The streets of Igwynt were cloaked in darkness as Dorothy rode her carriage, trailing from a distance the Serenity Bureau mole she had finally identified amidst the crowd.
This carriage wasn’t rented—it was bought. For the sake of convenience during these days of back-and-forth trips and transporting corpses for her experiments, she had spent 25 pounds, under the guise of Edrick, to purchase a reasonably decent carriage. She then spent a day learning to drive it and paid around 10 pounds more for horse boarding and parking services at a stable, all handled through her humanoid corpse marionette.
Having her own carriage made Dorothy’s movements within the city far more efficient. For instance, now she could easily use it to follow her target, who was also riding in a carriage.
As the sound of hooves echoed against the ground, both Dorothy and her target’s carriage began veering away from the main roads, entering a residential area. Eventually, the target’s carriage stopped in front of a row of townhouses. A man stepped out, adjusted his collar after paying the fare, and then ascended the building’s staircase.
“We’ve reached the spot...”
From her distant vantage point, Dorothy halted her carriage and released her small scouting corpse marionettes, scattering them to weave an investigative net around the area.
…
Walking with tired steps, Brandon reached the door to his home. After unlocking it with a key, he turned on the gas lamp, revealing a cramped and utterly chaotic living room.
The sofa was askew, chairs were overturned, and items on cabinets and tables were haphazardly scattered. Plates of half-eaten food, now attracting swarms of flies, sat unattended. Wine glasses bore faint traces of crimson liquid, and the coffee table was littered with empty bottles. The air was thick with a nauseating metallic stench.
Though Brandon appeared clean and refined in public, his home life was clearly in shambles.Closing the door behind him, Brandon walked straight into his bedroom. Turning on the light revealed a scene no better than the living room. The bed’s blanket was crumpled into a ball, and the sheets bore spots of dried blood. One bedside table was piled with magazines featuring scantily clad women on their covers. On the other, a piece of women’s lingerie lay beside several red discount coupons for a nightclub.
After briefly scanning his surroundings, Brandon went to his wardrobe. But instead of neatly arranged clothes, the space revealed a small, grotesque altar constructed from red human bones. Atop it rested a thin layer of writhing flesh.
Kneeling before the crimson altar, Brandon began to murmur a prayer. Slowly, the wriggling flesh atop the altar gathered into a mouth and an ear. When the mouth opened, a man’s voice—calm and middle-aged—emerged.
“What is it, Brandon?”
“Mr. Buck, I have something I need to report,” Brandon said respectfully, kneeling on the floor. The mouth on the altar responded.
“You didn’t use the ‘Dream Anchor,’ so it’s not an emergency. Go ahead—what’s going on in the Serenity Bureau now?”
“Mr. Buck, I suspect James has begun to notice that something is amiss internally.”
“What? You mean James suspects you?” The voice from the altar grew alarmed. Brandon quickly clarified.
“No, I don’t think he’s pinpointed me just yet. He seems to only suspect that someone inside is leaking information. Recently, he’s purchased a significant number of ‘Illuminating Beacons’ from the church and tightened organizational protocols. His stricter measures suggest he’s caught wind of something.”
“Hmm… That old dog James is bound to be on high alert after the Albert incident,” Buck muttered thoughtfully, his voice tinged with annoyance. Brandon, growing anxious, interjected.
“What should I do, Mr. Buck? If James continues ramping up internal surveillance like this, it’ll only get harder for me to operate within the Bureau.”
“I can’t go without carrying the sacred medicine on me, but the concealment effect on the container you gave me is too weak. As soon as I get near an Illuminating Beacon, it exposes me. There used to be only two or three lamps, and I could avoid them by walking around. But now, with more lamps being installed, my movements will look suspicious. It’s bound to attract attention!”
“Also, I suspect James has already begun covert internal checks. It’s only a matter of time before he gets to me. Mr. Buck, my position is becoming increasingly precarious. You have to help me! If I stay in the Bureau much longer, I’m bound to get caught!”
Brandon’s plea was filled with desperation, his face etched with unease. After a brief pause, Buck’s voice replied, calm yet decisive.
“You’re right. If James is onto us, it’s indeed too risky for you to remain there. Here’s what we’ll do: another agent in the Bureau is already being cultivated. Your importance to the organization is no longer what it once was. After completing one final mission, you will defect and officially rejoin the group.”
Brandon froze briefly at this revelation before speaking again.
“Another agent in the Bureau? Someone else is joining us? Who is it?”
“That’s not for you to know,” Buck replied sternly. “Your job is to focus on completing your final task.”
Realizing he had overstepped, Brandon quickly shifted his tone.
“My apologies, Mr. Buck… What is my final task?”
Buck paused briefly before responding directly.
“During your defection, steal as much as you can from the Bureau’s Sealed Vault. Mystical items, spiritual materials—take whatever you can carry and bring them back to the organization.”
“With your position, it should be relatively easy to access these items. Brandon, this will be your greatest contribution to the group. Once you’ve officially returned, we won’t let you go unrewarded.”