The carriage traveled along First Avenue, passing through the checkpoint leading into the city's inner district without needing to stop for inspection. This alone spoke volumes about the Marcelo family's influence.
Inside the carriage sat only Nicholas and the butler named Rupert. Throughout the journey, they exchanged very few words. Nicholas had asked several casual questions regarding the purpose of this invitation. Naturally, the elderly butler responded with impeccable courtesy, but he deliberately withheld most of the details, leaving little room for the conversation to progress.
Once Nicholas became certain that he would learn nothing useful from the man before him, he turned his attention to the emotions emanating from Rupert instead.
A faint glow revealed caution and vigilance, tinged with a measure of uncertainty. Yet beneath those feelings, Nicholas could also sense a trace of sympathy directed toward him.
The mixture of emotions only deepened his confusion. He had initially hoped to glean some clues by observing the old man's emotional state, but instead he found himself more bewildered than before.
Not long after, the carriage gradually came to a halt.
Rupert pulled aside the curtain, glanced outside before turning back toward Nicholas.
"We have arrived, Mr. Parlay."
The Marcelo Estate stood near the very edge of the Royal District.
York being a relatively small city with limited space, even the aristocratic district was quite densely developed. Compared to its surroundings, however, the mansion before him stood in splendid isolation, with no neighboring structures nearby. Several acres of gardens and open grounds surrounded the estate, their understated elegance reflecting both refinement and wealth.
Acquiring such an expanse of land within the city would have required an unimaginable wealth.
If the families residing within the palace walls represented the wealthiest people in York, then aside from the Marcelo family, Nicholas doubted anyone would dare claim second place.
"Please, come this way, Mr. Parlay."
Beyond the carriage door stood Rupert, one arm extended in a courteous gesture, inviting him to follow.
Back when Antonio was still here, the estate had often served as a gathering place for nobles and women hired from the red-light district to entertain guests. It had been a lively and bustling place.
Yet today the atmosphere within the mansion felt rather desolate and oppressive.
As Nicholas progressed deeper inside, he discreetly evaluated the manor's internal security network. Not only were there guards positioned at the outer buildings, but the interior corridors were also thoroughly patrolled by guards observing at regular intervals. A single glance was enough to tell that these men were highly trained, completely different from ordinary gang members.
Nicholas himself, despite being an Extraordinary, recognized that infiltrating this stronghold undetected would be a nearly impossible. It was no wonder Roderick had never recommended storming Antonio's residence directly, choosing instead to act at the casino.
After passing through the main hall and ascending a grand golden staircase to the second floor, they eventually stopped before a room of moderate size. Two burly men in suits stood guard outside the door— their presence instantly distinguishing them from other bodyguards.
The elderly butler knocked lightly before opening the door and gesturing for Nicholas to enter.
Nicholas suppressed his apprehension and stepped inside alone. After all... he was a Spirit Medium. Although still only at the lower ranks, he ought to carry at least some of the bearing expected of an Extraordinary when dealing with ordinary people.
The interior of the office was drenched in relative obscurity. The only sources of illumination were thin slivers of moonlight filtering through the wooden slats of the window blinds at the far end, complemented by the dim glow of two desk lamps positioned on either side. The room was arranged with an austere simplicity.
There was only one person in the room.
He sat with his back turned toward Nicholas. Based on his silhouette, the man appeared to be between forty and fifty years of age, dressed in a black tweed suit with a crimson rose pinned to his chest. One hand held a smoking pipe that sent wisps of tobacco smoke drifting into the air, while the other cradled a glass of brandy.
His expression revealed no emotion as he merely shifted his gaze, casting an indifferent sidelong glance at Nicholas, who now stood before his desk.
Nicholas had imagined this meeting many times before and had prepared several plans to deal with it. Yet now that he was finally standing face-to-face with Don Marcelo himself, he realized that none of his preparations seemed remotely sufficient.
The moment he entered the room, his first action was to employ his Judicial Representative powers to covertly observe the other party's emotional and mental state. Nicholas had grown so accustomed to doing this that it had become second nature.
