Chapter 159: Hacker

Blanche stepped closer to a crown of delicately wrought golden leaves.

"She's beautiful..."

"Yeah," Argy replied absentmindedly. "I think he bought it because he thought it would look good with a dress."

He continued the tour as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

"Dad collects dresses too."

Blanche whipped her head toward him.

"Dresses?"

"Women's dresses."

He opened a second adjoining room.

This time, Blanche was left utterly speechless.

Dozens...

No.

Hundreds of gowns were carefully preserved beneath transparent garment covers or displayed on tailor's mannequins. They came from every era and every style, each crafted from fabrics of extraordinary quality: silk, velvet, chiffon, antique lace, richly embroidered brocades woven with gold or silver thread.

Every piece looked as though it had come from the hands of a world-renowned couturier.

Some belonged at a royal ball.

Others seemed more suited to imperial ceremonies.

No two were alike.

"They're all meant..." Argy explained with a shrug, "...for his future queen."

Blanche said nothing.

"Ever since I was little, he's bought every dress he liked, saying, 'She'll wear it one day.'"

He let out a soft laugh.

"When I was a kid, I teased him about it constantly. I'd ask if he planned on picking out her shoes, her perfume, and even the color of her nail polish while he was at it."

He adopted a mock solemn voice.

"Argy, you'll understand when you're in love."

He rolled his eyes.

"It was unbearable."

Blanche couldn't help smiling.

Oddly enough...

She didn't find it unsettling.

Only endlessly romantic.

As though Sebastian had been assembling this wardrobe for years, never once losing hope that someone would one day wear it.

They continued their tour until they reached the bathroom.

And once again, Blanche found herself at a loss for words.

The room stretched along an enormous floor-to-ceiling window that occupied almost the entire wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city at night. The first snowflakes had begun to fall again, drifting lazily beyond the glass while warm white lighting bathed the room in a soothing glow.

Everything spoke of understated luxury.

The floor was covered in pale natural stone, gently heated beneath their feet. The sinks, carved from single blocks of white marble, looked sculpted rather than manufactured, while brushed-metal fixtures added a modern touch.

At the far end stood a vast walk-in shower carved directly into a block of black basalt.

Water poured in a broad cascade from a concealed ceiling outlet, streaming over the volcanic stone before disappearing silently into the perfectly sloped floor. Blanche imagined steam mingling with the panoramic view, creating the illusion of standing beneath a real waterfall.

She walked toward the window.

From there, the estate seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance.

Even the Greysons' bathroom felt like it belonged in a palace.

Well after midnight, the White Mage let her head for the private elevator without a word.

Whenever Blanche had that particular gleam in her eyes, nothing could stop her.

She found Asher exactly where she'd expected him to be.

Alone at his station.

Surprised...

But delighted.

His excitement burst forth in a shower of green and purple pixie dust, accompanied by a grin so wide it nearly split his face.

Blanche caught herself smiling too.

In this form, he was absolutely adorable.

She understood much better how Glen had fallen for his... larger version.

"My lovely lady," he said, far from fooled, "what can I do for you?"

"Depends... how good are you at hacking?"

Blanche's mischievous gaze met the pixie's, whose eyes lit up instantly.

"Go on. Lay it on me."

"Could you identify the owner of a vehicle using nothing but its license plate?"

Fifteen minutes later...

He knew everything.

1967 black Chevrolet Impala. Last registered owner: Beth T. Callahan. Purchased in 2005.

"Callahan..." Asher muttered. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Because it used to be mine, before I discovered my real family name."

He stared at her, puzzled.

"No... I've heard it somewhere else..."

He tapped his foot like a grasshopper, his wings oddly beating in rhythm before he suddenly stopped.

"It'll come back to me. So... the classic car that killed you..."

He looked up.

"It was yours?"

"Apparently."

"How is that even possible? You're not even old enough to have a driver's license, so how could you—"

His eyes suddenly widened.

"Oh!"

He chirped excitedly.

"Two thousand and five... time travel! So... you actually asked someone to kill you on purpose?"

Blanche raised an eyebrow.

Was that the answer she'd been looking for?

"I would've endangered my best friend's life just to become... you-know-what?" she whispered, bewildered.

"Not exactly," the pixie replied. "Since you already knew how everything would unfold, you knew she wouldn't be harmed."

"That's... plausible," Blanche admitted, scratching her head. "But why? Why become...?" She trailed off. "And who would I have asked to do it?"

"Hang on—I have an idea."

She watched him pound frantically on the tiny keyboard connected to the full-sized one.

The moment the search results filled the large monitor, she immediately understood what he was doing.

"Not bad."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Ash giggled.

She watched him comb through garages in the Otherworld that might have serviced the Impala.

One in particular immediately stood out.

"Bingo. The Demon District..."

Blanche tilted her head, and the pixie voiced exactly what she had been thinking.

"My guess? You probably entrusted the job to your familiar..."

So Fenrir had been right all along?

Or... her father?

Neither of them had appeared to be lying.

Phoenix, on the other hand, had dodged the question every single time.

"Either way," Asher continued, "I know you saved Argy... and Aaron back there. So that would explain everything."

Eva and herself...

Against Argy, Aaron, Jeremy, Erik...

And that was only the visible tip of the iceberg.

The painting came back to her mind.

She needed to speak with Sebastian.

Alone.

And soon.

She had promised not to go near him...

Which left her with the simplest, safest...

And longest method.

Reading in the Spatiotemporal Manor.

Perfect timing.

She already missed Cassian and Cassie.

Blanche nodded and made her new friend promise not to tell anyone about their recent discoveries.

He agreed without hesitation.

After all, revealing her secret would inevitably expose his own.