Whispers of the forgotten

After donning his tailored black suit, Morpheus stood before the mirror. He looked so striking that even the tailor paused for a moment to admire his own craftsmanship. Germain, of course, couldn't resist teasing him.

"Well, well, Morpheus. I wouldn't be surprised if dozens of noblewomen fall for you tonight," he said with a mischievous grin.

Morpheus shot him an annoyed glare and replied curtly, "Let's just get this over with."

Once they were finished, Germain asked with a mocking tone, "By the way, how exactly do you plan on getting to the Eternal Hope Church? Walking? Or perhaps... a taxi?"

Morpheus hesitated, clearly unsure. "I hadn't thought about it. Maybe a taxi—"

Before he could finish, Germain smacked the back of his head in irritation.

"You fool! Do you know how many nobles will be arriving in their luxurious cars? Are you seriously planning to show up in a taxi? You'll bring shame to the entire investigative squad!"

Rubbing the back of his head, Morpheus sighed. "Alright, alright. What do you suggest then?"

Germain smirked. "My private driver will take you. No one will suspect a thing if you arrive like that."

---

The Ride to the Church

True to his word, Germain's private driver arrived in a sleek black steam-powered car, its polished surface gleaming like a mirror. Morpheus hesitated before stepping in, feeling slightly out of place in such a luxurious vehicle.

The ride was surprisingly smooth, almost unsettling for someone like him. When they finally arrived at the Eternal Hope Church, Morpheus stood in awe before the massive structure.

The building was monumental, a masterpiece of architecture that looked more like a fortress than a church. He muttered to himself, astonished, "These nobles... they're disgustingly wealthy."

---

Entering the Gala

Morpheus handed the invitation given to him by Cardinal Ivar to the guards at the entrance. No one questioned him; his elegant black suit, strikingly handsome appearance, and the luxurious car that had brought him left no room for doubt.

As he stepped inside, he was immediately overwhelmed by the crowd. The hall was packed with attendees, all dressed in the finest attire and wearing the most exquisite perfumes.

Yet, it was Morpheus himself who became the center of attention. His entrance turned heads, and whispers followed him as he walked. At 190 cm tall, with his sharp black suit, long dark hair, and piercing aura, he looked every bit the part of a distinguished nobleman.

Uncomfortable with the attention, Morpheus slipped into a quiet corner and ordered a fancy-looking drink from a waiter. Taking a sip, he grimaced and thought to himself,

"Ugh. Tastes awful. Why do they consider this luxurious?"

He decided to try some of the elegant pastries on the table. After taking a bite, he mused,

"Not bad, but it's nowhere near as good as Elena's cakes."

As thoughts of Elena filled his mind, a faint smile appeared on his lips. He was lost in the memory when he suddenly noticed two familiar figures among the crowd.

It was Isaac, a first-rank noble with fiery red hair, short and slightly tousled, and striking green eyes. Beside him was Adriana, a second-rank noblewoman with curly brown hair and impeccable elegance.

Isaac spotted Morpheus almost immediately, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he approached.

"Morpheus!" Isaac said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I never thought I'd see you at an event like this. A commoner among nobles."

Morpheus returned a cool smile. "I didn't plan on it either, but Cardinal Ivar insisted I come."

The two exchanged brief pleasantries, but their conversation was soon interrupted by the sound of a trumpet echoing through the hall.

All eyes turned toward the grand entrance as a procession of church members entered the hall. They were dressed in ceremonial robes, exuding an aura of sacredness. Leading them was a figure with an overwhelming presence, one so powerful that Morpheus felt an invisible pressure weigh down on him.

This figure stood beside Cardinal Ivar, but it was the young woman behind them who captured everyone's attention.

It was Rosemar.

She was of average height and appeared to be around Morpheus's age. Yet, there was an otherworldly quality about her. Her long, silky silver hair shimmered like moonlight, and her eyes... they were anything but ordinary. One was a cool, steely gray, while the other was a vivid, radiant blue.

But what truly set her apart was the mark on her forehead—a purple chrysanthemum-like sigil that only enhanced her ethereal beauty.

The entire church fell silent, captivated by her presence.

Beside Morpheus, Isaac muttered in awe, "I heard rumors that she was beautiful, but... I never expected this."

As Morpheus observed her like everyone else, their eyes suddenly met.

A Gaze That Pierces the Soul

In that moment, Morpheus felt something he couldn't explain. Her gaze was piercing, as if it saw straight through him. It was as if she had uncovered his deepest secrets, laid bare his entire existence in an instant.

For a moment, he was frozen, unable to look away. It wasn't fear exactly—it was something more profound.

"What terrifying eyes..." he thought to himself.

"I don't know if it's just my imagination, but it feels like she's seen everything about me. Is this real? Or am I imagining things?"

After the intense moment, Morpheus broke his gaze and turned to Isaac, still shaken.

"Isaac, who is that man with the overwhelming aura standing next to Cardinal Ivar?"

Isaac raised an eyebrow, then burst into laughter. "You really don't know anything, do you, Morpheus? That 'man' is the Pope himself! The head of the Eternal Hope Church and one of the most powerful figures on the continent."

Morpheus froze, stunned. "The Pope?" he repeated, disbelief evident in his tone. "That quiet old man in the ceremonial robes? He's one of the most powerful people?"

Isaac smirked, enjoying Morpheus's shock. "He's a seventh-rank Ether wielder, Morpheus. Do you know how rare that is? People call him the Celestial King of Light for a reason. They say he could destroy an entire city with a single attack."

Morpheus's astonishment deepened. He had never imagined someone so unassuming could wield such immense power.

"But why would someone like him attend a party like this?" he asked, still confused.

Isaac sighed dramatically and gave Morpheus a look of mock pity. "What have you been doing with your life? Living under a rock?"

Morpheus glared at him, clearly annoyed, which only made Isaac chuckle.

"The Pope is here because he's the only one who can perform the sacred baptism for Rosemar. No one else has the authority or the power to bestow this title upon her."

As the realization sank in, Morpheus finally understood just how significant this event truly was.