The World in Dissonance (Volume 2)

Chapter 2: Man’s enemies are not demons

Part 1

Great Britain,

London.

It was around half past ten in the morning when Dedicatus and Beatrice boarded one of London's iconic red double-decker buses, its route leading directly toward Sadler's Theater. Beyond the windows, the capital was enjoying an unusually beautiful day. The sky stretched endlessly above the city in a brilliant shade of blue, while warm rays of sunlight reflected against rows of Victorian buildings, illuminating the bustling streets below. Pedestrians went about their daily routines, horse-drawn carriages occasionally shared the roads with automobiles, and the city itself seemed completely oblivious to the sinister events unfolding behind the scenes.

Such a peaceful landscape stood in complete contrast to Dedicatus's state of mind.

Although her usual carefree demeanor remained intact, her thoughts were entirely occupied by a single objective. Their destination was the opera house where ‘The Magic Flute’ had been performed the previous evening. If everything went according to plan, they would obtain the list of VIP guests who had attended the performance. Thanks to Beatrice's remarkable artistic talent—which she had not hesitated to use as ammunition in claiming victory over Dedicatus in their latest rivalry—they already possessed a flawless sketch of the mysterious spectator. The only missing piece was a name.

Once they had that, the hunt could truly begin.

"Once we obtain that person's identity, how exactly do you intend to find him?", asked Beatrice curiously while sitting beside Dedicatus. Although her tone remained composed as always, genuine curiosity could be heard beneath her aristocratic elegance.

"Well, there art plenty of ways to track 'im down!!", replied Dedicatus confidently, resting one arm against the window. "N' yeah, I've already got several backup plans if the main one ends up failin'!!"

"I never doubted your ability to prepare contingencies!”, answered Beatrice with a faint smile. "However, that does not actually answer my question."

"Okey, okey... Ya really art too curious!!", complained Dedicatus while scratching the back of her head. "Fine then. Once we get the guy's name, we'll make good use of Good Ol' John's influence inside the Church. We just hafta play the network card."

"That is assuming the Roman Catholic Church agrees to participate in your little scheme.”, pointed out Beatrice. "Human beings are remarkably simple creatures. Unless they stand to gain something, they seldom volunteer their assistance."

"Exactly!!", exclaimed Dedicatus, pointing a finger toward her companion as though she had been waiting for that very response. "That's precisely why they'll have no choice but to dance in the palm of my hand."

Beatrice tilted her head ever so slightly.

"Would you mind elaborating?"

A mischievous grin slowly spread across Dedicatus's face. It was the very same smile Beatrice had witnessed earlier that morning when the eldest Liddel sister vowed to crush the cultists responsible for Laurencia's condition. It was the smile she wore whenever she believed she had already calculated every possible outcome, but also one she would wear when she was losing herself to madness.

"It's simple!!", Dedicatus began. "The Catholics are desperate to solve those unexplained coma cases all over the newspapers. But honestly, that's only the surface of the problem."

She folded her arms before continuing.

"Take Good Ol' John, for example. The poor geezer spent years chasin' after a damn chimera without gettin' even a quarter of the way toward his goal."

"I do recall you mentioning that Laurencia's incident is connected to the investigation he has been pursuing... And please, avoid referring to him as a geezer, he is your legal tutor!”, replied Beatrice.

"Exactly!! Anyway... If they decide to cooperate with us, they get a chance to resolve somethin' they've practically given up on after years of failure.", Dedicatus leaned back in her seat with obvious satisfaction. "Ever since I started helpin' him these past two weeks, we've made more progress than they'd managed in ages. Sure, we've hit a few roadblocks here n' there, but we're still miles ahead of where they were."

"In other words...", concluded Beatrice. “You have no doubts that Father John himself would willingly assist us. Your concern lies with whether the higher authorities within the Vatican would authorize such cooperation."

"Pretty much."

The young woman with the white eyepatch let out a quiet chuckle before turning her gaze toward the passing streets outside the window.

"The easiest way to manipulate someone...”, said the girl with absolute confidence. "Is to convince 'em ‘dat they're the ones makin' the decisions."

Beatrice remained silent for several seconds, quietly contemplating those words. Although Dedicatus had uttered them with her usual playful personality, there was an undeniable truth hidden beneath the bravado. She possessed a frightening understanding of human psychology—one that often made it difficult to distinguish where her confidence ended and her schemes truly began.

