Nighttime in Igwynt, White Pearl Street.
After cleaning up the scene, the two black-clad men quickly departed. They climbed out through the window, blending into the shadows, and moved swiftly through the twisting alleys of White Pearl Street, turning left and right as they progressed.
After cautiously circling through the darkness for some time, they finally advanced toward their destination. Reaching the end of a narrow alley, they entered a building through a back door.
The two men walked through a dimly lit corridor, eventually arriving in a spacious room. The room was filled with bookshelves, each packed with old, dusty books. The air was thick with the scent of decay.
Standing between the bookshelves was an elderly man, bald and hunchbacked. As soon as the two men saw him, they dropped to one knee and addressed him.
“Mr. Clifford…”
“What’s the situation?” Clifford asked in a slow, measured tone. The two men quickly responded.
“We went to see Corey. He did indeed receive something from Mr. Burton, earlier today. It’s this…” One of the men handed Clifford a pocket watch from his coat. Clifford took it and examined it carefully, furrowing his brow slightly as he spoke.
“This is indeed Burton’s. Did Corey see what the seller looked like?”
“No, he didn’t. Corey said it was a tall man with a masked face and a gun—someone dangerous. Corey even claimed he was robbed,” one of the men reported.“Hmph… Likely tried to scam the wrong person and got more than he bargained for. What about Corey now?” Clifford asked coldly.
“He resisted and tried to fight back. We dealt with him. His body was handled with a sigil,” the man replied.
Clifford nodded slowly.
“He brought this upon himself. The information we’ve gained this time is limited, but at least we’ve confirmed that those people might resell items here on White Pearl Street. Stay vigilant. Pay close attention to the local black market, especially the resell channels. We must catch their trail.”
The black-clad men nodded in unison. “Yes, sir.”
…
At the same time, outside the building, across the street at a corner, Dorothy stood silently. Through the gecko corpse marionette’s tracking, she had pinpointed another hideout of the Crimson Eucharist.
“Finally… another one,” she murmured.
To locate the hidden hideouts of the Crimson Eucharist in White Pearl Street, Dorothy had orchestrated this elaborate trap.
After three days of investigation, she had identified Corey Cross, a notorious loan shark in the area. Using a corpse marionette, she pawned the pocket watch from Burton to him. Then, through other corpse marionettes, she spread word of this in the streets.
The aim was to attract the attention of the Crimson Eucharist’s informants in White Pearl Street. Being on the same street, their hideout was bound to catch wind of the rumor. In their information-starved state after a failed divination, the Crimson Eucharist would likely seize this lead, sending someone to verify it with Corey Cross and attempting to extract information about their unknown enemy.
This was exactly what Dorothy hoped for. Monitoring Corey with her animal corpse marionettes, she waited for the Crimson Eucharist agents to show up, then tracked them back to their hideout.
“Now that I’ve found another… what should I do?”
Under the moonlight, Dorothy leaned against the wall, pondering. Discovering another hideout was good, but deciding how to deal with it was another problem.
She could launch a raid, as she had before, but a second assault would surely alert the remaining hideouts. Repeating the same tactic would be much more challenging, especially after weeks had passed since the previous operation. Suspicious minds would question why their supposedly missing companions suddenly returned.
Without the element of surprise, Dorothy had little chance of overcoming a Crimson Eucharist hideout.
Reporting it directly wasn’t an option either. The Serenity Bureau had a mole, and reporting would only tip off the Crimson Eucharist, giving them time to escape.
So, what should she do?
Dorothy glanced at the building across the street, studying the storefront illuminated by a streetlight.
“Barnard’s Old Book Collection”
“A bookstore? Or rather… a front for this hideout,” she mused.
After a brief pause, an idea began to form in her mind.
“Perhaps… it’s worth trying,” she murmured.
Nodding slightly, Dorothy turned and walked away from White Pearl Street. Her reconnaissance for the night was complete. She needed rest.
…
As dawn broke, the darkness of night faded.
In the early morning light of Igwynt, on the apartment stairs of Southern Sunflower Street, Gregor trudged up, his weary eyes betraying a sleepless night. His steps were unsteady.
“Ugh… another night of fruitless searching. Just another false lead. So frustrating…”
Muttering under his breath, Gregor was filled with frustration. Since the Burton Veil case, he had been swamped with work—either analyzing the case in the Bureau or chasing down baseless leads. It had left him utterly exhausted.
“Before I left, there was intel about stolen goods from the Burton case being sold on White Pearl Street… but how many false leads like this have we had? It’s probably another dead end. Thankfully, Mr. James sent another team this time. I need a good rest today.”
As he reached his apartment, Gregor unlocked the door and stepped inside. In the living room, his sister Dorothy was eating breakfast on the couch.
“Good morning, Gregor. Back from your night shift?”
“Mm… Morning, Dorothy,” Gregor replied, closing the door behind him.
Noticing his fatigue, Dorothy asked curiously, “You’ve been working overtime a lot lately. What’s going on?”
“It’s that cursed Burton Veil case. Seven people dead, and the culprit is still at large. The wealthy are panicking, demanding better security, and it’s been keeping us busy,” Gregor explained as he hung his coat and slumped onto the sofa, grabbing a glass of milk.
“Burton Veil… I read about it in the papers. It’s horrifying. Such a brutal murderer still on the loose is unsettling. Even walking home from school feels unsafe,” Dorothy said, clutching her chest with a look of unease.
“Don’t worry. The killer seems uninterested in ordinary people. I mean, they’re likely targeting only the wealthy,” Gregor reassured her, knowing the victims were part of a secret society.
“Just focus on your studies, Dorothy. Don’t let the case distract you.”
“Of course. I’m dedicated to my studies,” Dorothy replied with a smile, while internally worrying about her tuition fees.
After a pause, she glanced at Gregor, who was munching on bread, and asked casually, “By the way, Gregor, do you know anything about White Pearl Street?”