Yet the feedback he received was astonishingly faint and barren—to the point that he could barely grasp any emotional fluctuations from the man at all.
Since obtaining this ability, there had been only one person from whom Nicholas had received such a response...
Mr. Edwin, the Overseer of the Order of Spirit Mediums in York!
The implications of this thought struck Nicholas with terrifying realization.
The figure standing before him was not merely the patriarch of a powerful family or the leader of a mafia syndicate…
Don Marcelo was also an Extraordinary— one whose strength might be close to, or perhaps even equivalent to that of Mr. Edwin, who served as a regional leader of one of the most powerful orthodox organizations on the continent.
Apprehension seized Nicholas's heart. His hands were drenched in sweat. Yet he revealed nothing on his face and maintained perfect composure in facing the situation. Initially, he had intended to display the respect customary in aristocratic society. However, a thought suddenly crossed his mind, and he instead performed the salute of the Church of Death and Rebirth.
If his eyes had not deceived him... Nicholas could have sworn that the eyelid of the mafia patriarch before him twitched slightly.
"Would you care for a drink?"
The voice carried authority, yet the offer itself was courteous and suspiciously generous.
A sudden flash of intuition warned Nicholas that his next words would decisively dictate the entire trajectory of this conversation. His mind assessed the situation in an instant before he replied in a relaxed tone.
"I am not much of a drinker, so I will have to politely decline your hospitality. Besides, it's already quite late... so I would be immensely grateful if you, Lord Patriarch, would kindly state your business with me directly."
The moment Nicholas finished speaking, Don Marcelo slowly turned his chair around.
His keen gaze fixed upon Nicholas, accompanied by crushing pressure descending upon the young man. Nicholas struggled to breathe, his skin stung as though it were about to split apart. Yet a faint mocking smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
After a few moments, the pressure vanished. Now both parties faced each other directly.
"Sit."
The mafia lord commanded, breaking the suffocating silence. Nicholas did not hesitate to take the offered chair, even crossing one leg over the other casually.
A faint smile crept onto Don's otherwise expressionless face.
"Since you dislike formalities, then I'll speak plainly." He took a puff from his pipe and exhaled a stream of smoke.
" A rather tragic incident occurred on the 6th of this month. It concerns my son, Antonio. He vanished from his own casino near Victoria Square. Naturally, I have already questioned every guest who was present that day, but I have yet to find any useful leads. The reason I invited you here tonight, as my son's lawyer, is simply to ask whether you might possess any information that could aid in locating him."
"Should I think of this as an interrogation?"
"Of course not. Merely a friendly conversation between acquaintances."
Both men knew perfectly well that those words were nothing more than empty pleasantries
In truth, the underlying meaning of Don's statement was abundantly clear.
...This was, without a doubt, an interrogation.
This probing exchange was far more dangerous than it appeared on the surface. That was precisely why Nicholas had completely abandoned the approach he had originally intended to take.
"Then please, ask away."
" "On the 6th of this month, between 9:00 PM and midnight, where were you?"
"If I remember correctly, I had a meeting with a client at my residence from dusk until approximately 9:20 PM. Should you wish to verify... my guest was an agent from the Mikolash Enterprise , who had traveled here to scout for local investors in this city. After seeing him off at my front door shortly before ten o'clock, I remained at home resting until the following morning."
This was the alibi Nicholas had prepared from the very beginning. Moreover, it was something the Le Purgatoire gang already knew perfectly well. As such, he suspected that the patriarch's question was merely intended to confirm facts he already possessed and, more importantly, to observe Nicholas's reaction.
"No witnesses?"
"No. But I believe you were already aware of that, Mr. Don."
Don nodded in acknowledgment before raising his brandy glass to sip.
"Before Rupert came to fetch you, I heard you had just returned from the telecommunications station in District 5. May I inquire what business you had there?"
"Is it related to this?"
"Merely curious."
Nicholas fell silent briefly. Pretending to ponder the question, he finally answered.
