After weighing the pros and cons, Galad ultimately decided to stay in the asylum for the night.
The captain's words rang in his mind. If he still carried the title of "Lunatic" before the welcoming banquet, introducing himself in public would be far too awkward.
"This Doctor Wilde is the worst! When you actually needed treatment, he was useless. But when you don't, he insists on making things difficult!"
Cecilia was visibly upset. She had even wanted to stay with Galad overnight, but he firmly refused. It wasn't proper for a young girl to remain in a place like this, and besides, she had classes the next morning. Though reluctant, she eventually allowed him to lead her out of the asylum, where she boarded a carriage home.
After seeing his sister off, Galad returned to the inpatient wing and stayed with Doctor Wilde until evening. He endured a truly miserable patient's meal and then, under Wilde's arrangements, was assigned a room and a roommate.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rondell. All the single rooms are full. You'll have to make do here for one night. This is your roommate, Hude Ougen… Don't worry, his condition is stable. He enjoys chatting with patients, though he refuses to speak with us doctors."
In the third-floor ward, Wilde pointed to the man sitting on the bed by the window.
Galad followed his gaze. The man appeared perfectly ordinary long, thin face, neatly combed pale blond hair. At the mention of his name, he turned, revealing a pair of gray-blue eyes. He gave them a brief glance, then silently looked back out the window.
"See? Completely non-aggressive."
Wilde gestured toward the empty bed. "It's new. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be patrolling the third floor tonight and will check on you from time to time. Rest well. As long as you don't have an episode, I'll sign your recovery certificate first thing tomorrow morning."
"Understood. Thank you, Doctor Wilde."
Since matters had already gone this far, Galad didn't press further. After thanking the doctor, he lay down on the asylum bed.
Ah… this mattress, this familiar touch…
He was about to take off his coat when he remembered the gun holster strapped beneath. It would be unwise to expose it here. With that in mind, he left his clothes on, lying flat on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling and letting his thoughts drift.
Beside him, Hude Ougen ignored him completely, still gazing at the night sky through the barred window.
The sky darkened. A crimson Moon rose, its light pouring through the iron lattice, painting blood-red grids across the ward's floor.
Silence settled. Neither man spoke. Only the occasional shuffle of Wilde's patrol echoed faintly, along with the distant, disjointed cries of other patients.
Gradually, sleep began to tug at Galad's eyelids.
Should I take off my coat? …Forget it. Even if a lunatic sees the gun, it hardly matters…
Just as drowsiness began to swallow him, footsteps sounded in the corridor outside.
Hmm? Doctor Wilde again? He really takes his patrols seriously… wait.
Something was off. Wilde's steps were slow and heavy, befitting his age. These were light, quick unmistakably a young man's stride.
Another patient heading to the bathroom? Another doctor?
The footsteps stopped right at the ward door.
"Creak."
The door swung open. Orange-yellow lamplight spilled inside as a young man stepped through, holding a gas lamp in one hand and a bulging bag in the other.
"Good evening!"
He smiled with infuriating ease, as though barging into a locked ward at night was the most natural thing in the world.
"You…"
Galad sat up, frowning in surprise. Why did this face feel strangely familiar?
Before he could speak, Hude Ougen, who had been silent all evening, let out a long sigh. From beneath his pillow, he drew a small silver bell. Without a word, he lifted it and gave it a gentle shake.
"Ding-a-ling…"
The clear chime rippled through the ward. It didn't merely enter the ears it resonated in the mind itself, like invisible fingers plucking at the strings of thought.
Galad stiffened. His vision blurred, his body unresponsive. The world receded into distance until only the bell's toll remained.
Then—
"Shhhhhh…"
The sound of phantom tides surged through his mind, washing away the bell's compulsion. His clarity returned just in time to hear the two men speak.
"Lanevus, why aren't you busy with your scams? What brings you to me in the middle of the night?"
Hude Ougen's tone was laced with irritation. "I even saw the newspaper. Your con is impressive advertising the Hornacis iron mine's stock offering, of all things."
Lanevus?
Iron mine stocks?
Galad's pupils contracted. Of course — that was why the man looked familiar. Broad forehead, round glasses, ordinary features, that insufferably warm smile… He was the very same "company director" from the newspaper Rosanne had shown him.
Wait… if Ougen called it a scam, then… the entire mine investment is a fraud?
And Ougen he looks so normal. Could it be he's not insane at all?
Not to mention, that bell… able to nearly enslave his mind in a single chime. A mystical item? Perhaps even a Sealed Artifact.
Suppressing his instincts, Galad continued to feign being entranced, carefully listening.
"Heh, that little scam has already paid off."
Lanevus patted the bulging bag with a smirk. "Thanks to those greedy fools. Honestly, I've had my fun. I'm preparing to leave Tingen."
"So you came just to bid me farewell? Hah. I've nothing to say to the likes of you."
"Don't be so ungrateful." Lanevus's smile sharpened. "When you betrayed your own companion and stole his Beyonder item, who helped you? Who gave you the chance?"
His gaze flicked to the silver bell in Ougen's hand, his words cutting like knives.
Ougen's expression darkened, but he only let out a low, cold laugh.
These two… neither of them are anything good.
Galad kept his eyes half-lidded, mind racing with silent deductions. But one thought rose above the rest:
What exactly had Lanevus come here for, in the dead of night?