632 Conspiracy
Late at night, in Trier, Angoulême de François sat in front of a small analyzer and a radio transceiver, attentively listening to the clicks and observing as a “translated” telegram was produced by a mechanical typewriter.

The signature above simply read Hidden Blade.

Having exchanged a few messages, Angoulême remained composed. He picked up the telegram and swiftly skimmed through its contents.

“Um, when you’re protecting high-ranking government officials and members of parliament daily, do you tail them even during personal moments like affairs or trips to the washroom?”

A wry smile formed on Angoulême’s face. He contemplated responding to Hidden Blade with, “What occupies your thoughts all day?” However, in the blink of an eye, his eyes narrowed as he tapped away on the mechanical typewriter.

“Tell me, what crime do you intend to commit? Which high-ranking government official or member of parliament is your target for assassination?”

Dammit! Franca, seated in the master bedroom of her apartment, squirmed uncomfortably.

Why did it feel like she was undergoing police interrogation?

She dryly chuckled to herself and replied on the mechanical typewriter.

“I’m just curious. Following them would be awkward, and not doing so might expose a security vulnerability easily exploitable by others.”

She refused to acknowledge any plans involving the Minister of Industry in the current government.

After a while, 007 sent a new telegram.

“I rarely undertake such missions. Initially, I dealt with Beyonder incidents and battled cultists. Later, I got promoted and no longer had to participate in daily protection operations.

“Based on my knowledge and limited experience, we have to follow the protectee wherever they go. If they choose to have an affair, at least one of us will discreetly stand by the coat rack, keeping a watchful eye. If time allows, we’ll investigate and confirm the identity and background of the target in advance. If the protectee enters the washroom, one of us waits by their side, guarding against potential threats from sewers, ventilation pipes, and shadows.

“However, there’s an exception. If the protectee strongly requests and writes an exemption, we can respect their privacy. After all, we’re not their parents obligated to protect their every move. If they perish, someone else will take their place. It’s not easy to find a three-legged toad, but those aspiring to be high-ranking government officials and members of parliament can fill Avenue du Boulevard. Moreover, such officials and MPs don’t often possess exceptional foresight and wisdom. What matters is the position they hold, not the individual.

“Very few high-ranking officials and MPs choose to write exemptions for privacy, but they tend to do so when discussing confidential matters with their team.”

007, did you work overtime so much that you harbor resentment? Franca chuckled inwardly.

She felt that 007 wasn’t as laid back as she would have liked. If it were the two members from Loen, they would likely say, “It’s fine if most high-ranking officials who don’t deal with real matters or MPs who only give speeches are dead. Even curly-haired baboons in their positions would perform better. At least the baboons wouldn’t smack their heads to formulate policies or work for personal gain. They wouldn’t boast about their wisdom and desire to show off. They’d simply enjoy bananas and play happily. That’s the least harmful thing for the entire country.”

Franca read 007’s telegram again and turned to Jenna, who was sitting by the bed.

“The protective measures are tight, and there are no loopholes to exploit.”

“Yes, that’s the case with the Purifiers. The Machinery Hivemind and Bureau 8 should be similar.”

Franca, Jenna, and Anthony had been gathering information for a while and had devised several plans, but they still found it unsafe and uncertain. Hence, they consulted 007, seeking clarification on the security situation around Moran Avigny.

Being a Cabinet Minister of a country, Moran Avigny was not an easy target for assassination.

Moreover, Franca and the others’ primary goal wasn’t assassination. Even if they considered it, they had to factor in the time required for spirit channeling, making it even more troublesome.

Listening to Franca’s summary of 007’s response, Jenna pondered for a moment and said, “If it were any other Demoness, they might choose to sacrifice their established legitimate identity by seducing Moran Avigny and pretending to be shy to make the minister get an exemption from the protectors. However, I don’t think that’s feasible. Moran Avigny is likely a Mirror Person, and Mirror People have a close relationship with the Demoness pathway. They might be especially wary of a Demoness approaching them.”

Franca had initially hesitated to involve Jenna in the operation against Moran Avigny because the Demoness of Black Clarice would secretly monitor and provide assistance at critical moments. It would be risky if she discovered Jenna using the Demoness pathway’s abilities.

However, Jenna insisted on participating. Her reasoning was:

After Franca admitted to Clarice that she hadn’t experienced pleasure for a long time, the Demoness of Black would likely suspect her relationship with Franca. After all, Franca had approached Browns Sauron under the guise of attending a female orgy.

