After lunch, Elena and Mrs. Campbell changed into their afternoon dresses and boarded their family carriage.
It was a small four-wheeled carriage, pulled by a single horse, with only two seats. The roof could hold light luggage, and there were doors on either side. The front window allowed the driver to communicate with those inside.
They headed toward Saint James.
Elena did not refuse her mother's company, as unmarried women under thirty were not allowed to go out alone. They had to be accompanied by a married woman or a servant. After all, crime rates in Lunton were high, and there was no police force. Some areas might have had them, but most districts did not. Public order was maintained by local parish constables and hired night watchmen.
Lunton's streets were pitch black at night, and people had realized that the lack of lighting provided cover for criminals. So, they started patrolling the streets at night and earned the name "Night Watchmen." Therefore, it would be highly provocative for a well-dressed young girl to appear alone on the streets, likely drawing the attention of criminals.
The Campbell family lived on the western side of Lunton, where the air quality was slightly better. As the carriage entered Charing Cross Street, they could smell the sharp, pungent blend of coal smoke and sulfur in the air. The thick fog hanging in the sky made even the distant tower spires appear as mere blurry outlines. Even though the midday sun was shining brightly, the entire city of Lunton seemed to have a grayish undertone.
But as they approached Saint James, everything seemed to change. The fresh air greeted them, and the carriage drove down a long tree-lined avenue, with sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting patterns on the ground. It was peaceful and serene.
The carriage stopped in front of an imposing mansion. The building was magnificent, with six floors that occupied two street corners, overshadowing all the neighboring buildings.
Two male servants, who were similar in height and build—male servants were more expensive, and their salaries were proportional to their size—stood by the door. Mrs. Campbell felt a bit relieved. At least it didn't seem like some deceptive small establishment, though she couldn't help but worry about her wallet, given the apparent luxury of the place.
One of the servants directed the coachman to the stables, while the other approached Mrs. Campbell. Elena showed her badge, and the servant immediately bowed deeper, "Ah, a new member. Please, follow me."
Both women, unsure of what to expect, followed him into a grand hall. They walked through an archway adorned with intricate carvings and Greek temple-style columns into a magnificent octagonal lobby. The carpet in the center of the room was a stunning pattern, and in front of a large, blazing fireplace, four asymmetrical armchairs were arranged. On four small tables were palm leaves, sunflowers, and brass candle holders. The walls were lined with oil paintings and metal sconces, and a grand spiral staircase led upstairs.
Mrs. Campbell and Elena almost couldn't hide their amazement. The decor seemed more like the villa of a wealthy aristocrat than a hidden club.
The servant guided them to a pair of armchairs. "Please wait here for a moment. Someone will be with you soon."
Once the servant left, Mrs. Campbell couldn't sit still and started closely examining the oil paintings on the walls. Elena had nothing to do but look around. From her limited experience, she could only recognize the Greek-style columns and the curvaceous Rococo-style chairs. She guessed the designer of this hall must have been someone with an exceptionally high aesthetic sense to blend these two different styles so well.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," came a familiar hoarse voice. Vera, wearing a veil, descended the staircase gracefully. Upon seeing her, Mrs. Campbell was struck with the sense that everything felt surreal, almost like a dream.
Vera greeted them, "I'm glad you both could come."
"Isn't it a given that people would come?" Elena asked without thinking. What happens if someone doesn't show up?
"Good question," Vera said as she smoothed out the creases of her skirt. "Some people can't accept it and are sent to mental institutions by their families. Others are sent to the countryside, and some choose to end it all. But those of us who can come here, we truly cherish each other."
She turned to Mrs. Campbell. "Madam, if you don't mind, I need to take Elena upstairs to familiarize her with the layout, but you cannot come with us, as only people like us are allowed upstairs."
"What?" Mrs. Campbell instinctively disagreed. "No, you can't take Elena somewhere I can't see her. I don't even know you."
"Actually," Vera said, standing still and handing over a family crest, "you should know me. My full name is Vera Somerset, and my father is the Earl of Somerset."
Although Elena had suspected that Vera might be an aristocrat, she hadn't expected her to be the daughter of an earl.
"...The youngest daughter of the Earl of Somerset?" Mrs. Campbell said, having heard of the family due to her aristocratic husband. "I heard you were supposed to be with your aunt in France."
"Obviously," Vera's voice, muffled by the veil, remained calm. "My father has to think of a reason that won't damage the family's reputation."
Given her trust in the nobility, Mrs. Campbell relaxed a bit and agreed to let Elena go upstairs for a tour, but insisted that she must return before dinner.
Vera also offered to show them where the servants' quarters were. The ground floor had a café that offered free afternoon tea, and the maids could show them the way.
