"Since that's the case..."

"Let's search the room a bit more."

"I don't know when Bordeaux will come back, so I better hurry."

Dunkirk slightly opened his magical sight, and the detailed images of all objects in the bedroom suddenly appeared in Dunkirk's mind.

A sharply edged box under the bed caught Dunkirk's attention.

Without much thought, Dunkirk quickly got down on the floor by the bed and pulled out the rectangular box wrapped in metal casing from under the bed.

A sturdy lock was placed at the top and bottom interfaces of the box, resisting the curiosity of strangers except for the owner.

"Hiding secrets under the bed...? Seems a bit cliché."

Facing the steel box, Dunkirk hesitated for a moment, then raised his right arm, gathering strength, and smashed the lock on the box with all his might.

The terrifying force directly deformed the structure of the box, breaking the iron lock. The enormous friction generated in an instant produced immense internal energy, even turning the remaining shattered parts of the box glowing red.

"A diary...?"

Seeing a small notebook lying in the box, Dunkirk could not contain his astonishment as he read the words written on it.

"Writing a diary is one thing, but hiding it so deep..."

"Could Bordeaux really be...?"

However, just as Dunkirk was about to pick up the notebook to flip through it, a vigorous shout interrupted Dunkirk's movement.

"Who's there!?"

A malicious green fireball zoomed from behind Dunkirk, as if a green poisonous insect unfurled its strange and enchanting wings. The green fireball spread its colorful flame tail recklessly, skimming Dunkirk's body and hitting the side of the room directly.

With a splutter sound, in the blink of an eye, the entire wall of the room was corroded to nothingness by this terrifying fireball.

As the fireball burned out, venom sprayed out, piercing through the space between indoors and outdoors. The green toxic paint seemed unsatisfied just causing damage on this level; it spread on the broken edge of the house, continuously expanding the area of devastation with spluttering sounds.

The sunlight from outside shone through the enlarged hole in the room, illuminating Dunkirk's slightly panicked face.

"Hands up above your head, slowly turn around."

Feeling the pipe pointed at her from behind, Dunkirk dared not say much. With obedient hands on her head, as she stood up, she slowly turned towards the direction of the voice coming from behind.

"Dunkirk!?"

The person exclaimed.

Just as the person saw Dunkirk's face clearly, Dunkirk also saw the person's appearance.

A damp towel circled her head, holding her fiery red hair; a loose robe draped over her body, setting off her imminent alluring figure, and the misty moisture like she just showered wrapped around her eyelashes, adding scattered diamond-like specks on her delicate and beautiful features.

She held a makeshift smoking pipe wand, slightly flustered, forcing Dunkirk in front of her.

But even in this image of a weak, homely public servant, her fierce and pure courage in her eyes was not diminished in the slightest.

She was the golden knight, Bordeaux.

"When did you come? Why didn't you say hello... I was just taking a bath and accidentally fell asleep."

Bordeaux seemed to let out a sigh of relief, but she didn't put down her wand.

"Wait... Did you see my diary?"

Glancing at the iron box at her feet that had been smashed to pieces, Bordeaux took in a sharp breath.

For a moment, magical fluctuations intensified like a fierce wind, Bordeaux's momentum surged suddenly, her 1.7-meter-tall figure standing in front of Dunkirk, now seeming to be two or three meters tall.

"What are you going to do? Bordeaux."

"Don't have any crooked ideas."

"You know, you can't hit me."

"And if you dare to lay hands on me now."

"No need for Lady Maria to speak up."

"I will definitely kill you."

Although Dunkirk said such things, his body still showed a fear of Bordeaux's pipe-like gun, maintaining a still posture for the time being.

"Who said I was trying to hit you?"

"Don't think too highly of yourself, Dunkirk."

"You are just a creeping snake in the dark of night. Do you really think you can win against me?"

After these harsh words, a thick, intoxicating aroma akin to green plums simmered in wine emanated from Bordeaux's pipe.

As the green smoke drifted towards him, Dunkirk furrowed his brow with a serious expression.