"???"
Bernadette didn't speak, but she made her confusion plain.
"You forgot, didn't you? Reverse roleplay."
Vincent said with a smile.
He meant the same thing that had happened before when he'd been playing the "Broker" — having the Invisible Servant tip off the Church, which then backfired by drawing the Church's cooperative attention against him. That was what he called "reverse" roleplay.
"Same principle," he explained. "To add weight to the Scale we need to facilitate cooperation or transactions between others. And tonight the Psychology Alchemists and the Loen royal family cooperated to kill us — which in itself was a substantive collaboration between two demigod-level entities." He paused. "Even if those two… had basically zero coordination between them."
"But that doesn't stop it from counting toward the Scale. Call it a blessing in disguise?"
"..."
Bernadette was quiet for a moment. "Honestly, I think it's just you exploiting another bug."
"Well, even if it is a bug, it's one the Scale exploited on its own. I didn't do anything — I was too busy running for my life from two demigods, I barely—"
He broke off.
Vincent's legs simply gave out. He hit the floor face-first with a thud.
A bone-deep agony spread through his body. His mind was being stabbed repeatedly from within. His vision went dark. The blood that had been running hot under the Ambition State seemed to freeze all at once.
His skin split open along hairline fractures, blood welling from each one. His consciousness, his psyche, his spirit body — all of it felt like it was being shredded, torn, pulverised, over and over again.
The storm of pain hit all at once. Vincent hadn't even had time to react before his head struck the floorboards and he blacked out.
The backlash of the Ambition State.
The price that had to be paid for squeezing every last drop from his mind, spirituality, body, and even life force.
This backlash wasn't just suffering — it was the total devastation of flesh, psyche, consciousness, and soul. Like sugarcane put through a press, which yields sweet juice — and leaves behind a pulped, hollowed husk.
Without the protection of the Nation of Disorder's power, and without Bernadette's own Sequence 3 demigod constitution absorbing part of the damage, what Vincent was going through now would have been far worse than merely passing out.
Bernadette also caught a portion of the soul-shredding pain — but for someone with divine power, it wasn't catastrophic.
She looked at Vincent, unconscious but still visibly grimacing on the floor, and something clicked into place:
The greater the ambition one seeks to realise, the greater the price to be paid. That is the inescapable cost of walking the Ambitionist's path.
Father's ambition to become a Caesar. Father's ambition to become the Black Emperor. Her own ambition to find Father. Her ambition to destroy the Hidden Sage. Vincent's ambition — at Sequence 6 — to buy time against two demigods…
What a shame, though. Our Ambitionist potion is already fully digested.
She let out a quiet breath and murmured to herself:
"When you wake up…
…we can advance to Sequence 5."
......
Backlund. A hotel in the Cherwood District.
Klein was up early. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the unfamiliar pretty face looking back at him, and still couldn't quite get used to it.
He thought about all the novels he'd read before transmigrating — the male leads who crossed over and proceeded to romance every woman in sight and build harems. And himself? He'd gone and become a woman.
Was the universe specifically targeting him?
He scooped some water and splashed it on his face, rubbed his eyes hard, and said firmly to his reflection: "For the sake of advancing quickly, for Melissa's revenge — all of this is worth it!"
Ting!
Klein flicked a coin. "Today will go smoothly."
Heads. Yes.
He packed his things and pulled open the door — and found a piece of paper wedged in the gap at the bottom. He quickly checked the corridor in both directions, picked up the note, and read:
"Lanevus is in Backlund. The Aurora Order is looking for him."
At the name, Klein's fingers tightened. If Ince Zangwill was the one who'd directly killed Melissa, Lanevus was the root cause of everything.
He breathed in slowly, burned the note to ash, and walked out as if nothing had happened.
The moment he stepped out of the hotel, he found Sherman approaching with an unusually grave expression. Puzzled, Klein asked: "What's wrong? Why do you look so serious?"
Sherman held out a piece of paper. "I looked up who this 'Edsak' person is. All I can say is… your task is going to be very complicated."
Klein raised an eyebrow and looked at the file:
Edsak Augustus. Prince of Loen. Third son of the Emperor.
"She wants me to assassinate a prince?"
