Chapter 243

Chapter 243: Sylve

The birthday celebration unfolded with an elegant charm.

The guest list was modest, consisting of just over ten noble families. These families, while not overly prestigious, were still significant players in the Platinum Zone, comparable in stature to the Helen family.

As for the five major families, their aloofness was expected—they would never condescend to attend such an inconspicuous gathering. Yet, even within the lower echelons of the nobility, Sylve’s birthday was marked by a grandeur unmatched by common households.

Well-trained servants moved gracefully, their every action precise and refined. The dining table was adorned with exquisite dishes, their quality rivaling that of the five major families. For the commoners, who could only observe from afar, it was a spectacle of unattainable luxury.

This, Lady Helen thought with pride, was a testament to her efforts.

But if Maryse, a member of the illustrious Augustus family, were to witness this scene, she would immediately notice the disparity.

The tableware, beverages, and even the decorations were leagues apart from the Augustus family’s impeccable standards. Maryse’s belongings were all custom-made, and the artwork displayed in her home would outshine the entire collection of Lady Helen’s treasures.

Such differences, subtle yet profound, were a reminder of the true gap between social standings.

Sylve, the focus of the

celebration, maintained a

polite yet hollow smile. The

gentlemen and ladies who

surrounded her played their

roles in this intricate dance of

pretense, their words laced

with veiled compliments and

barbed remarks.

Even as some guests made

snide comments about the

Helen family, Sylve could only

respond with ambiguous

civility. As a noble, she could

not afford to let her

composure slip.

When the festivities finally

subsided, Lady Helen

discreetly took Sylve by the

arm.

“Mother?” Sylve questioned

softly.

“You must come with me,”

Lady Helen replied firmly.

Leading Sylve upstairs, Lady

Helen brought her to the

master bedroom, ensuring

they were alone. Sylve’s heart

pounded as a sense of

foreboding crept in.

Lady Helen took a deep breath.

“Sylve, it’s time you learned

the greatest secret of our

family.”

She approached the blank wall,

closed her eyes, and began

murmuring an incantation—

words that seemed to unlock

the air itself. The wall

trembled, revealing a hidden

door that led to a secret

chamber Sylve had never

known existed.

The chamber was vast, far

larger than the master

bedroom, spanning at least a

hundred square meters. Its

emptiness was stark, save for

the ancient black altar

embedded in the center of the

floor.

The material of the altar

seemed alive, writhing subtly,

exuding an unsettling aura of

magic. Sylve instinctively

recoiled.

“Do not retreat!” Lady Helen

commanded, her voice sharp

and unyielding.

Sylve hesitated but nodded,

stepping forward.

“Listen carefully,” Lady Helen

instructed, her tone both

solemn and urgent. “You must

memorize the incantation I am

about to recite.”

What followed was an intricate

and arcane chant, passed

down through generations of

the Helen family. Its

complexity made Sylve’s head

spin, each word weighing

heavily on her mind.

When the chant concluded,

blood seeped from Lady

Helen’s palm, flowing towards

the altar. The black structure

absorbed it eagerly, its surface

glowing faintly. A gray vortex

formed, radiating an ominous

power.

Sylve gasped, her instincts screaming at her to flee, but her mother’s firm grip held her in place.

Lady Helen’s scream pierced the air, her face contorted in agony. The ritual exacted a harrowing toll on her body, leaving her drenched in sweat by the time it was complete.

On the altar, a radiant blue gemstone materialized, shimmering with an otherworldly light.

“This,” Lady Helen said weakly, “is the source of our family’s prosperity. It connects us to the wilderness beyond Tatsumi City. This gemstone represents the fruits of our clandestine endeavors—smuggling and illegal immigration.”

Sylve stared at her mother in disbelief. “Illegal activities? But that’s… that’s against the law!”

Lady Helen’s composure

cracked. “Do you think the five

major families are innocent?

This is how power is

maintained—through sacrifices

and compromises. You must

understand this if you wish to

survive in this world!”

Her words left Sylve reeling.

Unable to bear it any longer,

she fled the chamber, tears

streaming down her face.

Outside, Bai Yan stood on the

balcony, gazing at the snow

falling silently over the city.

Sylve approached him, her

voice trembling. “Mr.

Moriarty…”

Bai Yan turned to her, his

expression calm yet knowing.

“What troubles you, Sylve?”

She hesitated, then said softly,

“I’ve come to realize how

much my mother has

sacrificed for me… and how

blind I’ve been to it.”

Bai Yan regarded her

thoughtfully. “Pain is inevitable,

Sylve. But it is through pain

that we grow.”

For a moment, they stood in

silence, the snowfall wrapping

the world in quietude.

Finally, Sylve spoke again, her

voice tinged with gratitude.

“Thank you, Mr. Moriarty.

You’ve changed me more than

you realize.”

Bai Yan smiled faintly.

“Perhaps. But Sylve, I must

leave soon.”

Her heart sank. “Will you

return?”

“One day,” he replied.

Before he departed, Bai Yan

handed her a silver pendant in

the shape of a teardrop. “This

will protect you in times of

danger. But remember, every

gift comes with a price.”

Sylve clutched the pendant

tightly, her resolve hardening.

“I’ll wait for your return, Mr.

Moriarty.”

As the snow continued to fall,

Sylve stood alone, the pendant

gleaming softly in her hand—a

symbol of hope, and of the

unknown path that lay ahead.