Cut Off the Wolf's Tail
From a distance, eyes watched the burning office and the frantic figures hauling water. "Th-this is quite troublesome…"
The sorcerer sensed his plan had gone awry. He had been spying on Rood's movements through his sorcery all along. Among the contents of the letter Rood had written, he had glimpsed the line about copying documents from the office and delivering them. The sorcerer had rushed over and set the entire office ablaze, but Rood's swift response had ruined the scheme.
"I can't afford to wait until tomorrow, can I?"
The sorcerer considered every possible countermeasure. He could flee the village and wait for another opportunity, or proceed with the planned "cleansing" of the village tomorrow night as promised. But since that "Isabelle" had discovered the drawings recreating the incidents, things would not unfold as he had intended.
"It's a bit incomplete… but still enough to kill."
Grind. The sorcerer clenched his molars and curled his lips into a sneer.
"It wouldn't make a bad gift. Dear sister…"
Leaving the office—where the flames had dwindled and thick black smoke now billowed—the sorcerer headed back to his quarters. He had to prepare the finest gift. For his half-sister.
***
Rood pondered what to do next. "The immediate fire seems to be out."
Isabelle had warned that the sorcerer's attack would come tomorrow, and they had prevented him from burning the evidence. Either way, Rood figured that as long as he stayed awake until tomorrow, everything would resolve smoothly according to plan.
That aside, why is the sorcerer killing people so conspicuously?
It was a question Rood still could not understand. A sorcerer who wielded curses should have been capable of killing without drawing attention, yet he had not done so.
Given that he's taking one body part from each victim, is he preparing a different curse?
Rood shrugged. Though the motive and justification remained unclear, what he had to do was obvious.
"If he saw the carrier pigeon being sent, he must be feeling the heat under his feet."
It was clear what a cornered opponent might attempt. Either flee the village or launch an attack sooner than expected. Rood thought the odds favored flight, but he still believed they needed to prepare for an assault on the village. Life rarely unfolded as one wished, much like a cheap comedy. If you neither knew the enemy's location nor what they might do, you were already defeated before the fight began.
Even on the battlefield, contrary to his "Mad Dog" nickname, Rood had always kept a close watch on enemy movements. Though he appeared to charge recklessly, he read the flow of troops and forces at every moment, striking only where necessary. In other words, Rood preferred to fight only when victory was already assured.
In the end, the one in a hurry is the enemy.
Having reached that conclusion, Rood stepped in front of the office and shouted to the gathered people.
"Gather every villager in one place immediately!"
The villagers merely exchanged glances at Rood's words, showing no sign of complying.
"Everyone, this wolf incident was not the work of a wolf! It is a serial murder disguised as an accident! Please, gather together!"
When Rood publicly declared it a murder case, the crowd stirred.
"A murder case?"
"That can't be."
Rood continued. "I am Rood, the bodyguard dispatched here under Lady Isabelle's orders. She asked me to investigate the murders in Boeub Village."
As Stock had said, Isabelle's deductions had likely already spread throughout the village, so Rood used that as one of his strongest pieces of evidence. Pointing to the still-smoking office, he added, "The arson in this office is proof of that."
For his second piece of evidence, Rood cited the office fire. "The culprit, realizing we were copying documents needed by Lady Isabelle, set the place ablaze."
The villagers did not entirely abandon their suspicions, but they seemed largely convinced.
"Fortunately, the documents were delivered safely. However…"
Rood took a short breath. "The culprit may bring wolves and attack you indiscriminately. So please, I beg you—gather every villager in one place!"
Meeting Rood's gaze, the villagers understood. The strange events unfolding were a planned murder case orchestrated by someone.
***
The villagers, roused by the fire, spread the word to their neighbors until everyone had gathered at the hospital in Boeub Village. The reason for assembling at the hospital was simple: it was the only place where those still unable to move freely and the deputies who had fallen into critical condition while protecting the village could all be brought together.
"Is everyone here?"
"Yes, even the stubborn ones…"
Rood double-checked, but the villagers numbered only around fifty, and the answer came back that everyone had been gathered without exception. Rood thought, Strange. I expected someone to slip away by now so I could count the missing. So the sorcerer isn't among the villagers after all?
Scanning the crowd, Rood's eyes met those of the woman who had cursed at Isabelle by the laundry area. Her expression looked uneasy. She kept glancing out the window, so Rood approached her.
"Is someone still missing?"
"Ah, no. It's just…"
When she denied it, Rood simply nodded. He had not wanted to inform the victims that these were murders, but with a pang of guilt, he looked away.