Therefore, Jenna wanted to showcase a Vampire’s abilities and combat style in front of the Demoness of Black. The mystical item she currently possessed would allow her to disguise herself effectively and maintain sufficient combat strength. The prerequisite was that she had to conceal the Arrow of the Bloodthirsty well and hide it under her clothes. As for Mirror Substitution, she could explain it away with Franca since Anthony had one too.

Franca had muttered, “Demonesses can also have pure love,” but as she finished speaking, she awkwardly changed the topic and tacitly allowed Jenna to participate.

“Hmm.” Franca, sitting cross-legged, nodded slightly and said, “Moran Avigny’s strength is unknown. He might be very formidable. If we attempt to seduce him, we risk becoming his prey if he’s vigilant, possibly even losing our lives. Sigh, I’d better write to Lumian and see what he thinks.”

Franca chuckled self-deprecatingly.

“Ever since he left Trier, my brain seems to have gone on vacation.”

She was mocking her past laziness, acknowledging that she often delegated the primary responsibility of thinking to Lumian while playing a supporting role.

Jenna chuckled and said, “You’re really good at self-deprecating. That’s what I admire most about you. You’re open-minded and cheerful.”

Franca chuckled.
“Teasing can liven up the atmosphere and foster closer relationships, but sometimes, if you can’t gauge others’ acceptance, teasing can easily turn into mockery. It’s safer to make a self-deprecating remark.”

As the two Demonesses conversed, a telegram clattered in. It was still from 007.

Franca’s eyes lit up as she read the telegram.

The telegram read:

“Hidden Blade, if you disclose your target and provide sufficient reason, I might be able to offer assistance and discreetly cooperate with your actions.”

Wow, what a bro! Franca praised inwardly as her fingers swiftly moved over the mechanical typewriter.

“Here’s the deal. I currently possess ample evidence to believe that the Minister of Industry, Moran Avigny, is a Mirror Person who has infiltrated Trier and assumed the original owner’s identity for decades. Haha, I didn’t reveal this earlier because I needed to acquire crucial information from Moran Avigny. If he’s captured by you, I can’t guarantee that you’ll gain access to pertinent information, so I plan to take action myself.”

“Phew… There’s hope!” Franca turned around and joyfully raised her right index and middle fingers to Jenna.

Before long, 007 responded:

“Gather the results of your previous investigations and Moran Avigny’s information promptly and place it at the designated contact point. I’ll verify it first and find an opportune moment. Await my further instructions.”

Franca’s face lit up with joy. She pursed her lips and sent a brief telegram:

“It’s highly likely that a demigod of the Demoness Sect will be involved in this operation. Exercise caution.”

Jenna read it quietly and asked thoughtfully, “Are we still seeking Lumian’s opinion?”

“Yes,” Franca replied without hesitation. “As the saying goes, ‘three smelly cobblers are as good as Roselle.’ With more people brainstorming, we may uncover better solutions.”

“What kind of proverb is that? Why haven’t I heard it before…” Jenna suspected that Franca was making it up.

…

The crimson moon remained unseen, with only the stars casting a faint glow.

Seated in the Berries’ first-class suite, Lumian perused Dutanese textbooks when his messenger, Penitent Baynfel, abruptly materialized before him.

Baynfel, draped in a black clergyman’s robe, resembling a charred corpse, handed over the letter.

Lumian caught it, inhaling the lingering fragrance on the paper.

Franca’s letter… Jenna even held and read it… Lumian made a casual judgment as he observed his messenger curiously.

He had a persistent feeling that Penitent Baynfel harbored many untold stories, but every attempt to engage in conversation was met with stoic silence.

After Baynfel traversed into the spirit world, Lumian unfolded the letter, reclined in his chair, and leisurely read.

With 007’s help, this shouldn’t be difficult. Lumian smiled suddenly and whispered to himself, If it doesn’t work out, they can force the bait. Focus on the Mirror Person’s wariness of Demonesses and the potential strength they possess to lure him. When Moran Avigny believes the target is a bait from the Demoness Sect, with a demigod hiding behind her, planning to take the poison pill and retreat to deliver a bomb, he’ll find himself facing one or two Angels, three to five demigods… However, this way, Franca’s Demoness Sect mission will be finished…

Lumian’s thoughts raced as he crafted and discarded one plan after another.

Tomorrow, the Berries would depart from the Berserk Sea, sailing into the Southern Continent’s waters.

When the time came, the ship wouldn’t need to navigate complex twists and turns to avoid storms, maelstroms, and mystical phenomena. It could head directly for its destination port in West Balam.

Suddenly, Lumian sensed something and stood up.

Approaching the window, he peered out. In the darkness not far away, an ancient three-masted sailboat sailed silently.

There were no lights on the ship, and no one strolled on the deck.