Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 1275: Chapter 2: The Young Knight

“What, she didn’t check in?!”

Satellite video call… On the screen, Chen Peter was sweating bullets, not daring to look straight ahead… By rights he was already in his mid‑thirties, so he really shouldn’t be afraid of a girl just past twenty.

But the woman on this video call was a witch who would fire the Fog Capital branch’s CEO on a whim, so he really couldn’t help but tread carefully.

“Miss Ying, strictly speaking, it’s just that the lady you mentioned didn’t go to the room we arranged. She stayed in Young Master Qiu’s suite instead…”

“What! You still let her get to the hotel? Didn’t I say the ‘traffic jam’ happened first!!”

Chen Peter wiped his sweat with a handkerchief. “Ms. Ren… that lady got in the car together with Young Master Qiu. We couldn’t block her…”

“Incompetent!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Chen Peter panicked even more inside, thinking his time in this operations manager seat had probably come to an end.

Unexpectedly, Miss Ying on the other side of the Earth let out a breath, waved her hand, and said, “Forget it, you’ve worked hard today too. Take half a day off next week to make up for it. Consider it compensation for today.”

Chen Peter was stunned. He hadn’t expected that after screwing things up he’d actually get half a day off to make up for it, and he was overjoyed on the spot. “Thank you, Miss Ying!”

“Hmph, if you’d handled things properly I’d been planning to approve a week of paid vacation for you. That’s gone now, and there won’t be another chance either.”

“Th… thank you, Miss Ying.” He didn’t know whether to cry or laugh—well, his expression leaned more toward bitter.

As soon as the video call cut off, Miss Ying on the other side of the Earth sank back in her chair. The chair creaked like it was about to snap as she muttered, “Didn’t expect that… sure enough, still the Song Family genes.”

Whether it was that bastard of an uncle Song Haoran, or the grandfather she respected, none of them had ever had any taboos about women. She’d grown up in this family that had risen entirely from the underworld, and she was more than used to it.

But aside from his late wife, Grandfather had never intended to make any other woman by his side the official wife. As for Song Haoran, he had no intention of getting married at all…

Why am I even thinking about this???

…

…

Fog Capital, a rare sunny afternoon. In front of an old five‑story building by the Thames River, a well‑maintained Beetle slowly pulled up.

After that, two men in suits, both well‑mannered, got out of the car. One was older, about thirty‑five, sharp and capable.

The other was clearly much younger, looking just over twenty, a blond kid, immature yet brimming with energy, holding a long object wrapped in brown cloth in his hand.

On the short flight of steps, in front of the building’s door, a black man in a black windbreaker, an eyepatch over his left eye, was already waiting.

The older gentleman smiled slightly and greeted the one‑eyed black man, “Nick, you really ought to change the style of your eyepatch.”

The one‑eyed black man… Nick was obviously the taciturn type. His remaining eye stared straight ahead as he said blandly, “Gareth, the man and woman of this house are currently out. You have at most half an hour to exorcise the Evil Spirit from the woman of this household.”

“Only half an hour?” The energetic youngster beside the middle‑aged gentleman froze for a moment.

The black man Nick said slowly, “Because I need at least fifteen minutes to clean up afterward, and I can’t guarantee the couple won’t come back early.”

“OK.” Gareth patted Nick’s shoulder lightly. “Relax a little, my friend. I’ll be done before time’s up… You really won’t consider switching to a new eyepatch? I keep feeling you look like that guy in the movies.”

Nick simply opened the door behind him.

Gareth shrugged, then smiled and led the young man who had come with him into the house… Only after the two had entered did Nick close the door.

The Knights of the Round Table Organization, one of the longest‑standing organizations on Britain’s soil, had guarded this land’s peace since its founding… from the wars of old to today’s exorcisms.

To this day, it had even faded from human sight. Only a very few knew that this agency still existed and was still in operation.

“Gareth of the Twelve Knights actually brought one of the entry level guys on a mission this time… Looks like it’s trial time again for the open seat.”

