Elmer’s mind sank instantly as the soft wind faded away.

The voice which had crept upon his ears was that of someone in pain—in torment—and he could not help but be filled with a crazy amount of befuddlement.

He had not blinked once since, and that he kept up as he narrowed his gaze confusedly at the man across the kitchen’s table whose half-lip kept moving but no further words articulated from them.

Help me…? Did I hear correctly…? Who exactly is this person…?

Elmer’s body and mind were still shivering somewhat, but this time it was hardly because he was frightened. The emotion that was now cloaking him was not the one of fear, but the one that searched for answers: curiosity.

That was until a loud creak emanated suddenly from a place high up to his right, and did well to force his head to react on its own as it turned away from the kitchen and glanced up at the grand stairs that led to the upper floor of the mansion.

Elmer could sense the eerie feeling that had shrouded this foyer gradually recede in a quick manner that it was almost as though it had never been present, but his mind had somehow now given precedence to the man he saw standing ahead of this mansion’s butler on the edge of the first step of the stairs.

He gasped at the sight of the man and shook his head with a momentary pinch of his eyes. Tiredness was what shrouded his body now. He was tired. He was tired of it all.

Elmer recalled the man as well.

His mind had quickly brought back the picture of the poker faced gentleman with tender wrinkles and gray eyes he had met on his first day in Ur at the train station. The resplendent man who had nicely directed him to the train station’s map board.

That same man was now dressed in a casual home vest with his golden inlaid cane in hand, and peering down at him from up high in the house he and Patsy had robbed. There was no mistaking it, the lithe, refined, and resplendent man was his employer—he was Sir Reginald the owner of this mansion.

“I remember you,” Sir Reginald said, tapping his forefinger three times on his cane. “From the train station, is it?”

Elmer inhaled sharply, cleared his throat silently, and straightened himself with an indistinct shake of his head.

No matter how he felt about all these weird scenarios propping up, he had to keep his emotions in check in front of his employer.

“Good day, sir.” Elmer bowed. “Yes. From the train station. Thank you for your help that day,” he spoke elegantly.

“Do not bother about it,” Sir Reginald said, and with that he slowly came down the stairs with the assistance of his butler.

Using that moment, Elmer quickly took a peek at the kitchen, confirming that everything had actually returned to its normal state, and the maid was just simply going about her duties.

He exhaled exasperatingly at that.

Is today some sort of bad day…? What is with all these occurrences…? Don’t tell me those shitty Gods are toying with me…

After a while of waiting, the young orphan filled to the brim with the most confusion he’d ever had in his life, took note that his newest employer had almost arrived at the end of the stairs, and he rushed to be of aid to him as well.

Sir Reginald seemed to be having some sort of injury on his right leg. It was not like Elmer could see any beyond the black of his employer’s neatly stretched pants, so he was just speculating based on the man’s limping.

“Let me help you,” Elmer said as he went forward to offer his arm, but Sir Reginald waved him off.

“Al’s doing good already.” He smiled. “Let’s head in.”

Elmer nodded and waited for Sir Reginald and his butler to waddle into the parlor first before he followed behind them.

As expected, it was a space well as pretty as any other he had seen in this mansion.

There was an alcove way down to his right, and within it a large oriental window whose rich curtains of velvet had been shifted aside in a well-done manner to allow the light of day to pour into the chamber. It also bore a grand piano, one with fine wood polished so much that it gleamed as fingers of light swept onto it.

Elmer almost found himself longing to caress its body, but he knew better than to give in to his desires.

The walls of the parlor were adorned with intricate floral patterns, which no doubt looked far more elegant than those which swept through the foyer, and from them hung portraits of Sir Reginald, and him alone.

There were no ones that showed family or sceneries or any other thing of sort. Maybe the man wanted to make sure that this mansion was kept all to himself and not in any way conjoined with his family, or maybe he had other reasons.

Elmer did not think too much about it though, since it was not a question that posed a great significance to him.

“Have your seat,” Sir Reginald said as his butler, Al, placed him on the sofa just before the unlit fireplace.

Elmer took a moment to glance through all the sumptuous furniture that filled the parlor; the sofas, the armchairs, all which were of luxurious and rich fabrics. His eyes did not also miss the ornately carved coffee tables and side tables which displayed porcelain vases filled with fresh flowers standing at their center. It was almost like the parlor had been arranged for a feast of some sort.

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After a few seconds of indecisiveness of where to place himself, in the end, he chose an armchair that was close and adjacent to the sofa Sir Reginald was seated on.

“Thank you,” said Elmer as he dropped himself onto the plushy feels of the armchair, allowing his body to sink relaxedly into the warmth it offered.

This is nice…

“I had not expected you to be an Ascender when I saw you at the train station.” Sir Reginald’s voice drew Elmer away from the little relish he had been having. “Is that why you moved to Ur?”

“Yes, sir,” Elmer answered with a clear throat—lied, in truth.

“I see.” Sir Reginald downturned his lips. “And your sister?”

“Oh, she’s fine.” Elmer forged a smile. “Thank you for asking.”

“It’s no problem. What would you like to have? Tea or coffee?” Sir Reginald asked as he turned to his side toward Al who was standing behind the sofa just to his right.

