Lying. When spinning it, one sometimes must weave around a nugget of truth. In this case, the reality was Caitríona's desire to sacrifice him. That was the foundation on which Cyrus would build his story.

And so, Cyrus rubbed his forehead and let out a frustrated sigh. Indeed, one had to make sure they played their part.

"It happened so fast." He paused, intentionally appearing to separate himself from the event. "While out on the streets, I became curious about deities. So, I headed towards the library."

Yes, avoid mentioning the call to his flame runes. Who knew what would happen if the grandmaster would do if he found out.

Cyrus rubbed at his forehead. "That's where I met... her." Another pause. "Her face and those blue eyes... I found myself drawn to her. And when she suggested visiting The Shard's cathedral, I couldn't say no."

As Cyrus spoke, he recounted the encounter—the feigned blushing and smiles at his presence, their hands meeting atop a book, and how she appealed to his pride, slight as it was. He had to admit it; Ca—she got him good. And the idea compelled a genuine sigh from the former.

"Throughout the day, she flirted with me—" Cyrus hesitated before spitting out his following words. "—And... I liked it. Okay? And after speaking with the vicar, we went a sort of... date—walk." Cyrus then rubbed the back of his head, averting his gaze as if caught doing something terrible. "And after dinner and a couple of drinks, she hinted at spending the night at her place. I-I was tempted, but I remembered my promise to return home."

All this was to paint Cyrus as a young man smitten with a woman. Not only did it sound like a more palatable narrative than 'I hung out with her to extract information,' but when he used the word' home,' it implied that Cyrus considered Avalorn his own.

Now, to slip in a little lie and supplement. Add vexation and frustration—drive just enough emotion for someone to notice rather than the repression.

"Now that I think of it," Cyrus began, his gaze purposely fixed on a random point past Lord Dílis' shoulder. "She only started flirting with me once I mentioned I was a Wayfarer..." Cyrus looked away, rubbing the back of his head. "...Without mentioning being an initiate. Does that mean anything?"

Lord Dílis' gaze narrowed. "Wayfarers are more exposed to the blight."

That was more than enough for Lord Dílis to build his own narrative: Upon meeting Cyrus, The Wayfarer, Caitríona wanted to end his life one way or another. And all she needed was to take him somewhere private. So, she played against his male instincts, flirting and tempting him, and Cyrus, unaware of the dangers inside the wall, was smitten.

"I... declined her offer but suggested to meet again," Cyrus continued, bitterly chuckling, "But I guess I lucked out. I'm sure Lilie told you, but Blake's memory shard bleed some instinct." —His gaze flickered from Lord Dílis and the window— "And after she missed, she activated some sort of magitek or glamour or whatever it was."

Without missing a beat, The Dúndraíocht inquired. "How did you emerge unscathed?"

This is it. There was a long pause as Cyrus pretended to be lost in horrid memories. And for a moment, the memory of that thing wearing his face appeared before him intentionally. Hopelessness, despair, sorrow—Cyrus' feelings truly matched his movements in this fleeting moment.

"It's alright, son," Lord Dílis whispered. "You don't have to say anything."

As if to break from his reverie, Cyrus shook his head. "No, no. It's alright. In truth, luck played a bigger role than skill, Your Lordship." —He then rolled his sleeve, where several light runes lined his arm— "See this? It's how I survived."

By offering a secret, Cyrus hoped to strengthen the story.

He looked at Lord Dílis with a mixture of helpless schadenfreude and relief. "My flames were pretty useless against her dark powers. So, could you imagine the look on our faces when the moment my light completely dominated her powers? And she couldn't fight for shit."

That's right. With his wounds suddenly restored, he had no reason to explain that he was so thoroughly crushed that night.

Lord Dílis' sharp but neutral gaze fixed upon the light runes. "I see. Your affinity with both fire and light is incredibly high, Cyrus."

Cyrus remained quiet in response. Affinity in one's domain varied between mages, and it determined their strength and abilities. And based on what he's been told and read, it would require years of study and practice to raise it.

Lord Dílis shook his head. "And in the end, you killed her."

