The next morning, the castle dining room lit up with proper lights for the first time.
At least, that was what Isolde believed.
She sat at the head of the long table with a cup of black tea in front of her.
Lia stood behind her, holding a menu. Her one visible eye scanned the words outside her bandages with great seriousness.
“Miss, today’s kitchen can provide rye bread, smoked meat, stewed mushrooms, rotten flesh platter, Breathworm egg custard, live snails…”
“Stop.”
Isolde’s face remained expressionless.
“Cross out everything after the mushrooms.”
“Yes, Miss.”
Isolde felt a headache coming on.
She hadn’t paid much attention to food these past few days, but now that she had, it seemed the castle’s entire dining system needed a complete overhaul.
Great. Her trip outside now had one more task added to the list, screening edible recipes.
A bell rang outside the door.
Isolde looked up and saw the wandering merchant Orren enter.
He was still wearing that old cloak of his, its edges covered in copper pieces, small bottles, and tiny bells. As he moved, they clicked and chimed softly against one another.
At first glance, he looked like a dark-themed Christmas tree.
Orren removed his top hat and gave a slight bow.
“Good morning, honored master of the castle.”
Isolde lifted her eyes.
“Good morning, shrewd wandering merchant.”
Orren laughed at once.
“You are truly amusing.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
Isolde picked up her cup and took a graceful sip.
Orren sat down at the other end of the long table.
A faceless servant placed a covered plate in front of him.
When the lid was lifted, it revealed a piece of well-toasted rye bread, a small plate of smoked meat, and a little bowl of mushroom soup.
Isolde’s gaze softened slightly.
So there were normal recipes after all.
The next second, a gray-white eyeball surfaced from the mushroom soup.
It slowly turned toward Orren and blinked at him.
Isolde fell silent.
Orren looked down at it, then back at her.
“The hospitality of this castle is quite distinctive.”
Isolde coughed lightly.
“This is the previous owner’s style.”
She looked at Lia.
Lia stiffly stepped forward, intending to take the soup away.
But Orren picked up the spoon, lifted his mask with his right hand to reveal his mouth, and naturally scooped the eyeball into it.
What kind of mouth was that?
It looked like an abyss.
Like a black hole.
Set into his thin jaw, it seemed capable of swallowing even the light around it.
“Mmm. Delicious.”
Seeing that he was enjoying it, Isolde looked away from him and waved Lia back.
She had almost forgotten that most creatures in this world could not be judged by ordinary human standards.
Perhaps those disgusting-looking dishes were delicacies to certain beings.
Orren set down the spoon.
His gloved hands folded neatly on the table, and his tone was light.
“My honored lady, have you decided what post-sale service you require?”
Isolde lightly rubbed the wall of her cup with her fingertips.
“I have.”
Orren leaned forward slightly.
“Please, go ahead.”
“I want you to help me complete the Mooncrown Unicorn’s lingering final wish.”
Orren paused.
“My honored lady. Are you certain?”
Isolde raised her cup without looking at him.
“Did you not understand me?”
“Of course I understood.”
Orren chuckled softly.
“It is only that this matter is rather troublesome. The returns are unstable, the risk is high, and it is hardly worth the danger.”
Isolde gave a cold laugh.
“Isn’t that because you failed to check the risks when you accepted the goods? Now that the risk has been transferred to me, you are trying to wash your hands of all responsibility.”
She emphasized the words “failed to check.”
Orren, that crooked merchant, had probably known about the lingering final wish from the beginning. He had simply chosen not to mention it.
If Valen had still been alive, that would have worked perfectly.
A brainless heap of rotting meat would have paid the remaining balance, and whatever happened afterward would have had nothing to do with Orren.
Unfortunately for him, he had met Isolde.
Not only could she read contracts, she had even managed to keep him here.
A soft laugh escaped from behind Orren’s mask.
“You are a clever person. In that case, I will cooperate fully and provide you with useful information.”
Isolde took a sip of tea.
She looked at Orren across the table and continued.
“Then tell me exactly how the Mooncrown Unicorn died.”
Orren took a roll of parchment from his cloak.
He released it, and the map floated open in midair.
A building in the northeastern region had been marked with flowing red ink.
“This is Gray Dove Monastery, a branch church under the control of the Holy Court.”
Evelyn Hart had heard the name “Holy Court” far too many times in her previous life.
It was the religious order of Whitehaven.
In the mouths of most players, it was the righteous banner of the light faction and the force that stood against darkness.
In her previous life, she had once imagined that if she ever escaped and met people from the Holy Court, perhaps those white-robed believers would reach out to save her.
Perhaps they would tell her that her suffering was finally over.
Unfortunately, she had never met them.
Later, she came to understand something.
The so-called light usually shone first on those qualified to stand beneath it.
As for dust too small to matter, even making a god lower their head for a glance was a luxury.
And yet that same glorious Holy Court had killed the Mooncrown Unicorn.
The answer was even more ironic than she had expected.
Unicorns were sacred beasts born with an affinity for holy light. They could suppress undead creatures, decay, and forbidden magic.
By all logic, they should have stood on the same side as the Holy Court.
How had they ended up like this?
Orren seemed to see her confusion and continued.
“On the surface, Gray Dove Monastery takes in wounded soldiers and refugees. In reality, it is a transfer point where the Holy Court processes sacred beast remains and human trafficking victims.”
“The horns, bones, and manes of the unicorns were mostly sent there first to be purified and cut apart. After that, they were distributed to holy relic workshops and polished into expensive sacred relics.”
Isolde stared at the map.
After a few seconds, she laughed softly.
“Are you sure you’re describing the Holy Court and not a slaughterhouse wearing white robes?”
Orren spread his hands.
“Names are unimportant. If the books are clean enough, even a slaughterhouse may call itself a shelter.”
The smile faded from Isolde’s face.
Based on the memories she had seen the previous night, she had believed that the ones who persecuted the unicorns were some extremist church faction.
She hadn’t expected it to be the Holy Court.
The answer was absurd.
So absurd that her first reaction was to suspect Orren was lying.
“Evidence?”
Orren’s voice remained calm and unhurried.
“My honored lady, I am currently fulfilling a post-sale obligation. My information may be expensive, incomplete, and perhaps even decorated with a little merchant’s rhetoric, but I cannot lie within the bounds of the contract.”
He raised one hand.
A golden contract light appeared along the edge of the parchment.
“Otherwise, the penalty would be rather ugly.”
Isolde stared at the golden light and did not argue further.
Followers of the Contract God truly had a hard time lying within the boundaries of a contract.
Which made this even more troublesome.
If the Holy Court was truly behind this, the chain of interests behind it was easy to imagine.
Surely she couldn’t challenge all of Whitehaven on her own.
Isolde suddenly felt heat in her palm.
The gray-blue mark beneath her skin seemed to breathe, reminding her that once she stepped onto this road, she could not easily retreat.
Expressionless, she lowered her hand and felt deeply tired.
When she had said she would collect debts last night, she had thought she was accepting a simple debt collection quest.
Now it seemed the debtor was backed by a bank, a royal court, a church, and an entire security force.
She was a newly minted hidden Boss who had inherited a castle less than two days ago.
And now she was expected to go head-to-head with Whitehaven’s entire faith system.
At this pace, she might as well skip straight to the final arc.
Isolde sighed inwardly, slowly leaned back in her chair, and reached her conclusion.
“So the Mooncrown Unicorn’s true targets for revenge are the Holy Court and Gray Dove Monastery?”