In a vacant cabin, Dorothy stood silently as she listened to the ghost of the Chalice cultist summoned by Nephthys, who was recounting their purpose. From his account, Dorothy learned the full story behind the horrific incident aboard the ship—an incident that should have remained unknown to all.
Moncarlo, by its very nature, had a flourishing "entertainment industry." Gambling and sex work were both legal to varying extents. And as the saying goes: where there’s sex and gambling, there’s also drugs. Both locals and travelers often indulged in Chalice elixir, seeking thrills in many different settings. This made Moncarlo a city with enormous demand for the substance.
Chalice elixir was one of the most accessible mystical products for ordinary people in this world. In the red-light districts and casinos of many major cities, traces of this addictive drug—known to common folk as "Pink Dust"—were ever-present. Many Chalice cults relied on manufacturing and selling this elixir to amass wealth from the public.
Naturally, due to its ties to cults and the physical harm it caused, Chalice elixir was outlawed in most nations. However, Moncarlo was one of the few city-states where it remained legal. Even so, imported elixirs were subjected to exorbitant tariffs. Knowing just how wealthy the Chalice traffickers were, Moncarlo’s authorities extorted them ruthlessly, earning a fortune from the industry every year.
Such steep taxation inevitably gave rise to a thriving smuggling business. For quite some time, attempts to smuggle Chalice elixirs into Moncarlo had persisted. But Moncarlo’s rulers had once been pirates, and the city had long been a global capital of smuggling. To them, no trick was unfamiliar. Anyone trying to smuggle contraband there was practically showing off in front of masters. As such, sneaking Chalice elixirs into Moncarlo was infamously difficult—conventional methods simply didn’t work.
To address this, certain Chalice cults began developing new techniques to bypass Moncarlo’s ironclad smuggling barriers—one such method involved turning a human being into a walking container of Chalice elixir. The two cultists Dorothy encountered aboard the ship had been transporting these specially-modified “human elixirs,” whose flesh and blood were saturated with suppressed Chalice substances. Because Moncarlo refrained from thoroughly inspecting tourists for fear of ruining its image, and only carefully screened cargo, this method had succeeded time and time again.
The Gut-Eaters Society used Chalice elixirs and cognitive poisons to control ordinary people, turning them into human containers and smuggling them into Moncarlo. There, they would be slaughtered, their bodies dissolved with Corpse-Dissolving Sigils to produce blood saturated with Chalice elixir, which could then be diluted and refined into usable doses. A single blood cattle, once processed, could yield a full crate of saleable product—extremely profitable if sold entirely within Moncarlo.
Since the society controlled these blood cattle with Chalice elixir, they had to regularly administer it during the journey to keep the addicts docile. During their time on the cruise, the two cultists provided regular doses. What they hadn’t expected, however, was that among the dozen or so cattle under their control, one had a particularly voracious appetite—that man was Nicado, the deceased occupant of Cabin 417.
Nicado was the most addicted among them, suffering from severe neurological dependence. He demanded more elixir than the others, to the point where he begged and eventually demanded excessive amounts. Initially, the two cultists complied, as they had brought a substantial supply. But once aboard, Nicado’s cravings intensified—he needed three times the usual amount to feel satisfied.
Unable to tolerate such defiance, the younger of the two cultists finally snapped and killed Nicado in Cabin 417. To avoid suspicion—which could draw Moncarlo’s guards upon arrival—the cultist decided to eliminate the body.
Since people constantly roamed the deck, dumping the body into the sea risked exposure. Instead, he stripped the corpse and stuffed it into a large barrel taken from the cleaning storeroom. Using Corpse-Dissolving Sigils originally prepared for the blood cattle, he dissolved Nicado into a barrel of blood-water and flushed it down the lavatory. After cleaning the scene, he packed the bones with Nicado’s belongings, creating the spectacle of a disappearance.
In truth, their handling had been meticulous. But what they never anticipated was that the dissolved remains would be flushed out with the ship’s waste—attracting a swarm of sea fish. These fish, now contaminated, were caught by curious anglers and cooked into dishes for fellow passengers. When Dorothy tasted them, she noticed the anomaly and—following the thread—unraveled the entire mystery.
“The world truly is full of surprises…”
Standing in the cabin, Dorothy sighed after hearing the ghost’s confession. At last, the mystery of the cruise ship’s Chalice incident was solved. It had been just a smuggling case, and not the ritual sacrifice of the entire ship as she had feared. That realization brought her a measure of relief.
“Moncarlo… a city where Chalice elixir is legal—but taxed to death. No wonder. It was a pirate city. Even drug dealers can’t escape a shakedown… and it drove people to invent such grotesque smuggling methods…”
So Dorothy mused, now pondering what to do next. The two handlers from the Gut-Eaters Society were dead, but twelve Chalice human vessels remained aboard. These were drug-addicted people who would go mad without their next dose. Meanwhile, Moncarlo was still expecting its illicit shipment.
She had to decide their fate.
“These addicts, treated like pigs, can’t just be left like this… I need to find a proper way to deal with them. And if handled well… maybe I can gain something out of it too.”
With that thought, Dorothy soon conceived a solution for how to dispose of the twelve Chalice human vessels.
Having decided, she nodded quietly to herself. First, she needed to clean up the scene and collect any spoils. Turning toward Nephthys beside her, she said:
“That’s about it. Let’s clean up the ritual now, Senior Nephthys.”
“O–okay… hurk …”
Standing at the edge of the summoning circle, Nephthys replied with a pale face. Mid-sentence, she bent over and began retching, clutching a handkerchief over her mouth.
