The orange mist thickened, its edges sharpening into the vague upper body of a man draped in smoke, his form flickering as though made from burning coals, and the faint contours of a cloak billowing despite there being no wind.

  As its hollow, shifting visage bent forward, a cold, inhuman voice reverberated through the chamber.

  “What is the situation, Optio Benjamin?”

  The tone alone was enough to chill the marrow, even though the chamber itself seethed with oppressive heat.

  Yet, Benjamin did not flinch. He stood firm before the phantom figure, lantern light flickering across his pale, austere features.

  With a steady gaze, his head lifted, his crimson eyes reflecting the crimson mist without any tremor in his composure.

  “Herald, the ritual has been partially completed. The ‘Thing’ has almost awakened.”

  Benjamin’s voice carried no tremor but a composed weight, as if speaking to an equal, with not even a trace of nervousness in his speech.

  The shadow figure recoiled slightly, its outline rippling like spilled ink over glass. The twin slits of burning light where eyes should have been flared brighter, the mist thinning at the brow as if furrowing in annoyance.

  “Almost?” Its voice cracked, and its outline’s crimson mist seemed to burn brighter than before. “Three years, Benjamin. It has been three years, yet the outcome remains ambiguous? What does this mean?”

  He cleared his throat, coughed discreetly, and had a flicker of embarrassment grazing his features before he smoothed them again into his usual composed demeanor.

  “You must understand, it is not a matter of will. It depends on chance. The very fact that it has shown signs of awakening is already a miracle in its own right.”

  A long silence stretched, filled only with the crackle of candles and the oppressive heat swirling in the room. Finally, the Herald’s eyes flared dimmer as he spoke in a skeptical tone.

  "…Explain."

  Benjamin raised a bony finger and began to count.

  “I first felt its subtle awareness about half a year ago. Since then, the rate of its consumption has increased significantly. At first, one ‘meal’ per week was sufficient. Now, it's almost one every day.”

  From within his robe, Benjamin retrieved a small leather-bound diary, its cover worn but still being meticulously maintained.

  He flipped it open, his eyes tracing each line in the note and continuing,

  "Recently, I suspect it can 'see' and perhaps communicate. Though I have no definitive proof."

  The Herald’s phantom head tilted closer to Benjamin, its mist shuddering as the heat pulsed sharper with his next word.

  "Communicate?"

  Benjamin scanned his notes, eyes flitting from one crabbed entry to another.

  "Yes, it appears to converse with animals. The mansion’s population of mice and insects has grown surreally in recent months."

  "Interesting. Will it have command aptitude?"

  With a deft motion, Benjamin snapped the diary shut and tucked it back into the folds of his robe.

  “That… remains to be seen. Regardless, I believe we may advance to the next phase of the plan.”

  The figure raised its eyebrow as the whole chamber responded at once. The candles hissed and stretched, their flames bending unnaturally tall.

  "So sudden? It is still in the ‘almost’ phase, yet you wish to proceed?"

  Benjamin hesitated, he coughed lightly, but his voice remained steady.

  “There are… unavoidable circumstances.”

  Not awaiting the Herald to interject, he pressed forward.

  “Recently, the mansion came under attack. Their target was the ‘Thing’. The attackers are unknown, but I suspect they belonged either to the Hysteria, or the Sweet Blood Order.”

  "Did you discover anything?"

  "Only a trace of blood, as indicated by the essence. Beyond that, nothing else of value. I assume it was a failed attempt."

  "An attempt…"

  The crimson figure let the words linger as a brief pause fell. It allowed silence to thrum for a moment, during which the oppressive heat seemed nearly suffocating, making even Benjamin drenched in sweat.

  “Or perhaps… a threat. They may already know something and sought only to intimidate just for the sake of it. That would be in character for the Hysteria.”

  The phantom nodded as its crimson mist twisted in an affirmation gesture.

  “Very well. I will bring this to the Order. But Benjamin…”

  The Herald’s voice sank deeper, the crimson mist billowing outward, swelling until it threatened to engulf the altar itself. It pressed closer to Benjamin, filling his vision, the searing heat it radiated oppressive enough to drown out the stench of death and filth that clung to the chamber.

  “You must see this phase to its end. Do not forget, without your completion, the next cannot begin. And the success of our design depends entirely on it.”

