The Sorcerer's Handbook

Chapter 324: At Least I Can Be Vulnerable With the Substitute

Annan spoke flatly, "That's the long and short of it. For the next few days, you'll be under house arrest in this building."

Ashe couldn't help but wonder. If this counts as house arrest, then what was it before, when you confined us to a single floor?

To spare the Lady's pride, no one in the dining hall voiced the thought.

Whether Annan had clung to Quinna and begged sweetly was anyone's guess, but their accessible area had indeed expanded from a single bedroom to the entire building.

At eight in the morning, Annan led them to the dining hall to discuss matters over breakfast. From time to time, the Sennheiser family members of various races passed by. Word had apparently gotten around, because they no longer looked at the outsiders like cockroaches. At worst, their gaze had been upgraded to the way one might look at a troupe of clowns.

The breakfast was self-service and impressively varied. Lala Fat alone was served in eighteen different styles, most of them seasoned with the local specialty, Mermaid Weed. After one bite, Ashe nearly bit his own tongue in a wince.

One curious aspect of Vanmura was that the concept of home felt either incredibly faint or vastly expanded. This entire building was considered a home. It featured dedicated floors for training, studying, gaming, dining, and even working. However, the Senheiser family members living here only truly "owned" their bedrooms. Other than for sleep, they rarely returned to them, instead drifting to specific floors based on their needs. No one ordered takeout, and no one cooked for themselves. They all simply converged on the dining hall.

No one had an individual home, yet the entire building belonged to everyone. In fact, the whole Senheiser Family District functioned as one massive, collective household.

There was no doubt this urban design saved resources and maximized efficiency. As a result, the private bedrooms were noticeably larger. As for the cost... There hardly seemed to be one. At least for someone like Ashe, who felt no pull toward marriage, the lifestyle held a strange appeal. When he wanted solitude, he stayed in his room. When he didn't, he headed to the game floor to find company. If such apartments had existed in his previous life, he felt he could have lived there until the day he retired.

Of course, such extensive shared facilities required a constant flow of users. Otherwise, they would become a massive waste and a financial burden, much like how internet cafés declined once personal computers became widespread. The designers had to ensure residents actively chose these public spaces, a feat that was usually impossible since individuals would almost always clash with collective living. The very essence of private ownership lay in freeing the individual from the constraints of the group.

Only in a family-based city like Vanmura could such a unique social ecosystem survive. The residents' spiritual needs were satisfied by the Beauty Mist, while their personal will was shaped by the Family Reincarnation Dream. Their dissatisfaction and desires were suppressed to the point where they lived almost like machines, following the structured routines arranged for them.

In a sense, Vanmura represented an "upgraded" path for the society of the Gospel. While residents of Azura still relied on the Book of Gospel to vent or manage their less savory desires, Vanmura's citizens, after long exposure to the Mist, hardly generated such thoughts at all. They had become the perfect generation of citizens. Work efficiency, social rhythm, and interpersonal relationships all reached model-city standards. Aside from the rather strange fact that no one seemed capable of feeling unhappy, everything else appeared perfectly satisfying.

However, the outsiders weren't there to conduct sociological surveys. What mattered was whether they were currently guests, prisoners, or merely valuable commodities.

Annan had no intention of explaining further. She simply instructed, "I'll gather you at six this evening. Until then, you're free to do what you want."

Before leaving, she granted them five hundred Gospel Points.

From that moment on, the Funeral Agency officially entered a strategic partnership with the Book of Gospel. Whenever an urgent problem arose, they could simply pay the Gospel for an answer.

"Aren't you worried we'll ask how to unbind ourselves from our contract with you?" Ashe asked.

Annan didn't even look back. "I already asked. Five hundred isn't enough."

Watching Annan and Pankey depart, Harvey pulled out a Catnip cigarette. He glanced at Lys, still battling a bowl of strawberry ice cream, and kept the cigarette unlit between his teeth. "I'm starting to worry the mother and daughter might sell us off."

Ashe said, "Aren't you being a bit paranoid? Annan doesn't seem like the type. Besides, she's greedy. Since she's invested so much in us, there's no way she'd just hand us over."

The necromancer spread his hands. "But you can see the difference in caliber between her and her mother. If I use corpses as an analogy, the gap between them is like a charred body versus a bloated giant. One is a mess, while the other is a looming threat."

"Honestly, I don't think that's an appropriate analogy for the breakfast table..."

Harvey shifted the cigarette to the other side of his mouth. "Really? I find it helps the digestion. Don't be fooled by how Annan talked in prison or how she stood up to her mother. Right now, her only real leverage is her bloodline. And as for blood relations... my view is similar to Iger's."

