Removing his mask, AE transformed back into Julius as he returned to the governor's private residence in Pujivang. Having spent much time away, his desk was now piled high with documents. Julius had little interest in governance or ensuring the prosperity of the people. Yet, knowing that the stability of a nation rested on its citizens, he curbed his desire for reckless indulgence—after all, to toy with an entire country, he needed a foundation to sustain his games.
After several days of clearing his backlog, Julius felt inclined to stretch his muscles at his private training grounds. However, before even reaching the area, his sharp senses caught the sound of gunfire from the firearms section. His eyes narrowed, his fingers twitched subtly, and he instinctively assumed a hunter's stance. Yet as he listened more closely, he noted the consistency of the shots—fixed range and calculated intervals. It was clearly a training exercise. Surprise flickered across his face. Within the governor's private grounds, all other members of the Montclair family were long dead. Who, then, dared to conduct target practice so openly?
Curiosity piqued, Julius strolled toward the training grounds. The guards stationed outside the facility snapped to attention and saluted him. He returned the gesture with a nod and asked quietly, "Who's inside?"
The guard straightened further and answered crisply, "Reporting to Your Excellency, it's Miss Darnley."
Julius paused for a moment, trying to recall who this "Miss Darnley" was. It took him a while to remember the insignificant plaything Ivy Darnley. Back then, he had spared her life to spite Arabella. However, since she turned out to be inconsequential and he had reconciled with Arabella, he had entirely forgotten about her.
Julius, with his naturally sharp features and thin lips, always exuded a certain aloofness when he pressed his lips together. He flexed his knuckles, intent on stepping inside to eliminate such a useless nuisance. Yet as he lifted his foot, the thought of Ivy's identity flashed through his mind. Pausing for a moment of contemplation, he turned on his heel and walked away without a word.
By night, donning his mask, Julius transformed into AE. In the lavish private room, flickering lights cast shifting, opulent shadows. AE sat alone in the room as fluctuating melodies filled the air. When Caracal appeared, he saw AE sitting in solitude, wearing a grotesque mask. The jagged eyebrows and ferocious contours of the mask gave off an unsettling and bizarre aura.
Caracal casually seated himself on the sofa opposite and chuckled, calling out the name he had used during his covert missions. "Boss Julius, is there still a need for such pretense between us?"
Julius snorted, meeting Caracal's exceptionally striking face, and mocked, "One face for Norman, another for Caracal—neither is likely your true face, is it?"
Caracal remained unruffled by Julius's mockery, interpreting it instead as a backhanded compliment. After all, his ability to transform was a skill worth pride. Under the glow of the light, his face appeared remarkably refined, the scattered reflections in his eyes shimmering like starlight. The faint curve of his lips carried an almost seductive allure. Yet, this face was but a crafted mask. As one of the five figures on the legendary Intelligence List, he had never revealed his true visage to the world.
"Boss Julius, you didn't summon me all the way from Fandel just to compliment me, did you?"
"Faceless Ghost—you're familiar with that name, aren't you?"
When Caracal heard the name from Julius, his expression shifted dramatically. No other name could shock him as much as this one. Faceless Ghost was his natural nemesis, someone he had been destined to contend with. Among the five figures on the Intelligence List, only he and Faceless Ghost had come from the same master.
Years ago, Arabella had selected him as a hidden pawn and sent him to Yamae. Yamae, the most inland of the four nations across the sea, was untouched by war and resource-poor. Its landscapes were rugged and remote, its people self-sufficient through farming and weaving. To hermits, Yamae was a revered sanctuary.
At the time, both the underworld and law enforcement revered a nameless legend with unparalleled mastery of mysterious arts. This person's hands were capable of miracles: feigning death, invoking spirits, mastering domestic life, and commanding armies. Arabella sent him to study under this enigmatic figure, casually mentioning that the individual owed her a favor.
When he arrived, Faceless Ghost was already under the master's tutelage. The eccentric master, childless and reclusive, had only ever taken two disciples—him and Faceless Ghost. From the moment he entered the sect until the day he left, he never saw Faceless Ghost, nor did the latter see him. Upon joining, his true face was forsaken, and neither disciple was allowed to glimpse the other.
The master was extraordinarily skilled, and though Caracal considered himself highly gifted, he only managed to learn about seventy to eighty percent of the master's abilities during his years of study. After graduating, Arabella first assigned him to covert intelligence-gathering missions and later planted him directly by AE's side.
The Night Owl Organization's single-combat rankings were renowned across both the underworld and law enforcement. As a vast and precise intelligence empire, Night Owl's list was widely respected—except for the top spot held by Arabella, whose position as a woman often drew skepticism. The rankings of the other nine individuals, however, were universally accepted. Faceless Ghost was prominently featured on this list, the only individual ranked in both the single-combat and Intelligence Lists.
