A clear liquid was dribbling out of Farah’s mouth as she napped away on a very soft seat. The room was somewhat disordered, but there was no proof that a mighty struggle had happened inside.

Dia, who was leaning on the countess’ chair, held her head and sat up. She could vaguely feel an incredibly cooling drop of water running down her face, but she had regained enough awareness to not lick it. On the other side of the chair, Risti was retching softly, in a manner that reminded Dia of someone trying to purge toxins from their body.

Pushing herself up slowly, she wiped off the chilly drop of liquid on her cheek. As she hobbled over to the table, her eyes drifted over to four empty cups, each of them giving off a light mist as the remaining…water inside continued to evaporate. Their owner, Schwarz, was sprawled on the table and giggling.

“What happened?” Dia muttered. “Did a gale rip through this room or something?”

The events of the previous hour flashed through her mind as she caught sight of a red envelope.

“Moons, my head…” She walked over to the red envelope, which had been opened, and then abruptly remembered the horrific punishment that monstrous Claud had forced upon them. “Right. That nasty fellow said whoever opened the red envelope had to drink a cup of pure water.”

Originally, they had decided to give that privilege to the sleeping countess. However, she woke up immediately, and suggested that everyone should split up the glass of water into four tiny portions, which was somehow something acceptable to everyone. After all, Claud didn’t say anything about a single person drinking it.

She wasn’t sure what happened after she downed that tiny bit, but from the looks of it, a minor bout of drunkenness had probably followed.

The only thing she remembered was a splitting headache.

A small groan came from Risti, and she picked herself up later. The two were shortly joined by the bartender, and the three of them stood around the table, glancing at each other.

“Feels like I’m waking from a long dream,” Risti murmured. “Master, do you have some normal, plain drinking water?”

“There’s some at the back,” Schwarz replied, his words slurred. “Give me a moment. I’ll get it to you.”

Staggering off into the depths of Moon Mansion, he returned a moment later. Despite his tottering gait, the tray laden with cups of water was absurdly steady, and before long, Dia and the others were sipping at the cups of water.

Well, other than Countess Farah, who was smiling and laughing in her sleep.

“Come to think of it,” said Dia, “why were we so insistent on obeying his penalty anyway? It’s not like he can verify it, and even if we didn’t do it, what can he do? Smack us?”

Lightning seemed to strike in that moment, as Dia asked the question she had been harbouring for the past minute or so.

“Yes…that’s true, isn’t it?” The bartender rubbed his nose. “Did he do something to the envelope? This has got to be a skill or something. No way under the Moons would I be so insistent on obeying his words otherwise.”

Reaching out for the red envelope, he took out the letter enclosed inside, before frowning. “There’s nothing wrong with this letter. Odd. Maybe it’s…”

Schwarz began to dismantle the torn envelope, at which point his eyes widened. “That asshole. He turned a skillstrip into an envelope and then used it! Damnit, and I was wondering why I felt so giddy when I tore the bloody thing!”

“The envelope was a skillstrip?” Risti asked.

“Yeah, and by the looks of it, it’s either Mass Hypnosis, Area Compulsion or some skill like that.” The bartender clicked his tongue. “But he’s been away for more than a week. How are those skillstrips still functioning?”

“Area Compulsion?” Dia blinked twice. That name was oddly familiar, and as she leafed through her memory, she realised why a moment later. “These skillstrips were apparently specially treated. Before he left for Julan, that fellow was buying some talismans. The staff was begging him to buy, and then tossed in a small stack of Area Compulsion skillstrips as a bonus. If I recall…they were specially treated, made to last a month.”

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“Darn it. Now I see why. Those coercion skills entice anyone affected to obey the next instruction that comes in.” Schwarz raised the letter. “And do you know what’s written in here, the letter that we were meant to mail?”

“What?” Risti asked.

“It’s a request to burn this letter and envelope, grievously injure a Shadow of Grandis in his home, and then forget all about the Moon Lords,” said the bartender. “Clearly, Claud must have intended to use the moment when Area Compulsion activated to neutralise the count as a threat.”

“What about the piece of paper that fluttered out?” Dia asked.

“Probably some backup plan of his. If Count Nightfall or his aide came over to my bar after sending us such a threatening letter, you can bet that I’m going to make him drunk and then truss him up here,” said Schwarz. “How devi— ahem, conscientious of Claud.”

