An Unwelcome Reunion
No matter how uncooperative someone tried to be, humans were still humans, and their attitudes inevitably shifted depending on the situation. In short, dropping an investigator's name was more than enough to pry open a loan shark's mouth.
Whether his explanation was satisfactory, however, was a different matter entirely.
"Is that all?"
"Easy for you to say when it's not your life on the line, you bastard!"
"No. It's just different from what I expected."
Muzark had originally wagered it was a turf war between rival factions. He had expected it to be a tedious chore, forcing him to memorize the complex web of relationships between the gangs operating in the area.
When he said it was a deep investigation, I was positive it would be something like that.
Even after hearing the whole story, his theory hadn't completely changed. It remained a strong possibility, but now other variables had entered the equation.
"Let's go over it one more time. Though there isn't much to summarize."
Muzark said, stroking his chin.
"You went out for a routine run, and when you came back, the rest of your crew was dead?"
"Yes! We're the victims here! Do you have any idea how horrifying it was?!"
The man, who claimed to be the vice president of Healthy Cash, knelt on the floor and poured out his grievances. With their president murdered, he had suddenly been left to shoulder the entire organization alone.
Muzark looked down at the lackey kneeling behind the vice president.
"And you're the eyewitness."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"Tell me exactly what happened."
The lackey's face turned pale as he recalled the event. Traumatized, his lips trembled for a long moment before he finally managed to squeeze out his testimony.
"...I'm the youngest, so I handle all the chores. It was the same that day. I was in the breakroom making coffee on the boss's orders when the office suddenly got loud."
Healthy Cash was a small-time operation. Calling it an office and a breakroom was generous; the layout wasn't clearly divided. It was just a single large room with a cramped alcove attached, resembling a third-rate gangster hideout.
With no advanced security system, anyone posing as a 'customer' could easily walk right in. And on that day, a bloodbath had swept through Healthy Cash without warning.
"S-Screams... I heard screams."
The lackey's breathing grew ragged.
"I don't think they lasted very long. Maybe thirty seconds? A minute? I-I don't really know. Anyway, I knew something was wrong, so I just hid inside a cabinet."
"You're lucky to be alive."
"They probably looked around to see if anyone else was there. The breakroom door has a broken handle, so it doesn't lock. I heard the door creak open, but then, it sounded like they got a phone call..."
"Did you hear a voice?"
The lackey gave a hesitant nod at Muzark's question.
"They didn't say much. Just a single word: 'Understood.'"
"So they were likely operating under someone's orders."
"She sounded like a young woman. I didn't hear any other footsteps until she left, so I think she was alone. Though I can't be sure, since she might have used magic to conceal someone else..."
Factoring in magic would make the possibilities endless. Even her voice could have been modulated, or the lackey could have been under an illusion. For now, Muzark had to work with the information at hand.
"What about the wounds? How did they die?"
"Their, ugh, their throats were slit, or they were stabbed in vital spots—urgh!"
Muzark sighed as he watched the youngest lackey dry-heave.
"I've heard enough. This is plenty of eyewitness information."
"Instead of harassing innocent people, go find the killer! Find out which crazy bitch did this!"
"The only innocent person here is Mr. Yirang, who got attacked in his own home, you attempted-murdering thugs."
At any rate, he understood the situation now.
He could guess what had happened next.
They weren't brave enough to hang around the office after their comrades had been abruptly slaughtered. Terrified that they might be next, they had likely fled the district in a panic.
Normally, wouldn't an investigator have taken over the case the moment the bodies were discovered?
Muzark wasn't the only one wondering this.
—Four victims. And it's a clear-cut homicide. It's bizarre. Normally, they would have launched an investigation immediately and questioned everyone who passed by the area. Are they conducting a secret investigation?
There were several points that defied common sense.
"Did you go to the Bureau?"
"Is that a question someone working with an investigator should ask?"
"Just answer the question."
"Of course we did."
The vice president scowled deeply.
"Fuckers. They asked if there was infighting within the gang. Some crazy bitch barges in broad daylight and carves up four of our guys, and that investigator bastard has the nerve to ask if it was an inside job!"