The Intelligence List, as the name suggests, comprised five shadowy figures operating in the gray areas of society. The list only displayed their codenames, with no rankings of strength or ability. Apart from Faceless Ghost and himself, the other three were likely Night Owl operatives—individuals so enigmatic they seemed nonexistent. For people like them, it was best to leave no trace of their presence—able to blend seamlessly into any environment, becoming a natural part of the surroundings without the slightest hint of discord.
"I've never met him."
"You come from the same master as him. Can you figure out a way to pick him out of a crowd?"
Caracal's expression changed, and he exclaimed in disbelief, "How do you know he's infiltrated your group?"
Julius shook his head and fixed Caracal with a deep gaze, speaking each word deliberately: "He's with Arabella."
"Impossible!" Caracal retorted immediately. "Where did you get this intel?"
"Would Night Owl's intel ever be inaccurate?"
Caracal paused, then sneered. "A ghost like him naturally wouldn't show himself openly. If his whereabouts were truly discovered, it would mean he'd been exposed and would've been captured on the spot. Why would anyone need to go looking for him? It's like me walking down the street, spotting someone at random, copying their appearance and traits, killing them, and taking their place. I'd disappear immediately. If Night Owl could detect him but didn't catch him on the spot, what kind of intel is that? It's nothing but useless paper."
"Have you forgotten what other identity the Faceless Ghost has?"
"Someone like him wouldn't have any overt identity—" Caracal abruptly stopped mid-sentence, realization dawning on him. "I almost forgot, his overt identity is a cop."
The fact that the Faceless Ghost was a cop was indeed peculiar. People like him, shadowy figures who operated in the dark, shouldn't have any fixed identity. Yet the Faceless Ghost was a police officer—albeit the most enigmatic figure in law enforcement, operating outside official systems, with no real records in international police databases. Though there were no official records, as a police officer, his investigative actions inevitably left traces. Where there were traces, there was the potential for intelligence leaks. It turned out the problem lay precisely there.
Caracal immediately stood up to leave, but Julius snorted coldly. "Do you think Arabella wouldn't know about this? Does she need your hindsight to notify her?"
"Then why hasn't Master Unknown—" Caracal stopped himself mid-sentence. In his urgency, he'd momentarily forgotten—what use would it be for Arabella to tell him? Once the Faceless Ghost infiltrated her circle, there was only one person in the world capable of exposing him. Caracal quickly realized why Julius had summoned him for this conversation.
Caracal sighed. "It's no surprise you don't know. Before going undercover for you, I went back to Yamae to find my master, but naturally, he was long gone. That old man is too cunning. In his lifetime, he took in only two disciples—one became an internationally renowned cop, and the other, a top aide to an infamous terrorist. He would've fled long ago, not waiting around to let either side capture him and force him to identify which one of us is which. He's the only person in the world who can distinguish between me and the Faceless Ghost in disguise, but no one in the world can find him."
Julius wasn't surprised by this outcome. After all, Arabella was meticulous and wouldn't have overlooked the existence of their master. That she hadn't mentioned the Faceless Ghost to Caracal clearly meant she knew it would be pointless to bring it up.
While the two discussed the Faceless Ghost, the informant lay obediently on a bed, his body bare, exuding an air of languid indolence. Nicholas's features were sharp and defined, yet he had deliberately softened his eyes into something as radiant and gentle as starlight. This, however, created a faint dissonance, disrupting the innate arrogance of his aura. And yet, it was precisely those gentle, dazzling eyes that concealed the searing intensity of his obsessive possessiveness. Hidden in the shadows, this side of him remained imperceptible to most. Beneath the stunning exterior lay a soul both vile and deviant, its darkness masked by an illusion of warmth.
Arabella sat beside him, flipping through a box in her hands. As she rummaged, she asked with a smile, "Do you usually use these things on yourself?"
Nicholas's voice carried a hint of desire as he replied, "I use them when I think of you."
"Is this something you use when you miss me?" Arabella pulled an item from the box and gave it a playful shake, turning to look at Nicholas lying on the bed with a sweet, teasing smile.
Nicholas recognized that the object in Arabella's hand was the locking ring, and he couldn't help but spread his legs wide, revealing his already aroused genitals, as he spoke in a hoarse voice, seducing Arabella, "Do you want to try it on me?"
Arabella was playing with the locking ring in his hand and looked at the man who was flirting with her intentionally. This guy was born to be a bad guy, crazy, toxic, perverted, and actually quite to her taste.
She leaned down, her warm breath brushing against Nicholas's ear as she whispered softly: "Masturbate in front of me, and when you're big enough, I'll consider locking you up."
Hearing those words, Nicholas's dick quivered with excitement, and his eyes instantly filled with a boundless allure, exuding an irresistible charm.
Lock him? Arabella was willing to lock him?
"Arabella, do you still want to hear me beg for mercy in bed? Calling you 'Mommy'?"