'Killed.' Cyrus winced at that. But now was not to recall that hazy yet terrifying memory. He's already been playing the event for five days straight. Just… play along.

"She was insane," Cyrus began, hands frantically clutching at the table. "Caitríona repeated 'Hypokrites' and 'sacrifice' over and over again as she attacked me." —He lowered his gaze to the floor as if ashamed to meet Lord Dílis' gaze, voice trembling— "I didn't know how to escape or what to do!" And to add to his show, Cyrus returned his gaze to Lord Dílis, voice pleading. "What should I have done when all she said was 'kill, kill, kill!?'"

Silence hung between the two. One that was broken only by the whisper of the grandmaster.

"I see."

The Dúndraíocht sighed and stood from his chair. Walking around the desk, he patted Cyrus' shoulder. The former had to stifle his cringe.

"I'm sorry for not warning you about them in the first place," Lord Dílis began, his voice filled with bitter regret. "It's a dark secret that I wished to keep from you until the time was right. And because of my negligence, you nearly lost your life." He then lightly squeezed Cyrus' as if to comfort him, to which, again, Cyrus stifled another cringe. "But you shouldn't be ashamed of what you did as an Actor would never cease their performance until the curtain closes." Cyrus then witnessed a small, congratulatory smile grow on his face. "It truly was a job well done. With your lead, we discovered a nest of vermin associated with Gorman, which led to their capture and arrest."

"Great…"

Yeah, a whole lot of fat fucking luck that was for me. I would have already died if that... thing hadn't had plans for me. Yet Cyrus kept his complaints to himself and changed the subject. "I was detained by a group of Spectres. Who are they?"

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Lord Dílis nodded. "I almost forgot. You must understand their role, as they play a crucial part in maintaining the city's stability. Indeed, all city-states have a department of Spectres." He returned to his side of the desk and held the Actor pendant with an almost crushing force. "They hunt down these vermin or those possibly blighted within cities, preferably discreetly."

"Discreetly?" Cyrus' brows furrowed. "But why?"

Honestly, if he had the choice, Cyrus would have allowed Spectres full freedom in search of Umbrea Theatrum. At least, this way, it would put incredible pressure on those maniacal zealots.

Lord Dílis sighed. "There's a sort of stigma that comes with Spectres. If one of them accuses you of being tainted or one of the vermin, well, it sticks. And with it, people start treating you as a walking monster. There are no good endings with such a result, Cyrus."

"I see."

And Cyrus believed it. Hell, given everything that had happened to him, he, too, would give the accused a wide berth. But that did not matter, as something was infinitely more pressing on his mind.

"Then, am I free to go?" Cyrus asked, his gaze locking with Lord Dílis'.

"Of course." Lord Dílis massaged his forehead. "And Again, Cyrus, I'm sorry for what's transpired. I should have told you of those ignorant sadist earlier."

Damn it. A bubbling anger surfaced in the sea of Cyrus' thoughts. But he held it back with a smile. "It's alright. I just want to move past this."

"Yes, you need some proper rest." Lord Dílis rose from his chair and turned toward the window behind him, his hands behind his back. "My daughter is waiting for you at the first door to the right. She'll lead you out of the building from a secret passage and discreetly escort you to the manor, where you can recover from your ordeal." A pause. "Truly, Cyrus, I am sorry."

Taking this as his cue to depart, Cyrus stood up and placed his fist over his heart. "Clear skies, your Lordship."

"Clear skies, Cyrus," replied The Dúndraíocht, his voice carrying a smile.

However, as soon as the doors closed with Cyrus' exit, Lord Dílis' smile faded as if it had never been. He kept his gaze fixed on the city before him—from the cobblestone streets to the brick-made houses and buildings—and observed the passing denizens. Under those sharp brown eyes hid a subtle green light pulsing with an unfathomable array of life runes that hid an unknowable mind.

Ten minutes passed, and a sudden knock echoed from the door.

"Come in."

A Spectre walked in and bowed. And if Cyrus were here, he would have remembered the man who pulled the revolver to the back of his head.

"Yes?"