Klein was genuinely caught off guard. A prince of the realm. With his Sequence 7 "witch" cover, how could he possibly pull that off? Was the witch trying to send him to his death?
"Give it up, Kleya."
Sherman shook her head. "This isn't something you can pull off at your current level."
"Then why do you think Lady Alice would give me a task I can't complete? Just to send me to my death?"
"That..."
Sherman hesitated. "She… might not trust you."
Klein worked it out too. He pinched his chin and thought for a moment. "Let me look into this Prince Edsak first. Even if she's sending me to 'die,' she wouldn't just pick any random target for me, would she."
"Alright. Be careful."
Since taking the Assassin potion and parting ways with Xio on bad terms, Sherman had been living the Beyonder life alone for a long stretch — no one to talk to. Then Kleya had appeared and saved her. Even though they'd only just met, Sherman genuinely hoped they could become friends, maybe even sisters in time.
Half an hour later, Klein arrived at Prince Edsak's Red Rose Manor on the outskirts of the Queens District. Enormous, lavish, dripping with money.
Klein went invisible and made a full circuit of the manor's outer perimeter. The security was less airtight than he'd imagined — for someone who could go invisible and had Shadow Jump, getting in wouldn't be especially difficult.
What he couldn't predict was whether there'd be Beyonder bodyguards inside. And besides, he still hadn't confirmed whether this Prince Edsak was actually the scum the witch had described. He couldn't accept striking at an innocent person to get what he wanted.
"Sherman's file only has basic background on Edsak — nowhere near enough to form a real picture," Klein thought. "Maybe I should consult a detective."
He took one more look at the manor's interior, then headed off at a brisk pace and flagged a cab — normally he'd never spend money on a cab, but Daly had told him in advance that all expenses incurred during an active mission were reimbursable.
In that case, Klein was happy to enjoy a little comfort.
The only pity was that he was currently a woman. Even if clothes were reimbursable, he had zero interest in pretty dresses.
"Excuse me, sir — do you know of a reliable detective in Backlund?" Klein asked in the changed feminine voice, trying to sound suitably light.
The driver, who'd been sneaking glances since the moment Klein got in, jerked upright and nodded eagerly: "Yes! Yes, I know one! There's a very well-known detective in the Hilton District — I've driven plenty of noble clients who go to him when they're in trouble. Beautiful miss, are you trying to find someone?"
Klein nodded. "Something like that. I'll leave it to you."
"Right you are!"
The driver gave the reins an enthusiastic snap, and the horse broke into a trot. Klein leaned against the carriage window and watched the streets and buildings rush by, finding himself comparing this place to Tingen.
Backlund was far grander, far busier — but it didn't give him the same settled, peaceful feeling Tingen had. If it were possible, he'd have spent his whole life in Tingen.
He knew, of course, that the peace he'd felt there had come from the people — family and friends. And now, with Melissa gone, Tingen had become a place that broke his heart every time he thought of it.
Twenty-odd minutes later, the cab stopped in front of a terraced building on a street in the Hilton District.
"Here we are, beautiful miss. I hope things go well for you."
"Thank you."
Klein, taking cues from how Miss Justice usually did it, gave a light half-curtsy in thanks — he was not wearing a dress, obviously, but the gesture came out anyway. Occupational hazard.
Knock, knock, knock.
He rapped on the door. A moment later, a middle-aged man with a dark pipe clenched between his teeth and silver at his temples pulled it open. When he saw the young woman on his step, he blinked briefly, then said: "What can I do for you, miss?"
He stepped aside and added with an embarrassed tap of his forehead: "Oh — please, do come in."
The moment Klein stepped inside, he noticed there was already someone else here — a child, actually, wearing a battered beret and threadbare clothes, face pinched with anxiety.
Hm?
Klein recognised him immediately. It was the same boy from the Docks — the one who'd been chased by those thugs when he was investigating the serial murder case.
"Detective sir, please. I'm counting on you."
The boy gave a deep bow to the detective, then carefully placed five one-pound gold coins on the coffee table.
To be continued…
Since I was unable to post on Sunday due to some issues, today there will be a double update!
Advance 100 Chapters are up on my Patreon!
pat reon.com/AlphaSenatus