Ch.183The Fifth Entanglement – Vampire Waltz (3)

“So, how are you going to provide the information? As long as what you bring is accurate, I don’t care about the source.”

It was amusing to think that a self-proclaimed information broker would lie. It was as foolish as doubting a detective you hired yourself.

Of course, Charles Clichy died because he trusted his detective too much. Knowing this, the detective decided not to let go of his suspicions. Generally trustworthy, but not in every detail.

The air around was so unpleasantly filled with perfume that it was impossible to smell any magic. To begin with, even a simple concealment spell could easily hide its traces behind such strong perfume.

But it would be unreasonable to be overly suspicious when she was dressed exactly like someone who would douse herself in perfume. She left just enough carelessness to arouse suspicion, but it was difficult to discern her true intentions.

The information broker had been stalling while the detective was thinking, but eventually answered without showing any sign of embarrassment. She remained confident as she had been all along.

“It’s simple. The information broker who lived in the center of Littlehold may be dead, but not all his sources died with him. This business is always the same, isn’t it? The dog stays the same, only the leash changes.”

That immigrant woman is still causing trouble. The detective swallowed his words. If death magic hadn’t exploded in the middle of Littlehold, he would have been comfortably buying information from the dwarf without having to come this far.

“So, I just need to tell them to find a dwarf who uses magic. Ah, that means the information fee will be a bit higher… but that’s not a problem, right? That’s what our compatriots say. Hmm?”

The vampire shook a wine bottle filled with blood that smelled of sweet fruit in front of the detective. Rather than being intoxicated by expensive alcohol, it was an attempt to divert the detective’s attention.

“Someone who would buy the blood of a saint by the bottle wouldn’t be stingy with money. That’s what they say. But, is there a reason why dwarf warlocks are more hated? Um… even the dwarf who told me I had a lot of magical light spoke about dwarf warlocks as if they were absolutely intolerable. He looked like he was ready to chew nails.”

Yet her question carried genuine curiosity. Perhaps not entirely genuine. It was clear she wanted to gain something from this transaction.

But the detective couldn’t be certain whether it was money or something else. For now, he decided to assume it was money. If he didn’t trust her, there would be no reason to work together.

“Haven’t you heard what those bastards did during the Great War?”

It wasn’t a subject he wanted to discuss further. The abominations were horrifying beings. Most had forgotten language, but some would charge forward begging to be killed. The detective remembered the sorrow in their eyes.

The detective recalled the image of the abominations. He imagined the forms running across the no-man’s-land filled with corpses, as if they were trying to mock humanity itself. He dismissed the thought that the vampire might be using mind-reading magic.

If she really were reading his mind, she wouldn’t be looking at him with such a puzzled expression. The vampire was simply watching the detective with curious eyes, her hands clasped together.

However, the detective couldn’t see that the vampire was gnawing at the inside of her lip. He couldn’t know that she was digging her thumbnail into her other palm to divert her attention. The smell of blood from the saint’s blood masked the smell of blood from her palm.

She had cut off her magic as soon as she saw the image in the detective’s mind of something that was human but not human. She was so conscious of the time she blinked, fearing the image would return if she closed her eyes.

She had to endure. If she showed any sign here, everything would be ruined. If she could just demonstrate that she was a great opportunity for this man, it would surely become a great opportunity for Mircalla herself.

Fortunately, it seemed she hadn’t given herself away. The detective looked at Mircalla, who was still forcing an innocent expression, and said:

“I guess you don’t know. If you had seen what people killed by magic look like, you wouldn’t say such things. People killed by magic leave no bodies to put in coffins, so funerals had to be held with just their belongings. Do you think people who lost family or loved ones to warlock-soldiers would stop hating warlocks after just a day or two?”

Fortunately, Mircalla could now genuinely sympathize with those words. While she had never forgotten the enemies of her family and loved ones, she was certain that if her family or loved ones had died in such a way, it would be even more unforgivable.

