—Film Studio District · General's Ridge · General's Plain—
The next morning at eight, Lucien drove us to the airport.
Selene came to see us off as well. There was no lingering farewell—only a calm reminder to return early, and not to force things if the situation proved dangerous. Knowing someone was waiting was enough to leave warmth behind.
Two hours later, the plane touched down in an eastern coastal city.
An international port—vast, restless, and gleaming. Against it, Novalis felt smaller than it remembered, almost provincial.
During the flight, I gained a rough picture of Victor's past. Three marriages—one ended by death, two by divorce. Success in business, but a fractured private life. His parents were gone early: his father died young, his mother disappeared, and he was raised by his older brother. Years ago, just as his career began to stabilize, his brother and sister-in-law were killed in a traffic accident. He now raises their child.
As Victor put it, everything he had now was paid for by a lifetime of loss. He himself could endure it—but his two partners both had intact families. He refused to drag those who trusted him into whatever misfortune followed him.
I understood what he meant.
He was the kind of man who would take a blow meant for his brother without hesitation.
Outside the airport, a thin, bespectacled man in his forties waited beside a stretch limousine. Victor introduced him as one of his investors—Daniel Mercer. His manner was polite, his expression tired but composed. Unlike Victor's initial suspicion when we first met, Daniel showed no reservation at all. Or rather, his trust in Victor was complete.
We went straight to an upscale restaurant. During the meal, Victor said,
"Mr. Arcturus, I've reserved a suite for you tonight at the Waterside Garden Hotel."
He was considerate, careful not to press the matter too soon.
"Waterside Garden?" Jasper perked up immediately. "That place costs a fortune. The top-floor suites overlook the entire city—people book months in advance."
"That's right," Victor said with a nod. "A top-floor terrace suite. Best view in the city. And I've arranged for two... professional guides to accompany you."
The emphasis was deliberate.
I understood. Jasper, being more experienced in such matters, understood even better—the anticipation was obvious on his face.
"There's no need for a hotel," I said.
Jasper's smile froze.
"Is there accommodation at the film studio?" I asked instead.
Victor paused. Jasper stared at me, about to object, but stopped under my gaze.
After a moment, Victor nodded. "Yes. There is."
"Then we'll stay there tonight." My tone left no room for discussion.
Victor exchanged a glance with Daniel and tried to reason with me.
"Mr. Arcturus, there's really no need to rush. You've been traveling all day—perhaps you should rest first..."
"No." I cut him off. "After lunch, we go straight to the studio. I'm here to work, not to be entertained. Until the matter is resolved, comfort is irrelevant."
It wasn't impatience.
Accepting too much hospitality would only make refusal harder later. Obligation has a way of dulling judgment.
They didn't press further. After the meal, we drove toward the film studio on the outskirts of the city. The trip took about an hour. The roads were clear, the surroundings sparse—most residents had already moved closer to the city center. The isolation suited large-scale development.
The location itself was well chosen.
At the main gate, Daniel slowed the car and drove a full loop around the inner grounds. The complex was vast—rows of historical-style structures, palaces and halls rising in deliberate symmetry. Though construction wasn't fully complete, it was already functional as a filming site. Victor mentioned that more than three billion had been invested. If the issue remained unresolved, all of it would be lost. He didn't ask outright, but the urgency was unmistakable.
They settled us into the actors' hotel. The rooms were lavish, comparable to any high-end accommodation. The training grounds lay just beyond the residential block, separated by a single building.
I didn't rest. As soon as we set our bags down, I asked Victor to take us there. Daniel accompanied us in silence. Halfway there, he received a call and stepped aside. Victor glanced over, catching only fragments of Daniel's low voice:
"I'm at the studio... no, don't say that. I trust Victor."
"This is the place," Victor said, gesturing ahead. "Everything's normal during the day. But after midnight, the noise starts. Loud enough to reach the hotel. Sometimes even beyond the gates."
I nodded and looked deeper into the complex. A pale mist drifted upward in the distance—not unnatural, not stagnant. The land itself showed no signs of decay or exhaustion. As Victor had said, a cement plant once operated here profitably. If the site were inherently flawed, the problems would have surfaced long ago.
The terrain was sound. The structural layout, while imperfect, wasn't problematic.
That narrowed the possibilities.
I surveyed the surroundings. To the left of the main gate, the access road wound gently through the hills—no sharp angles, no oppressive pressure. To the right stood a tall ridge, broad-backed and imposing, angled away from the complex itself.
"What's that ridge called?" I asked.
Victor followed my gaze. "General's Ridge."
"And this land?"
"General's Plain. It used to be farmland. Rice first, then corn. There was another rock formation between the ridge and the site years ago, but the cement plant quarried it away."
"Was there an actual general here?" I asked.
Victor shook his head. "Not that I know of."
The names, then, were likely descriptive rather than historical.
The surroundings formed a natural balance—open access on one side, solid elevation on the other. Protection without confinement. Under ordinary circumstances, nothing here should have produced anomalies.
Yet disturbances persisted.
And not the kind caused by chance.
"Is the land itself the problem?" Victor asked.
Jasper stepped closer. "Could it be something buried? Old remains? That's how places like this usually get a reputation."
Victor's face drained of color.
I frowned. "That's speculation. Based on what?"
"Just a guess. Places don't act up for no reason."
"Is that true?" Victor asked urgently.
"Not that I can tell," I said. "There's no indication of that."
"Then the buildings?" Jasper pressed. "Could the layout be triggering something?"
Victor looked even more unsettled. Structural flaws would mean irreversible losses.
"No," I said again. "The construction isn't the issue."
Victor's trajectory was still rising. The land, the layout, the environment—everything pointed toward advantage rather than decay. By all rational measures, the site had every reason to succeed.
Which meant the problem lay elsewhere.
And the night was not when it began—
only when it was allowed to act.