C133: Anonymous Letter

“What is it that Miss Maid finds so amusing?”

Gregory stepped forward, his expression stern and meticulously composed. He held a pipe in one hand, the other reaching up to adjust the brim of his fez hat to keep it from being whisked away by the night wind.

Florence raised her hand and touched the transparent barrier surrounding her.

At the point of contact, violet light slowly spread outward.

She was trying to dissolve the barrier using her own condensed essence. Her wounded hand had already regenerated from earlier injuries thanks to the Cold Yi vial she had shattered before. Such regeneration was one of the natural constitutions of a Dhampir.

“I have a piece of advice for you, sir,” Florence said coldly, maintaining as much dignity as possible despite the blood soaking her dress. “You truly do not comprehend the forces you are interfering with. I would strongly suggest you mind your own affairs and depart this village before the situation escalates beyond your meager control—.”

“Hah.”

However, before she could finish speaking, a mocking snicker erupted from behind her.

Florence narrowed her eyes, a flash of pure irritation flaring in her chest.

This tiresome habit of interrupting one's speech reminded her of the man she had just encountered. The one with the insufferably ugly face and unbearable mannerisms.

She turned her gaze toward the source of the sound.

As expected, she found another irritating, arrogant face.

A girl stood there with an openly haughty expression, like an arrogant brat looking down on everyone around her. Long strawberry-blonde hair spilled down her back in loose waves, several strands sweeping over one eye. Sharp eyes stared back at Florence with clear hostility.

“A mere kid serving as an Inspector. It would seem the White Church has declined into little more than a poorly staged joke,” Florence sneered. She brushed the dust and dried blood from her tattered dress, slowly forcing her body back into a semblance of her perfect, upright posture.

“Tch.” Hazel clicked her tongue in disdain. However, she did not respond verbally. She merely turned her head away slightly while continuing to observe Florence with a cautious, predatory gaze.

The middle-aged man—Gregory—sighed, a cloud of fragrant smoke escaping his lips. He lifted his gaze back to Florence, his eyes pinning her in place.

“Who is the man you were conversing with earlier?” He asked in a cold tone.

Florence furrowed her brows in genuine confusion.

Why ask that now?

‘...Did they not work together?’

Was that strange man truly unrelated to them?

A complete stranger? How had he even known where to find her, then? She had never seen the man within the village before.

“Who? Do you refer to that street-courter who called himself ‘Marion’?”

“...”

A heavy silence descended over the street.

Gregory turned his head toward the other man standing at the perimeter. With a subtle nod, the man turned and began to run, disappearing into the darkness of a side alley.

At that exact moment, Florence sensed the barriers on two sides weakening slightly.

‘Ha, foolish!’

Florence suppressed the urge to laugh.

Did they truly believe her so easily deceived? Did they truly believe she still thought the restriction preventing retreat remained active?

Were they truly so overconfident that they would begin to dismantle her prison while she was still conscious?

Unless another Inspector Path Stagefarer was nearby, the moment the barriers weakened further, she could escape!

Florence did her utmost to maintain a facade of trembling nervousness, while secretly channeling more Cold Yi Essence into her hands. Violet light faintly spread beneath her skin.

Sacrificing her condensed essence would surely set back her advancement by months, but that was far preferable to being captured alive by the White Church.

“Sir, as I was saying, you really ought to…”

However, before she could finish her sentence—

Gregory’s eyes flared a brilliant gold. His gaze toward her was flat and utterly calm, devoid of any malice or empathy, as though none of this were personal.

From his pocket, he pulled out a strange silver-plated object, holding it at her eyes level.

A long, gleaming object shaped like a barrel.

A revolver.

“Uh? Wai—”

*BANG!*

Before Florence could react, a violent explosion rang out, echoing through the night.

The muzzle-flare bloomed in the night like a brief, angry flower.

As the thunderous sound rumbled in her ears—

Florence’s eyes rolled back, her body slumped lifelessly onto the cobblestones, dead.

—

“Captain.” Hazel’s voice rang through the now-silent street.

Gregory calmly brought the pipe back to his mouth and inhaled. Smoke drifted slowly from the corner of his lips as he retrieved a handkerchief from his coat and carefully cleaned the revolver before hiding it once more beneath the white fabric.

‘This is such a tiresome hassle.’ He looked down at his sleeve, searching for any stray splatter.

Why did the Church’s attire have to be white? It was a chore to remain vigilant against dust and bloodstains.

He looked down toward the three corpses lying on the cobblestones.

Naomi had knelt beside them, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her shoulders trembled.

“Why must He be so cruel? If only they had chosen to follow the Harmony Faction, their souls might have known peace…” she sobbed, her tears glistened in the moonlight.

Her voice cracked as she pointed her silver cross-headed cane toward the bodies, pressing her hands together in prayer.

“I pray for the restoration of your broken forms. Please… [REGENERATE!]”

A soft, golden light emanated from the cane and washed over the corpses.

However, there was no reaction. The corpses remained motionless.

“N… no, no. They are… they are beyond my reach, Captain…” Naomi’s eyes widened further as more tears rolled down her face.

Gregory nodded, his expression remaining flat and clinical.

“Three Vampire Path Stagefarers. Two of the Apprentice stage, Blood Servants. And one Dhampir of the Foundation stage.”

He rubbed his forehead, as though a headache was beginning to form.

“The contents of this missive hold true information, it would seem.”

Hazel reached into her coat and took out the pristine white letter they had received earlier, checking the text once more beneath the orb of light.

[“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. The name is Marion. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

I am aware of your objective in this village. My goal is to cleanse this village before the Rite commences, so I assure you, I mean no harm.

