In the late morning hours in Pritt, in front of the train station in the western district, a dense stream of travelers bustled about before the main station building. Many people crowded toward the congested entrance, hoping to escape this massive city filled with oppression and suffering, while even more emerged from the gates, facing the gray, steely jungle before them with anticipation or anxiety.
However, neither of these groups had anything to do with Pearson, for he was an active clergyman of the Church in Tivian. He held a stable and well-compensated position there, managing all sorts of affairs in the name of the deity and consolidating divine authority. In return, not only did he not have to worry about his livelihood, but he also possessed powers beyond those of ordinary people.
Clad in his priest’s robe and carrying a travel case, Pearson wove his way through the crowd with several similarly dressed companions, heading into the station. They needed to take the train on an official trip to a far-off location. However, the congestion in front of them slowed their progress slightly, prompting a frown from Pearson, who was leading the group, as he mentally calculated whether they would still make it to the platform on time.
"Though I’d heard the west station is always crowded, I didn’t expect it to be this packed."
Looking at the flow of travelers around them, Pearson spoke to one of his companions, who nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, I’ve been here plenty of times myself, but I’ve never seen it this bad. Looks like we’re just unlucky today. Either way, we better speed up, or we’ll miss the train."
"Mm."
After hearing his companion’s words, Pearson gave an affirmative reply, preparing to quicken their pace and lead the group onward into the station.
But at that very moment, an even larger wave of people surged toward them, far more intense than before. The pressure of the crowd instantly doubled the chaos and congestion. Taken off guard by this sudden development, Pearson and his companions failed to react in time, and their team was immediately scattered by the current of people, each one swept in a different direction.
Alarmed by the situation, Pearson tried to steady himself amidst the crowd, scanning the surrounding chaos in hopes of spotting his companions. But all he saw were endless heads in motion. He shouted their names, but his voice was easily drowned out by the surrounding din.
At a loss, Pearson was carried off to the side by the tide of people. When he finally managed to escape the crush, he found himself in an unfamiliar corner of the station with no companions in sight.
"This is trouble..."
Clutching his head in frustration, Pearson muttered to himself as he looked around, trying to locate his group. After failing to spot them, he pulled out a pocket watch from beneath his priest’s robe. Opening it, he checked the time and realized that the train’s departure was fast approaching.
“I’ll just head to the train first. The others will probably make their way to the platform too—we can regroup on board.”
With this thought in mind, he closed the pocket watch, stored it away, picked up his suitcase, and began looking for the path to the platform.
However, this task proved more difficult than expected. The place where he’d been swept to was completely unfamiliar, and there were no signs or directions nearby. Forced to ask passersby for help, Pearson wandered through the station. Yet instead of finding his way to the platform, he somehow ended up in a deserted corridor.
“This isn’t it... must’ve taken the wrong way.”
Frowning at the unfamiliar passage before him, Pearson realized continuing forward wouldn’t lead to the platform, so he turned around to go back.
Just then, he spotted a tall woman approaching, her face concealed behind a veil.
Though he continued walking toward her, the tall figure aroused a faint sense of vigilance in his heart. As the two passed each other in the corridor, the veiled woman suddenly turned back and reached out toward Pearson from behind.
Already wary, Pearson immediately turned around at the sound of footsteps halting behind him. Seeing the woman’s hand reaching for him, he instinctively reached out to grab her wrist. But at that instant, a faint, spectral shadow drifted silently down from the corridor ceiling above—emerging from his blind spot and merging with his body.
Pearson froze entirely. His body stopped responding, rigid and unmoving. He couldn’t utter a single word.
Paralyzed, he stood locked in place, watching helplessly as the mysterious woman reached a hand to his neck. A sharp pain followed—then all consciousness faded.
After Pearson collapsed, a wisp of shadow slipped out from his body, coalescing mid-air into a translucent spiritual form—vaguely resembling a woman’s silhouette.
That feminine spirit glanced at the veiled woman ahead, and the two exchanged a silent nod.
…
Faint, groggy, drained of all energy—Pearson’s consciousness wandered in darkness for who knows how long before it began to resurface.
A throbbing pain in his head jabbed at his nerves, gradually awakening his mind. After a dizzy spell of blurred perception, Pearson’s awareness slowly began to reorient.
"Hiss..."
Groaning under the weight of splitting pain, Pearson opened his eyes. Upon waking, he was first greeted by disorientation. As the memories of what happened at the station returned, he broke out into a cold sweat.
“I was ambushed? I, a Church special envoy, was ambushed?! And now I’ve been kidnapped—this is a mystical attack targeting the Church?!”
Shocked, Pearson tried to stand up immediately—but nearly fell over in the attempt. Upon closer inspection, he realized his entire body was tightly bound in iron chains, even his mouth gagged. Speaking or moving was nearly impossible—he could only squirm slightly.
Seeing the state he was in, Pearson’s heart sank. He began surveying his surroundings and found himself imprisoned in a small, sealed cell. The dimly lit cell had three solid walls and one iron gate, clearly designed for confinement. The only source of light came through the narrow slit of the steel door.
Seeing the situation around him, Pearson couldn’t help but panic. He wanted to escape, but with his current strength, even breaking free from the chains was an almost impossible task. Just as he was sinking into despair from his failed attempts, a voice suddenly came from outside the cell door.
“So... you finally got it done?”
“Yeah, that guy’s face was way too plain, nothing distinctive. Took a bit of time to memorize.”
