In the castle's cloister, Eric glanced one last time at the market permit in his hand.
King's Bridge Monastery. It was time to say goodbye.
After he handed this to the vice abbot, his time as a Monk would be over.
He couldn't help but feel a little sentimental. Shaking his head, Eric casually stuffed an exquisitely crafted Crystal Cup from a nearby display into his storage space.
The butler who had led him here was nowhere to be found.
There were no guards around either.
'It'd be a real shame not to liberate a few more things.'
'I've pretty much cleaned out the cloister. Time to see what valuables are in the rooms.'
The castle was vast and had many rooms, but relying on his profound professional instincts, he quickly zeroed in on one.
The door's decorations were clearly far more complex and exquisite than the others, and next to it was a mosaic inlay.
"This must have been imported from the Byzantine Empire, too."
Eric reached out and caressed the artwork. The gorgeous gems embedded in it... every inch was worth a fortune in silver pence.
"Good stuff. It's mine now."
He pulled a burlap sack from his storage space, carefully stuffed the mosaic inside, and then placed the sack back into his storage. Something this valuable needed to be kept safe.
'This must be the Count's room.'
Eric looked at the lock on the door—a lock more pathetic than a vegetable—and sneered. A pair of lock picks materialized in his hand.
He checked around both corners to make sure no one was coming.
Half a minute later, with a soft metallic click, the wooden door slowly swung open.
The room seemed completely at odds with the damp, cold air of the cloister. Instead, a warm, fresh fragrance lingered within.
The scent felt very familiar, and Eric couldn't help but take a deep breath.
'Is that... Orris root?'
A jolt went through Eric, and he hastily covered his nose and mouth with his Monastic Robe.
The year before last, his old man had ordered him to a Monastery in England. On his way through France, he had inexplicably broken out in a rash and spent a week delirious in bed. That's when he learned he was allergic to the damn flower.
Eric hurriedly opened a window to air the place out before beginning his search of the room.
The room was filled with small trinkets, but Eric had no interest in them. His storage space was almost full.
He had to find something more valuable.
He soon spotted a large chest in the corner of the room.
The exquisitely carved chest was fastened with an elegant copper lock.
He took out his lock picks, and after a slight nudge, the chest opened.
However, what met his eyes wasn't treasure, but... a woman!?
The woman's face was covered by a book, and her body lay perfectly straight inside the chest.
Eric shot to his feet, his head snapping around to check his surroundings.
'Did someone break into the Count's Castle to rob and murder, then hide the body here? If someone bursts in now, I couldn't prove I'm just a pure, innocent Little Cultivator even if I had eight mouths!'
'This world is too dangerous. No, no, I have to be extra careful.'
But since things have come to this...
Eric looked at the woman lying in the wooden chest.
'Since things have come to this... Since things have come to this, I might as well see if there's anything valuable.'
Eric reached into the chest and began to grope around, inevitably touching the "corpse's" body. It was warm.
'She's still warm?'
'Looks like she was killed not long ago.'
A mess of thoughts swirled in Eric's mind.
Eric carefully slipped the ring off the "corpse's" finger. It was a purple agate of excellent quality.
The only other things left were a few untitled parchment books.
Having finished his looting, Eric stood up to leave. But after just two steps, he turned back, squatted down, and pinched the book covering the woman's face.
He was still a little curious about what she looked like.
Just as the woman's face was about to be revealed, the "corpse" moved, instantly grabbing Eric's hand.
The woman yawned, stretching languidly. But then she noticed Eric beside her and her brow furrowed slightly.
"Who are you?"
"Er... obviously, I'm just an ordinary Monk passing by."
Eric let out an awkward laugh, then put on a dead serious expression.
"A Monk?"
Emma noticed the Monastic Robe Eric was wearing.
Then she subconsciously touched her finger. It was bare.
"Where's my ring?"
"Beats me. I just got here."
Eric shrugged.
Emma stared intently at Eric, but he didn't back down, meeting her gaze head-on.
Their silent staring contest lasted for about a minute, and Emma was surprised to find not a single trace of panic in Eric.
"Fine. But I remember my door was locked. How did you get in?"
"Ah, about that. I had just finished my business with the Lord Earl when I saw a dark figure rushing toward this room from a distance. I was filled with righteous indignation! The Lord Earl works tirelessly day and night, yet some scoundrel brazenly breaks into his castle to steal! It was simply intolerable.
I charged in immediately and fought the villain for three hundred rounds! He was outmatched by a hair and I repelled him, but alas, I was too exhausted to continue the fight, and he seized the opportunity to escape. Sigh, I have failed the Lord Earl's trust."
As he spoke, Eric pointed at the open window and even beat his chest in a show of regret and guilt.
"But... this is the fifth floor," Emma said in disbelief, pointing at the window.
"Er... alas, I know, right? I tried to tell him that, but he just wouldn't listen! He was shouting something about friendship and bonds before he jumped out the window and vanished.
Come to think of it, he was a true warrior. It's almost admirable. Perhaps he was driven by hardship. In another life, maybe we could have been kindred spirits and the best of friends."
Eric tilted his head back, managing to squeeze out a few convincing tears as he feigned a look of regret.
"Is that so? What a shame. The plight of the English is truly difficult these days."
Emma seemed convinced. She brought her small hand to her chin and nodded thoughtfully.
Eric wiped the sweat from his forehead. 'I actually managed to fool her,' he thought. 'That scared the hell out of me.'
'Good thing this woman doesn't seem too bright.'
"However, your turn of phrase is a bit strange. It sounds..."
Emma seemed to recall something. She opened the book in her hand, pointed at the words inside with a slender, pale finger, and said to Eric, "Just like the prose in this book. It's odd to read, but it feels very powerful."
Eric's gaze fell upon the book in Emma's hands.
He quickly locked onto a name spelled out in Roman letters—Don Quixote.
Wasn't that the same Don Quixote he had written about on the wall of the King's Bridge Monastery library?