บท 229: Chapter 229: The Strange Invitation
In the early morning light, Alice struggled to open her eyes. She stared at the ceiling in a daze for several minutes before her eyelids drooped, and she drifted back into sleep.
"So sleepy… just a little longer…"
She lay there, half-awake, for another half hour before slowly dragging herself out of bed, reluctantly bracing against the chilly morning air.
"Getting up early really is the most painful part of life... pfft!" After washing up, Alice looked at herself in the mirror, putting on a dramatic, somber face before letting out a long sigh — which made her laugh.
When her laughter faded, Alice finally remembered what had been nagging at her. "Wait a minute, wasn't I planning to go to Bayam? Why am I up this early…"
She stared into the mirror, lost in a fierce mental struggle, until her rumbling stomach won. She decided it was time for breakfast.
Today, however, she found something unusual in her mailbox — an invitation.
It was the social off-season in Backlund, as most nobles were vacationing on their estates. Although some influential aristocrats still traveled frequently, gatherings were sparse this time of year. And, as Alice saw it, she hardly had many friends among the Ruen nobility.
Puzzled, she took the invitation, along with the day's newspaper and a letter from Evelyn, back to her table. She ate her breakfast in quiet solitude as she read the news.
Though she had adopted the middle-class habit of reading the newspaper, her interest was different from most. Others paid attention to politics and the economy, hoping to discern the currents of power among the elite.
Alice, on the other hand, was simply looking for something amusing.
For instance… The Church of the Storms had enacted a new rule forbidding its followers from wearing monocles in the chapel.
"Poor Church of the Storms, they're terrified of Amon now. Amon is just too much!" thought Alice without a hint of self-awareness.
Speaking of Amon… Alice suddenly remembered something. She hastily finished her breakfast, grabbed the monocle she'd casually tossed on the table, then dashed to the door and locked it from outside.
Of course, she made sure to take the key, just in case.
With her monocle on, Alice crouched down, bit her lip, and gingerly pulled a strand of her hair. She'd been curious about something — whether she could pick a lock with a strand of her own hair.
After some trying, Alice came to realize just how unlikely it was. She couldn't get it to work at all.
She figured it was due to her hair's lack of toughness; it couldn't even reach the lock mechanism, let alone manipulate it.
Alice sighed, relieved she'd taken her key, and returned home.
After relocking the door, she thought for a moment, closed her eyes, and, assuming a prayerful posture, whispered in ancient Hermes:
"The Clock-Hand that Tampers with Time,
The Shadow that Roams across Fate,
The Embodiment of Deceit and Trickery."
"I seek your attention,
"I seek your answer.
"I tried, but my hair was too soft to pick the lock… maybe you should give it a try? Use something tougher!
"Oh, by the way… do mythical beings even grow hair? If you do, maybe try your own — it must be sturdy."
She received a response, laced with amusement:
"Oh, indeed, it's tough — you already bit it, though maybe it was my hand?
"Curious, aren't you? Well, why not prepare a ritual of request? I'll send you a few strands of my hair. The real thing.
"Oh, and… Alice, can you tell me who stole the donation box from the Storms' church?"
Alice shrank back, feigning innocence, pretending she'd heard nothing about a ritual or a gift from Amon. Who knew what he'd actually send her!
Alice wisely decided to abandon this idea and pretended not to notice the last question, wondering what she should do next.
Speaking of curiosity… what would the fur of a demonic wolf feel like?
Before her imagination could run any wilder, Alice cut herself off, picked up the strange invitation from the table, and opened it.
It was an invitation for afternoon tea — scheduled for today.
Honestly, she found it quite rude. It was utterly lacking in social decorum.
To invite someone to tea on the same day? And to invite a complete stranger, at that. This overstepped social boundaries, came across as intrusive, and left one feeling rather perplexed.
Take Alice, for instance. She found the inviter quite baffling and looked curiously at the name on the card.
Winfried Gregory.
Alice thought hard. She was sure she didn't know anyone by that name.
The invitation contained only a name, which Alice assumed was noble based on the address — an estate in the Queen's District suburbs.
But even so, a mere surname offered her no help; there wasn't even a title listed.
Alice blinked, sensing no spiritual disturbance, and decided to go. After all, she hadn't received any warnings! What could be more daunting than the Church of the Storms' cathedral?
Setting the invitation aside, Alice reluctantly opened Evelyn's letter.
---
"Dear Brielle,
I'm so glad you didn't find my concern too excessive… though you probably think I'm being overly cautious, don't you?
For some reason, I've had a strange sense of foreboding these last few days, especially after reading your letter.
Do you know, Brielle? In novels, if anyone ever says something like, 'Once I do this, then we can...' then… well...
That person usually ends up dead.
Maybe I'm overthinking… Anyway, Brielle, I'll be here waiting for you. And when you're back, I might have a surprise for you, too.
Yours sincerely, Evelyn"
---
"Your letter sounds just like a jinx…" Alice mumbled, deciding not to reply — otherwise, they'd be trading ominous phrases forever!
Little did anyone know how disappointed Amon, far away in the Forsaken Land, felt about being forgotten by his "friends."
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