Chapter Ninety-Two: Strange Illness

“Ah, Sir John! Please don’t misunderstand!” Kate hurriedly stood up, explaining, “Mr. Louis and Miss Helen are my friends. They’re about to shoot a new film. When they heard the esteemed guests were coming to exorcise demons, they came specifically to observe and learn. But we had to rush for the train, so there was no time to change out of the costumes!”

The priests exchanged glances. Bishop John, the Archmage, abruptly gulped down several sips of water, forcing himself to swallow his indignation. After wiping his mustache, he leaned forward cautiously and asked Kate, “So… this ‘Saint Anthony’ and ‘First Pope Aria’ are… from the Triff Cinema Dreamworks?”

“That’s right, Sir John. Indeed, that’s the case. Heh, heh heh.” As she spoke, Kate nudged Louis twice.

Louis’s eye twitched—he now fully understood what these clothes were: ancient sage attire, the white robes worn by Saint Anthony and the first pope during ceremonial occasions! He and Helen, dressed like this, were only missing a hat and a scepter to complete the look!

Triff really planned to shoot this film—and the costumes were impressively authentic…

This useless parasite! A parasite in the Ministry of Magic! A disgrace to wizards!

In this office, not a single item was for actual work!

Everything was a film prop!

Thank goodness Miss Kate was quick-witted. Otherwise, those old men would have rushed at him, waving their staffs, trying to entrap him.

If he accidentally knocked them over, what then?

Louis wiped cold sweat from his brow and exhaled deeply. He and Helen, under the squinting surveillance of the ‘Archmage’ priests, hurriedly pulled out notebooks and pens from their sleeves, forcing smiles and pretending to take notes.

The archmage priests glanced at the spell-filled ‘magic notebooks’ in their hands, exchanged looks, and nodded approvingly.

To be fair, Triff Cinema Dreamworks’ props were truly professional! They actually used that sort of thing themselves.

While Louis and the ‘Archmages’ nearly came to blows, the other side—the grand magicians engaged in heated debate—almost quarreled among themselves.

Several silk-clad magicians insisted there was no magic in this world, with the priests nodding in agreement. One ‘priest’ dressed in an ornate archmage robe also echoed the sentiment that magic no longer existed.

This set the magicians off.

It was as though: they could claim there was no magic in the world, but others were forbidden to say so.

“Gentlemen, I think you may have misunderstood. What we mean is that magic is vanishing from this world—but it still exists.” The young man in red silk, face solemn, stepped forward, bowed to everyone, and then rolled up his sleeves, rummaging through a magic book on the table. Apparently, he was about to demonstrate something.

Louis’s eyes flickered—he agreed with the man’s view!

If things continued like this, magic would only survive thanks to the priests’ inheritance!

Thinking of this, Louis glanced at the priests again.

What exactly had Mr. Anthony left these priests?

He recalled the special spells he’d seen in the Lunar Holy Canon in his office—holy magic and light magic.

Surely, Anthony had referenced the moon god’s divine arts, leaving these spells to his descendants—he hadn’t put all his eggs in one basket.

“Louis, he’s about to use magic. Will he be punished by the Ministry of Magic…” Helen worried for the man in red silk.

“This young lady is quite right. According to the ‘Magic Enthusiasts’ Association’s’ rules, public use of magic is punishable.” The red-silk gentleman smiled, then changed his tone, bowing slightly to Kate and Helen, smiling, “But this time, for the sake of you two ladies, I’m willing to make an exception.”

He seemed rather gentlemanly.

With that, he tore a piece of paper and began a lengthy incantation. After a long time, sweat streamed down the grand magician’s face, and the paper slowly floated up by two centimeters.

“It’s done.” The red-silk gentleman wiped his sweat.

Upon witnessing this, the other two magicians were dumbfounded, carefully checked the paper, and then solemnly addressed everyone, “Ladies and gentlemen, let us applaud Mr. Ron, who has proven magic exists in this world!”

Miss Kate’s face flushed with excitement—Sir Ron really was the most formidable grand magician.

Her applause alone seemed insufficient; she stood and rallied the hall’s servants to join in.

Now, everyone gazed at the red-silk gentleman with worshipful eyes. Only Louis and Helen were left stunned. This made Miss Kate frown in slight displeasure—these high-and-mighty little priests had no respect.

