Ao Lei and the others' pupils trembled violently, and they almost choked on their saliva. Sweet, sweetheart? Who? His Majesty? What the hell is that?!
The tyrant replied seriously, "She also has a habit of calling me sweetheart. It's a very similar habit. Combined with other information, I don't think this is a mere coincidence."
Magnus: "..."
Suddenly, he felt a little guilty—guilt mixed with the shock of being so quickly exposed. The little princess had always spoken of this chosen one as sweethearts, and as a result, he habitually blurted out this name the moment he saw him.
...What a scary guy! This guy is so sharp that it's terrifying.
"He was my teacher and saved me when I was little." Apatella didn't seem to want to dwell on these matters. Besides, hiding it was impossible, so he simply revealed the truth: "Please forgive my rudeness."
The professor remained noncommittal. “Why did you go to all that trouble to find me?”
"I want to make a deal with you." The priestess took a few eager steps forward, but paused when she saw the blond youth beside him, who raised his head slightly. A deep fear flashed across her face. It was clear that the trauma she felt for the god had been so profound that even her frivolous speech had vanished without a trace.
"A group of silver-helmeted knights have left the royal city and are searching for you." She stood there, her crimson eyes gazing at him sorrowfully. "From what I hear, they've already reached the Kasa Strait."
The professor raised an eyebrow calmly. "I don't think this is information worth trading."
He had already completely offended the Vatican, and the Royal Court likely hated him to the core for the riots he had instigated. Ever since he became a "ghost," he had been hunted by various forces, both overt and covert, without ceasing. As the saying goes, "the more debts, the less worry." It was just a group of Silver Helm Knights, so he didn't need to treat it as a major threat.
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