Lord Dílis turned to him with a smile. He would not bother with this little informality in speech, for he needed an answer. "Tell me. What happened on the day I ordered you to follow Cyrus?"

***

Ten minutes prior. The door closed behind Cyrus. Only then did he allow himself to sigh in relief. Let's hope that the coast is clear.

For now, he was free to walk around. And one day, Cyrus would be powerful enough to leave these walls permanently. But until then, he would have to make do. So, Cyrus stared at Bird's hovering before him.

"Well… let's get on with it."

His footsteps echoed through the silent hallways, and along with them came the intrusive and negative thoughts that had plagued his entire life.

And oh, how he loathed them. Those frothing self-deprecating thoughts. No, don't repeat them, lest you believe them true.

So Cyrus began to channel his mana through his life runes in a bid to disperse the thoughts in his mind. And it worked! Each time mana surged into a glyph, a revitalizing sensation coursed through his body, igniting each rune with a vibrant glow as his mana surged through them.

At least I can start training again. Cyrus sighed.

A minute later, the door he was looking for appeared before him.

"One second!" A feminine voice called out after Cyrus knocked.

And out came Lady Dílis. She looked as stunning as ever, dressed in a beige formal blouse with short sleeves and black pants. Her long locks fell down her shoulders, framing her face and hiding those pointy ears. And yet, neither her beauty nor her soft smile hid the guilt that her emerald gaze betrayed.

"Cyrus, hey. How are you holding up?" She whispered, voice gentle and soft.

She appeared to want to hug him, at least to comfort him. But what did Cyrus feel from such a sight? Nothing. Wait—no, that was wrong. For a small moment, her voice brought a terror up his spine that nearly paled his face.

That thing mimicked her voice perfectly. But Cyrus couldn't show any fear to her, or she might notice something.

So, he masked his emotions with a cordial smile. "Hey, Lilie. I'm alright." His gaze followed Bird, who flew past the door. "So, are you ready to head back? Because I'm dying to stretch my legs."

Despite the guilt lingering in her gaze, she nodded in agreement. "Follow me."

And the sooner they left, the better it was. Meanwhile, as they walked side by side in silence, Cyrus ignored her gaze that landed on him over and over again. Couldn't she just drop it? Apparently not, for she seemed on the verge of speaking only to halt with a sigh every other minute or so until they reached a downward staircase.

The two then went down the stairs and into a bare, empty room—well, except for the large circle of order and earth runes connecting to each other in the shape of a tree at the opposite end of the room.

"We'll leave through this," Lady Dílis said, pressing her hand on it.

And from the channeling of her mana, the circle began to glow. The next moment, a section of the stone-gray wall slid inward, revealing a lit tunnel.

Cyrus arched his brows at the sight but remained silent and followed behind her into the brick-walled tunnel. At least he'll be able to breathe fresh air soon. Tsk. There was that sigh again from the woman beside him.

Cyrus restrained the urge to roll his eyes. "What's wrong, Lilie?"

She stopped, shoulders trembling. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened," Lady Dílis abruptly stopped her pace and blurted out, her words spilling fast as a waterfall. "Everything is our fault for not telling you about those cultists—" And to Cyrus' surprise, she then suddenly embraced him, prompting the latter to stifle another cringe. "—and I never meant to put you in such danger."

Cyrus could feel a slight trembling from the woman. Was it the Dílis Family's fault?

Yes. Absolutely. Had they told him earlier, would he have trusted to follow anyone? Regardless, Cyrus felt her sincerity.

"It's okay, Lilie." He sighed. "I understand you had to keep it a secret from me."

Well, that's what he's decided to tell her.

Cyrus watched her shake her head disapprovingly. "You don't, Cyrus. These people are far too dangerous; you don't understand the damage they could do if left unchecked."

"Well, then enlighten me."

There was a pause. But instead of an answer, Lady Dílis shook her head before releasing her grasp on him.

Her green eyes bore into his, her tone earnest. "A single actor can destroy families and lives." Lady Dílis rubbed her forehead. "And these lunatics can cause anyone to transform into wraiths with enough planning, but that's not the worst of it. There is something that isn't known among the common people..."

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