Chapter Seven: The Wedding Ceremony

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I have always found the elaborate rituals of weddings deeply tiresome, yet even in these sorrowful times, people remain enamored with such ceremonies, much as they are with religious festivals throughout the ages, growing only more ornate as time passes.

Lamia asked, “What? Didn’t Dame Jiunan already agree with me?”

It was only later that I came to understand: the wedding certification ceremony is essentially the wedding itself, and a witness is indispensable—one who must be of unimpeachable character and great repute. In the Black Coffin, residents are divided by floor into classes; those on the lower floors must seek witnesses from the higher. Lamia and I, as Rangers, belong to the middle tier, so our witness must be at least a baron. The profession of wedding witness has spawned a black market here, rife with profit, where brokers connect clients and witnesses for a fee.

The Dame Jiunan whom Lamia mentioned is her supervisor among the Rangers, as well as a close friend.

Stedern said, “Ms. Jiunan’s whereabouts are unknown. I thought she would have arrived here ahead of us.” There was a trace of regret in his voice, suggesting he had no objection to my marrying Lamia.

Lamia frowned in thought and said, “Betty, Sammy, go to the witness agency at once and find me a witness. Hurry! I don’t care what it costs!”

I hadn’t expected her to be even more anxious than I. I whispered, “Dearest Commander, we could simply wait until tomorrow.”

Lamia shook her head. “I’ve made up my mind, it must be today! Who knows what could happen if we wait another day? I’ve waited so long for this moment—now that I can finally be married, I can’t wait even half a day more!”

I was astonished, as if she feared she’d never have another chance to marry. She was still so young and beautiful—what could she possibly be worried about?

As Salvador and the others turned to leave, three figures appeared on the other side of the street, dressed in white uniforms with Ranger caps. The leader was a burly man with thick brows, followed by a tall young man and woman, neither likely past thirty.

The burly man sneered, “Excellent, excellent. Miss Lamia, you look especially fitting in a wedding gown.” He began to clap slowly; his attendants followed suit.

I asked, “Who is he?”

Lamia whispered, “His name is Perste, from the Maizong Laboratory. Remember Kieran? He was Kieran’s partner.”

Of course I remembered the half-demon who colluded with Old Wei, kidnapped Betty, and tried to blackmail Salvador. Seeing this, it was clear Perste came with hostile intent—he must have been the one who ordered Kieran to sabotage Lamia.

I called out, “Did you see Kieran today, Officer Perste?”

Perste’s face changed dramatically, anger flashing in his eyes. “What about Kieran?”

Lamia added, “How odd you haven’t seen him. Is he out on an important assignment?”

Perste was caught between curiosity and caution, eager to learn of Kieran’s fate yet unwilling to expose himself. His anger faded, replaced by a smile. “Today is your joyous day—why discuss such trivial matters?” He turned to me, extending his large hand with a sinister grin. “So you’re Lamia’s groom, are you, recruit? I wager you must be quite capable for Lamia to have chosen you.”

I anticipated his strength would far surpass mine and that he’d try to test me with a handshake. Stealthily, I coated my palm with hardening solution behind my back. I’m skilled at feigning weakness, sometimes even using viper’s blood on my hand to kill cunning bandits, but this was the Skyscraper, not the lawless chaos of the outside world.

Lamia tried to stop me, but I nodded at her. She understood me well and fell silent.

Perste’s hand seemed to have demon skin grafted onto it, truly fearsome; I suspected he too could transform into a half-demon like Kieran. We shook hands for half a minute—his face reddened, his muscles bulged, but with my hardened skin, he might as well have been crushing iron. At last, Perste released my hand, grinding his teeth. “A pleasure, a pleasure.”

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I was tempted to mock him, but Lamia gave me a look, urging me not to stir up more trouble.

Perste wiped the sweat from his palm and asked, “Groom, you may be an outsider, but surely Lamia told you about her condition?”

A cold glint flashed in Lamia’s eyes; she pressed her lips together in silence.

I loathed this meddlesome scoundrel, interfering with my plans to live a life of leisure. I replied, “Yes, I know everything. So what?”

Perste burst out laughing. “Just a reminder—she’s among the best to undergo the Ranger augmentations, but all her nurturing... organs were removed. Do you understand what I mean? Did you think you found a flawless wife? There’s no such luck in this world. She’s a fighting machine, not a complete woman.”

Lamia’s hand trembled. I gripped it tightly, afraid she might cry—but she didn’t.

Perste went on, “I bet she never told you the whole truth. I’m not lying; ask her subordinates. Oh, but they wouldn’t dare speak against her authority. Think carefully—if she didn’t have such a condition, why would no one have pursued her until now?”

