Ten minutes later, inside Lola’s dormitory.
The students were still in class, leaving the dormitory building deserted—a perfect opportunity for Ode to conduct his investigation.
“Can you imagine? Decades ago, this was nothing but an empty cliff. I poured a fortune into buying the land and building the school…”
The principal stood at the dormitory door, chattering away. Ode lingered by the window, half-listening as he pushed open the creaky old frame and leaned out to inspect the exterior sill.
“What are you looking for?” Cavendish asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the desk. The two of them tacitly treated the principal like so much thin air.
“Signs of someone climbing in through the window—or out.” Ode examined the sill in front of him, then leaned farther to check the others. “If Lola was abducted by someone from off-campus, they’d have left some trace sneaking in here, right? But nothing. Look at this dust on the sill—thick as if it hasn’t been cleaned in over a decade.”
“Maybe the kidnapper came through the door,” Cavendish suggested. “Any signs of forced entry?”
“None. I checked the moment we came in.” Ode pulled back inside and reached to close the window, only to freeze midway. “Is that… is there someone standing over on the cliffside?”
A salty sea breeze swept across the sill. Ode spotted what looked like a head poking up near the towering reef to the southeast. It jerked suddenly, and a few seconds later, the figure turned, revealing more of itself: a man in a cheap suit, a camera dangling from his neck.
“You stand here and keep an eye on him—” Ode cut himself off halfway, remembering Cavendish’s blindness. He gritted his teeth in frustration and spun around. “Stay put. I’ll go chase down this guy!”
“What?” The principal was blocking the door and nearly stumbled as Ode barreled past him. “Chase who? Hey!”
“Shut it!” Ode hissed under his breath. But by the time he reached the intermediate landing on the next floor and peered out to confirm the man hadn’t been spooked by the principal’s shout, the figure had already bolted from behind the reef in panic, stumbling down the hillside. “No—stop!”
It was too late to dash down four flights to pursue him. Ode yanked the shotgun from his back instead. “Listen! I just want to ask if you were here three nights ago, if you saw anything. No matter why you came, I won’t hold you accountable—but if you keep running, I’ll shoot!”
If the cliffside lurker was just a peeping tom or a talent scout, Ode’s words would have stopped him cold. But the man not only kept going—he accelerated, which meant he wasn’t directly tied to the case but harbored some deeper, unspeakable secret.
For half a second, Ode seriously weighed firing. Even as he hesitated—”What if he’s just some panicked innocent tourist?”—a sharp, chilling aura enveloped him from behind. A pair of steady hands clamped over his own, aligning the shotgun with the fleeing man’s back.
Bang!
The massive recoil slammed into Ode’s left shoulder, shoving the “You’re insane!” right back down his throat. Only the principal’s hysterical scream echoed behind them: “What are you doing?! I helped you down here so you could investigate—not murder someone on my school grounds!”
Amid the chaos, Cavendish stood rock-steady. He released his grip and gestured for Ode to watch the target vanish unscathed into the distance in the blink of an eye.
“A muzzle-loading shotgun like this has a short range. It’s impossible to hit at this distance. And reloading is a hassle—cleaning, powder, shot, tamping it down… You’d burn a full minute just getting it ready again.”
“Oh… oh! I see,” the principal said, recovering from his fright. “You could’ve said so earlier! I nearly had a heart attack!”
“…” Ode glowered at Cavendish, who apparently wasn’t blind when it came to lining up a shot. As he brushed past the principal on his way out, it took all his restraint not to kick the useless fool down the stairs.
He was furious, for one thing, because the principal’s yell had alerted the suspect, potentially costing them a vital lead on Lola. For another, who could stay cheerful after finally getting their hands on a weapon, only to learn it was underpowered?
Still, better to know now than discover it mid-fight. By the time Ode climbed back to the fifth floor, he’d steadied himself and returned to Lola’s desk, picking up her notebook once more.
“This time, it wasn’t me holding things up. I can even tell you who that guy was and where he’s staying now.” Cavendish walked over. “An employee of Bird Soap Company. He’s at that inn where we’re lodged—”
“Room 102.” Ode snapped the notebook shut and grabbed a thicker one. “I flipped through the inn’s registry last night while the landlady reopened our room and had us sign in.”
“I know he didn’t come alone. He’s here in Dreamcatcher Town with about ten colleagues. No need to guess—the cheap suit’s company uniform. Tourists wearing work clothes? It’s a group trip.”
“…” Cavendish fell silent. “Why were you snooping through the inn’s registry?”
It was suspicious. Faust had claimed, during their earlier standoff, that he was the only outsider in Dreamcatcher Town. Yet the inn was packed with them.
Why weren’t these strangers on Faust’s list of the dead? Had they fled before the big fire? With the barrier around town, how?
