Rosacer rang the bell, and the sound echoed through the building.
He heard footsteps approaching from inside, growing closer until they stopped right in front of him.
The door opened to reveal a man with pale skin and a nearly wraith-like face, looking as though all blood had drained from him.
"Come inside, Rosacer," said Neb, gesturing inward as he held the door open.
Inside, the hallway felt spacious, illuminated by soft purple lights glowing along its length.
Rosacer gave a faint smile and bowed slightly as he stepped through the door. Once inside, he glanced around, taking in every detail he could.
He noticed a dark painting of a man without a head, the stump still bleeding, with people beneath the earth worshipping his fallen head. Beside it stood a sculpture of a dark horse with a magnificent mane, ridden by a man-like figure with angelic wings.
Other paintings carried the same eerie sensation—one showed a rose petal sprouting from a man's navel as he stood in a trance, another depicted a man whose head had been replaced by a flower, bowing toward the sun.
Neb, watching him, spoke quietly. "The flower man is quite fascinating. Looks scary, right? But it has its own charm. I see it as a man being loved—finally finding softness in his heart and being cherished for it. He's no longer someone with something to fight for, because he is loved."
The painting had a sweet scent—too sweet, Rosacer thought—as his mind wavered while taking it in. A shiver ran through him, and he nearly felt like vomiting, but he managed to hold it back. He really didn't like the smell. Holding his breath, he followed Neb out of the hallway toward a room whose door was etched with curved, esoteric symbols.
Neb opened the door with one hand and, without turning, called over his shoulder, "Follow behind," as he stepped into the room.
Inside was a single table with four seats, and on the table lay cards and dice. The cards were etched with symbols and patterns Rosacer had never seen before.
Two of the seats were already occupied—one by Josan, and the other by a man with spectacles perched on his nose. His sharp eyes gleamed with a natural green hue, and his dark black hair shimmered under the purple light of the lamp. His build was average, yet he carried an imposing presence.
As Rosacer entered, Neb turned to him, raised his hand, and moved toward the third man, introducing him with respect and familiarity. "This is our third member, Michael Maysee."
"Maysee?!" Rosacer couldn't hide his astonishment.
It was the same surname he'd seen on the man he freed from the sarcophagus—Jkoi Maysee. He never thought he'd hear that name again.
'That's obviously a coincidence...' he tried to reassure himself.
Noticing Rosacer's perplexed look, Neb said, "Yeah, that clan. Maysee."
Michael stepped forward to greet them, dressed in a black suit with a hat perched on his head. His suit was even more magnificent than Josan's, exuding a regal and noble air, perhaps crafted by an artisan of high society. Turning to Rosacer, he removed his hat, pressing it to his chest, then extended his hand. "Michael Maysee, the cartographer."
Rosacer shook his hand and introduced himself.
Then he asked, "I've heard the name of this clan." His gaze shifted toward Neb and Michael. "What is a big shot like you doing here?"
Michael laughed, clearly amused. "You are funny, Mr. Rosacer."
Rosacer did not join the laughter. Realizing the matter was serious, he replied in a steady voice, "I have never heard anyone call the Maysee clan great, but I appreciate your kind words."
After a few exchanges of polite small talk, Rosacer finally took a seat on one of the four chairs. Josan sat directly across from him, his posture rigid and unreadable. To Rosacer's left sat Michael, relaxed and smiling faintly, while Neb occupied the remaining chair with his usual silent presence.
The dim light above them flickered once, casting restless shadows across their faces.
A gathering of men in black, Rosacer mused inwardly, the absurdity of it briefly amusing him.
Breaking the silence, he leaned back slightly and asked, "So, what is the work?"
The three smiled faintly, as if they had been waiting for him to say those words all along.
Josan reacted first, he folded his hands on the table.
And with a deep hoarse voice, he spoke.
"The retrieval of a small statue from a house."
'Huh? A robbery?' A little disappointed, Rosacer concealed his expression as he asked in a stern, unwavering voice, raising an eyebrow. "What is the statue of?"
Josan added, "It looks like a man with wings."
There was no tone to it, making it harder for Rosacer to figure out the intention, so he could only guess.
The room felt tensed at those words.
Rosacer exhaled slowly. "And it is that important?"
Michael's smile faded. "Yes. It is not an ordinary man. He is the Dark Messiah."
Rosacer kept his calm, but inside, thoughts clawed at his mind. His lips quivered as he instinctively began to ask what was on his mind, but at the last moment, he held back.
'Who is this dark messiah? I should probably ask... but first, I need to confirm something.'
His fingers tightened against the armrest. He uttered, "Then why ask me?"
Josan's eyes narrowed just slightly. "We were short on hands. We needed more men." His gaze drifted over Rosacer's clothes, lingering there for a moment. "Also, Peter's suit looks good on you."
It was a threat, and Rosacer could see it from a mile away. But he was prepared for it. Sooner or later, he would have to figure out their real intention—better now than later.
He let out a short breath of disbelief.
He tried to speak with as much sadness as he could muster, his voice quivering as the words slipped from his mouth.
"So the man's name was Peter. But before that, I want you to know something. I only took his clothes. I did not kill him."
For a brief second, the air went still.
Rosace's heart was almost beating out of his chest in the eerie silence. He tried not to move or make any sudden movements.
Michael chuckled softly. "We know that. That is why you are still speaking."
'And I am glad for that.' Rosacer said inwardly.
Neb finally spoke, "The house we're infiltrating belongs to a close associate of Opelia—there's bound to be trouble." His fingernail scraped the table, etching caricatures into the wood.
"So, we need to be cautious," he continued.
He stopped scratching and looked at everyone in the room. "Can we be cautious?"
His gaze was piercing. Rosacer felt as though his soul was being stared into, like he was sitting naked before him—embarrassing, yet terrifying.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"That's good then." Neb's eyes fixed on Rosacer. "Peter was a good man. He was killed by one of the lackeys of that wretched nightmare creature. But it's good that the dream god has sent you to fill his shoes."
Rosacer's eyes went wide. He was in disbelief—never had he imagined the dream god would claim him as his own.
'This is completely the opposite of what I thought would happen…' He thought.
Still, He stayed on alert. It could easily be a trap. But why would they set one for him? He was already as good as dead in their eyes. Maybe they wanted to reach the nightmare god, or use him as bait for the nightmare god to descend.
Rosacer gave a firm nod in return.