Mircalla turned on her mind-reading magic again to erase the unpleasant image lingering in her mind. She could barely remember how much of her fortune she had spent to learn this one spell.

The ozone smell was hidden among the perfume scents, but all the electrical signals going through the detective’s mind pointed only to hatred. It was overwhelming even for Mircalla to read.

How much does he hate dwarf warlocks? It was beyond imagination, but to change the subject, she answered:

“If that’s the case… absolutely not. A lifetime of hatred wouldn’t be enough. Anyway, can we move on to something else? Your expression right now is… terrifyingly scary. I have a nice drink in front of me, and it would be a shame if I couldn’t enjoy it because of someone else. This isn’t just any drink—it’s also a symbol of our contract. Right?”

The detective didn’t deny that. His hatred hadn’t disappeared. Nevertheless, he could relax his expression for a moment.

“How scary could a human face be from a vampire’s perspective? You’re right, drinking is probably the best thing to do right now.”

Mircalla lifted her glass with a friendly smile. The clear sound of glass rims touching rang out, but neither of them stopped thinking.

Mircalla had originally planned to work as an information broker through Nadia’s introduction. But as she read his thoughts, her plans began to change. She felt she needed to use this man.

Yet this man was hiding something. His thinking was thorough and meticulous, but there was something he was consciously avoiding. She wasn’t certain, but it had something to do with the dwarf warlock-soldiers.

If she could figure out the connection, it would help her use this detective.

Even from outward appearances, this man was clearly ex-military, and listening to him confirmed it. Mircalla was certain. A detective with a veteran background would be skilled with all kinds of weapons.

While Mircalla herself was strong, she wasn’t skilled in shooting or wielding weapons. She needed an expert too.

If she had managed to hide her intentions for now, there would be no need to worry about future consequences as long as she could build enough trust.

She could easily subdue an adult human with her strength. No, she couldn’t. If she didn’t know about the Argonne Invincibles, she couldn’t prepare for them.

In that case, it might be better to openly state her purpose and hire him. If she had a little more time, she would have observed the detective thoroughly, read his mind with this magic, and then done so.

But now she had no time. Her reputation as an information broker, built solely on mind-reading magic, felt precarious. She couldn’t take such a gamble in such an unstable situation.

Mircalla recombined the electrical signals flowing through the detective’s mind. The detective had naturally thought about Charles Clichy’s death. That elf was clearly the Forest’s Firstborn.

Mircalla had certainly heard rumors that a journalist full of righteousness had brought him down. This detective must be one of the people whose faces weren’t captured who helped with that job.

And someone who would work with such a journalist wouldn’t accept assassination requests. She needed to somehow manipulate him using what she had learned from reading his mind.

Neither of them saw the complete picture. They were only marginally interested in each other. The detective only wanted the information Mircalla would bring, and Mircalla only wanted the detective’s skills.

Nevertheless, their purposes were clear. If the dwarf warlock-soldiers were plotting something, the detective would either kill them all or leave a clear warning, and Mircalla had to avenge her father.

Mircalla’s lover had been killed by her father. Not her father. The father of vampires. Mircalla couldn’t forget the day her lover returned with a large hole in his head after saying he was going to meet her father.

As the two emptied their glasses, bustling sounds began to be heard through the curtain enchanted with a noise-canceling spell. There was only one reason for the vampires of Bar Enoch to gather.

And amid that bustle, someone knocked on the wooden part that secured the curtain. Mircalla opened the curtain. The bartender of Enoch stood there.

“Mir, you said you came to see Father. Father is here. Go see him if you want to.”

Originally, she had planned to gather more mana than usual today to try using mind-reading magic on her father. She was going to mention her lover’s name and ask why he did it. She was certain she could read his true feelings.

However, despite its simplicity, if she used her mana inadequately, it wouldn’t work on her father at all. Even if she used mind-reading magic on her father, Mircalla would only see her own thoughts seven times more clearly.

