As Neuvillette contemplated the whispers of the devil in that world, he suddenly heard murmurs behind him:
"You've finally returned, jester."
One of the guards pushed open the door, peering into the dimly lit room, its only source of light being the moon. The guard, slightly uneasy, spoke:
"Are you all right, sir? I heard some noise."
Neuvillette rubbed his eyes and looked at the guard with one eye open.
"There's nothing to worry about, guard. And next time, knock before you enter my room."
The guard bowed slightly in apology.
"Forgive me, sir. I didn't mean to intrude, just wanted to check since I heard something unusual."
With that, the guard stepped back and closed the door behind him. Neuvillette gazed at the ceiling, lost in thought, muttering to himself:
"It seems no one even noticed my absence… Strange. Did time stop? Or was it something else?"
Turning his head slightly, his crimson eyes fixed on the window as he spoke in a calm, almost eerie tone:
"It appears the guard couldn't see you, Red Raven. Truly strange."
The Red Raven sat on a chair near the window, exhaling smoke from a cigarette, a wide grin on his face.
"No one sees me except you, jester."
Leaning back slightly, he interlocked his fingers, his smile widening.
"So, what brings you here so suddenly, Red Raven?"
The Red Raven extended a cigarette to Neuvillette, lighting it before he could even reach for his lighter.
"The meeting of the mayors will take place the day after tomorrow. It is expected that the Chess Ripper will make an appearance."
Neuvillette exhaled a cloud of smoke, a smirk of pride forming on his lips.
"Nothing new, Red Raven. I already have a plan in place, and I know exactly how to use it to my advantage."
The Red Raven closed his eyes, still grinning.
"I know, jester. But first, let's take a short trip through the dark alleys of London."
The atmosphere grew heavier between them, an unspoken tension filling the space. Neuvillette's voice was quiet yet firm.
"And what's the purpose of this little excursion, Red Raven?"
The Red Raven stepped toward the window, watching the heavy rain pour down, illuminated by the full moon, which the clouds failed to obscure.
"There's a vision you had a few days ago—unclear to you, but by going to the right place, some things will become evident."
Neuvillette remained indifferent, replying nonchalantly:
"Fine, let's go. In the end, you never speak clearly, so I have to investigate everything myself and uncover the truth."
The Red Raven vanished from the room, his voice echoing in the shadows:
"Now you're starting to understand, jester. I'll be waiting for you downstairs."
Neuvillette grabbed his umbrella and coat, leaving his office. He gave quick orders to his guards, ensuring the place was well protected.
Stepping outside the gloomy building, he saw the Red Raven mounted on a colossal horse engulfed in flames—fire that refused to die despite the relentless rain. When the horse laid eyes on Neuvillette, it let out a terrifying sound—a mix between a lion's roar and the crack of thunder.
The Red Raven patted the horse's head, grinning as he looked at Neuvillette.
"That sound was a sign of respect for you, jester."
Neuvillette placed a hand on the horse's head, his gaze shifting toward the Red Raven.
"Does this horse have a name as cryptic as its master?"
The Red Raven smirked, gripping the horse's blazing mane.
"Actaphorus—the Light in the Darkness."
The name suited the creature—an ominous, imposing beast with a monstrous stature.
Neuvillette mounted his own horse—Cloud of Enigma—and followed the Red Raven as they rode through the rain-drenched streets. As they moved, Neuvillette spoke without taking his eyes off the road ahead.
"That world we were in… What kind of world was that? And why was my name there 'Jerman Nomin'?"
The Red Raven chuckled before answering.
"The world you entered was the Second World—the world of hunters and beasts.
In essence, there are 400 interconnected worlds bound by the branch and the trunk, 1,000 forgotten worlds, and 13 divided worlds. Seven of them are the Core Worlds, including the Second World, and six are Auxiliary Worlds. Every world you enter changes your form, name, and purpose. But one thing remains constant across all these worlds—the sin of the ruler, 'Serphinius Crown, the Crimson Moon.'"
Neuvillette lowered his umbrella, stunned by the sheer scale of what had just been revealed.
"So, the Second World is one of the seven Core Worlds… And beyond those, there are still the Forgotten Worlds, the Connected Worlds… A thousand lost realms and 400 interwoven dimensions… This is terrifying. It makes one feel like nothing more than a speck of dust within the horrors of these worlds. What kind of world is this, Red Raven?"
The Red Raven simplified his response, as if speaking to a child trying to grasp an incomprehensible truth.
"You have a long road ahead, jester. I shared all these details with you so you could begin to grasp the scale of 'Mechenora.' It is a cosmos that holds another above it, and another above that, and so on. You will gradually uncover the truths of these worlds and their secrets. Only then will all the threads weave into place. As for this world—it has no number. Only Mortfopix knows its secret, and you will meet him after a long, arduous journey."
Neuvillette struggled to absorb the flood of revelations. Each time he tried to process one fact, another overwhelmed it. He looked at the Red Raven and spoke carefully:
"All of this is terrifying… But what exactly is 'Mechenora'? Who is Mortfopix? Why does this world have no number? Why is it untouched by Serphinius Crown's sin? And also, who—"
The Red Raven cut him off with a quiet but firm "Ahem."
"Everything will become clearer in time. But you must embark on a long adventure before you reach the truth you seek. And as for the Walker family's case—treat it as insignificant. Do not focus on it unless you wish to uncover things you might not be ready for."
