SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 615: An Old Friend’s Answer

Matteo di Ravelle's gaze landed on Selara as she approached, his hand tightening its hold on his cane. This gesture alone served as his reply.

Selara stopped directly before him, offering no smile, no greeting, nor any of the superficial pleasantries typically exchanged in such gatherings to mask a lack of substance.

"Has my master arrived in Aurevane?"

A slight twitch played on Matteo's lips. He had maintained his appearance well, or perhaps, expensively, which in Aurevane often equated to the same thing. His gray coat bespoke refined taste, the gold clasp gleamed, reflecting the hall's light, and his countenance bore the patient weariness of someone who had outlasted countless clever individuals over the years.

"That is a rather unusual subject for a gathering like this, Selara. And a rather unique way to greet an old friend, I must admit – proceeding without any preamble."

"You heard the question."

"Indeed, I did. And so did everyone within earshot, which is precisely why I intend to answer it with a different tone than the one you employed."

Selara's fingers, though relaxed at her sides, betrayed a subtle tension that Trafalgar could sense. She was clearly restraining herself, and only just.

Matteo's attention shifted towards Trafalgar. "And this individual is?"

"My assistant," Selara replied.

Matteo cast a cursory glance at Trafalgar, dismissing him almost instantly, much like seasoned academics might dismiss junior staff burdened with documents and inkwells. Trafalgar remained silent. The spectacles, the case he held, his adjusted hairstyle, the guise of Tom – each element was a necessary component of a specific, intended humiliation. It appeared that the day's quota of such an experience had arrived, draped in a gray coat.

"A young assistant," Matteo observed. "You must be feeling rather sentimental."

"He is a better listener than most men your age."

"That is hardly a difficult achievement. Most men my age ceased listening the moment they began being addressed as 'respected'." Matteo redirected his gaze to Selara. "And because he listens, perhaps you should choose your words with greater deliberation."

"I inquired if he has come here."

"You are aware he hasn't been seen for years. Everyone knows this. You, of all people, should know it best, considering he left you to sift through the consequences of his actions."

Selara remained unruffled. "Don't act as though you're imparting new information."

"I am reminding you of something pertinent. He was an exceptional researcher, undoubtedly. A peculiar alchemist, an even more eccentric engineer, and a true genius back in an era when 'genius' was still a genuine compliment. However, brilliance does not cleanse the stains of blood from one's tools."

"He possessed methods," Selara countered.

"He possessed obsessions," Matteo corrected her. "Methods are what sensible individuals refer to as procedures that other sensible individuals can replicate. His actions were confined to hidden chambers and nightmares, nowhere else. You are well aware of this."

"I know what he was."

"No, Selara. You know what he imparted to you. The rest of us had the rather unique experience of witnessing his actions when no student was present to offer admiration."

That remark struck Trafalgar more profoundly than he had anticipated, yet Selara's expression remained unchanged. It simply devoid of any remaining warmth.

"Has he come to Aurevane?" she repeated her question.

Matteo exhaled softly through his nose and cast a subtle glance towards the central area of the hall, where the meticulously arranged displays and the presence of distinguished guests contributed to an overall impression of orderliness that the venue scarcely deserved.

"Here? If that scoundrel were still alive, he wouldn't be strolling into this hall to exchange pleasantries with old acquaintances beneath these chandeliers." Selara offered no response, and Matteo winced slightly, as if displeased with his own statement. "No. Wait. That is precisely what a rational person would do. Your master, however, was never guided by reason when an insurmountable obstacle happened to be concealed behind a locked door." He tapped the head of his cane with a single finger. "Aurevane possesses considerable wealth, aging infrastructure, committees whose pride far exceeds their caution, and an abundance of secluded spaces suitable for concealing mistakes until they become less noticeable. So yes – if he were alive, this city would certainly pique his interest."

"Have you encountered him?"

"No." The response came more swiftly this time. "Unfortunately. Or fortunately, depending on my current candor."

Selara's voice lowered. "Opt for honesty."

"Very well. Unfortunately, because if he is alive, someone should be informed before he begins transforming theoretical concepts into dead bodies once more. Fortunately, because if I were to meet him face-to-face, I might disregard my age and attempt to extract his teeth with my bare hands."

"Does your assistant require further explanation?"

Selara retorted without missing a beat. "My assistant comprehends more than most individuals who speak within this hall."

"How fortunate for him. Comprehension is considerably simpler when one bears no responsibility for any outcomes."

Trafalgar suppressed the urge to respond.

Selara tilted her head slightly. "Matteo."

"What? I am merely being civil."

"Your politeness is rusted."

"Age does that." Matteo edged a bit nearer, just enough so the subsequent words were spoken only between them. "Listen to me. I haven't seen him. No letter has arrived, no coded message, not even a vial with his atrocious handwriting attached, or any other ridiculously dramatic sign that he is, in fact, still alive. But if you're asking because you detected his influence somewhere nearby – don't dismiss that feeling."

Selara's jaw tightened. "You believe I dreamt it?"

"I believe you've wished for his demise for a hundred years and have doubted his death for almost as long. That combination can turn even machinery into specters."

"And what if it's not a specter?"

Matteo's grip on his cane tightened. "If it is not, he won't be upstairs. He won't be in the common areas, nor will he be positioned beside some exhibit bearing his name etched politely upon it. He always detested applause when the real work occurred hidden from view."

Hidden from view. Trafalgar stored the phrase away, and Selara registered it just as quickly. "Do you have a specific location in mind?"

"No. And if I did, this would be a most inappropriate setting to disclose it." Matteo adjusted his coat, letting his public persona resurface – a facade of weariness and pleasantness sufficient to deceive anyone who hadn't been privy to their exchange. "Enjoy the occasion, Director Selara. Do try not to unearth a corpse that has apparently learned to walk."

"You know me too well for that."

"Yes," Matteo affirmed. "That is precisely why I am departing before you pose the question a third time."

He offered a nod, imbued with a polished courtesy, and turned away, his cane tapping the marble with soft, rhythmic echoes. Selara watched him meld into the throng, while Trafalgar remained by her side, silent as per his agreement.

They concluded that conversation without a definitive location or concrete proof, yet Matteo di Ravelle had provided them with something nearly as valuable. If her master was indeed alive, Aurevane would not showcase him – they would conceal him in the depths below.

Across the eastern gallery, a service door briefly opened, allowing two personnel to maneuver a sealed container through. Trailing them, Trafalgar caught a fleeting glimpse of a staircase descending into the structure's core before the door swung shut once more. Whatever Aurevane concealed beneath its pristine facade, the city was making an extraordinary effort to ensure no one paid it undue attention.