He looked incredibly indignant, but objectively speaking, it was a plausible theory. If loan sharks with criminal ties were murdered, infighting was always a primary suspect.
But was that truly the case here?
"Do you really have no leads? No rival syndicates you crossed paths with?"
"I won't say we don't have enemies, but would they really slaughter us out of the blue over a grudge? For guys like us, walking the tightrope is everything. One wrong step and the investigators will swarm us."
"So you don't fight to the death?"
"Exactly. What kind of idiot would make such a massive scene in the first place?"
...He had a point, in his own way.
These were people who usually moved with extreme caution, always keeping the investigators in mind. If they wanted to crush a rival gang, they would have chosen a method with far fewer repercussions. There were simply too many inconsistencies.
I guess I'll have to do some legwork.
Muzark compiled a brief summary of the information and sent a message to Aiden. He made sure to add a request to let him know if another investigator was already handling the case.
If someone else is on it, I'm washing my hands of this.
To be honest, it seemed best not to get involved.
An ominous foreboding was creeping up on him.
"Mr. Yirang. Let's head near the crime scene first."
"...We're going there? Seriously?"
Yirang let out a dry, hollow laugh.
"As I mentioned earlier, my irritable bowel syndrome is..."
"This is a task assigned by Mr. Aiden. Let's at least show some effort."
"Ugh. If you put it that way, I can't really argue."
"Let's just take a quick look. We won't dig too deep."
Muzark's tone made it abundantly clear that he would dump the case back onto Aiden the moment things became troublesome. Catching the drift, Yirang finally let out a sigh of relief and patted his chest.
Just a quick look should be fine, right?
But alongside his complacent thoughts, a faint sense of déjà vu began to bloom.
Stab wounds. A woman skilled with a blade.
An expert capable of slaughtering four men in the blink of an eye.
...No, there's no way.
Even as he denied the possibility.
Yirang was picturing a certain someone in his mind.
The investigation hit a wall right from the start.
"What the hell are you guys doing? Do you actually plan on doing this properly?"
"Keep your voice down. You're drawing attention."
"Grab someone and grill them! Isn't that your specialty?!"
"Every time you open your mouth from now on, I'm punching you in the face."
The vice president of Healthy Cash, whom they had dragged along to act as both a guide and a hostage, ground his teeth in frustration. Muzark understood his impatience, but he had his own reasons for being cautious.
Normally, I'd do exactly what this guy is saying.
Since the incident hadn't occurred in the dead of night, there were bound to be witnesses. If they went around using the investigator's name to request cooperation from the locals, they would likely dig up something.
But that wasn't a wise move.
I have to get my priorities straight.
He couldn't act like some passionate detective from a TV drama. He had no reason to get overly invested in a case he had just learned about. More than anything, the atmosphere around the scene was bizarre.
The commercial building where the crime had taken place was heavily taped off with yellow police tape. This meant the Bureau was at least aware of the incident, yet the area was eerily quiet.
"They say it only happened four days ago. Why are there so few investigators around?"
"I know, right?"
"Do investigators usually slack off like this?"
"I guess so..."
Peering at the scene from the alleyway, Muzark turned his head. He had noticed Yirang's lifeless, distracted responses, and saw the man anxiously scanning their surroundings.
"What's wrong?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just... worried the killer might be nearby."
Was he thinking of that old cliché about killers returning to the scene of the crime?
While 'always' was an exaggeration, it did happen in reality from time to time.
"Well, for now, we have no choice but to poke around like this."
—You're doing the right thing. Dropping the investigator's name right now would only invite trouble.
With so few active investigators on-site, conducting an aggressive inquiry was risky. The moment they threw around an investigator's credentials, any fallout would fall squarely on Aiden's shoulders.
He wouldn't appreciate me being overly ambitious. The man has a family to think about.
Muzark needed to be cautious, even if not to the extreme extent Yirang was.
—But shouldn't we back off for now? We won't find anything at this rate anyway. Investigator Aiden said he'd look into it and contact us, so it's better to wait quietly.
Yen spoke with a hint of concern.
—This is one hundred percent going to be a pain in the ass.
My thoughts exactly.
—Murder itself isn't rare, but they're barely even investigating. It smells like external pressure is stalling the case. Why would he hand you something like this right off the bat?