For that very reason, Beatrice found herself wondering whether Dedicatus had merely been referring to the Church... or whether she had just unknowingly revealed the philosophy by which she manipulated nearly everyone around her.

.

..

...

Their journey lasted only a few minutes. At that hour of the morning, London's traffic remained surprisingly light, allowing the bus to weave effortlessly through the city's streets. Before long, the familiar silhouette of Sadler's Theater came into view, standing proudly amidst the surrounding Victorian buildings. As the bus came to a halt at the nearby stop, Dedicatus and Beatrice stepped onto the pavement and made their way toward the grand opera house.

Beatrice, maintaining her usual composed demeanor, stole a brief glance at the young woman beside her. Dedicatus had begun stretching her shoulders and arms while walking, rolling her neck from side to side as though preparing for a strenuous activity rather than a simple conversation. To anyone unfamiliar with her, it would have appeared to be nothing more than an odd habit. However, Beatrice knew her rival well enough to recognize the subtle signs.

The eldest of the Liddel sisters was becoming serious.

Whenever Dedicatus stopped joking around and unconsciously loosened the tension in her body beforehand, it usually meant she was about to throw herself headfirst into whatever obstacle stood before her. It was a peculiar ritual of hers—one Beatrice had observed often enough to understand without needing a single explanation.

"Let's get down to business!", declared Beatrice as they climbed the stone steps leading toward the theater's main entrance. "I shall handle anything that requires negotiation."

"Do as it suits ya.", replied Dedicatus with a careless shrug. "Not like it's gonna change what this one has ta do anyway."

The large wooden doors swung open, welcoming them into the magnificent entrance hall. Even during daylight hours, the theater retained the same refined elegance it had displayed during the previous evening's performance. Crystal chandeliers hung gracefully from the ceiling, their countless prisms scattering warm rays of sunlight throughout the marble lobby. Rich crimson carpets stretched across the polished floor, while portraits of renowned performers and framed posters of past productions decorated the walls with unmistakable pride.

The receptionist stationed behind the front desk immediately recognized the pair.

Considering the impression they had left during yesterday's performance of The Magic Flute, such recognition was hardly surprising.

"Miss Ashcroft. Miss Liddel...", greeted the young receptionist with a courteous smile. "We are delighted to welcome you back. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today?"

"We would like to meet with the director.”, answered politely Beatrice. "There are several matters concerning yesterday's incident that we wish to discuss with him."

"Oh..."

A slightly troubled expression appeared on the receptionist's face.

"As it happens, the director is currently meeting with another visitor regarding yesterday's accident. The discussion appears rather important."

She gestured politely toward a comfortable seating area in the lobby.

"If you would be so kind as to wait here, I shall personally arrange a meeting for the two of you as soon as his guest departs."

"Much appreciated!!”, answered Dedicatus before Beatrice even had the opportunity to respond. "Mind if we wander around a bit? I got this horrible disease where I start growin' roots if I stay in one place for too long."

The receptionist blinked, unsure whether to interpret the statement as a joke.

Unfortunately, she never had the chance to ask.

The moment the words left her mouth, Dedicatus grabbed Beatrice firmly by the wrist.

"Come on, Beato!! Let's go explore the place a little!"

"W-Wait..."

Before the aristocratic girl could object, she was already being dragged away at Dedicatus's relentless pace.

"Miss Liddel! The waiting area is actually—"

The receptionist's voice echoed through the lobby, but by then the two girls had already disappeared beyond one of the long corridors leading deeper into the theater.

"That way..."

She let out a defeated sigh.

"Never mind..."

Meanwhile, Dedicatus and Beatrice strolled through the theater's expansive hallways, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished wooden floors. The atmosphere differed greatly from the bustling chaos they had witnessed during rehearsals. In the absence of performers rushing from one room to another, the building possessed a peculiar tranquility that allowed its architecture to be appreciated in full.

Elegant brass wall lamps lined the corridors at regular intervals, while intricately carved wooden moldings framed every doorway and window. Portraits of celebrated actors, opera singers, and composers adorned the walls, accompanied by display cases containing costumes, antique props, and memorabilia from performances that had become part of the theater's long and distinguished history.

