West of Igwynt, Saint Amanda School at night.
The quiet night enveloped Saint Amanda School after dinner. The boys, about to attend their evening class, suddenly heard a sharp gunshot echoing from somewhere distant on campus. Curiosity piqued, they rushed to the classroom windows, peering into the obscured darkness and fervently speculating about the commotion outside. Their excited discussion ceased only when a stern teacher ordered them back to their seats.
While the classrooms remained brightly lit for evening lessons, beneath the school, in a concealed and expansive underground space, the light burned just as brightly.
This vast underground chamber beneath Saint Amanda School was illuminated by numerous hanging gas lamps that dispelled every shadow. The room was filled with tables and cabinets, all cluttered with a wide array of stone sculptures.
There were smaller busts, slightly larger half-body sculptures, and full-size statues scattered across tables, cabinets, chairs, and even the floor. Each statue was intricately carved, lifelike in detail. Along the walls, uncarved blocks of stone of varying sizes stood in wait. The walls themselves were dotted with large ventilation ducts, their slow-turning fans hinting at an unknown power source.
A layer of white dust coated the stone floor, scattered stools sat haphazardly, and hammers and chisels lay in the corners. Nearby, easels and sketchboards bore various sketches of human faces or complex geometric shapes, all rendered in shades of gray, emphasizing light and shadow. No color had been applied, and only pencils lay next to the boards—there was no trace of paint.
At first glance, this seemed to be a stone sculpting workshop. Dorothy stood at its center, curiously surveying her surroundings. Not far from her, the janitor, Dean, was carefully carving a stern-faced male bust with his tools, using a series of black-and-white photos as references. The rhythmic clinking of his chisel echoed through the room.
Nearby, five bodies lay in a row on the ground, each covered with white sheets.
“Thank you so much for saving me tonight, sir…” Dorothy said after briefly scanning her surroundings. She then turned her gaze to Dean, who continued his work while smiling.
“Heh… Those Crimson Eucharist lackeys broke the rules, causing trouble around my territory. It was only natural for me to intervene. Miss Mayschoss, if anyone deserves credit for your survival, it’s yourself…”Dean’s eyes flicked toward the five corpses as he spoke, his tone tinged with admiration.
“Among those five, you took down four by yourself. I only handled the aftermath. When I received the message from your marionette, your carriage had already been on the move for a while. Had you not forced them to turn back, even my speed wouldn’t have been enough to save you in time…”
Dean’s gaze returned to Dorothy as he continued.
“Your courage, composure, and clear thinking… For someone your age, such qualities are truly remarkable. It’s a delight to have a student like you at Saint Amanda, especially a young lady who stands head and shoulders above those self-important, chattering young masters.”
“You flatter me, sir,” Dorothy replied humbly, bowing slightly before speaking again.
“I am far from excellent. There is still much for me to learn, and many questions I wish to ask you.”
Dean smiled slightly at her words, scrutinizing her for a moment before responding.
“You have questions for me? Very well, but first, you’ll need to answer one of mine. How did you discern that I wasn’t ordinary? Do you have some ability to identify Beyonder?”
Dean’s inquiry referred to the moment Dorothy, after boarding the Eucharist’s carriage, directed her gecko marionette to scrawl the words "Crimson Eucharist" into the dirt near the school gardens, summoning the janitor Dean to her aid. Dorothy had suspected from the start that the old man was no ordinary figure.
After contemplating briefly, Dorothy began to speak in an analytical tone.
“Your actions first caught my attention when you stumbled and knocked over two stone statues in front of my brother and me. My brother caught them both, and you complimented him, saying, ‘Good reflexes, young man.’ That comment, focusing on his agility, made me notice you, though only slightly at the time. I thought perhaps I was overthinking.”
Dean nodded as Dorothy continued.
“Later, my interest in the statues grew. I approached you with questions while you were cleaning them. It was then I noticed how meticulously you cleaned—not just with care but with method.”
Dorothy began pacing slowly as she recalled further.
“You weren’t wiping haphazardly. Your cleaning followed the statue’s structure—deliberately. Even areas that could’ve been wiped with a single motion were meticulously cleaned multiple times, each stroke aligned with subtle facial structures like the underside of the eyelids.
“What stood out most was your technique—it resembled carving more than cleaning. Your motions mirrored the single-direction chiseling of a sculptor. A simple janitor wouldn’t clean this way.”
Pausing, Dorothy addressed Dean. At this point, Dean had set down his tools and was clapping lightly, a smile on his face.
“Ha! Such keen observation… What a rare and admirable trait,” Dean remarked.
Dorothy pressed on without pause.
“At that point, you fully had my attention. I began observing you carefully. Despite your age, you moved with exceptional agility, not at all like someone who might stumble on level ground. Your earlier fall seemed staged—a deliberate test. Still, these were only suspicions until I employed certain methods.”
“I sent a small marionette to the school’s archives and payroll records. What I found confirmed everything: the school’s employee roster listed your name, Dean, but no salary had ever been issued under it.”
“That’s when I realized your true identity—you are the headmaster of this school, Aldrich. While I was still unsure if you were a Beyonder, I had no choice but to seek your help in that moment of crisis.”
Dean burst into laughter at her conclusion.
“Well done, Miss Mayschoss. Truly impressive. Yes, I am indeed Aldrich, the current headmaster of Saint Amanda.”
Aldrich set down his tools, walked away from the statue, and sat down. Smiling, he addressed Dorothy.
“Your analysis is excellent, and your intelligence is remarkable. Now, it’s your turn to ask your questions.”
Dorothy, maintaining her composure, asked with a serious tone.
“Thank you for your praise, Mr. Aldrich. My first question is this: why did you test my brother and me on our very first day? What did you notice about us?”
Aldrich didn’t respond immediately. He sipped his tea, smiling enigmatically before speaking.
“What do you think, Miss Mayschoss? Or perhaps… daring little girl?”
His tone shifted, becoming deeper and more commanding. Dorothy recognized this voice. She had heard it recently at a secret gathering she had boldly attended.
It was the voice of “Grayhill.”
…