Shaking his head, he picked up the torn red envelope. “Look! He actually used two skillstrips. One at the front, and one at the back. No matter how you tear the envelope, Area Compulsion’s bound to activate.”

“It’s true,” Dia murmured. Sliding the second, undamaged skillstrip out, she held it up and examined it. “Seems like it’s a special kind of paper.”

“Paper made from the Elysia tree, which can retain spiritual structures better,” Risti replied. “Still, who can be that bored? The only reason why we use skillstrips is because imbuing skills that way is easy and convenient. One month, one week…doesn’t really matter.”

“It does make for better quality paper, though.”

“Now I know why that fellow banned the presence of envelopes in Moon Mansion,” said the bartender. “He’s really taking security seriously.”

“That’s his job, after all.”

After a round of laughter, Schwarz let out a sigh. “But what now? Claud clearly intended for us to send this booby-trapped envelope to Count Nightfall, but now that it’s destroyed at our hands…”

“We’ll have to remake them from scratch,” said Risti.

“And how do we do that? We can’t even open the other envelopes, or else we’ll fall under Area Compulsion again,” said the bartender.

“It’s not a big deal,” said Dia. “We just need to prepare some words for us to follow, and not look at the contents inside the envelope. That way, we can fulfil both the compulsion, while making sure only one skillstrip is torn.”

“Good thinking!”

After a bit of scribbling, Dia placed her suggestion down on the table. “Clap your hand twice. That acceptable?”

“It is, but I thought you were going to make it a more thrilling compulsion,” said Risti. “Like… ‘swing your sword fifty times’ or something.”

“Oh, that’s a good—”

“Yeah, no. That’s going to be troublesome, and I hate trouble.” The bartender rolled his eyes and snatched the small piece of paper. “Alright, now we just need to decide which envelope we need to cannibalise.”

“What a harsh word.” Risti shook her head.

“Fine, recycle. Happy?” The bartender shook his head and cleared the table, leaving only Dia’s words there. “Personally, I think we can just use the skillstrips embedded inside the green envelope, since it’s also meant to be mailed to Count Nightfall. Any objections?”

“Nope.”

“None.”

Schwarz glanced at the napping Farah. “Sleepers have no opinions. Therefore, we are in accord. Okay, I’m tearing this envelope open now. Brace yourselves.”

Once again, a wave of fatigue swept through Dia, and she glanced at the small strip of paper sitting on the table. Before she knew it, her hands were moving by themselves, and claps resounded within Moon Mansion.

This time, however, she had caught the exact moment in which Area Compulsion had activated. Resisting the urge to clap like the others, Dia struggled with the desire to bring her hands together loudly, and eventually, the compulsion faded.

“It’s not so hard if you’re aware of it,” Dia said, suddenly aware of everyone’s gaze.

“Not so hard?” Schwarz clicked his tongue. “Your lips are bleeding as we speak.”

Dia rubbed her lips. They were indeed bleeding, but it wasn’t anything dangerous or overly painful. As the others tried to replicate Claud’s setup by embedding two skillstrips into a new envelope, she turned her eyes to the letter that had been in the green envelope, before picking it up.

She let out a small, awed whistle moments later.

“Something wrong?” Schwarz asked.

“Claud…can be quite the madman,” Dia murmured. “Take a look at the contents of this letter. If we mailed this over to the count and he falls for it, he would have been screwed over big time.”

Schwarz craned his neck, and cursed a moment later. “That’s insane. Kill off all the Shadows? Publicly denounce Duke Istrel? We’ll be up in arms in minutes.”

“Yeah.” Dia took a deep breath. “Claud is a lot more ruthless and cunning than his harmless exterior hints at. What hole did he pop out from? More importantly, wouldn’t the letter in the red envelope work either way? Why do we need to care if our chances of surviving are higher or lower than fifty percent?”

“Hmm.” The bartender mulled over it for a while. “Maybe he has his reasons. Who knows? But based on my knowledge of him, it would have been in-character if Claud used the green envelope as a standard catch-all measure. But since he didn’t…”

“He has his considerations, I guess.” Risti tilted her head. “It is a destructive measure, after all. If we really used it, Licencia would be in trouble.”

The three glanced at each other, and then shrugged as one.

“Let’s go settle this letter first, at least. I’ll mail it at night,” said Schwarz.

“Okay.”