Punch… Elmer’s brain seemed to have been reworked to always have that answer whenever he was asked what he wanted to drink. That pub had ruined him with just one glass of punch.

“I’m fine,” Elmer said.

“Oh…” Sir Reginald nudged a brow up and Elmer suddenly felt like he had said something awful.

Elmer blurted immediately, “It’s not that I’m rejecting your hospitality, sir, it’s just that I really am fine.”

He really was, in truth. Coffee, he had never tasted, and he was not feeling the need to do so now. As for tea, anytime he drank it he’d always fall asleep, so it was not something he wanted to put into his system at this moment, seeing as he had a job he needed to get done.

Sir Reginald chuckled. “Do not worry yourself. I’m not going to force you to have a drink when you do not want one.” The man caressed his cane’s handle with a sigh. “Well, let’s get to business then. The item I want you to find is a mystic artifact known as ‘The Warlock’s Torch’.”

Elmer pulled his brows in before nodding as though he knew nothing about it. He needed to act the part—act as oblivious as possible. Strange coincidence or not, it did not matter at this moment any longer. A way had been offered to him to get the artifact he had been seeking, and he was going to grab hold of it.

He shifted on his seat, pushing the persona of Elmer Hills the Ascender, and taking on that of the employed bounty hunter.

“This artifact,” he asked, “how did it go missing?”

“It was stolen,” Al was the one who answered, and that caused Elmer to shift his gaze from Sir Reginald and up to his butler.

“Do you have any details you can help me with?”

“The theft happened on the night of the third of October. Master Reginald was away at that time and I was the only one around in the mansion. I heard a crash from the kitchen and I hurried out, but by the time I arrived, no one was there.”

Elmer’s lips twitched and his countenance shifted into a grimace.

Your description of the events sounds a bit too familiar for my liking, Butler Al… Surely, it couldn’t have been on the same night Patsy and I had come here, could it…?

But even if it was, Elmer had seen nothing that looked like a torch with Patsy when they had been escaping. Unless that name was used figuratively for the artifact?

“What does this artifact look like?” Elmer instantly decided to let loose a question to confirm if the thoughts he was having were correct. “Also, why did you wait until now to begin its search?” he added another that bugged him.

“Al had to wait for my return. I just came back from my trip. And for the artifact, just as the name says. It’s a torch,” Sir Reginald said, and Elmer had his answers.

“Alright.”

Then, if it had not been Patsy, there was only one other person left besides me and her on that night…

He returned his gaze to the butler. “Did you find any other clues or anything of the sort? Any little thing would help narrow it down for me, if you will?”

Butler Al seemed to think for a few seconds before he finally said, “Mud.”

“Mud?” Elmer asked with an incredulous gaze.

“Yes. Mud had been everywhere on the floor of the chambers where the artifact had been kept.”

It is him… The maggot-faced man is the one that took the artifact…

Elmer instantly deduced based on the contact he’d had with the man on that night.

He recalled as he’d watched the man walk heavily into the kitchen, and how he had surmised that he was not the butler of this mansion due to the sort of way he was dressed along with the muddy boots he had been wearing.

The Warlock’s Torch was so close to me that night and I didn't even notice it… Well, I couldn’t have since I didn’t know about it then, but… just… I don’t even know…

He groaned inwardly.

How I find him now is the problem… I can use divination if only I had something he’d come in contact with… Maybe I should risk it and skip that step…? If I add a sketch of him or something to make the descriptions even more evident, would it work…? I should probably confirm that from Ms. Edna first, I don’t want to end up messing with something that could run me mad…

“Did you find a clue?” Sir Reginald voiced, and Elmer’s being was brought back to the scenery of the parlor.

Elmer sighed then.

“I have,” he said, allowing some sort of relief to show up on Al’s face.

He probably had been blaming himself for the artifact’s loss. Luckily, it seemed Sir Reginald was really a nice man, seeing as Al still had his job.

“But it’s not a sure enough lead yet so I’ll have to go through other means to confirm it. But rest assured, I’ll find the torch and bring it back to you.”

I’m really sorry, but that’ll be after I have used it…

“You do what you have to do,” Sir Reginald told him. “Although, I have a request.”

“What is it, sir?”

“If you can, please make sure that it is untouched.”

Elmer’s chest seized for a moment that he almost let out a moan of shock.

Surely, the man had not meant untouched as in unused, right? If he had meant it that way, then when he went ahead and used it would he meet some sort of repercussions for doing so?

“What do you mean?” Elmer questioned softly.

“The Warlock’s Torch is a very rare artifact that is special to me. It only does what I want it to do once a year, so I know it’s an unreasonable request since my delay to put the job up would probably cost me, but if possible, please make sure that you find it on time before it’s used.”

Once a year…?!

Elmer almost went mad at once. What if the maggot-faced man had already used it? What then? He’d have to wait a whole year before he would be able to take his own turn?

His body shivered slightly. He needed to get a hold of that man now!

“Then,” Elmer started hurriedly, “I should be taking my leave immediately.”

“That you should,” Sir Reginald put in, prompting Elmer to bless him with a bow before striding slowly but quickly out of the mansion.