After the waiter left, Sorge poured himself a glass of water unsteadily. His damn hands were still shaking, but food would help him feel better - and so did the strong alcohol.
After taking a sip of water, he raised the glass of cognac again, but had to use both hands to hold it steady.
Sorge then took a sip, and a warm current flowed through his belly.
This way, much better.
He put the heavy wine glass down, and the stiffness in his wrist gradually subsided.
Suddenly, he noticed a mark, a spot on the white tablecloth between his hands.
Then another one appeared next to him.
It's a little bit of blood.
His nose, his damn nose was bleeding!
Sorge immediately picked up a tissue and wiped it, hoping no one would notice, and then covered the blood stains with a water can.
The damn psychic communication had taken a toll on him.
Sorge took another sip of cognac, enjoying the burning sensation of the strong drink, and then looked back at the mirror behind the box. He felt that the guards might burst into the pub door at any time.
Mirror--
Oh, how stupid! Nervousness made him careless!
All around him were mirrors, cups and smooth gilded surfaces!
Fierce pain penetrated his head again.
"no no!"
A stream of blood gushed from his right nostril, dripping along his lips and chin onto the white tablecloth.
"Please!"
The mirror above the back of the box chair was covered with frost, as if the indoor temperature had dropped by forty degrees.
Sorge refused to look directly into the mirror, even though a force was trying to lift his face.
"No! Not now! Master!"
He forced himself to look down at the table and stare at the drink in his hand. His trembling hands tightly holding the glass caused ripples to appear on the soft surface of the cognac.
Then he turned to stare at the constellation of dark red blood stains on the tablecloth, which could not be concealed no matter how cleverly he arranged the cups and pitchers.
In the latest spot, the blood had not fully soaked into the tablecloth, and he saw a reflection forming in the smooth drop: a crested helmet.
Sorge groaned, and the cognac in the glass stopped ripples and became completely still.
The wine glass became cold to the touch, and the reflection of the helmet also appeared in the cognac.
"Oh my god——"
Sorge groaned again and closed his eyes.
"Owner--"
There was silence, no sound except for the rapid breathing.
"Servant."
This voice is not as cold and sharp as ordinary subspace communications, it is as dark and thick as ebony.
Sorge opened his eyes.
The entire tavern came to a standstill. The candlelight froze in the air, emitting a cold blue light. This light reflected on the candlesticks, wall lamps, decorations, mirrors, and rows of clean wine glasses, passing through the gorgeous window lattice. The sunlight entering the tavern was also dyed blue, as if it had been mixed with diluted ink.
He could see the waiter at the far end of the room, frozen on the spot, half-way through the motions and yet to finish his words, with ghostly bubbles floating in the blue air above the table.
At some point, a giant stood in front of the table. His strange helmet and armor covered with spells made him look extremely mysterious, like a haggard ghost or a wizard wearing a cloak.
This is his master, the third man of the Black Legion, Iskandar Kayan.
"Oh, Master."
muttered Sorge, startled by his own voice.
"Welcome to visit us."
Khayon raised his hand and unhooked the helmet, placing the finely carved helmet next to the blood stains on the linen tablecloth.
His amber face was reflected into light blue by the spiritual light. His thin cheeks were sharp and angular. There were two scars crisscrossing his hairless head. There was also a rune printed on his forehead. There was something in his dark eyes. Far beyond the intelligence of ordinary people.
He slowly sat on the box seat opposite Sorge, the dignity in his movements almost absurd.
Astartes' body was out of place in this human space. The frame of his arms and legs were too slender. Being squeezed into this seat made him look thin, like a teenager.
Under normal circumstances, his butt would make the chair fall apart.
But in fact it was not. All Sorge could guess was that what appeared in front of him was just an illusion.
After sitting down, Kayon put his hands on the tablecloth with his palms facing down - even after sitting down, he was far taller than Sorge.
"This period of time."
Kayon said in his dulcimer-like tone:
"Did you investigate those things?"
"I'm investigating."
Sorge hesitated for three seconds before answering in a low voice.
"But to investigate an Astartes Chapter—"
He swallowed, wishing there was no damn reflection in the glass so he could drink it all in one gulp.
"I'm not here to hear your complaints, servant."
"Master, I just want to remind...this exchange may be discovered, which puts us all in great danger."
"I agree that every second of this conversation makes your situation more and more critical, but the risk is worth taking, and no one will notice for eight minutes."
Kayan stared into Sorge's eyes and said seriously:
"So, where are the disappeared soul drinkers?"
"I have infiltrated several key departments of Nathan IV. Judging from the information I have received so far, there are abnormalities in the number of Astral Knights. However, I have no direct evidence to prove that these abnormal changes in the number of people are related to the Soul Drinkers. , I still need time."
Kayon looked at him, but Sorge could feel that the other person's eyes were not on him.
His master was thinking.
About ten seconds later, Kayon spoke again.
"You have been delaying here for too long. Use the remnants of this exchange to escape. Don't stay here. Find a safe place to continue this task and find the key evidence."
"But Master——"
He got no response and Khayon had disappeared.
Sorge looked around, time was still frozen, and the waiter's conversation had not yet restarted.
The light had a tinge of blue, but it wouldn't last long.
Sorge felt itching in his ears, and a warm current surged through his spine. He could hear the sound gradually returning, as if coming from afar.
It only takes a dozen seconds for this aftertaste to disappear.
He looked at the table, at the blood drops on the tablecloth, and those reflections finally disappeared.
With an annoyed groan, Sorge drank the cognac in one gulp, then grabbed the package and left the hotel before the blue light gave way to the noisy reality.
At the same time, in a room deep in the fortress of the Astral Knight Monastery, Talos, who had taken off his armor and was leaning on the bed with his eyes closed, suddenly opened his eyes.
"——It's actually him? Iskandar Kayan."
Talos murmured to himself, and a strange smile suddenly appeared on his face.