Stock was busy helping Rood ensure no one was left out and explaining the situation. "Yawn, so can we sleep now?" "I need to pull weeds tomorrow, so I gotta get some rest."
Many were exhausted from being awake at this hour and gathered together.
The sorcerer probably won't curse this many people, and he has no reason to. Should I just leave them be?
Rood shook his head. "Please wait just a little longer. Falling asleep now could be disastrous. I beg you, endure a bit more."
Rood explained that the enemy had attacked him. Yet complaints and discontent among the citizens grew under his control.
"There's no solid proof it's murder and not wolves!"
"That's right, that's right!"
"Everyone, please remain calm."
Rood tried to soothe them with a steady tone, but some still attempted to return home.
"That's enough!"
At that moment, Stock blocked the hospital's front door and shouted, "Everyone, please stay put!"
"Sheriff! You know we can't farm if we do this!"
"Yeah! And if it's a murder case, what have you been doing all this time that you couldn't figure it out?"
Stock lowered his head. "You're right. Effective immediately, I intend to resign as the village sheriff."
The villagers were visibly shocked by Stock's declaration. Yet his resolve remained firm, and the people, preoccupied with their own affairs, were not easily swayed.
Still prostrate, Stock spoke. "This is your chance to avenge Myers. Myers, everyone. He mediated and resolved conflicts among you more than anyone… It would have been better if he had lived instead of me!"
Stock continued, "You all know Quicksen lying here, don't you? Please, even if it's not for this worthless man, follow his words for the sake of the two who sacrificed themselves to protect this village!"
"Well, if you put it that way…"
"Ahem, we owe Myers quite a lot."
The villagers still wore expressions full of discontent, but they seemed resigned to staying.
"I-I really can't! If I don't sleep, I'll go mad!"
"Yeah, most of us are here anyway, so at least let us sleep here!"
"How about taking turns on watch and waking anyone who shows signs of dozing?"
Though they no longer tried to leave after Stock's plea, they sought a compromise. It was a natural demand for the right to sleep, so Stock glanced at Rood.
"Everyone, my tongue isn't particularly eloquent, and I haven't had many chances to build rapport with you. So I'll speak in my own way. Please forgive me."
As Rood bowed with precise formality, the people were about to protest. Just as many were about to offer their rationalizations—
Shing! At the sound of Rood drawing his sword, even those who had been about to speak fell silent.
"The sorcerer could use soul-binding or possession to make you fight among yourselves. If you fall asleep, consider it as offering your body to the sorcerer…"
Rood trailed off and swung his blade.
Whoosh! He cleaved the empty bed beside him in two and looked at the crowd. Those who had been stepping forward stumbled backward onto their rear.
"I'll cleanly sever your necks. I'll watch those trying to argue, and if anyone shows the slightest sign of dozing, I'll cut first. For example, closing your eyes. That is all."
Rood raised his right hand. "Any objections?"
No one raised a hand.
Tap, tap, tap. At the sound of something knocking on the window, Rood pointed his sword. The people near the window scattered to either side, and they soon saw what had been knocking.
What? A carrier pigeon?
Relaxing at the sight of the pigeon tapping its beak, Rood sheathed his sword and read the message written on it.
Return immediately. Do not engage?
Rood looked at the terrified villagers. Leave them behind and return? He could not. No matter how much it was Isabelle's letter, he could not accept it. If someone—or worse, everyone—were harmed after he returned, Rood knew he would regret it for the rest of his life.
And Rood did not want to break his own oath. He did not want to abandon his resolve to stay until the village's problems were solved.
As he was about to crumple and discard the letter, the final line caught his eye.
If you encounter it, cut off the wolf's tail.
Rood tilted his head. Not the head, but the tail? Tap, tap. He wondered what value a wolf's tail could possibly hold. Tap, tap. Rood shook his head. Even if the tail had value, he had no desire to risk his life just to sever and retrieve it.
Tap, tap. But why had this pigeon been making such a racket all this time? Was it asking for feed?
When Rood looked at the people in front of him, they were still recoiling in fear, shaking their heads while staring at him. Some gestured or covered their mouths.
Tap, tap. As Rood turned toward the window behind him, massive claws came into view.
Shlick—shhk! Rattle. Clang! Claws made of steel prosthetics and human bone, along with the pink flesh and countless eyeballs he had seen in his dream, surged forward like a torrent. The tapping sound had been the pink flesh splattering against the window.
The mechanical sound from the monster's arm ceased.
Ding! With a cheerful chime, the creature thrust its massive arm forward.
"You damn—"
BOOM! Three moonlight beams, the chill night air, dust, flesh, and a spine-chilling mechanical whine erupted from the hospital wall.