Leaning against the door, Nick thought silently. Every five years, a batch of outstanding youths would come from all over the country to compete for the inheritance of the name [Ector]—one of the Twelve Knights, whose seat had remained vacant to this day.

…

“Klein, do you know how an Evil Spirit is born.”

On the wooden stairway, the man who had abandoned his original name and now bore the name Gareth[Gareth] suddenly turned back and asked.

The young man named Klein quickly said, “All hatred, jealousy, wicked thoughts—after a person dies, if they can’t find rest, they remain in the form of malice. By constantly devouring other evil thoughts, they grow stronger and eventually become Evil Spirits. Also, if left alone, Evil Spirits will keep Devouring human Life and finally become terrifying Evil Spirits of a higher level.”

“Not bad, you memorized the book well.” Gareth smiled slightly. “But there are a few things the books don’t teach.”

“What are they?” The young Klein asked at once.

Looking toward the end of the stairway, Gareth said casually, “If a human willingly degenerates, they can become an Evil Spirit too… Mm, there we go.”

Gareth stopped by the railing at the end of the stairway. Where he was looking was the post of that railing. “Got the manifestation powder, Klein?”

“Got it!”

Klein hurriedly took out a box about the size of a compact case, opened it very carefully, and sprinkled some bluish powder onto the post.

A blood‑red, disturbingly sinister circular array, based on a pentagram and seemingly still dripping blood, slowly surfaced bit by bit.

Klein was quite surprised. “Mr. Gareth… is this a Magic Circle?”

“Strictly speaking, it’s a kind of witchcraft ritual, and a commonly used structural branch of the Sea Witch of Love.” Gareth explained like he was teaching, very patiently. “That branch of witches is relatively good at using drugs and mind‑type witchcraft. They’re also among the few witches not forbidden to interact with humans.”

“So the woman of this house is from a branch of the Sea Witch of Love?”

Gareth said, “Not necessarily. It’s also possible she just got hold of some witchcraft notes of theirs that ended up outside, and because of wrong and improper study, went down the path of trying to… The witchcraft of this branch is basically supposed to be used in healing, unlike this one, which is full of evil energy.”

“Oh… Mr. Gareth, you really are so knowledgeable.” Klein said respectfully—he was Gareth’s Knight’s servant—even this position required passing layer after layer of tests to win it. Clearly, he treasured this opportunity, and he’d also been fortunate enough to receive Gareth’s recommendation to take part in the upcoming inheritance trial for [Ector].

But Gareth simply shook his head and smiled. “It’s not that I’m all that knowledgeable; I’ve just eaten enough crap in the past. As for the Sea Witch of Love, that was something a Senior once told me.”

“To be a Senior of Mr. Gareth, he must be a righteous, kind, and powerful Great Knight.” Klein’s mind wandered.

“Powerful, yes, very powerful. Maybe kind too… but righteous? Not necessarily.” Gareth shook his head. “This Senior was stripped of the title of Knight twenty years ago.”

“How could that be!” Klein was shocked on the spot, even more shaken than when he discovered the witchcraft on the pillar—stripped of the Knight’s title by the Organization, just how big a crime must that have been?

“If you also had a daughter who fell in love with a bloodsucker…” Gareth let out a slow sigh. He seemed about to say more, but his gaze suddenly turned sharp, like an Eagle Eye.

Klein noticed Gareth’s change in an instant, but had no time to react—Gareth’s arm swung with an unbelievable speed… a speed that surpassed the limits of the human body.

Something was sliced open by Gareth’s swing and dropped onto the floor… a mud‑like, sticky lifeform of some sort—it lost all activity the moment it hit the ground and instantly turned into a pile of black powder.

“Klein.” Gareth suddenly stepped aside and said out of nowhere, “I’ll leave this task to you. I still haven’t checked your progress in today’s swordsmanship class.”

Knowing this was Mr. Gareth testing him, Klein hesitated for a heartbeat, then resolutely nodded… and untied the brown cloth wrapped around the long object in his hand.

It was a one‑handed cross Longsword.