Neuvillette placed his umbrella back over his head, contemplating the Red Raven's cryptic words. He muttered to himself:
"I should stop here. Too much knowledge can drive a man insane in a world already built for madness."
He reached out, letting the rain fall into his palm, before speaking softly:
"Rain this heavy is a sign of danger ahead."
The Red Raven smiled, glancing at Neuvillette as he replied:
"Does the devil fear hell? We are demons, jester. And this is our home."
As both of them arrived at the designated area, a haunting and abandoned district, the towering Victorian mansions cast an overwhelming sense of unease. Among these eerie structures, a narrow alleyway led to another hidden part of the city.
They stepped into the long, pitch-black alleyway, moving forward until they reached its end. Neuvilette's crimson eyes studied the vast courtyard before him—surrounded by foreboding Victorian buildings. But one structure stood out: a mansion bathed in darkness, with rain and lightning striking it relentlessly. Its exterior was a deep Victorian black, adorned with swords piercing through every window and enormous wings stretching from both sides, as if the mansion itself was some great bird waiting to take flight.
As Neuvilette gazed upon the ominous structure, a bolt of lightning split the sky, briefly illuminating the night in a brilliant, electric blue. In that fleeting moment, he noticed a shadowy figure standing atop the mansion. The stranger's features were obscured by the storm, cloaked in a long black coat that seemed woven from the very fabric of the night. His face was hidden beneath mysterious shadows, and in his hand, he held a staff that faintly glowed. The figure raised it and pointed directly at Neuvilette.
A deep voice echoed from above, its resonance like a whisper carried by the storm itself:
"Neuvilette, when a blind man strays from the path, we guide him back.
But when one who sees the truth deviates from it… we cut his road short. That is true justice—justice that does not distinguish between ignorance and knowledge, but judges solely by the light one carries within."
The voice was like the wind murmuring in his ears, yet it bore the weight of wisdom spanning millennia—words reminiscent of Hermes' ancient teachings on cosmic balance and the scales of justice. The message was layered with cryptic meaning, filled with hidden truths that stretched beyond human comprehension.
Slowly, Neuvilette turned, absorbing the gravity of the encounter. Without a word, he began walking away with the Red Raven, leaving the mysterious mansion behind. The sound of his own footsteps echoed in his mind, each step laden with unspoken questions.
"What is this cursed place? Why is it hidden in such an obscure corner of the city? Who controls this mansion, and who was that shadowy figure watching from above?"
His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar presence—though the voice did not come from outside but rather echoed inside his own mind.
"Neuvilette, all these questions will soon be answered… sooner than you think."
Neuvilette turned his crimson eyes toward the Red Raven, unsurprised by his ability to read his thoughts. After all, the Red Raven was an enigma beyond the understanding of any known world. He was one of the Ancient Great Ones, as the Hermetic texts described.
By the time they reached Neuvilette's private office, exhaustion was evident on his face. When he turned to speak to the Red Raven, he found that he had disappeared—vanishing without a trace. A troubling thought lingered in Neuvilette's mind.
"The appearance of that man… it means the world is teetering on the edge of chaos. But who are you, truly? Have I… forgotten your name?"
Dragging his weary body up the stairs, Neuvilette entered his office, a heavy silence hanging in the air. He collapsed onto the couch beside the left window, attempting to clear his mind of the whirlwind of thoughts. Images flashed before him—the mysterious mansion, the legend of Gilgamesh, a world seemingly unraveling at its seams. The sheer weight of it all sent a sharp pain through his skull.
The Next Morning
Neuvilette awoke from a restless sleep. As the morning light crept into the room, he began his day by reviewing the case files. Piece by piece, the puzzle was coming together. A chilling realization took root: the killer would make an appearance at the upcoming banquet, using the event as an opportunity to get closer to the mayors.
Two hours later, a soft knock came at the door.
"Come in," Neuvilette called out, his thoughts still occupied with the case.
The door opened, revealing the imposing figure of Mayor Ivan Collins. Rising from his chair, Neuvilette extended a hand, and they exchanged a firm handshake—a silent acknowledgment of the heavy burdens they both carried.
The mayor took a seat in the chair to the right, while Neuvilette returned to his own. After a brief pause, Ivan spoke, his voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"It seems you haven't made any changes to this office… nor have you hired an assistant to help with your work."
Neuvilette met his gaze with a measured expression before responding in his usual calm yet firm tone.
"I prefer working alone, Mayor. It grants me a peace I am unwilling to sacrifice."
The mayor's eyes roamed around the office as if searching for something, then he asked with increasing interest:
"How is the case progressing, Neuvilette? Have there been any developments?"
With an eerie serenity that masked something far deeper, Neuvilette exhaled a thin trail of smoke from his cigarette and spoke.
"The killer will be at the banquet tomorrow. He will attempt to secure a position that brings him closer to you and the other mayors."
Ivan's brows furrowed slightly as he leaned forward.
"And what do you propose we do about it?"
A faint, knowing smile crossed Neuvilette's lips.
"I will be the Grand Guard.
I will be in the room with you, ensuring that everything proceeds exactly as it should."
The mayor scrutinized Neuvilette's crimson gaze, as if attempting to peer into the depths of his mind. Then, speaking more to himself than anyone else, he muttered:
"It seems you're planning something far greater than what you've revealed. As expected… from one of the world's finest detectives."
Neuvilette took another slow drag of his cigarette before exhaling, as though the very act of speaking had become a burden.
"Mayor, I will need a mask—one with the design of a yellow and red balloon… a jester's mask."