That’s why today she had gathered plenty of mana and chosen an expensive perfume with a strong scent that could hide the smell of magic… but she had already used quite a bit of the mana she had gathered to test this detective.

Moreover, she might now be able to hear her father’s intentions without using mind-reading magic. If she could just use this professional, she might be able to do so. She felt a briefly blind expectation.

“Ah… I was supposed to see Father, right? But I haven’t finished talking with this guest Nadia recommended. Right, Mr. Michael? Hmm, hmm. That’s right. Even if he is my father, he wouldn’t want his daughter to abandon her work to come see him, would he? So, I’ll just say hello on my way out.”

The detective stopped doubting whether this vampire was a mind reader, but he didn’t stop being suspicious altogether. And there was something strange about the words she had just blurted out.

The bartender said, “If that’s the case,” and closed the curtain again. Before Mircalla could collect the electrical signals in his mind, the detective spoke.

“Judging by your excuses, you don’t seem to be on good terms with your father. Since you’re not sisters with the bartender, he’s probably not your biological father… I know which vampire the bartender calls ‘Father.'”

Mircalla felt a chill run down her spine. Despite being the one who could read minds, she felt as if this detective had read all her plans and purposes.

“But when I first came in, you said you came to see that father. The reason for the change is obvious. Like a good information broker, you had some information to collect from that taxi driver. I can’t know what information it was.”

Now she seriously wondered if he had also learned the magic to read minds and thoughts by paying the patent fee like her. That couldn’t be the case, but it was the most realistic explanation.

“Then, why did you stop collecting that information? Weren’t we just discussing a contract? After making a contract with me to exchange information and money, there’s a problem you can solve by hiring me. So there’s no need to go extract information from a father you’re not on good terms with. Am I right, information broker?”

They were both off the mark, but the detective’s words still grazed the truth. Mircalla, who had been contemplating how to respond, deliberately didn’t hide her flustered appearance and waved both hands.

“W-who would think you’re some kind of prophet? Ah, ah… Y-yes, it’s true I’m not on good terms with Father. I have thought that life would be easier if I worked for you and then hired you, Mr. Michael. But what urgent matter would make me extract information from Father? Would I just be sitting here drinking on such a day? That would make me an idiot!”

If she couldn’t deny it outright, it was better to at least downplay it. The fortunate thing was that the detective’s words were closer to a ritual probing of a newly-met information broker.

In that case, she could naturally turn the crisis into an opportunity. Mircalla turned on her mind-reading magic. She needed to learn more about the detective while she had the chance. If she asked quite directly, he would think of an answer even if just to avoid answering.

“All I want to know now is why you’re so confident and how you can be so confident. Every word you say is full of pride in your abilities. What’s your secret? I want to know where people like you are made.”

Quite direct, the detective thought. However, he wasn’t the type to ponder answers. He replied after hesitating for less than a second.

“I guess I was manufactured in a munitions factory during the Great War.”

His mockery made it clear he was hiding something and was quite skilled at hiding it. But even this magic that read electrical signals in the mind couldn’t extract hidden thoughts.

If she persisted after one failure, she would only arouse suspicion. Mircalla smiled and took the joke as a joke. She decided to temporarily let it go and bring the detective the information he wanted.

“I’d really love to know which factory. Anyway, it will take a few days… I’ll send you the information along with the bill in a few days. I don’t have to doubt your ability to pay, right? Individual business owners can sometimes have problems.”

This was essentially no different from dancing to waltz music. The detective and Mircalla had joined hands, but they were very different people. Yet they would move together while holding hands.

The dance would circle New York once. It would start at Bar Enoch, go to Littlehold, and surely spread somewhere else. And true to its name as a round dance, it would return to Bar Enoch.

Mircalla was confident. The detective remained suspicious. Nevertheless, it was just something happening at one curtained table in Bar Enoch.

“I earn enough to splurge, so don’t worry. Let me know when you have the information. Give me a card if you have one.”

Mircalla took a business card from her wallet and handed it to the detective. From now on, the deal was a deal.