Westminster Bank

But that wasn't the only thing that caught Baron's attention. He suddenly realized that, judging by the composition, there should have been someone standing on Freya's other side. Instead, the photo was cropped right there.

Baron frowned. He didn't want to overthink it, but Freya wouldn't have kept these photos here if they weren't important.

He subconsciously flipped it over, just as he'd done with the others. He froze.

A line of text.

It appeared to be a name.

"Fla."

It was like a bomb went off in his head.

Fla. It was Fla again.

'This… What the hell is going on? Why does this name keep appearing? Is it a coincidence? But one of the people who bought Mistletoe Liquid from Mr. Pelton was also named Fla… So who is the Fla in this photograph?'

A chill ran down Baron's spine. He had to admit, he felt a suffocating pressure, like a python coiling around him.

From what he knew so far, the name Fla had appeared in three places: first, from the mouth of the Prole Undead Knight; second, in Mr. Pelton's diary; and now, here.

Baron stared at the photograph, noticing that there had been some other writing after the name "Fla," but it had been erased and was no longer legible.

Just then, Jack spoke up. "Brother L, I've gone through all the newspapers. Other than the news about your ex-fiancée breaking off the engagement and you and your sister being expelled from the Constantine Clan, I didn't find anything… ahem, actually, I did find something."

"And what's that?" Baron didn't have high hopes for whatever Jack had found.

"Your father was actually killed by a Beast during the 'Black Mist' of 1978."

"Black Mist?"

"A fog that swept across the entire Inner Side. Rumor has it that someone performed an illicit Alchemy Ceremony, which caused a disruption in the Law… A large number of High-Tier Beasts and Demons emerged from the fog. The casualties weren't high, though, because the London Tower issued a notice in advance telling people to stay home."

Jack said, "I'm just curious how your father, Fran Constantin, a famous Silver Knight of the Inner Side, ended up dying in that 'Black Mist'."

"Oh," Baron said. "Next time, try to find something useful."

'He was just this body's biological father. Even though Baron had some memories of their time together, it was clear from the original owner's diary that their relationship hadn't been particularly deep.'

The only thing that surprised Baron was that his predecessor's father had been a Silver Knight… For such an important detail, it was strange that the diary never mentioned it.

'Then again… maybe it wasn't necessary to mention it. His father was already dead, after all.'

"This photo you're holding… see the shadow on the ground? Looks like the photographer didn't manage to get into the shot," Jack suddenly said, looking at the photo in Baron's hand.

Baron froze. He looked again and saw that Jack was right—there was clearly the shadow of another person at the bottom of the photograph.

He'd never even thought about it, but now he realized his mistake. Timed photos in this era obviously weren't as advanced as they were in his past life, and there were certainly no selfie sticks.

He'd gotten so caught up in the scene that he'd completely forgotten about the photographer.

Photographer…

An idea flashed in his mind. He pulled out the other photos he had looked at earlier, trying to analyze them based on their angles and composition.

'From a screenwriter's perspective, they were mostly taken by the same person… Does the Lancelot family have an official photographer? Unlikely. After all, many of these pictures were taken in restricted areas.'

'Including, but not limited to, his ex-fiancée's private chambers, the collection room, the Magic Potion Workshop… Come to think of it, he and Jack had already been to all the most important locations.'

'Based on all this, the photographer had to be someone close to her… Someone in the Lancelot family close to Freya. Besides the Lancelot Family Head and his wife… there was only one other person: his former brother-in-law, the one who'd threatened to kill him in the papers and whose ashes were now scattered to the winds.'

"I love you," Jack said suddenly.

"What the hell!?"

Baron was so startled he leaped to his feet, pulling his gun and aiming it straight at Jack.

The shock was so profound it felt like a cultural memory from his past life.

Startled by Baron's reaction, Jack quickly threw his hands up in surrender. He gestured with his head toward the photo in Baron's hand. "The writing on the back of the photo! It's Ancient Celtic Language. It means 'I love you.'"

"Writing? What writing?" Baron had only seen the name "Fla." The rest of the words had been erased.

But Jack took the photo and ran his fingers over the back. "Look at the impressions," he said. "You have to press down hard to write in the Ancient Celtic Language."

"You even understand the Ancient Celtic Language?" Baron looked at him in a new light. 'So this is the value of a Cambridge University degree. A top school is a top school, I guess.'

"I know a little," Jack said. "So, does this mean someone was professing their love to this Fla person on the back of the photo?"

'Professing their love to Fla…'

"Anthony's photo…" Baron said suddenly. "Quick, see if you can find a picture of Anthony."

Jack didn't understand why, but he started searching with Baron anyway. The result was just as Baron expected: aside from some written descriptions in the newspapers, there were no photographs of Anthony to be found.

"That's how the Old Blood Clans are. They're very protective of their Direct Lineages. For instance, there are no news photos of you or your father either," Jack said. "But I know a place that should have one."

............

「Freya's Bedroom.」

Two figures appeared in the room, descending an illusory staircase.

"Let's split up. Let me know immediately if you find anything… Not just photos. Gather everything you can find related to Anthony."

"Hey, I'm not your errand boy, L," Jack grumbled.

"But I've made you a lot of money, haven't I?" Baron retorted.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked as Baron summoned the "staircase" again.

"To find out who Fla is."

"Who are you going to ask?"

"Master Bagins."

With that, Baron's figure vanished from the bedroom.

Jack scratched the back of his head. He couldn't for the life of him figure out how that old Dwarf, Master Bagins, could be connected to a bizarre name like "Fla."

............

「Inner London. Prussian Street. The Cigarettes and Alcohol Clinic.」

After ringing the doorbell, Baron stood at the entrance, wiping hot coffee stains off his clothes with a napkin.

A man in a hurry had bumped into him on the way over.

TING-A-LING.

The door opened quickly. It was Don Quixote, holding Sangji. He looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Mr. Constantine? What are you doing here?"

Baron patted Don Quixote's head. "I came to ask Master Bagins something."

A troubled look appeared on Don Quixote's small face. "But it's still the afternoon… Master Bagins is probably still asleep."

Baron glanced at the clock in the clinic's main room. It wasn't midnight yet.

'Are all Dwarves night owls?'

"Mr. Constantine, what brings you here during my resting hours? The news has been full of your recent crimes at the Beowulf Family home, as well as your heroic deeds on the Magic Train during the fog."

Master Bagins appeared behind Don Quixote, hands clasped behind his back, a pipe dangling from his lips. His long nightgown dragged on the floor. "To risk coming here with a one hundred thousand pound bounty on your head… I hope you're not here to complain about my after-sales service."

"It's not about your service. I'm just here to ask you one question, Master Bagins."

"What is it? Let me guess… is it about Lankao?" Master Bagins asked, taking a calm puff from his pipe.

"Impressive as always, Master… but I'm not sure myself. It might be, it might not," Baron said. "I came here to ask you, Master Bagins, if you know someone named Fla."

Master Bagins shook his head. "I don't know who you're talking about."

Baron took out the photo he found in Buckingham Palace.

The Master fell silent.

After a long moment, he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. "I do."

"Who is she?"

"Lankao's daughter."