Helen gazed at Louis, dazed like a goose, at a loss for words.

“Helen, didn’t you recognize it? That’s the levitation spell for the Statue Tree, but it’s been altered… likely a spell intentionally released by the Ministry of Magic. Originally, the spell couldn’t be cast, but he made some correct changes, and didn’t use a wand…” Louis shook his head.

“Louis… they’re not planning to rely on such things to face that creature, are they? It looks like there’s something terrifying behind that door.” Helen looked fearfully toward the large door at the other end of the hall.

Louis fell into thought—he didn’t know why these three had come here.

[But there must be a reason…]

He shook his head again. He had a suspicion, but wasn’t sure how to tell Helen—it might overturn her worldview.

He quietly cast a spell, making Stuart fade from perception. Then he said, “Stuart, keep an eye on Helen.”

[Obey the decree]

As soon as he spoke, an old man with a tall hat appeared beside Helen. Aside from Louis and Helen, no one seemed able to see him. Yet Stuart’s attention wasn’t on his master; upon appearing, he gazed solemnly at the door Helen had just looked at.

‘Stuart, just watch over Helen. As for those ‘Archmages’…’

Louis sipped his tea, glanced at the priests, and couldn’t help but scowl.

The ‘archmage priests’ were crowding around the floating paper like country folk just arrived in the city, clicking their tongues in wonder, faces awash with shock. They seemed never to have imagined magic could truly exist.

‘Archmages! You’re the only ones in this room who know any magic! You use magic yourselves! Even if your skills aren’t great, it’s still magic! At the Statue Tree, you’d be professor-level wizards!’

‘Wake up! Stop deluding yourselves!’

The archmage priests marveled at the wonders of magic, praising the three grand magicians’ skills.

At that moment, from the doorway came a faint but powerful applause.

The sound wasn’t loud, but when it echoed in the hall, it drew everyone’s attention.

“Thank you, Grand Magicians Bach, Ron, and Fermi, for your splendid demonstration, and thanks to Bishop John and the esteemed priests and knights who have come from afar to grace my humble home. My hospitality has been somewhat lacking; please forgive me.”

At the doorway stood a middle-aged man of commanding presence. He carried a captain’s hat adorned with wheat stalks under his arm, and wore a double-breasted naval officer’s uniform—medals gleaming on his chest, testimony to his distinguished service.

He leaned on a walking stick, his leg apparently injured—this must be the reason Kate’s father was convalescing, as she’d mentioned.

Of course, his troubled mind was a primary cause as well.

[Count Crowley is deeply worried—Mr. Harold was right, his wife will awaken someday!]

[‘It’s all my fault… all my fault… I shouldn’t have…’]

[The Countess suffered from illness for years, bedridden like a plant. The Count, deeply in love, sought every scholar and priest in the world, but none could cure her.]

[Until a mysterious visitor arrived.]

[His wife gradually regained vitality; her eyes could move. But she couldn’t speak, nor tell her husband she had forgiven him.]

[Nonetheless, the Count finally saw her smile. He claimed illness, begged His Majesty to relieve him of his governorship, and returned home to care for his beloved.]

[Back at home, he tended to his wife. Her health slowly improved.]

[But no one expected the story would not end happily… one day, his wife suffered her first attack.]

[Luckily, a self-proclaimed magician temporarily ‘cured’ (suppressed) the illness. Afterward, he told the Count his wife had actually died years ago and become a demon, urging him to cremate her for peace.]

[Dead… demon… peace… This enraged the Count. His wife was clearly alive—how could she be called a demon, and how could he cremate her?]

[That damned black wizard! He was lying.]

[The kindly magician was hunted by the Kingdom of Sorendo and fled abroad.]

[Countess Crowley grew stranger…]

[Or rather, she could no longer be called merely strange…]

[Now, Crowley realized his mistake, and was filled with regret.]

[Perhaps his wife could never be saved, and in recent years, no one could help her find peace…]

[The magician’s deadline had arrived; the bishop had journeyed from the Lunar Court, and three magicians had come to assist upon hearing the news.]

[Count Crowley knew—the only chance to free his wife completely was now before him.]

[Everything must be settled today.]

……

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