This may be a modest offering, but I possess intelligence regarding the violet-eyed monsters hidden within the village that undoubtedly involve themselves in your current endeavors.

You might find yourself thinking this is absurd, but believe me, every word I write here is the truth. I swear upon my name.

At midnight today and tomorrow, a vampire will manifest in the northern streets of Winterin.

The Baroness’s estate is infested with vampires; I suggest you investigate the grounds with haste.

The village church itself has a high probability of harboring a vampire. Beneath the church exists a hidden room. It may contain crucial and forbidden information, perhaps even heretical information that you require. The method to enter the hidden room is as follows…

Once again, I thank you for your service and would greatly appreciate it if you were to investigate these leads.

Once the matter is concluded, I shall offer my share of information regarding the person you seek: Lady Amelia.

Best regards,

Marion.”]

“...”

Gregory inhaled from his pipe again. The thin grey vapor curled up into the still night air. At that moment, He looked toward Troy, who had just returned from pursuit.

“My apologies, Captain,” Troy said with frustration. “That man… he disappeared.”

Gregory nodded.

Truthfully, because the man had registered as an ordinary civilian within Gregory’s [Scan], he hadn't paid him the necessary attention, and did not apply [Tracking] on him.

It was an oversight on his part.

“What about the source of this missive?”

Troy shook his head, withdrew a small silver pendulum that emitted a faint golden aura.

“Unfortunately, Captain, the Tracking ability of the Appraiser cursed artifact only points back toward that young flower girl. And when questioned, she only claims that a short gentleman instructed her to deliver the letter to us in exchange for a coin.”

“A short gentleman? Not the one who just fled?” Hazel asked, her eyes narrowing as she began to methodically align the three bodies for transport. “And what of that man's appearance?”

“She described him as a strange man wearing an exquisite, noble attire. He was short, and apparently hiding his face, so she could not discern his features,” Troy reported.

Gregory narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on the Dhampir. He began to clean his pipe with his handkerchief while he processed the new information.

A short, noble man named Marion. A gaunt man named Marion. And a letter detailing the village's darkest secrets and the location of a high-profile kidnap victim…

“Tch. Are we to stumble upon another clandestine mission in the midst of our current one?” Hazel turned toward Gregory, her brow furrowed with irritation. “Captain, that gaunt man who fled earlier…”

Gregory glanced toward her before shaking his head.

“Unfortunately, as my ability suggests, he was an ordinary person. Not a Stagefarer.”

His restriction was: [All Stagefarer here, Retreat is disallowed.]

So if that man was a Stagefarer, he had to listen to his restriction and stop.

Gregory’s eyes sharpened. “Unless he has an ability to bypass my restriction, belongs to the Spy Path, or utilizes Yi essence to mask his presence. However, with that many conditions needed, it makes it highly improbable.”

“And even if he does have all of that, however, he will still be punished if he runs away,” he continued.

Gregory himself was a Silver Sky Stage Stagefarer—the Notary of the Inspector Path.

Unless the man had reached Foundation Stage or above, hiding from Gregory’s Scan ability without triggering suspicion would have been nearly impossible.

As for the Yi essence, it functioned to render a person invisible rather than concealing the nature of their Path.

And for the ability that could bypass his restriction, as of now, Gregory only knew that a Deceiver could do that.

Hazel raised her eyebrows in skepticism.

“Is that so? His countenance... it bore the air of a Deceiver.” She recalled the man's features: the irritating grin and narrow-eyed expression. A sudden surge of irritation rose within her.

“Tch, never mind,” she clicked her tongue, shaking her head to clear the thought. It was not her duty to punch every man with an unsightly face.

“Since the Baroness and the Church have been implicated, we cannot dismiss this intelligence as mere childish gossip,” Gregory stated, his tone turning grim.

“What is our next course of action, Captain?” Hazel asked. She had finished aligning the bodies and was now brushing the grime from her gloved hands.

“We shall proceed to the Baroness's estate next. Naomi, have you regained your composure?”

Nearby, Troy held the cross-headed cane, using a clean handkerchief to gently dab away the tears streaming down Naomi's face.

The woman offered a dejected, trembling nod.

“Y-yes, Captain.”

“Naomi, perhaps it would be best to set the cane aside for a time?” Troy asked, his voice softening as he placed a gentle hand against her cheek.

The woman leaned into his palm, seeking the comfort of his warmth. “It is quite alright, dear...”

Troy’s gaze drifted downward, fixing upon the object in his hand. The silver cross-head cane.

[

[T-04-377: Piety of White]

Curse Class: Foundation

Protocol: White - Beneficial / Safe

Function:

* Grants the wielder the ability to create a sphere of harmony light; enhances the abilities of those aligned with the Harmony faction.

* Amplifies the healing capacity of Medic Path Stagefarers.

Anomaly Properties:

* Upon use, the wielder experiences an overflow of devotion to the White Monarch. Compassion and empathy surge beyond normal limits.

* The wielder is overcome with sorrow for the fallen, even those harmed by their own hand.

]

Troy shook his head in quiet disdain.

“To force someone to grieve for their enemies…” he muttered. “What a ridiculous side effect.”

Gregory spoke again.

“Troy, remain here with Naomi and dispose of the bodies.”

Troy nodded immediately.

“Rest assured, Captain.”

Gregory turned his attention back to Hazel.

“We shall conduct a preliminary investigation into the Baroness. Once Troy has completed his task, we will infiltrate the estate.”

Hazel gave a decisive nod.

Soon afterward, the group separated.

Two remained behind in the empty street beside the corpses, preparing to dispose of the dead vampire maids.

Meanwhile, Gregory and Hazel turned toward the direction of the estate, their white coats swaying beneath the cold midnight wind as they disappeared deeper into the sleeping village.

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