The fraudster savored his food with leisure. "All relationships exist so that those above can better exploit those below. Harvey is right. Annan lacks the means to actually contend with Quinna. As for that contract between the mother and daughter? Heh, she couldn't even control us fully with our contracts, and you expect a piece of paper to restrain a Sacred Realm sorcerer?"

Iger leaned back. "Annan keeps hiding things and refuses to reveal her plan. Our current situation is no different from this Lala Fat on our plates. Whether we get eaten depends entirely on whether the chef's surname is Dolan or Senheiser."

Lys froze, her spoon halfway to her mouth. "Are we going to be eaten?"

Ashe reached over with a napkin and wiped a dollop of cream from the corner of her mouth. "Do you prefer salted egg yolk or salt-baked style? If you're scared, don't eat so much. If you get too fat, they'll slaughter you first."

Lys chirped, "Then I'm not scared. You're fatter than me, Daddy. You're even fatter than Aunt Perskin."

Ashe countered, "I call this strong and radiant. How could I possibly compare to your pale, sickly Aunt Perskin?"

Iger ignored the father-daughter banter. "A strange city, xenophobic locals, a secretive employer, and local authorities with ulterior motives... even in the Blood Moon, the only place that gathers all four of these suspicious elements is my hometown, the Dreamveil City."

"What kind of hell did you crawl out of, you demon..."

Iger stood up and reached for his tray. "In any case, let's investigate first. I don't expect you to uncover much, but at least try not to attract too much attention. You three in particular. That suspicious man in the dark-red coat, an absolute abyss-trend-chasing aesthetic disaster in broad daylight, the brainless kid who only knows how to act cute and play dumb... and then, there's Harvey."

"If we were back in the Blood Moon, I'd sue you for personal attacks," Ashe muttered.

Harvey stood up as well. "I'm going back to train. Does anyone want to volunteer as research material?"

The necromancer repeatedly promised he wouldn't do anything to them, but no one felt like sleeping in a coffin. After Harvey departed, Ashe turned to Lys. She shook her head. "I'm busy today, too. Be good, Daddy. Go play with the other kids."

"No, no, I only want y..."

He trailed off. Ashe's childish impulse couldn't quite overcome his sense of embarrassment. He cut his spoiled act short and pivoted. "What could a kid like you possibly be busy with? Leave the charge-and-fight stuff to Aunt Perskin. Just remember to wipe your mouth after you eat."

Lys looked at him seriously, then lowered her head. "I'm not a child. Did you forget? I came here to seize the Divine Lord's wish."

Ashe pulled her closer and wiped her greasy lips with a napkin. "Then you're just a greedy kid who still can't even wipe her own face. Even Auntie Perskin thinks this place is dangerous. You'd better stay in your room and stop running around."

Lys said nothing, but her expression clearly read, Agree to his face; disobey in secret.

Ashe exhaled. "I don't want to nag, but the contract says I have to protect you. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No need!" Lys replied crisply.

Ashe shook his head. "I can't let you wander alone in a place like this. Even if I agreed, the contract wouldn't. Hold on."

He noticed her pouting. "A rebellious daughter is truly a handful... wait, I've got it."

Ashe snapped his fingers. Another suspicious, red-robed fugitive materialized beside him. Lys recognized his Substitute spirit and asked curiously, "You want the substitute to follow me? But it only listens to you. Even if I told it to kneel, it wouldn't."

Why would you make it kneel...

Ashe decided to ignore that line of thought. "This isn't a normal substitute. It's a combined Miracle derived from the Substitute and Command spirits. An advanced substitute, if you will."

"What's so special about it?"

Ashe patted the spirit's shoulder. "I can grant you command authority. That way, you control it. With it following you, I won't have to worry as much. Better yet, it doesn't share vision or memory with me, so you don't have to worry about your teenage secrets being exposed."

The Command spirit had been his reward from the Amnesia Cabin. While he had lost his Reverse Day spirit there, he gained the Command spirit and Incarnation of Secrets in return. Command paired perfectly with the Substitute spirit; it greatly expanded Substitute's usefulness and even allowed Ashe to "rent it out."

He had pictured himself living a quiet, carefree life one day, relying on his substitutes to do the heavy lifting while he simply relaxed.

Lys blinked. "Really?"

She immediately bent down and started tugging at her shoes.

Ashe panicked. "Wait, what are you doing!"

"I want it to carry me."

"Then why are you taking off your shoes?"

Lys scratched her head. "Oh, right! Well, I'm not touched by your concern at all, but since you insist on being a nuisance, I'll go take this substitute for a walk!"

Ashe ruffled her hair. "At times like this, you're supposed to say thank you sincerely. I don't know what the rush is, but don't push yourself too hard."