"As you know, I'm a lawyer. Through a fortunate turn of events, I happen to serve as a legal consultant for the station and could practically be half an insider of that establishment."
"A rather favorable relationship, then?"
"I simply visit a few times a week."
At this point, Nicholas was beginning to feel more confident. The explanation he had improvised on the spot seemed to be holding up reasonably well.
"If I may inquire, has Lord Patriarch consulted the police force regarding this disappearance?"
"To be frank, I have quite a few connections. Naturally, I have already coordinated with the police department to assist in the investigation. Unfortunately, the results have been disappointing." He swirled the brandy in his glass.
"That said... I have come across one interesting fact that I'd like to hear your thoughts."
Don Marcelo's eyes remained fixed on the young man, as though he intended to scrutinize every reaction and every subtle movement Nicholas displayed.
"After questioning every guest who visited the casino that night, all of their testimonies were remarkably consistent. However, there was one individual who stood out as rather peculiar. A guest by the name of 'John Smith.' Despite his name appearing on the casino's guest list, yet when questioned, he insisted he never actually visited there that evening. Normally, I don't trust people easily, but in this case... I found him surprisingly sincere."
The Don exhaled a plume of tobacco smoke from his lips, letting a subtle smile spread across his face. Nicholas did not even want to imagine the miserable fate that had likely befallen the unfortunate man whose identity he had borrowed.
"So, you're saying someone entered the casino under his name?"
"I believe that's likely the case."
"And I was the suspect?"
"For a time, yes. But now... I'm not so certain."
Nicholas's hands, resting casually at his side, was actually drenched in sweat. Yet he revealed no outward sign of discomfort, maintaining instead a relaxed expression.
"There is one more matter I'd like your help clarifying, Mr. Nicholas." Don's tone remained polite, but there was something probing beneath it. "To be frank, I know quite a few lawyers. Every one of them is a respected figure in York. I even personally asked several of them to look after my worthless son should anything unexpected ever happen. Yet, to my surprise, that boy ignored every one of them and chose your services for such major case."
Don leaned back slightly.
"I can't help but wonder if you possess some quality that I'm unaware of."
This was another crucial test.
Nicholas did not answer immediately. Instead, he lightly tapped his finger against the table, unconsciously mimicking the habit of his superior.
"Perhaps it wasn't because he particularly liked me," he replied. "Perhaps it was because I happen to have connections with the telecommunications company?"
His words carried a hidden meaning while revealing nothing concrete about his own side.
Although it sounded like a casual remark, Nicholas had carefully considered this answer many times beforehand to avoid making any mistakes.
Yet the result seemed to be the opposite of what he intended.
The faint emotions emanating from the gang leader became noticeably more contemplative, tinged with displeasure hidden beneath his impassive expression.
"I'll be frank with you, Mr. Nicholas." His words remained courteous, but his gaze no longer bothered to conceal the malice intent contain within.
"I had that boy when I was young, so I didn't spend enough time teaching or disciplining him. True as it may be that He was incompetent, hot-tempered, and constantly creating problems, but he is still, at the end of the day, my own flesh and blood."
Don slowly set down his glass.
"The reason I invited you here tonight is because I want your cooperation. You may not think much of the matter, but it means a great deal to me. In fact, it matters enough that I might be tempted to do something irrational. So…"
His gaze sharpened. The aura radiating from Don's body was befitting of one of the continent's most powerful family patriarchs.
"... if there is anything at all that might prove beneficial to this matter, would you do me a favor and share it with me, Mr. Nicholas?"
Although the man refrained from utilizing his superior mystical prowess to physically suppress him as he had done previously, Nicholas felt even more tense than he had a few moments ago.
It was a suffocating sensation—one that nearly caused him to forget to breathe.
Because at that moment, Nicholas became absolutely certain of one thing...
…If his response failed to satisfy the man standing before him, he might never get a chance to walk out of this dimly lit room alive.
10.11.550
Nicholas Parlay
Spirit Medium (Éna)