Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire

Inside the carriage, Dorothy, who had just finished eavesdropping on the conversation between Brandon and Buck and obtained crucial information, was lost in thought as she pieced together the implications of the intel.

It was clear that the Crimson Eucharist planned a two-pronged operation: under the guise of the “mysterious organization,” they intended to lure out the Serenity Bureau’s hunter squads. This move would create an opportunity for their mole to steal key items while also ambushing the hunter squads to inflict severe damage. If executed properly, they might even pin the blame on the “mysterious organization,” complicating Dorothy’s future actions.

Dorothy had to admit their plan was quite clever. From her perspective, though, she could simply focus on intercepting Brandon’s operation and ignore the hunter squads altogether. Whatever losses they suffered were none of her concern. Even if Gregor, the potential next mole after Brandon, were ambushed, the Crimson Eucharist would likely spare his life to corrupt him further later.

Thus, the safest course of action for Dorothy would be to focus on intercepting Brandon and avoid meddling with the hunter squads. This way, she could ensure a clean profit. Even if the ambush occurred and the Bureau’s suspicion of the “mysterious organization” intensified, it wouldn’t immediately affect her.

However, if Dorothy were the type to always prioritize safety, she wouldn’t have conducted a risky raid on Burton right after her advancement or feigned corruption in her earlier schemes.

“Phew… letting this play out untouched would leave a bad taste,” Dorothy exhaled deeply. She had made up her mind—this time, she wouldn’t just intercept Brandon. She decided to lend the Serenity Bureau a hand.

The question now was how to help. She didn’t even know where the ambush point would be. Buck wouldn’t have shared that kind of information with Brandon since it wasn’t directly relevant to him.

“Forget it. It’s getting late. I should head back before Gregor loses his mind. I’ll figure out a plan while lying in bed.”

With that thought, Dorothy awakened the coachman corpse leaning against the carriage as if asleep. The carriage slowly rolled onto the path leading home.

…

The next day, Western outskirts of Igwynt, St. Amanda’s School.

In the late morning, Dorothy descended into the dusty basement of the school. Using a scarf tied over her face as a makeshift dust mask, she walked down the staircase and into the workspace where Aldrich was engrossed in carving a new piece.

“Oh, Miss Mayschoss! What brings you here this time? Got a new business proposition?” Aldrich paused his work, setting down his carving tool, and spoke with a touch of humor.

“Let me guess—consulting on mysticism issues? Or perhaps the annual leave service?”

“So this guy has a sense of humor too,” Dorothy thought wryly but didn’t indulge in banter. She got straight to the point.

“Do you have any containers holding the spirituality of Lamp here?”

“Lamp? Churches usually have more of that, but since I do business with them, I have some in stock. Not much, though. How much do you need?” Aldrich answered without hesitation.

Dorothy quickly responded, “Not much. Just enough for a small ritual.”

Aldrich nodded and turned to enter another room. Moments later, he emerged carrying a small box about the size of two fingers.

“A container of Lam spirituality, standard minimum ritual quantity. 150 pounds,” he said.

Hearing the price, Dorothy couldn’t help but internally complain.

“Damn… so expensive. Buying spirituality directly like this is such a loss compared to extracting it from mystical knowledges.”

Still, she rummaged through her bag and pulled out a small booklet marked faintly with the Chalice emblem, along with some banknotes. Holding them out, she spoke.

“This is a mystical manuscript of Chalice—a fragment of The Art of Sacred Anatomy. Plus 10 pounds as an appraisal fee. Give me a valuation.”

She placed the book on Aldrich’s workbench. He glanced at it, then chuckled.

“The Art of Sacred Anatomy, huh? I’ve heard of it. It’s a required beginner course for most Chalice organizations these days. Looks like you’ve had some ties with the Crimson Eucharist, Miss Mayschoss.”

As he spoke, Aldrich picked up the manuscript fragment and carried it to a workstation. He placed it at the center of a sigil-marked formation bearing the Stone emblem, lit two incense sticks on the formation’s perimeter, and donned a pair of glasses with lenses engraved with intricate runes.

As the incense smoke wafted over the formation, Aldrich began skimming through the dark red booklet. He flipped through each page quickly, not lingering long enough to read in detail.

“Is this some anti-poisoning precaution?” Dorothy thought, intrigued by his meticulous process.

When Aldrich reached the final page, a sharp crack resounded as the right lens of his rune-etched glasses fractured with multiple cracks, startling Dorothy.

“Hey, uh…”

“Heh, looks like this pair’s reached its end.”

Aldrich laughed lightly and removed the damaged glasses. Seeing Dorothy’s puzzled expression, he reassured her.

“Don’t worry, just normal wear and tear. I won’t charge you extra for this.”

Relieved, Dorothy let out a breath. Watching someone shatter glasses while reading a book was a first for her. It also deepened her understanding of the dangers of “poison of recognition” in mystical knowledges. Though harmless to her, it was a real threat to most others.

“The depth of a mystical knowledge can often be gauged by the strength of its poisoning effect. After a quick assessment of this one… I’ll offer 350 pounds,” Aldrich declared after completing his evaluation.

Dorothy nodded. “Deal. Give me the Lamp container and 200 pounds in change.”

“No problem.” Aldrich retrieved the money from a drawer and placed it alongside the small box on the table.

Dorothy pocketed the money and scrutinized the tiny box, her thoughts drifting.

“With this, I’ll finally be able to perform divination…”