Hearing the conversation outside, Pearson froze for a moment. He quickly leaned his head forward toward the narrow gap of the cell door, peering through it to glimpse what was happening outside. He saw two figures—a man and a woman—standing in the corridor right outside his cell.
Pearson immediately recognized the woman—it was the mysterious veiled figure who had ambushed him at the train station. The man appeared to be in his thirties, currently speaking with her.
“Since you’ve got the face down, hurry up already,” the veiled woman said to the man.
“Just a second…”
As he spoke, the man rubbed his chin. Then, to Pearson’s shock, the man’s once firm and distinct facial features began to twist and shift. In a flurry of morphing, his face completely transformed into another—utterly ordinary and unremarkable. His body also shrank slightly.
Pearson recognized it immediately—it was his own face?!
“That’s... a Shadow-Facade?! They’re with the Eight-Spired Nest! The ones who assassinated Duke Barrett!”
This realization struck Pearson like a bolt. The Eight-Spired Nest’s name had echoed throughout the mystical world of Pritt after that shocking assassination earlier in the year. Even someone like Pearson, who wasn’t from the investigative department of the Church, had heard of them—and knew both their capabilities and their past crimes.
“Alright, this should do.”
The man, now wearing Pearson’s face, spoke as he touched it. The veiled woman responded with arms crossed.
“Not bad. Now that your face is ready, hurry up and change into the clothes too. We stripped them off that bunch of zealots. The other four are already done—we’re just waiting on you.”
“The other four...? Don’t tell me the rest of my team got caught too?”
Pearson thought in alarm.
He had originally hoped that his companions would report back to the Church when they couldn’t find him. But now, it seemed all of them had been captured—there was no one left to notify the Church of what happened.
“Five people, huh... none of them are particularly close to that nun, right? If she knows them well, our cover’s blown.”
Outside the cell, the man with Pearson’s face voiced his concern. The veiled woman quickly replied.
“According to the intelligence from Glamorne, the five of you don’t have any deep ties with that nun. Most of her guards aren’t locals from Pritt either. You don’t need to worry about it. She only knows the name of the Displacement Ritual—she doesn’t understand a thing about the details. Once you get to Glamorne, you can feed her whatever story you like. After all, in her eyes, you’re the ‘experts’ she requested from Tivian…”
The veiled woman smirked with a touch of malice. Hearing this, Pearson was again struck with shock.
“The nun from Glamorne... Their target is Sister Vania! They’re trying to use our identities as the investigative advance party to get close to her!”
Pearson’s mind reeled, and the man outside spoke again.
“The Gospel of the Summer Tree Islands... the Savior of Addus... the Holy Radiance of the Fallen City... Vania Chafferon. Heh. To lure the Church’s brightest rising star into a profane disgrace, to stain the night sky, and to advance the grand design of the Queen of the Deep Web throughout Pritt—what an honor. I wonder what kind of face those high and mighty folks on Holy Mount will make when they realize their favored nun has become our pawn…”
The man chuckled with arrogant satisfaction, but the veiled woman waved her hand and cut in.
“Looks like you’re highly motivated. But you’d better save some of that energy for Glamorne. There’s still plenty for you to do there.”
“Right, time to move.”
The man nodded, and the two began walking off together. But after a few steps, the man paused as if recalling something and turned to glance toward Pearson’s cell—causing the eavesdropping Pearson to hurriedly duck down.
“By the way, when I went in to memorize his face, the guy was still alive—just passed out. Why didn’t you just kill him? I only needed the face, not the body.”
The man looked puzzled as he stared at the cell door. The veiled woman replied promptly.
“Our logistics team screwed up. A bunch of idiots botched the job—the soul-sealing measures weren’t in place. If we kill them now, there’s a risk someone might be able to perform necromancy on their spirits. For now, we can only keep them alive and locked up. Once your mission is done, I’ll clean them up immediately.”
“I see…”
The man nodded quietly at her explanation, then followed her down the hallway. From within the cell, Pearson listened as their footsteps faded into the distance.
When they had gone, he clenched his teeth and swore to himself with fierce determination.
“I must… I must find a way to escape. I have to report this to Archbishop Francesco!”
…
Meanwhile, down a long, dark corridor, the Shadow-Facade man and the veiled woman came to a halt again after walking some distance. The veiled woman glanced back and said slowly.
“This spot will do. He won’t be able to hear us from here, Mr. Shadow-Facade.”
“Is that so? Good. So, what did you think—was my performance convincing, milady?”
The man smiled faintly at her words, and the veiled woman answered quickly.
“Not bad… looks like Detective gave you proper coaching. Not perfect, but more than enough to fool someone in a panic.”
She paused, then the man continued.
“Whew… I didn’t expect Detective to target Church personnel directly this time. I really don’t know what he’s planning, going so far as to provoke the Church…”
“I wouldn’t say he’s opposing the Church—just using them. According to the great Detective’s instructions, once the time is right, all five priests we captured today will be released. Clearly, he has no intention of becoming the Church’s enemy. If he were, I wouldn’t dare help him so casually.”
The veiled woman said this, then after a brief pause, she continued.
“Well, aside from releasing them when he gives the signal, our job here is done. Detective’s plan is shifting away from Tivian now. Mr. Shadow-Facade, go get some rest. I’m sure you have your own work waiting.”
“Indeed. Then, I’ll take my leave for now, milady. I’m glad we got to work together again.”
With that, Gregor, wearing a face that wasn’t his own, quickly strode off. The veiled woman, Adèle, remained standing there, leaning against the wall as if deep in thought after he had gone.
“It seems… your plan is finally reaching its most critical phase. I wish you good fortune… my little detective…”