  Shadows seemed to retreat, pressed tightly against the walls, cowed by the dominance of the crimson mist. The oppressive presence bore down like the weight of mountains, enough to break lesser men.

  But Benjamin only laughed, threw back his head, and laughed maniacally. A ripple of amusement that twisted into something near hysterical across his face, as his eyes glowed with answering madness, crimson meeting crimson.

  This threw the crimson figure back slightly.

  “You need not concern yourself,”

  Benjamin replied with a wholly unbothered tone, his voice carrying a manic delight that cut through the suffocating heat.

  “I already have a plan.”

  From within the folds of his robe, he withdrew a slender glass vial. Unlike the molten orange bottles shattered earlier, this one held a mist of faint azure hue that churned languidly within the glass, like smoke trapped in liquid form.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The Herald’s eyes flared brighter. His silhouette stiffened, the edges of his form rippling, as he surveyed the vial with uncertainty.

  “You would really drink that? Have you already lost your mind, Optio? Do you intend to poison yourself?”

  Benjamin’s lips curled into a grin, his expression both solemn and mad. He tilted the vial slightly, letting the azure haze swirl in the candle’s glow.

  “I have already warned ‘it’. Should I perish, who else would feed it?”

  The chamber fell into silence. The Herald’s gaze narrowed, the mist rippling with irritation. It obviously did not care about this maniac old man one bit, only cared about the success of the plan. If this old man was really going to die, then who would finish the plan in his stead?

  Benjamin continued, his voice dropping into a near-whisper, yet it carried with an unwavering conviction.

  “Rest assured, the poison is temporary. If I wish to earn its trust and approach it with affection and sincerity, then is this not the best path? What is pain compared to its awakening?”

  For a long moment, the Herald said nothing. Slowly, the sharp voice returned, but now with a flicker of amusement in its tone.

  “Very well, if you succeed, then we can have another armament at our disposal. Your promotion would be expected.”

  Benjamin bowed his head, the laughter fading into a grin.

  “Thank you for the wise word, Herald.”

  Benjamin hesitated, his grip tightening slightly on the vial in his hand before slipping it back into his robe. At last, he raised his head and spoke with a tone of careful restraint.

  “May I ask, Herald, what of the storm these past few days? Such a sudden one should not be natural. Do you know anything about it?”

  The crimson figure regarded him silently, as if measuring whether the question was worth answering, before it replied with a voice as cold as ever.

  “One of our hideouts near Easton City was compromised. The storm your area has suffered is a residual effect of the battle between the Church’s personnel and our Legatus.”

  Benjamin’s brows twitched slightly at the mention of the Church. The Herald paused, his burning gaze sweeping the chamber as though wary of invisible ears, before continuing in a lower tone.

  “If your information is correct, then this incident is most likely tied to the Hysteria. Should that be the case, then we may have a mole among our ranks.”

  The air thickened again, the weight of implication heavier than the heat. Herald cleared his throat, then pressed on with a steadier voice.

  “The Church has already dispatched their hounds. Optio Benjamin, you must remain vigilant. As for me, I will advance the plan and prepare the last ‘ingredient’. If approval is given, the next phase will require my direct involvement.”

  Benjamin’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “The last ‘ingredient’… it has already been arranged?”

  A cough escaped Herald as his form subtly rippled.

  “You see, the higher seats anticipated this possibility, so they prepared ahead of time.”

  His tone dropped again, faint as a whisper leaking through cracks.

  “Yet… their decision led to complications, so they want to shift the blame to our lower seat. Fortunately for us, with the sudden interference of the Hysteria now, it has provided a convenient scapegoat to report back to Him. Very fortunate.”

  “...”

  Benjamin was at a loss for words; his lips remained pressed in a silent grimace.

  Fortunately indeed. So the sudden attack on the mansion might serve as a boon for them to cover their missteps? How sly, how unexpectedly cunning!

  Hell, even he did not know how to process this information.

  ‘Wait… does that mean the Hysteria’s strike against me was part of a conspiracy among the high-ups?’

  His thoughts soured. He massaged his temple as another pulse of headache pain throbbed.

  ‘But is it truly wise to speak about such information here, considering the ritual required “Him” to connect them?’

