"Disregarding the vast amount of obscure content in the original text, the specific meaning is actually quite simple. The only deity who completely shed mortal dust and blood, while still human, outlined the ladder leading to the origins of mystery. It consists of seven ascents, hence also known as the 'Seven Ladders theory.'"
Elsa listened carefully. As she gradually understood what Fran was saying, her eyes began to reveal an uncontrollable look of astonishment.
"Ms. Flamel, does the 'Seventh Ladder' theory describe the mystical concept of 'promotion'?"
"Yes."
Fran nodded, confirming her thought.
"However, this system originated from the Lost Age, and much of its content is no longer applicable. For example, the author believed only individuals at the fifth ladder or above could transform into Sacred Spawn through sacrifice, but in recent years, some High Priests at the fourth ladder have also been able to become Sacred Spawn."
"Though on average much weaker, and lacking divinity."
Listening to Fran's description, Elsa couldn't help but fall into deep thought, only speaking again after a long while.
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"A whim."
Fran had anticipated this question, so her response came quite effortlessly.
"For ordinary people, ignorance is the greatest protection. But for a White Cup disciple who wants to understand the world... knowing more might help you live longer, at least not die in obscurity."
As she spoke, Fran raised her hand to part the mist curtain, revealing a wooden door.
Behind this door was the Mandala Tavern.
Since Elsa wasn't fully recovered yet, Fran directly set the exit of the Mist Within the Door inside the tavern. Entering directly through the main door would be too conspicuous, so this time, they also entered through the back door into the storeroom.
But this time... there was an unexpected development.
A bartender was fetching materials in the storeroom when he suddenly felt a chilly, damp fog surge in, making him sneeze.
"What's going on? Feels drafty, is the door not closed properly?"
When he looked toward the source of the chill, he found the back door inexplicably filled with a pale grey mist.
"What in the world... is this?"
The bartender's voice trembled inexplicably, carrying a hint of disbelief. He shakily backed away, then turned to run, about to leave the storeroom.
The next moment, countless black tendrils, like a spiderweb, wrapped around him from behind, sealed his mouth and nose, and pulled him back.
"Ran quite decisively, that's a good habit."
Fran slowly approached him, offering a consoling compliment.
"Mmgh!"
Watching the grey-robed lady approach and the black tendrils emerging from her sleeves, the bartender's eyes were filled with terror, nearly fainting.
He knew the tavern was frequented by all sorts of people, often hosting secret gatherings, so he always minded his own business, never inquiring or prying into matters beyond his duties.
He never expected, being so careful, he'd still encounter something like this...
Fran stood before the young bartender, holding the pocket watch chain, gently swinging it before his eyes.
"You are a bartender at the Mandala Tavern. You came to the storeroom only to fetch liquor supplies. And today is just an ordinary, uneventful day, just like any other. Nothing unexpected happened."
"So..."
At this point, she released her restraint on the bartender, allowing him to continue along this established logic.
"So, I didn't see anyone in the storeroom... After fetching the materials, I returned to my post..."
The bartender's pupils were unfocused and dazed, his words like sleep-talk.
"Yes, go back to work."
Fran patted the bartender's back. He then seemed to wake from a dream, looking around somewhat puzzled.
Although he made the "looking" motion, he seemed to see right through Fran and Elsa. Scratching his head, he simply took the base liquors for mixing and returned to his post.
Beside him, Elsa pursed her lips nervously, carefully suppressing her astonishment.
Thought, memory, dreams—these were clearly the domains most familiar to the White Cup's Error-Purgers. But Flamel, a Mirror-Wiper of the Lamp cult, could so easily interfere with thoughts?
"Just hypnosis, a minor trick not worth mentioning."
Fran offered a simple, somewhat perfunctory explanation, then led her out of the storeroom.
Around ten o'clock was the liveliest time at the Mandala Tavern, with dim lights and noisy chatter. In this environment, two people emerging from the storeroom wouldn't attract attention at all, even if they were women.
However, to avoid trouble, Fran still used the brass pocket watch to lower her own and Elsa's presence, preventing complications.