"It ain't every day we get ta walk around this place without someone yellin' at us ta hurry back fer rehearsal.”, remarked Dedicatus as she casually admired one of the elaborate stage costumes displayed behind the thick glass.

Beatrice smiled faintly.

"Indeed. It almost feels like we are seeing the theater as ordinary visitors rather than performers."

Although their conversation remained lighthearted, neither of them had forgotten why they had come.

Behind every casual glance at the decorations and every seemingly aimless turn through the corridors, both girls were quietly observing their surroundings.

As they continued wandering through the theater's labyrinthine corridors, Dedicatus's pace gradually slowed. What had initially appeared to be a casual stroll had quietly transformed into an investigation. Her emerald eye drifted across every hallway, every office door, and every employee she happened to pass. She had long abandoned the hope of merely "exploring." Instead, she was searching for an opportunity.

Fortune, however, decided to meet them halfway.

At the far end of one of the corridors, a familiar voice echoed from behind a half-open office door.

"I understand your concern, Director, but I must insist that no one outside this investigation be granted access to those documents."

Dedicatus immediately raised a hand, signaling Beatrice to stop. The two girls exchanged a brief glance before quietly approaching the doorway.

Inside stood the theater's director, accompanied by a tall gentleman whose broad shoulders and perfectly tailored charcoal overcoat gave him an imposing presence. His neatly combed dark hair showed faint traces of silver around the temples, while a pair of steel-gray eyes rested upon the documents spread across the director's desk. His posture was perfectly straight, his movements disciplined, and every gesture carried the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to commanding respect without ever needing to raise his voice.

Even before seeing his face clearly, Dedicatus recognized him.

"Oh...", acrooked smile spread across her lips. "Speakin’ of the devil."

The man slowly turned around.

His expression remained as unreadable as carved stone.

Inspector Virgil Blackwood, a name known throughout Great Britain.

Within the ranks of Scotland Yard, Blackwood's reputation bordered on legendary. Newspapers often referred to him as ‘the man who solved the impossible’, while criminals whispered his name with genuine apprehension. His deductive abilities had become the subject of countless stories, many claiming they rivaled—even surpassed—the fictional exploits of ‘Sherlock Holmes’ himself. Whether those comparisons were deserved or not mattered little.

His record spoke for itself. But more importantly, he happened to be an old acquaintance of Father John.

Blackwood looked at Dedicatus for several silent seconds before letting out an exhausted sigh.

"Wonderful..."

His voice was calm and cold. The sort of voice that made even compliments sound like criticism.

"I had hoped yesterday's performance would be our last encounter."

Dedicatus placed both hands inside her pockets.

"Aww... Missed the great me already, Inspector!?"

"No.”, his answer came so quickly that even Beatrice blinked. “I simply hoped the child would stay away from an active crime scene."

A vein visibly appeared on Dedicatus's forehead.

"Child?"

The inspector ignored her growing irritation.

"I assumed your parents had already taken you home."

"Dude..."

"My mistake."

Blackwood adjusted one of the folders resting beneath his arm.

"Your legal guardian."

"Dude!!"

"I fail to see the difference."

Beatrice stepped forward before Dedicatus could explode.

"A pleasure to meet you again, Inspector Blackwood.”, she offered a graceful bow befitting her aristocratic upbringing. “I am Beatrice Ashcroft."

"I know.", replied the inspector while nodding politely. “Your family's reputation precedes you."

Then his gaze shifted back toward Dedicatus.

"As for... this one...", continued the middle-aged man while pausing for a moment. "I assume she escaped supervision."

"YA WANNA THROW HANDS, OLD MAN!?"

"Dedicatus!", whispered Beatrice.

"Not helpin’, Beato!! Am tired of ‘dat darn old geezer!! Better just endin’ him right here n’ now.”

Blackwood remained perfectly unfazed.

"Allow me to clarify the situation!”, declared the Inspector Blackwood as he folded his arms. “This investigation concerns attempted homicide, organized criminal activity, and an unexplained disappearance. These are matters for Scotland Yard."

He looked directly into Dedicatus's eye.

"Not for an immature thirteen-year-old playing detective."

Silence filled the corridor. Beatrice quietly closed her eyes. She knew exactly what was coming.

"First o’ all...", Dedicatus slowly raised one finger. “This one ain't thirteen."

Blackwood stared at her expressionlessly.

"My apologies.”, he nodded once. "Fourteen!"