Lys looked up at him, her eyes squinting into a bright, sudden smile. "So, Daddy, are you finally willing to help me seize the Divine Lord's wish?"

"Don't push me either," Ashe grumbled.

***

After leaving the hall with the substitute in tow, Lys pulled out her beloved small mirror and stared at her reflection for a long time.

Little Witch whispered, "Why don't we ask Daddy for help? He's an adult and better at gathering info on the Gospel incarnation. Plus, I want to go with him..."

Black Butler interjected, "Looks like our little sister is siding with an outsider. Is this what they call a rebellious phase?"

White Queen reminded them coolly, "Lys, we cannot expose our secrets. Human nature cannot be tested. The only ones we can trust are our sisters. If we're talking about closeness, the Witch is technically our grandmother."

Little Witch protested, "Daddy isn't our grandmother!"

Black Butler chuckled, "But if you test his nature, he might end up marrying her and becoming our grandfather."

Little Witch gasped. "Is Ashe going to marry Grandmother?"

At that moment, Dia finally spoke. "Lys, I am willing to trust your judgment."

The sisters fell into a shocked silence. It wasn't just Black Butler and White Queen; even Red Death Apostle couldn't stay quiet. "Dia, have you finally admitted your intelligence is on the same level as an eight-year-old's?"

Dia replied calmly, "According to our roles, you and Lys have the final say in the real world, just as I am the unquestioned leader in the Virtual World. You two decide our course of action in reality. Proceed."

Black Butler scowled. "Tch."

Just as Lys's eyes began to light up with hope, Dia spoke again. "But just as you trust Ashe, I also trust the Watcher and the Swordswoman. Still, do you know why I went to the fraudster early this morning to learn how to hide secrets naturally?"

"Why?"

"Because if we don't expose our secrets, nothing will change. As long as we keep wearing the same masks, we can continue to enjoy the relationships we have now."

Little Witch refused to accept that. "Even if we tell them, there is a chance that things might change for the better, right?"

Dia countered. "Really? In the Virtual World, the Watcher might not care, but the Swordswoman clearly values him far more than she values me. In reality, Ashe may not harbor ill intent toward you, but if he wants to help, he will inevitably turn to the fraudster and the necromancer. Even if he doesn't, those two will notice sooner or later. They might not mean us harm, but they will always care more about Ashe than they care about us, just as the Swordswoman would protect the Watcher by standing against me. If Ashe is willing to oppose the Gospel for you, would you be willing to do the same for him?"

Lys fell silent. White Queen, Black Butler, and Red Death Apostle offered no rebuttal.

Lys asked softly, "Then... should I distance myself from Daddy?"

Dia said, "No. Quite the opposite, you should continue to use him. That was our plan from the beginning. Make use of his kindness. Guide him into helping you, but never expose our secret.

"It is better for us to use him than to let him help us willingly. The most terrifying aspect of the Gospel is how it can twist a person's goodwill into the malice of fate. In the Tower, we have already experienced too many tragedies like that. Those who tried to stop us from donning armor and becoming saints only became burdens our souls must carry. Meanwhile, those we deceived and toyed with... they survived. Until the Woven Festival ends, our love is a curse, and our trust is poison."

Little Witch lowered her head, dejected. "So I can only be a bad witch? Lying and using people?"

Dia said softly, "Yes. We are all bad witches."

White Queen suddenly whispered, "I'm sorry. Not only did we fail to give you a happy life, but we've forced you to bear all this instead."

Black Butler snapped, "Hey, White, what are you apologizing for? This is clearly the Witch's fault. What does it have to do with us?"

"Black, shut up," Red Death Apostle commanded.

Lys forced herself to cheer up. "It's fine! I'm your little sister. I won't break that easily. A witch is a witch! I've always been the Little Witch anyway!"

She turned to the substitute. "Come on, let's go find the library..."

A hint of pleading touched her face. "Can you hold my hand?"

She couldn't be honest with Ashe, but here, at least, she could freely act spoiled with his shell.

The substitute glanced at her, then reached out and took her small hand. All the gloom vanished from Lys's face. She began to bounce along like a cheerful little rabbit.

"Come on, help me find which floor the library is on.

"I'm tired. Carry me instead.

"Help me find books on the Gospel Incarnation, and anything about history from a thousand years ago.

"I'm sleepy. Slow down.

"Can you sing?"

A dozen minutes later, inside the library, the substitute pulled books from the shelves that matched her requests. He moved with careful precision so as not to wake the sleeping Lys, all while humming a children's song with a blank, hollow expression.

Suddenly, his gaze fell on a book titled Inheritance Through Generations: The Endless Enslavement of Evil Nobles. For a fleeting second, a trace of something complex and unreadable flickered through his hollow eyes.