With a creak of wood, the two passed through the corridor and climbed the stairs to the tavern's third floor.
Fran glanced at the room numbers, and without much thought, walked straight toward room 8.
"Ms. Flamel, do you know which room the gathering is being held in?"
Seeing her reach out to push the door, Elsa couldn't resist asking out of curiosity.
"Of course, a simple number puzzle."
Fran paused her hand movement and began to explain.
"That blood clan member entered the sewers around mid-September, and you disappeared after the gathering in early October, which was in room 2. Following the cyclic number '142857,' the room number for mid-January should be 8."
"You should know this too, right?"
Elsa nodded slightly, not disagreeing.
She had indeed calculated the next gathering's sequence number these past few days at home. It's just that on the way here, her mind was full of information about the Seventh Ladder theory, and she hadn't thought of it immediately.
Besides, other content in Fran's previous statement made Elsa very concerned.
Ms. Flamel seemed very familiar with that monster, even knowing the time he entered the sewers... and called him a "blood clan member"?
"Do, do you know about that monster in the red leather robe?"
Of course, I even performed the autopsy on that guy myself... Though Fran wanted to say that, she didn't actually say it. That would make her identity too easy to verify.
"A bit regretful, when I saw him, he was already dead."
Fran said lightly, not delving deeper into the topic. Instead, she raised her hand and pushed open the door to room 8 without any obstruction.
The reason she chatted with Elsa by the door for a few moments was actually to pick the lock.
For the Crown-Thief, opening this kind of lock with only weak spirituality was effortless. Even if it were a bolt... she could simply steal the wooden bolt from inside the door.
"Who?"
The five people inside the room who were chatting before the meeting looked alertly at the newcomers.
The doorkeeper, Gunes, felt puzzled. He clearly hadn't felt a key inserted into the lock... How could the door open quietly by itself? Had the Secrets-Hunters found them?
Schmidt took a closer look and surprisingly spotted a familiar figure among the two newcomers, causing him to frown.
Elsa.
Wasn't she suffering from a mental illness that made it impossible for her to leave home? Why was she here?
Being scrutinized by so many gazes at once made Elsa feel somewhat embarrassed. She couldn't help but turn to look at Fran beside her.
Ms. Flamel is a friend of Mr. Nikolas, as long as she explains, there shouldn't be a problem, right...
Facing their gazes, Fran simply lifted the hem of her grey gauze dress slightly, performing the Lamp Salutation common among Mirror-Wipers. To prevent anyone from seeing the suture lines on her hands, she had also thoughtfully worn silk gloves.
"Greetings, everyone. May the Lamp shine long, may moths flutter around."
"I am a Mirror-Wiper from the Veiled Assembly, attending the gathering upon Miss Elsa's recommendation. You may address me as 'The Hermit'."
Hearing this, Gunes' eyes darkened.
Her robe bore both the Lamp and Moth symbols; she was a unified faction of the Veiled Assembly? No wonder she could open that lock. The Lamp is good at solving puzzles and peering, while the Moth is good at escape and deception. A unified faction combining both could naturally easily bypass the lock's restrictions.
He curled his lip slightly with some hostility, not hiding his animosity.
"If I recall correctly, that child doesn't have the qualification..."
Before Gunes could finish his sentence, Nikolas, seated at the head, nodded, seemingly accepting the two's unexpected arrival.
"Welcome, Lady Hermit."
"Perhaps you already know my name from Elsa, though that name is nothing to be ashamed of. But here, I hope you will address me as 'Astrologer', or simply as the Host."
His expression was quite indifferent, as if this sudden situation hadn't caused any ripples.
"Very well, Mr. Host."
Adhering to the principle of sitting whenever possible, Fran very naturally went to the round conference table and sat down. She didn't forget to pull out another wooden square chair for Elsa to sit beside her.
Once the two were seated, Nikolas's voice sounded again.
"For new attendees, I need to clarify a few points in advance."
"First, the Star Chart Research Society originates from Gormouth. The cult's name is the Stellar Abyss Society, venerating the Abyssal Well that devours nebulae. The gathering is fully anonymous; please think of a pseudonym to use. Also, unless permitted, attendees must not disseminate or leak gathering information."