The young woman clenched both fists.

"AM IN MY TWENTIES!!"

"I find that difficult to believe."

“This one literally pays taxes!!"

"You certainly do not behave like someone who does."

“Okey, I confess... This one sometimes does tax evasion, in hopes of gettin’ yer payment cut!!”

“...”

Her statement was so bold and provocative that even the theater director awkwardly looked away, uncertain whether he should intervene. Dedicatus then took a deep breath.

"But ya know what...", replied the girl with a forced smile. "Keep talkin'."

Blackwood continued as though nothing had happened.

"Regardless of your... alleged age... I advise you to abandon this childish fascination with investigations."

He tapped the folders beneath his arm.

"Leave the detective work to adults."

"Oh!?", Dedicatus's grin widened. “Adults like yerself?"

"Precisely."

"The adults who still haven't figured out who's behind my Lil’ Sis’ attack?"

A brief silence followed. Beatrice noticed the slightest narrowing of Blackwood's eyes. Then she immediately stepped between the two.

"Gentlemen... or rather, gentleman and lady...", said Beatrice while offering an elegant smile. “I believe neither of you intends to waste valuable time arguing."

Inspector Blackwood looked at her.

"You are considerably more reasonable than your companion."

"I hear that surprisingly often."

Dedicatus rolled her eye dramatically.

"Traitor!!"

Ignoring the remark, Beatrice addressed the inspector once more.

"If I may ask, have your investigations yielded any significant discoveries?"

"Several.”, answered the Inspector without elaborating.

That was how a professional usually worked, not barging, no boasting, only the results would speak of the labor. But for some reasons, both girls didn’t expect less.

"And unfortunately for the two of you...", said Inspector Blackwood as he turned toward the theater director. “The guest list is hereby under the possession of Scotland Yard."

The director nodded before handing over a thick envelope. Blackwood accepted it and carefully slid it into his leather document case.

"This contains the complete list of every VIP guest who attended yesterday's performance."

Dedicatus's smile disappeared.

"Oh... So that's what ya were after."

Blackwood looked directly at the director, who was standing there trying not to get involved in their arguments.

"I must also request that no duplicate copies be distributed."

"O-Of course, Inspector."

"If anyone else requests access to this information...", declared the middle-aged man as his gaze briefly drifted toward Dedicatus. "They are to be refused."

The director swallowed nervously.

"I understand."

The young maiden with medical eyepatch then clicked her tongue.

"Tch... So much fer Option A."

.

..

...

For several moments, she remained unusually quiet. Then, much to everyone's surprise, she simply turned around.

"We leavin'."

Beatrice looked slightly surprised.

"You're giving up?"

"Nah!! Like hell Imma do ‘dat"

Dedicatus shoved both hands into her pockets and began walking away.

"I've just realized arguin' with stubborn old fossils ain't worth wastin' my time."

Blackwood watched her leave.

"A wise decision."

She then stopped walking. And without turning around, she spoke over her shoulder.

"Hey, Inspector."

"Yes?"

A confident grin slowly returned to her face.

"Let's make thin’ interestin’. Yer detective skills versus mine!!”

The Inspector Virgil Blackwood remained silent.

"Whoever catches ‘dat darn criminal first...", declared the girl with medical eyepatch while she looked back at him. "Will have the loser bow down n’ apologize!!"

Her gaze was so intense it sent chills down the spine of the director. But the inspector's expression did not change.

"This is not a competition."

"For ya maybe!!”, she chuckled. “For me...", her emerald eye gleamed with unmistakable confidence. "It always is. There ain’t anyone better at helpin’ my Lil’ Sis other than me!"

Blackwood shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Your arrogance will eventually become your downfall."

"Nah!!", replied instantly the girl while she resumed walking. “My arrogance usually becomes someone else's."

Beatrice let out the faintest sigh before offering the inspector another courteous bow.

"My apologies for her behavior."

"I have grown accustomed to it."

"I somehow expected that answer."

With that, she hurried after Dedicatus, leaving Inspector Virgil Blackwood standing motionless beside the theater director. Although his expression remained as unreadable as ever, he continued watching the young woman's retreating figure until she disappeared around the corner.

Only then did he quietly mutter to himself.

“You're far too perceptive for someone pretending to be an idiot."

It was the closest thing to praise that Virgil Blackwood had ever given anyone.