"He did say it was a deep investigation."
—Deep? This is twenty thousand leagues under the sea. Has he been out of the loop because of his weeks-long business trip? Either way, this isn't a case you dump on a country bumpkin who just crawled up from the Redline.
Muzark nodded in agreement. Perhaps because neither of them possessed an overabundance of righteousness, he and Yen rarely clashed on matters like this.
Unlike the Redline, the Orangeline had security cameras. A case like this could be solved in no time just by gathering camera footage and eyewitness statements. The reason for the sluggish progress was painfully obvious.
He made his decision.
"Let's pull out here."
"W-What? You bastard...!"
"Sorry, but my own life is more important to me than your revenge."
He planned to hand the Healthy Cash crew, including the vice president, over to Aiden. Since they hadn't assaulted any civilians other than Yirang, they might receive some leniency in their sentencing.
Any lingering sympathy vanished when he remembered they were loan sharks who bled citizens dry, but that was a matter of perspective. Ultimately, a judge's job was best left to a judge.
"Shall we head back, then...?"
Muzark turned back to Yirang.
"Mr. Yirang?"
Yirang was staring intently at something past the alleyway. His eyes were wide with sheer terror, and cold sweat poured down his face. He was trembling so violently that his teeth clattered together.
This was on a completely different level from his usual dramatic antics.
Muzark instinctively followed his gaze.
Near the commercial building that served as the crime scene.
A tall woman with slender limbs was walking down the street. Her face was hidden beneath a low-pulled hat and a mask, but her wavy, flowing black hair was striking.
What is it?
Just as Muzark wondered why Yirang was suddenly captivated by some random woman—
"D-Don't look!"
Yirang grabbed Muzark's wrist and yanked him back. His voice, hushed to prevent anyone else from hearing, was filled with absolute dread of 'someone.' Even with a crosswalk separating them, his terror was palpable.
There was no time to process the situation.
Yirang hung his head toward the ground as if he had seen a ghost. While Muzark stood bewildered, unable to comprehend the source of his fear, a barely audible whisper crept out.
"...We're going to die."
Vroooom!
A truck roared past just then.
And then, without any warning or prelude.
Huh?
He felt as if a cold blade had been pressed against the nape of his neck.
It took his brain several seconds to realize it was an absurd illusion. A gaze so blatant and razor-sharp was piercing right through him.
The moment he realized it, his senses warped.
It felt as though thorny vines were wrapping around his entire body from the feet up. His throat constricted in an instant, and his skin broke out in a cold sweat. His heart hammered erratically, as if it were broken.
What is this?
He couldn't control his own body. Magic? No. It wasn't an artificial effect like magic; it was a primal, instinctive reaction. Hadn't he felt this once before?
His first encounter with Harmensales.
That moment when he had involuntarily bowed his head before the overwhelming presence of a non-human entity. This was a fear similar in intensity, yet entirely different in nature. If there was a difference between the two—
Intent to kill.
Harmensales had harbored no murderous intent back then.
Muzark had been terrified simply because the demon existed.
In contrast, 'that thing' possessed no such primordial majesty.
Only.
An absolute instinct warning him never to look back.
An inescapable certainty that the moment their eyes met, his throat would be slit.
"...Run!"
By the time he snapped out of it, Muzark was already sprinting down the alleyway with his companions. His sole focus was to escape this place even a second faster. It was an instinctive reaction, yet the most rational decision he could make.
Someone heard the frantic, receding footsteps.
Even amidst the roar of traffic on the road, the woman's ears captured only the sound she desired. Long after the footsteps had faded into silence, she continued to gaze quietly down the alley.
"A familiar face, after all this time."
So you didn't die in some ditch.
"His name was... let's see."
She recognized his face well enough, but his name eluded her. She furrowed her brow and pondered for a brief moment before ultimately giving up on trying to remember.
I suppose he wasn't worth remembering.
The unexpected reunion was quickly swept from her mind. She was about to resume her walk when a sudden curiosity struck her. The man who had been standing beside that forgotten nobody.
The one with the striking snow-white hair and deep blue eyes.
"Who was he?"
The woman's lips curved upward.
It was a freezing, utterly heartless smile.