The Unseen Hand of Dreams

Holy Light is the inherent power of this world, a force born to combat heresy.

It is documented in the Holy Church’s scriptures, the Empire’s historical records, and the Demon Tower’s reports.

Everyone said so; everyone believed it to be true.

There was no doubt.

“Therefore, opposing the Holy Church is tantamount to opposing the entire world.”

George Andrew flicked away a pinch of ash. As the smoke dissipated, the face in his line of sight became clear once more. “The current Count has made a grave mistake.”

Ark’s gaze was icy as he watched George, who lay casually in the office chair with one leg crossed over the other. This meeting with the Chief of Security was entirely different from what he had anticipated.

He scrutinized George’s brazen face, his voice dropping to a low tone. “Chief of Security George, it seems you’ve found a new patron?”

A faint, sarcastic smile touched George’s lips. “After all, sitting in this position, one inevitably meets all sorts of people daily, and connections are bound to be made. Moreover, doesn’t my old friend’s illegitimate son have his own ideas? Yet, rashly disrupting the balance is a terrifying thing, especially in these turbulent times.”

Ark frowned, his voice cold. “You will pay the price for your choice.”

George chuckled dismissively. “Price? My old friend’s illegitimate son has already dealt with everyone in the Rheinhebo family who might oppose him. It should be my turn next, shouldn’t it? However, I don’t think he’ll get that chance.”

Ark rose from his seat, his voice chilling. “What a pity. Commander John, have your knights prepare for the follow-up work.”

Standing behind Ark, John slowly spoke, his expression impassive. “That will be difficult. We cannot deal with the afterimages of dreams.”

Ark’s pupils contracted sharply. He stared intently at George, who wore a half-smile, and spoke in a deep voice. “You’ve colluded with a Dream Weaver?”

George merely smiled without speaking, yet this silence confirmed Ark’s suspicions.

The person sitting before him was not George himself, but merely an afterimage he had left behind. The real George had already ventured into the world of dreams.

Ark’s expression grew profoundly solemn. He turned to John. “How many living people are left in the Security Bureau?”

John met Ark’s gaze, speaking softly. “Only you.”

Ark’s face turned grim. He had never imagined the Security Bureau had become an empty shell. When had this transformation begun?

John suddenly spoke again. “Latest news: a Bishop-level Dream Weaver attacked the Patriarch in the Lower District. Someone had commissioned him prior to this.”

Ark’s expression drastically changed. He abruptly spun around, glaring at George. “Was that your doing?”

George narrowed his eyes, his composure not as effortless as before.

A Bishop-level Dream Weaver, yet he failed to kill Reyn Rheinhebo?

He suddenly let out a scoff. “The waters of the Lower District run far deeper than you imagine.”

He fell silent, his expression becoming stiff and vacant, as if he had lost his self-awareness.

Ark’s face was ashen. The fact that a Bishop-level Dream Weaver would appear in the Lower District meant that the Dream Weavers had chosen this city-state as the anchor point for Utopia’s descent.

He turned to John, his voice grave. “The Blackwing Knights must immediately purge the entire Lower District! We must root out all the rats hiding in the shadows!”

John glanced at Ark, stating calmly. “The Patriarch’s words echoed the same sentiment.”

Ark’s gaze shifted slightly. “Are you saying the Patriarch has other intentions?”

John shook his head. “I’m not sure. If it were merely to stop Utopia’s descent, Mother and the others could accomplish it at any time. Even if they were allowed to complete the ritual, it wouldn’t pose any threat to this city-state. In this world, Utopia isn’t the only one with the power to control dreams. Mother’s side also has an expert in that field.”

Ark furrowed his brow in thought. The person John spoke of was likely the most mysterious member of the Witch’s Assembly: the Sloth Witch. Even the Holy Church had no detailed records of that Witch, only knowing of her existence.

“Steward Ark, we should return. Begin the purge of the Lower District once you receive the Patriarch’s command.”

Ark ceased pondering the matter. With the Witch’s Assembly as a fallback, no matter how events unfolded, there would be no danger. His immediate priority was still to discern Reyn Rheinhebo’s true intentions.

****

After leaving the Security Bureau, Ark promptly reported the changes within it to Reyn upon returning to the manor. Listening to Ark’s report, Reyn fell into a prolonged silence.

After a long while, he slowly spoke. “First, send the Blackwing Knights to cooperate with the Holy Church’s enforcers to rectify the Lower District. Remember, all actions must consider the public’s emotions; do not incite widespread panic. Also, we need to re-establish a Security Bureau, and you are to scout for candidates. The series of laws I modified should also be announced now.”

‘Has it finally come to this?’

Ark’s eyes flickered. He nodded in assent, but after leaving the study, he immediately wore a troubled expression.

Reyn Rheinhebo’s modified laws would greatly improve the lives of the territory’s citizens. However, the Rheinhebo family’s future tax revenue would significantly decrease, while expenditures would rise due to the additional burden of paying the enforcers’ salaries. Relying solely on reserves would not sustain them long-term.

But how could Reyn Rheinhebo possibly overlook such a problem? So, where would this vast sum of money come from?

“Heh heh, Ark, what are you thinking about now?”

Ark’s body trembled slightly. He turned with a complex gaze to the white-haired, blue-eyed old man who had appeared in the corridor. He took a deep breath, speaking softly. “Long time no see, Old Patriarch.”

The Old Count Rheinhebo glanced briefly at the tightly closed study door, a barely perceptible curve forming at the corner of his lips. “My illegitimate son truly hides his intentions deeply.”

Ark swallowed, his voice heavy. “Are you here to seek revenge on the Patriarch?”

“Revenge? What revenge? Ark, how long has it been since my death? Have you forgotten what kind of person I am? As long as the one on this seat is a Rheinhebo by blood, who cares what they’ve done?”

“You… you truly are that kind of person.”

“Ark, do you know how much money the Holy Church’s branch in the Rheinhebo territory collects in a year?”

Ark’s pupils constricted sharply. He began to realize he had made a grave mistake.

He took a forceful, deep breath, looking directly at the Old Count Rheinhebo. “Why are you telling me this?”

The Old Count Rheinhebo looked at Ark with an odd expression. “Otherwise, who else can we talk to right now? You’re the only living person in the entire manor, aren’t you? You wouldn’t suggest that maid counts as a person, would you?”

“Where is the Patriarch?”

“Him? He is destined to be the last one. For now, we cannot reach him. So, at present, only you will be targeted by us.”