Ode snapped the notebook shut again and eyed the brightest suspect among the outsiders. “I’m not asking how you suddenly nailed the aim on that company drone without going blind—and you could show some gratitude. Ask fewer questions, got it? And don’t pull a stunt like that again. This gun struggles with game at a hundred meters, but a peacock right in front of me? That it can handle.”
Cavendish’s brow arched, and Ode cut him off before he could speak nonsense. “Don’t. I know how Lola vanished three nights ago. Come on—to the library.”
“?? Wait, hold on!” The principal, who’d been keeping his eyes downcast and pretending to be invisible through their spat, hitched up his belly and hurried after the two long-legged men. “How did she vanish? Why the library?? You don’t actually believe that stuff I said about weird noises there—that Lola was taken by a monster, do you?”
Ode tossed the notebook to the principal. “Check the contents. It’s all about human anatomy. I doubt your school’s medical classes are open to girls, right? So where’d she copy these notes from? Born knowing them?”
The principal flipped through it and had a sudden realization. “So three nights ago, Lola snuck out after her roommates fell asleep! No wonder her ‘abduction’ made no noise they heard! But—how’d the door get locked from the inside?”
Ode halted in front of the dormitory building. “Ask your notebook. The last page has a diagram of the mechanism she used to lock it—though I can’t make heads or tails of it.”
The little girl was definitely wasting her talents in 1888. With skills like these, she’d make a better agent than him by a mile. “Now—point me to the library. If her disappearance was forced, she’d have left a clue at the abduction site.”
Five minutes later, inside the surprisingly grand and imposing library.
The principal stood awkwardly by the librarian’s desk. He’d already shooed away the staff, and now Cavendish sat in the room’s most comfortable armchair, his unfocused eyes fixed unblinkingly in the direction Ode had gone.
“Ahem…” The principal cleared his throat, summoning his nerve. “If I may ask… what exactly is your relationship to the gentleman investigating inside? Brothers? Ha, doesn’t look like boss and subordinate.”
What subordinate talks back to their superior with “Ask fewer questions” or “Don’t speak”? Mr. Ode’s tone was nothing but curt commands.
He’d dealt with all sorts in his time, and from their demeanor, this was just how Ode operated—as if issuing orders was second nature, and obedience from those around him a given.
Not some switched master-servant pair? Illegitimate brothers? The principal’s mind raced with speculations straight out of the era’s penny dreadfuls.
Or… watching them argue one minute and clasp hands the next, like an old married couple bickering at the headboard and making up at the foot—could these two be… lovers?
A sharp glint flashed in the principal’s eager, ingratiating eyes.
In 1888 Britain, homosexuality was a hanging offense.
The principal began scheming, his calculating gaze drifting toward Ode as he moved between the shelves.
If… if he could tip off that lady… no, better yet! Blackmail these revolting perverts directly! Good lord… imagine how much he could squeeze out of them. That white-haired one’s outfit alone— even scraps from his pockets would send him to paradise. And maybe even…
What else? Darker, dirtier schemes brewed in his mind, but before they fully formed, a chill gripped his back—as if some massive vertical eye were slowly peeling open behind him, silently staring.
Ode, searching the shelves for markers, had no idea. Nor did the distant students and teachers. As they breathed, as they chattered, an absolute silence—transcending space and time—descended upon the man named Henry Blair.
He thrashed desperately, limbs flailing with all his might. In suffocation’s grip, he clawed out his own tongue in hopeless frenzy, desperate to widen his airway, to draw oxygen into his lungs…
But only death filled them.
“Found it!” Beyond a corner wall, Ode finally traced three nail scratches from a struggle in the corner of the social sciences shelves, along with some erratic scuffs. “Den… something? She only got halfway. Any local place names with ‘den’ in them around here? Only one comes to mind—”
“Dense forest, dense forest!” The principal bolted for the library exit as if struck by sudden urgency, clutching his belly. “I forgot a report! Oh dear—you keep looking. Come to my office if you need anything!”
The principal’s back was turned, so Ode, peeking around the corner, couldn’t see his eyes had shifted to the color of sea mist.
Ode glanced suspiciously at the principal before looking away. He sidled closer and reached into the gap between the bookshelf and the wall, checking once more for any oversights. As he pulled his hand back, he instinctively brushed off the dust—then froze. “Huh?”
“What’s wrong?” Without the principal to guide him, Cavendish could only remain seated in place.
“There’s not a speck of dust or a single spiderweb in this crevice…” Ode rubbed his fingers together, realization dawning quickly. “This bookshelf must have been placed here recently! Or it’s moved around often…”
He recalled what the principal had said about strange noises occasionally coming from beneath the library. “There might be a secret room hidden here!”
Had Lola been dragged into a secret room? The thought flashed through Ode’s mind, spurring him into immediate action to search for the mechanism.