  Yes, he did ask for this information, but was there any way to be more discreet about it? This Herald seemed not to be good at using his head. Benjamin thought.

  The mysterious crimson figure pressed on.

  “The next phase will likely commence by the coming full moon. If anything unexpected occurs, report it immediately, Optio Benjamin.”

  Benjamin bowed his head slightly, masking his internal tumult beneath a mask of compliance.

  “Understood.”

  The candle’s wick steadily receded as it burned, its flame also dimmer. Realizing there was not much time left, Benjamin straightened his posture, his arms crossing over his chest in the form of an X-shape. His voice rang solemnly through the chamber.

  “Praise the Dispute Monarch!” He intoned, his voice filled with feverish reverence.

  “Praise the Dispute Monarch!” The crimson phantom mirrored him, its voice reverberating with unnatural depth as the crimson mist surged, then began to retreat into a small whirlwind.

  The crimson mist began to dissolve, its burning eyes dimming as the heat slowly dissipated. But before it dispersed completely, Benjamin’s voice cut through.

  “Please, wait a moment.”

  The swirling form paused mid-dispersion.

  “?”

  “The bottles,” Benjamin adjusted his robe, his expression shifted from ritual solemnity to awkward practicality. “The ones required for our communication. They cost five alans and ten shillings coins each…”

  A silence stretched. Herald’s mist flickered, its eyes narrowed slightly.

  “And?”

  Benjamin cleared his throat, avoiding the crimson glare.

  “Can I… request a refund from the Order?”

  “...”

  For a heartbeat, nothing moved. The crimson mist froze, and even without features, Benjamin could tell the sheer, unmistakable ridicule of ‘Are you out of your damned mind?’.

  Without a word more, the mist dissolved entirely, abandoning him in silence.

  Benjamin smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he muttered.

  “Cursed… If you did not want to pass along the request, you could have simply said so, you rude brat.”

  ‘Succeed in talent, but still petty as children, tch tch.’ Benjamin scoffed to himself.

  He turned from the altar, shadows crawling across the sacrificial stones as his worn shoes creaked. His gaze locked upon the girl’s corpse, then drifted up to the porcelain-skinned doll.

  From his robe, he drew forth the blue glass vial. The bottle caught the dying candlelight, its glow reflecting faintly in his red-tinged eyes. His lips curled into an unsteady smile.

  “Do not blame me, my child. To extract this essence, I must do what is necessary.”

  With trembling fingers, Benjamin uncapped the bottle and drank it. The fumes bit at his nostrils, both acrid and sweet, stinging his senses.

  “Ughhh… agggghhh!”

  A violent shudder coursed through his body. The sound tore from his throat as the color drained from his skin; wrinkles spread like paper, veins standing out starkly along his hands and throat.

  His face became hollowed, his hair, which had already been gray, now paled to bone-white, and his body sagged, his back hunched slightly. In just less than one minute, he seemed to have aged significantly.

  He staggered, his breath ragged as he braced himself against the altar’s corner. Teeth pressed into his lower lip until a dark bead of blood threatened to bloom. His eyes flickered as the irises deepened to a hellish red as a feverish gleam settled behind them.

  For a short moment, dizziness overcame him, it swirled until the only sound in his membrane was his ragged breathing.

  Benjamin straightened himself, the transformation’s agony easing into a peculiar euphoria. Insanity glinted now in his gaze, it glowed with a crimson light even sharper than before.

  Benjamin’s gaze fixed on the porcelain doll atop the broken girl’s body. He reached for it, stroking its silken gray hair with a trembling hand. The doll’s moon-pale face remained as serene as ever.

  “Haha, yes… I truly hope you become a lovely girl, my dear Isidora…”

  His words were soft in half-mad delight.

  With the doll cradled close to his chest, he turned and slipped back through the wooden door with slow steps, echoing as the heavy door closed behind him with an ominous thud.

  The candles on the altar sputtered weakly before one by one snuffing out, plunging the chamber into suffocating darkness. The oppressive heat receded, replaced only by a biting chill.

  In the silence that followed, a faint shadow stirred. Unseen eyes fixed coldly upon the wooden door through which Benjamin had vanished.

  —

  “Well, shit.”

  “Don’t…umm, please don’t curse, Izzy.”