“Uhh… are you alright, Senior Nephthys?” Dorothy asked, concerned.
“I-it’s fine… Just—after hearing what those fish contained yesterday—I got a bit queasy… That’s all… hurk …”
Still gagging, Nephthys remembered vividly that she had eaten three full plates of those delicious fish the previous afternoon. Now, knowing they were made from water contaminated by liquified corpses, her stomach churned.
“Sorry, Miss Dorothy… I’ll head to the restroom first. You go ahead and tidy up…”
With that, she dashed to the door, flung it open, and fled the cabin. Hearing her retreating footsteps, Dorothy couldn’t help but sigh inwardly once more.
“Thank goodness I didn’t eat any…”
…
Afterward, Dorothy tidied up the remnants of the ritual array and began searching the two Gut-Eaters Society members’ belongings. The haul totaled around 200 Ivengard pounds, several mystical sigils, and a considerable quantity of Chalice elixir. Among the sigils were a few Corpse-Dissolving sigils, several Water-Breathing Sigils to enhance underwater capabilities, one Scent-Tracking Sigil that boosted olfactory sensitivity, and two Recovery Sigils capable of alleviating wounds and light pain. Aside from these, there were no particularly new or unique sigils.
Dorothy then reanimated the two cultists as corpse marionettes, dressing them up and equipping them with the Chalice elixirs, assigning them to continue playing their original roles and handle the twelve Chalice human vessels.
Using the corpses and Chalice elixir, she stabilized the blood cattle. Then, manipulating the young man’s corpse marionette, Dorothy performed a staged play in front of the crew alongside Detective Ed, pretending to have solved the very crime she had orchestrated. Before the eyes of many crew members, the perpetrator of the Cabin 417 murder was “caught,” adding another brilliant feat to Detective Ed’s resume.
Thanks to her carefully crafted narrative, even the ship’s captain and crew praised the detective’s sharp observation and insightful deductions. Dorothy fabricated an intricate story of entangled motives between the deceased in Cabin 417 and the murderer she had arrested. The crew accepted the story and locked up the corpse marionette as the supposed criminal, ready to hand it over to Moncarlo authorities upon docking. Dorothy had even arranged for the murderer to "coincidentally die" in Moncarlo’s prison.
The cruise ship remained peaceful thereafter—until noon the following day, when it finally arrived at its destination: Moncarlo.
As soon as land came into view across the sea, the passengers knew they had entered Moncarlo’s domain. From her vantage on the foredeck, Dorothy could already see clusters of small islets and reef outcroppings ahead. Standing atop these few-hundred-square-meter islands were countless short bamboo and wooden buildings, and on each structure stood men clad in naval uniforms resembling those of major continental nations. They were armed and alert, watching the approaching cruise ship with suspicion.
Moncarlo was an archipelago of fragmented islets in the middle of the sea. Apart from its central main island, it was surrounded by numerous fortified micro-islands and reefs.
Due to the complex conditions of the sea, a small escort vessel sailed out from between the islands to greet the cruise ship. It served as a guide, leading the ship safely through. Without a guide, any vessel entering these waters risked running aground on hidden reefs.
As the ship advanced toward the island center, Dorothy admired the changing seascape. The closer they drew, the larger the surrounding islands became. The shabby bamboo huts disappeared, replaced by stone bunkers. Dorothy saw mounted cannons on those towers, their black muzzles aimed toward the sea.
“Hah… such tight coastal defenses. As expected of a former pirate stronghold.”
With that thought, Dorothy knew the moment of disembarkation had arrived—and so had the time to deal with the twelve Chalice human vessels.
…
Meanwhile, below deck, in a corridor of the cruise ship, a middle-aged man in a flat cap and suspenders was briskly walking with a suitcase in hand.
His name was Dioro—one of the twelve Chalice human vessels being transported by the Gut-Eaters Society. He was formerly a dockworker from Ivengard, but years of barroom drinking had drawn the Society’s attention. Over time, he had been gradually corrupted into a fully controlled blood cattle. Under the Gut-Eaters’ manipulation, Dioro had come to revere a so-called deity known as the Serpent of Entrails—a title referring to the Abyssal Serpent.
Using this pilgrimage as a pretext, the Society gathered Dioro and the others to head to Moncarlo. Along the way, the handlers distributed “holy medicine” daily to the pilgrims—drugs that made them feel divinely uplifted. In truth, the holy medicine was simply Chalice elixir.
Now, with their sacred destination nearly at hand, the other “pilgrims” were already preparing to disembark. Dioro, however, was hurrying toward the cabin of the two “divine envoys”—seeking his next dose.
He had already collected his day’s ration that morning, but somewhere along the way he had lost it. Now his addiction was rising. Restless and desperate, he had no choice but to beg the envoys for more.
With anxiety and craving in his chest, Dioro reached the hallway outside their cabin. He saw the door was slightly ajar.
He hurried forward—and just as he raised his hand to knock, a voice echoed from within.
“The destination’s almost here. How are the blood cattle holding up?”
“They’re in excellent condition. Except for the one unfortunate loss, the rest are ready for harvest.”
Hearing this, Dioro froze.
“Harvest…? What cattle? The envoys didn’t bring any livestock with them, right?”
Just as that question formed in his mind, the next line answered everything—and shattered him.
“It’s a pity we lost one. Even if they’re just human cattle, they’re still a bit higher grade than pigs. Every one we lose cuts into our profits.”
“Yeah… they’re people, after all. A bit harder to raise than swine…”
The words filtered through the crack in the door.
And Dioro, standing outside, suddenly felt his spine run cold.
Though the sun blazed above, a chill soaked through his back as cold sweat began to drip down.