Salvador roared, “Filthy bastard!” and lunged at Perste, only to be held back by Betty and the other Rangers. They knew the consequences of attacking Perste—he could kill Salvador on the spot and claim self-defense.

No wonder Lamia was so eager to marry me—was she afraid I would learn the truth?

I embraced Lamia and kissed her lips, silently giving her my answer. This time, Lamia wept, whispering, “Fool.”

I produced the “Silver Ode” wedding ring, taking Lamia’s right hand. She laughed, “It should be the left ring finger, don’t be silly.”

“Of course,” I said. “I just wanted to admire your beautiful hand.” With those words, I slipped the Silver Ode onto her left ring finger.

Lamia gazed at the ring, half-laughing, half-crying, tears staining her makeup. This sentimental, foolish woman nearly moved even me—a self-proclaimed cynic—to tears.

She read the inscription on the ring: “Silver Ode, crafted by Mavi Eden?”

Betty shouted, “Mavi Eden? Are you serious?” Her eyes nearly popped out; perhaps she thought I’d stolen it.

Perste stepped forward, snapping, “Did you dare forge a ring by Master Mavi Eden? That’s a crime! I’ll arrest you right now!”

I snapped back, “It’s genuine, you ignorant fool!”

Perste continued, “If it’s real, then where did you steal it from? An Eden original is worth over two million gold coins—even Lamia couldn’t afford it!”

I said, “Feel free to investigate. Now get lost.”

Lamia glared at Perste, who seemed wary of her and dared not approach. Lamia added, “Sammy, go to the witness agency. Even if he’s dead drunk, make him find us a witness!”

Perste sighed, “Regrettably, Lamia, all the brokers on these floors have been arrested for tax evasion and are now awaiting trial in prison.”

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I noticed Lamia clench her fists, her knuckles white. She asked, “What about Jiunan?”

Perste replied, “Her? The lab’s upper management is meeting with her right now. I’m afraid she can’t get away. Didn’t her secretary inform you? Ah, I forgot—the secretary had a small accident and is currently hospitalized with a broken leg.”

Lamia’s expression changed, the coldness of a killer settling over her face. “Why have you gone this far?”

Perste smiled. “Just a reminder, Lamia: for all your strength, you’re riddled with weaknesses. The more you crave simple happiness, the more weaknesses you have. These flaws leave you exposed, vulnerable to failure—just as now. If you attack me, everything you desire will be destroyed. If you don’t? I’ll have Master Mavi Eden’s missing ring traced overnight, and your groom will be jailed and exiled forever.”

Suddenly, Lamia strode toward Perste. I wrapped my arm around her waist to stop her. She halted, and I said, “Don’t worry about the ring’s origin. I will later—”

Before I could finish, Michael and Le Gang quietly appeared in the crowd. I had no idea when they’d arrived. Michael smiled, “That was close, Le Gang. I thought the wedding ceremony would be over by now, but it’s still going on.”

Le Gang replied, “You spent too long getting dressed.”

Michael retorted, “Nonsense! Slander of the worst sort.”

Michael was extravagantly dressed, like a peacock splashed with every color of paint. All eyes immediately turned to him. Betty went pale and gasped, “The... the Marquis? Michael and Marquis Le Gang?”

They seemed to be celebrities, recognized at once. Everyone bowed, exclaiming, “Marquises, we are honored!”

Michael nodded to Betty. “Ah, greetings to you all—especially this lovely young lady. And the beautiful bride—I see you’re already wearing the ‘Silver Ode’ ring I gave to my friend, Fishbone Longinus, now your groom. It suits you perfectly, a match made in heaven.”

He rambled, as always, but explained the provenance of the ring beyond doubt. Lamia beamed with joy. “You gave this ring? I... I don’t know how to thank you.”

Perste turned to Michael and Le Gang, bowing deeply as if strangled by invisible hands, his face ashen.

Michael said, “I’m equally grateful, for today Mr. Fishbone not only saved my life but also gifted me an antique worthy of the finest spot in my collection.”

Lamia shot me a look and whispered, “Why didn’t you say so sooner? You made me worry for nothing.”

I replied, “When did I have the chance?”

Michael smiled. “And I happened to overhear—do forgive my little lapse in manners—that this wedding lacks a distinguished and reputable witness. I have discussed with Le Gang, and he insists—though I think him quite biased—that he should serve as the witness. I, maintaining my usual humility, will settle for the role of best man.”

The crowd erupted into excited chatter. Though I still found the customs of witnesses and best men overly fussy, I had to admit my vanity was thoroughly satisfied—and with the orders of two marquises, no one would dare object.