"Second, although our gathering does not comply with City Hall regulations, it does not violate the Secrets-Hunters' precepts. If discovered by the Secrets-Hunters, only a fine is required. I will bear 60% of that sum, and the attendees will collectively bear the remaining 40%."
"Third, please conduct transactions of relics privately. The gathering only supports the exchange of academic knowledge and information."
Fran rubbed her fingertips through the velvet-grey silk gloves, her expression somewhat absent-minded.
"I understand."
But she still agreed.
Nikolas didn't mind Fran's casual attitude.
The Lamp and Moth are both known for having eccentric people, let alone a unified faction that merges two contradictory aspects within oneself. In his view, the fact that Lady Hermit could communicate was normal enough.
"Please have some tea. It's 'Winter Bud' from my hometown, Gormouth."
Before Nikolas finished speaking, Schmidt beside him had already brewed two cups of tea and placed them on the round table before Fran and Elsa.
This White Cup teaching assistant didn't seem to mind serving tea to his student and even gave Elsa a warm smile.
"Thank you."
Fran glanced at the pale liquid in the porcelain cup, lifted her veil, and drank half the cup while covering her lips.
Although there was plenty of stock at the Fog Street Clinic, and of better quality... might as well drink it since it's offered. Winter Bud has a very distinctive Gormouth flavor, clear and with a long aftertaste, which is why Dorothy uses it to entertain honored guests.
After seeing that this Mirror-Wiper had indeed drunk the tea, a glint subtly flashed in Nikolas's eyes.
"Good. According to Star Chart Research Society's established practice, each person first shares a piece of recent information. Lady Hermit is a new attendee, so you may begin."
"Alright."
Fran nodded with a smile, having no objection.
"Hmm... I recently discovered a very peculiar situation. Where to begin?"
"There's a secret gathering that requires full anonymity, yet it allowed a natural history student to participate under her real name, even telling her the host's name. Why? Because she no longer had the possibility of leaking secrets?"
"Coincidentally, there were rumors of man-eating monsters in the alley next to the gathering. And the attendees seemed unconcerned."
"Even more coincidentally, that monster just happened to kidnapped her late at night right after a gathering ended. Placing her within a fleshly cradle, awaiting placement upon a deity's banquet table..."
"Everyone, isn't fate's arrangement too deliberate and compact? Or perhaps, this is a man-written script, a 'feeding'?"
The atmosphere, already tense due to her arrival, now became openly hostile.
Just as her words finished, a sudden change occurred!
Bang!
Nikolas suddenly slammed his fist on the round table. Along with the sharp noise of the impact came a flash of crimson light that swept past the gun's muzzle. Fran's previously leaning body abruptly fell backward, as if struck in the forehead.
"Ms. Flamel!"
Hearing the sudden gunshot, Elsa shuddered and immediately went to Fran to check her injury.
Her mind instantly became a tangled mess, all thoughts twisting together into an unsolvable confusion.
Why did the Host attack Ms. Flamel? And what she just said implied the Star Chart Research Society had problems? But my recommender, Mr. Schmidt, is a White Cup Error-Purger, how could he betray the Great Pioneer...
No, now is not the time to think about this. How is Ms. Flamel's injury?
At that moment, Fran's voice sounded again quietly. Like a ghost from the abyss, lingering.
"Elsa, this is why I said not to blindly believe the 'Seventh Ladder' theory."
"Many secret cult disciples pour their hearts out to climb to the second or even third ladder, becoming 'Deacons'. Yet a single bullet into the brain can still take their extraordinary lives."
Something unfolded from beneath the gauze robe behind her, precisely intercepting that steel-core bullet.
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T/N: Hey readers~! New Translator here! Before I say anything, I'd first like to thank the original author for creating this wonderful story. Without them, I wouldn't have the chance to share this adventure with you. I hope my translation does justice to their work, and that together, we can enjoy this story.
With that said, I'm happy to let you know I'll be uploading daily chapters. And for those who wish to support my work and gain early access, I've set up a Patreon where advanced chapters will be available.
[email protected]/PeakTL