"Now, follow me," Vera said, leading Elena up the stairs to the first floor. Like a professional tour guide, she began her explanation, "I'm sure you've never been to a club like this before?"
Elena had indeed never visited one, though her father, Mr. Campbell, had been a member of a drama club, so she had a rough idea of how these places worked.
Private clubs originally started out as cafés. People used to gather, eat, drink coffee, and socialize in cafés, which provided a variety of services, including even selling insurance. Different cafés attracted different crowds, so people could choose which one to visit. Over time, these cafés evolved into clubs.
Aside from drama clubs, there were many other types of clubs, such as those based on regional connections or specific hobbies like reading, badminton, and travel clubs. "Our club's structure is similar to those," Vera explained, "we're just more discreet."
As they walked down the hallway to the first floor, they passed door after door. Vera led them to the end of the hall, where a sculpture stood—a child with wings holding a lantern. Vera pushed the child's wings from the shoulder blades down toward the waist, and with her motion, a hidden door silently rotated open.
"Wow," Elena gasped, startled.
"A surprise," Vera smiled. "If someone tried to sneak in, they would find only empty rooms."
Vera used a key to unlock the small door, pulled the lantern on the sculpture, and they crawled inside. They walked for several minutes down a dark corridor before stopping in front of another door. "This is the second line of defense."
Vera produced another key and unlocked the door, revealing a sunlit hallway. One side of the hall had arched glass windows facing outwards, and sunlight streamed through, warming the carpet.
"Welcome to the Libertarian Club," Vera said, glancing at the clock. "The weekly discussion meeting will begin shortly, so I'll take you there first."
It was said that members residing in the club gathered every Thursday in the banquet hall, enjoying afternoon tea while reporting on their week's work.
"We know all the 'others' in Lunton," Vera explained. "Some have nowhere else to go, so they come here. The club is open to all of our kind—we call ourselves 'Libertarians.'"
The mansion had over eighty rooms, and there were about fifty to sixty pseudo-vampires living in Lunton, with about thirty to forty of them residing in the club.
Of course, accommodating so many people wasn't easy. Since their appearance made it difficult to find work outside, the club had its own currency—contribution points. 1 pound = 1 contribution point.
"Many people bring money when they leave home," Vera continued. "It's like going to a boarding school. Naturally, the food and accommodations are the best you can get. If someone doesn't have money, they can earn contribution points by working as servants or butlers, as Libertarians aren't restricted to the lower floors."
"About the ritual you did to transform me, my mother must have paid you, right?" Elena hesitated to ask.
"Yes, we have a set price—two hundred pounds. It's not too expensive for a life, is it?" Vera shrugged. "But not everyone can afford it." She smiled faintly. "Today, acting as a tour guide and introducing you counts as contribution points. Some people study ritual magic, and that's counted as contribution points. Others who want to learn pay tuition, which also counts. If someone decides to leave, the butler will settle their contribution points and exchange them for pounds."
As they continued talking, they arrived at a wooden door, adorned with brass flowers and delicate carvings. Vera grabbed the door handle and reminded Elena, "Do you need to prepare yourself? You may never see so many grotesque Libertarians in one room in your life."
Elena took a deep breath and nodded. Vera pushed open the door, and what she saw made her gasp. Everywhere she looked, there were deep red
faces. It was like stepping into an alien world straight out of a horror movie. The Libertarians didn't try to hide their monstrous appearance; they openly showed their fangs as they conversed, their red hands touching white china and silver plates. The overwhelming visual shock nearly made Elena feel nauseous. She had never felt so acutely aware of how monstrous they were until now.
Then, she saw one person.
Literally, just one person.
He sat near the fireplace, surrounded by the sea of red faces. He was glowing—his light blonde hair shone like it had its own light in the fire's glow. This color would normally look unflattering if not for the pale, vampire-like complexion he possessed.
He had a slight frown that gave him an air of innate sarcasm and disdain. But when he smiled, revealing his pearly white teeth, it sent a dangerous chill down her spine, as if he were about to do something completely unexpected.
When he noticed Elena's gaze, he didn't look away. Instead, he winked at her. That simple gesture softened the cold, distant aura of his stunning beauty, making him seem alive and playful.
Elena felt like her eyes had been cleansed. She turned to Vera and whispered, "Why is there a human here?"
"Human?" Vera looked at her with a strange expression. "There are no humans here, just Libertarians."
She followed Elena's gaze. "That's Duke Berkeley. He's a Libertarian, and the owner of this mansion."
What? Elena could barely believe her ears. She looked between the grotesque figures and the Duke, who was walking toward them with the elegance and poise of an aristocrat. The question marks in her mind seemed almost physical. "You're telling me they're the same species?" This was so unfair! Why did they all look like monsters while he retained such beauty?