Morning, in the lower city of Igwynt, inside a street-side café, a white-haired girl dressed in a black-and-white dress sat in a private booth on the second floor near the window, continuously adding sugar cubes to her freshly served hot coffee.
Having requested a day off from school, Dorothy was taking a moment to relax after her recent "extracurricular activity," simultaneously reflecting on and summarizing the results of her successfully executed operation.
‘As expected... there’s indeed a mole from the Eucharist within the Serenity Bureau. My intel must have been leaked by that traitor…’
As she stirred her coffee, now sweetened with eight sugar cubes, Dorothy pondered. After the Eucharist had tracked her down twice and attempted to harm her both times, she had been perplexed about the source of their intelligence.
Upon confirming through Gregor that the Serenity Bureau required family information to be registered and even mandated reasons for leave to be documented, Dorothy began suspecting the existence of a mole. The evidence only solidified when she linked this with prior cases of foiled operations, including the prematurely dismantled base of Albert.
To confirm her suspicions, she devised a plan.
Using a crow corpse marionette, she tracked Gregor from a distance for several days, identifying the location of the Serenity Bureau. Then, through her corpse marionette, Edrick, she ordered flowers from a florist and had a message containing the details of 22 Western Elmwood Street delivered to the Bureau at a predetermined time.
Meanwhile, Dorothy preemptively cleared out House No. 22, leaving a corpse marionette Burton there to wait for an emergency communication from the Eucharist. She theorized that once her tip-off reached the Bureau, the mole would notify the Eucharist to evacuate the site. They wouldn’t have anticipated that Dorothy had already eliminated everyone at 22 Western Elmwood Street.
Sure enough, the marionette she stationed there intercepted a warning from the Eucharist, confirming the mole’s existence. Moreover, she extracted additional intelligence: the reason she was targeted, and the location of another Eucharist hideout.
‘Trying to corrupt Gregor through me? It seems he poses quite a threat to them…’Dorothy’s "extracurricular activity" yielded considerable gains—not just intelligence, but also a tidy sum of money, a book that seemed to be a mystical manuscript, and the satisfaction of a job well done. She made a mental note to find a quiet place later to examine the book.
Sipping her sweetened coffee, Dorothy gazed out the window at the bustling street below, a faint smile curling her lips.
“By now, you all should have arrived, Gregor…”
…
Morning, in the lower city of Igwynt, 22 Western Elmwood Street.
At the entrance to the house, police had set up a cordon, keeping a noisy crowd of onlookers at bay. When gunshots erupted earlier, panicked residents had rushed to the nearest police station to report the incident, prompting a swift response to secure the scene.
“Inspector Jack, can you tell us what happened here? Was it gang violence? How many casualties are there? What’s the situation inside?”
“This case is under active investigation. No details can be disclosed at the moment. Please await an official statement from the police. Move along, please…”
“Wait, Inspector! Can you at least give us a general overview of the situation inside?”
Among the clamoring crowd, journalists barraged the police with questions, but Inspector Jack deflected them with standard responses. No matter how persistent the reporters were, he revealed nothing substantial—primarily because he himself knew very little.
The case had already been taken over by another agency, leaving the police to handle crowd control and media inquiries.
Inside House No. 22, the stench of blood still lingered. Uniformed agents Gregor and Turner stood amidst the carnage in the study, their expressions grim as they surveyed the brutal scene.
“Seven corpses—six ordinary individuals and one Craver. All deceased. The Craver, Burton Veil, was a landlord with properties in Purple Hill Town. According to neighbors, these uniformly dressed individuals were his servants, working for him. It’s clear they were all members of the Eucharist. Burton was likely a core member.”
Gregor spoke as he recounted their preliminary investigation of the house’s owner.
“Witnesses reported that the gunfire lasted only about a minute before everything went silent. By the Holy Son… what kind of entity could take out so many people—including a Craver—in such a short time? Eliminating a Craver is no easy feat,” Gregor continued, his tone laced with astonishment.
Turner frowned slightly and asked, “Gregor, how long would it take you to clear this hideout with your team?”
After scanning the scene again, Gregor contemplated briefly before replying, “A Craver and seven lackeys? If it wasn’t an ambush, and we launched a frontal assault, it’d take at least ten minutes of hard fighting. And casualties would be likely. Never mind the Craver; even these lackeys, once they’ve activated their sigil charms, are nightmarishly tough to deal with…”
“But this was their base, their stronghold. An ambush seems improbable. So the attacker either infiltrated or stormed in head-on. Either way, to eliminate everyone so swiftly is... astonishing.”
Gregor’s disbelief was evident. His extensive experience with the Eucharist had taught him just how formidable a Craver could be.
After his remarks, silence fell over the room. Everyone present grasped the extraordinary nature of the perpetrator. To decimate a Crimson Eucharist hideout, killing a core member in such a brief span, signaled a force not to be underestimated.
“Hmph. Impressive indeed… But those people handed us the intel on this hideout, and by the time we arrived, this is what we found. It’s like they’re using us hunters to clean up after them, or worse, mocking us outright,” Turner said, visibly displeased.
Gregor attempted to placate him.
“Calm down, Turner. We know nothing about these individuals yet. Let’s not jump to conclusions about their motives. Still, the emergence of such a force in Igwynt warrants increased vigilance.”
Gregor’s expression turned grave. His thoughts drifted back to a previous incident in Vulcan involving another entity that had similarly unsettled the Crimson Eucharist.
Could these two incidents be connected—traces of the same individual or organization?
Looking out the window at the sky, Gregor felt an ominous presence looming over Igwynt’s shadowy underworld—a force possibly rivaling the Crimson Eucharist or even the Serenity Bureau.
“Alright… Conduct a thorough search, process the corpses, and bring them back. We need to report this to Mr. James immediately.”