Klein took a deep breath and slowly moved along the corridor toward the end of the stairwell—he’d actually been through a few real battles already, but always as an assistant on the side. Handling something alone like this was a first—of course, a real fight like this was bound to come sooner or later; he just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

I absolutely can’t let Mr. Gareth down… Klein firmed up his resolve.

“Go, Klein, go! Klein, you’re awesome! Go, Klein, go!!”

Behind him, the elegant Knight Gareth suddenly put on a fake nose he’d pulled out from who‑knows‑where, planted both hands on his hips, and lifted his legs, breaking into a cheerleader dance.

“Mr. Gareth, you’re one of the Twelve Knights of the Round Table, the great [Gareth]! Please stop doing this indecent stuff!! You’re distracting me!”

“Ah, and I finally found a new color of fake nose…” Gareth sighed in disappointment, then muttered in a very, very quiet voice, “Go, Klein, go… Klein, go~~”

Klein let out a heavy sigh. No doubt, he truly respected this Knight lord from the bottom of his heart… If it weren’t for this occasionally totally‑off personality, he might have been downright perfect.

Pulling himself together, the young entry level guys Knight once again approached the room at the end of the corridor… He could feel a chill of icy cold creeping bit by bit over his body, but his powerful physique, honed over many years, was still enough to fend the cold off.

At last, the door of the room at the end of the corridor suddenly flew open, and an even colder gust blew out from inside… it was actually a rather strong wind.

At the same time, shrill, terrifying peals of laughter rang out.

Klein advanced against the wind, pouring the sword Power he had trained by ancient methods into the steel sword in his hand… This slender cross sword suddenly emitted a faint Blue glow and broke through the strong wind.

Klein let out a shout, raised the cross sword high, and charged into the room—only for the sound of crashing and smashing to explode from within a moment later.

Mere moments after, a figure rolled out of the room; Klein’s left eye was already swollen and red.

He quickly got back to his feet, raised the cross again, and charged in with another battle cry… roll out, stand up, raise the sword, charge in again… roll out, stand up, raise the sword.

Nobody knew when Gareth had gotten a cup of coffee in his hand—and he had also discovered an old‑fashioned vinyl record player placed in the corridor.

“Oh, the owner of this house has pretty good taste. I like it.”

He took out a vinyl record, set it on the player, and dropped the needle… It was a waltz—The Blue Danube.

“Heh!!” “Ha!!” “Yaa!!!”

Those diligent, Unyielding, hot‑blooded shouts of battle wove together in a strange harmony with the notes of the waltz in the corridor… Gareth sat down and began flipping through today’s newspaper.

“Oh, brave Klein, you must hold out at least until I finish this article.”

“I’ll do my best!!!!!! Ha!!!”

“Good boy.”

…

…

“Cherry?”

Instead of eating the afternoon tea sent up by the hotel, the Maid had prepared a light fruit platter for her master.

“Yes. This hotel is pretty nice. There’s even an indoor organic farm downstairs, so I picked some and brought them back.” You Ye said softly.

The stems of the cherries had all been removed, each fruit glistening like a tiny ruby.

The upper‑floor suite of the hotel could be said to have everything one might want; out on the terrace there was even a sizable open‑air swimming pool—the Boss Luo was currently stretched out on a deck chair on the terrace, idly reading an English book.

He took a Cherry from the plate and popped it into his mouth, then asked curiously, “Right, when we came up, I don’t think I saw a thirteenth floor… Are they all like this?”

“In the western side, they’re rather superstitious about the number 13.” The Maid sat beside him and spoke softly. “A lot of older buildings cancel the 13th floor, though it’s much less common in modern ones.”

Boss Luo looked out at the Thames River and chuckled. “A vanished thirteenth floor, huh. I wonder if something interesting will happen.”

“If Master wants it to, then it will, naturally.” The Maid stated the fact.

Luo Qiu froze for a moment, then shook his head with a wry smile. “I was actually hoping for two days of peace and quiet.”

As he spoke, he picked up a Cherry and held it to the Maid’s lips, beginning a little feeding session.

The Maid brushed back her hair, lowered her head, parted her lips, and slowly bit down.

“Does it taste good?”

“Mm.”