A Cynical Principle - Episode 1.1.1

Episode 1: Watchdog of the Dark City (Part 1.1)

Dusty old books were being thrown one after another out of their bookshelves, the responsible man had a somewhat funny look as he repeatedly opened a book then threw it away.

The person might have had a specific reason, but when viewing him from the side, they seemed to be only scattered purposely on the floor.

The peace of the room that should’ve been there was gone. The yearning of the footsteps were getting worse as time ticked by, growing miserable.

She, Partita Infinee, kept her sigh in her throat as she lightly tapped the door open, being careful to not drop the cup of tea on the silver tray.

Like a mechanical doll, the master of the house turned his head towards the maid at the doorway, “Ah, Partita. What is the matter? I’m a little busy, you see.”

“Are you looking for something?”

“I am going to organize the books to either useless or useful.”

… Organize, he said…

Partita intently stared at the man’s face through the light of the candle.

The long double-edged eyes that gave a sense of vigilance to others, his long and straightened silver hair was reminiscent of an experienced debater. His pale complexion was like that of a sick person, the jaw and nose were sharp, and stubbornness that was hidden from view.

However, it should be noted that his eyes were redder than the Jade Ruby, and the hidden sharp canine teeth would be visible to the eyes once the man smile.

“Organizing, is it?”

“Organize.”

“… if you say so, then I’m fine with it,” while having said that, she tried to find a way to approach the man.

The room was not that wide. It might’ve been used as a study room of the sort, but it was a library now. It is also contained the excess books from the overflowing library in the basement and on the first floor.

The heavy desk made of oak wood, which has a large value, were now filled with hills of stacked old books and candlesticks situated above it that illuminated the dark room.

It was also a victim of the Lord’s arrangement.

“Lord Univale, I had received a letter and came to deliver it to you,” she gave up her intention to approach the Lord as she decided to notify him at the doorway.

The Lord quickly closed that book in his hands that he got from the messy action earlier. He looked at the item in hand with his red eyes.

“Partita. Didn’t I say that I don’t like being called by my family name? Call me Charlo.”

“It’s hard to say.”

The name of the Lord was Charlo de Univale. In the world, Lord Univale had the title of Viscount in the place of the knighthood, no, used to have.

“On top of that, I am not even a relative.”

Partita Infinee is the maid of the house. Though there was another ghost maiden who prepares the meal, but she mostly handled all of the house chores: from taking care of small things such as carrying tea and delivering letters, to family affairs and butlering. It would be only her.

She had straight black hair and black eyes. On a social level, her feature couldn’t be called ‘beautiful’ and she was young enough to be called a girl. Partita knew the house better than anyone else and she never interfered with any of decisions on her own.

The maid wore soft gray clothes, the collar tightly fastened that she did on her own.

“Can you look who sent it?”

It was not until today that Univale’s story began to fly all of a sudden.

Partita followed the words of the Lord as she looked at the corner of the paper that was folded into three and was sealed with red wax.

“It has a signature of ‘C.R’.”

“C.R, huh.”

The man dressed in a black coat repeated the initials without any disturbance as he looked outside the big glass window with a rough gesture.

It was such a quiet night outside.

The cityscape below was filled with never ending darkness, even one warm light could not be found, behind the world where the ghosts and deformities laid.

This was the age which the light and the shadow fell darkly, where glory and darkness reigned.

The hymns to the gods were endless, the magnificent and ornate basilica was built in a narrow place, the art was blossoming. If there was light, the spirit of worship was pure.

However, the brighter the light was, the darker the shadow became.

Sunlight faded in the west sky along with the twilight that changed the rules.

The small crowds in the city and the chitchats of the wives were drawn as the darkness of the night roams the city. People voiced their prayers as they locked themselves up in fear of the darkness.

“I have a feeling that I know who sent this.”