Chapter 196: The Poet of Boundless Love is Truly Here

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. The interior of the storeroom on the second floor of Cat Proprietor's Eatery was dim. A few faint beams of light struggled to pierce through the heavy curtain of rain and the window drapes, casting scattered patches of light on the floor.

It resembled a secret chamber more than a conventional storage room, relying on only a few amber-hued pendant lights for illumination. The sturdy wooden planks that made up the structure appeared heavy and weathered by time.

In the center of the room, a man was strapped to a metal chair. His body leaned forward, with head slightly bowed, eyes shut tight, and cheeks pale. His hands and feet were bound fast with tough rope. Clad in dark clothing, he was covered in dust clearly visible in the dim light, as if he had been dragged across the ground.

When the door was pulled shut again, the room fell into a profound silence, broken only by the soft patter of rain against the window, which gave a steady, drizzling sound like a ceaseless lullaby. The storeroom sat still in this unchanging state.

Finally, Fenix's brows furrowed and his eyelashes fluttered slightly. These were signs that he was regaining consciousness. His mouth twisted, and a low growl escaped his throat, as if he were tormented by some form of agony. He tried to recall what had happened, but his mind held only hazy, fog-like memories that left him utterly exhausted.

Then, his tightly closed eyes slowly opened, revealing a cold, piercing gaze. He felt the hard back of the chair against his spine and the biting chill of handcuffs locking his hands tightly to the armrests. As he attempted to make sense of his situation, a feeling of anger and bitter frustration rose up within him.

The curse afflicting him refused to dissipate. It was clearly a spell far beyond his own rank, leaving him as frail and near-death as a critically ill patient. The lingering sting from the mental trauma that had knocked him unconscious earlier made his brain feel as though it were trembling.

He managed to lift his head and look ahead. In front of him was a dark wooden table that held a few documents and two teacups. On the other side of the table sat two people who were incredibly familiar to him.

Lance was leaning back in his chair with an air of composure. Wisps of steam curled upward from the teacup in his hand as he blew gently on it, savoring the moment of tranquility.

Hyperion sat beside him. Her pen was poised over the paper, ready to record every detail that followed.

Someone other than the two of them adjusted the angle of a bright lamp on the table. The beam shone directly onto Fenix's face, forcing him to instinctively squint and turn away. The muscles in his face tightened as he braced himself against the sudden, harsh glare.

Lance set down his teacup, scrutinized Fenix for a moment, and calmly asked, "Do you know why you've been brought here?"

Fenix quickly regained his composure and shouted with righteous indignation, "Lance! You have no right to tie me up like this. I demand to see a professor from my university!"

Even though the mission had failed, these people had no way to confirm his identity, let alone convict him.

At the time, the civilians in the dining hall had all been under the control of his Grand Puppet Theater spell. Therefore, there were no eyewitnesses to testify to his attempted assassination of the young lady of House Aransar.

Lance remained silent, observing Fenix's attitude. He then picked up the file from the table and glanced up at the young man as he read the details aloud. "Fenix. Male. Nineteen years old. Born May 11, 1778, Solar Calendar. Citizen of the Kingdom of Yaloran. Unmarried. Currently enrolled at the Yaloran Kingdom's Royal University. No criminal record, no outstanding debts. Parents deceased. Has a younger sister."

He had asked Frey to compile this information for every student and teacher in the Yaloran academic delegation before he even arrived at the room. The dossier included personal details, social connections, family backgrounds, and more.

Lance set the file down and looked at Fenix with a contemplative air. "You hid it well, didn't you, cultist?"

Fenix roared at Lance, looking utterly indignant, "This is slander, defamation, and a violation of my personal liberty!"

He was certain that as long as he adamantly refused to confess, there was nothing Lance could do to him. After all, the youth in front of him couldn't possibly have evidence proving he was a member of the Church of Resurrection.

They couldn't keep him detained for long or subject him to extrajudicial punishment here in Ikerite. If Ikerite University discovered that a student was missing from the Kingdom of Yaloran's academic delegation, they would certainly launch a thorough investigation. When the trail led back to Lance, Fenix would even have a chance to turn the tables on him.

"Student Fenix..." Lance's voice was gentle yet authoritative.

He spoke in an unhurried manner, articulating every word with clarity and force. "You know, I've seen all sorts of troublesome students in my line of work. Some end up repenting, while others remain incorrigible. In the end, however, they all end up back on the straight and true. How long do you think that process will take for you?"

Lance sat patiently at the table, his fingers interlaced beneath his chin, as he gazed at Fenix with a smile. For a moment, Fenix felt a shiver of apprehension. He wanted to reason, but Lance simply wouldn't listen to a word he said.

There was a reason why there was a saying that said: "the soft fear the hard, the hard fear the stubborn, the stubborn fear the reckless, and the reckless fear the mad." And Lance was clearly the last type.

Fenix lowered his head, gritting his teeth in thought. After reflecting on it, he still couldn't fathom how his perfect plan had suddenly gone off the rails just as it was proceeding smoothly. Unfortunately, the events led directly to his capture by Lance. It was as if, from the very moment he had arrived in the Kingdom of Hutton, he was the one who had truly become the hunted, the prey being stalked.

Everything about the situation felt wrong. He was supposed to be the one lurking in the shadows while Lance stood in the light!

Fenix was now filled with a strange mix of fear and regret. Why did he have to go and provoke this guy? In the Purgatory Corridor Academy challenge, the moment he had first laid eyes on that Radiant Demon, his instincts had warned him that the creature was nothing but trouble.

Back then, Fenix hadn't recognized that the "Radiant Demon Headmaster" was actually a challenger. In fact, he hadn't even known that someone named Lance Wilford existed.

It was only after returning to the real world that he obtained new intelligence from the Church of Resurrection. The Radiant Demon in the dungeon had actually been a student from Ikerite University named Lance.

"Student Fenix, whether you admit it or not... In fact, regardless of whether you confess willingly or under duress that you are a member of the Church of Resurrection doesn't matter to me, because it is simply the truth."

Lance picked up the teacup from the table, took a sip, and then looked at the other figure standing beside him.

"Professor Lana, please handle the ideological re-education."

The Poet of Boundless Love, who had just moments ago been shining a light directly into Fenix's eyes, nodded. She released the light, walked over to Fenix, and circled him, sizing him up.

When Fenix clearly saw the figure of this gray haired female demon again, he couldn't help but tremble as he asked, "Just who are you?!"

It was a reaction born of instinctive fear. He was certain that she was the one who had treated him like a mere ant just moments ago.

She had apparently shed her disguise to reveal her true self, no longer masking her malevolence behind a cold, impassive expression. Yet, before she actually made a move, she still appeared to be nothing more than a Tier 1 entity.

She pertly said, "I'm the Poet of Boundless Love, of course."

She was wearing a black jacket, and the hem of her skirt fluttered gently in the air. A warden-style cap sat atop her head. Recently, she had started demanding that Lance buy her new clothes, though her taste was rather peculiar.

The Poet let out a soft, wistful sigh. "It's a shame the Holy Trio isn't here. Otherwise, I wouldn't have to go to the trouble myself."

Those three clergy had been deeply influenced by both her and Lance, so they likely would have been able to pry the truth out of Fenix within the hour.

Hyperion's eye twitched uncontrollably as she listened. She certainly knew exactly who the "Holy Trio" referred to. She could only hope that when she and Lance went on their trip to the Northern Continent, those three wouldn't become too infamous.