Having grown up in an ancient castle, he was quite familiar with old-fashioned traps. It took him almost no time at all to find the pivot point in the crevice. Once triggered, he swiftly stepped back. The entire bookshelf rose like an elevator. “…No wonder the library is built so tall! Damn it, the principal definitely knows about this secret room! He said he built this school himself!”
Ode immediately wanted to rush out and chase after the fleeing principal, but he had barely taken a step when he realized the priority was finding Lola, who had been missing for three days. He gritted his teeth and abandoned the pursuit, turning instead to the opening revealed below. “Lola? Hey, are you down there?”
The chamber below was utterly silent.
Cavendish had somehow followed the sound of the mechanism to Ode’s side. He spoke softly. “There’s no sign of life below. Just the stench of rot. Lola might not be down there. And even if she is, it may be too late to save her.”
“…” Ode slowly turned his head, glaring at Cavendish with a terrifying intensity. A few seconds later, he suddenly reached out, placed a hand on Cavendish’s back, and shoved him hard.
Cavendish, utterly unprepared: “？!”
The basement wasn’t deep. Less than two seconds later came the sound of Cavendish landing. From the crisp, light clack of his shoe heel striking the floor, Ode could even picture it: Cavendish’s startled descent into the darkness, followed by a nimble adjustment mid-fall to land steadily. “Move aside. I’m jumping down.”
A nauseating stench wafted up from the passage. Ode reflexively recalled the Deep Ones from before. But this rot lacked the briny sea tang of those creatures—instead, it carried a dry, dusty undertone.
Splash!
Ode bent his knees to absorb the impact. He kicked up a massive cloud of dust on landing, which clung to his skin and left it itchy and irritated, as if he were allergic.
He hadn’t brought any light with him, but there was an old gas lamp in the basement. Ode straightened up, brushed off the dust, and turned around. He shoved past the expressionless Cavendish and peered into the depths of the passage. What he saw: “A corpse!”
Hiss…
The gas lamp suddenly extinguished on its own, without a breath of wind.
Ode instinctively looked up at the lamp. In the distance to the north, the church bells tolled: “Dong—dong—”
The sound was resonant and profound, the vibrations seeming to cross vast distances and shake straight into his soul. The next instant, Ode’s vision went black, and he collapsed to the ground, his body going limp.
He seemed to be dreaming again.
But this time, a thread of doubt welled up inside him. He scrutinized every detail of the dreamscape with care.
“You want to learn alchemy? What for? Aren’t the Old Gods’ gear enough for you to play with?”
The speaker was Faust. They stood in that opulent office from their first meeting, all pearlized luster and gleaming treasures. “It’s not that I’m being stingy. I just genuinely don’t see the point. What do you want with alchemy?”
“I want to learn how to make an alchemy gun.” His dream-self sounded weary. “I need it to kill a Deep One in a single shot, at minimum. And it should provide infinite ammunition.”
“…We already have the Tindalos Hunting Rifle in the team, which has the power you’re after. But infinite ammo…”
His dream-self cut him off. “Use life force. Once the finite bullets run out, it can draw on the wielder’s life through an alchemy array to generate new ones. I need this. Teach me.”
What was a Tindalos Hunting Rifle? Ode wondered in confusion.
He scanned the surroundings. At one point, his gaze landed on something familiar nailed to the office wall like a specimen.
It was that beast bone gun he’d glimpsed during his capture at the bank!
Ode focused intently on the plaque beneath the gun specimen:
【Tindalos Hunting Rifle: An assault rifle crafted from the remains of Hounds of Tindalos. Capable of destroying mid-to-low-level sources of mental pollution.
Note: Hounds of Tindalos do not appear in canine form while alive.
It is a hunter that dwells beyond the timeline, emerging from any angle less than 120 degrees. Named for its relentless tracking ability.】
“…” Ode’s eyes then shifted to the equally familiar head mask beside the gun specimen:
【Mi-Go Mask: Crafted from a Mi-Go’s brain. Shields against mid-to-low-level mental pollution.
Note: Mi-Go are fungus-crustacean extraterrestrials from Yuggoth that can extract human brains, preserving them in specialized devices for so-called ‘immortality.’ Investigators: Do not believe any promises of eternal life.】
Ode’s heart began to race. At the same time, he heard Faust, after a long hesitation, finally speak. “Alright—but I really can’t imagine when something like this would ever come in handy.”
“It won’t be too hard. Any alchemy becomes simple if you’re willing to offer up life force. I can draw the array diagram for you right now. When you need it, just bite your finger, use your blood to paint it on any gun, and you’re set.”
Every subsequent minute stretched out endlessly for Ode, yet passed in a blink.
It felt endless because drawing an alchemy array was tedious and boring, requiring him to memorize long incantations. Yet it flew by because he was frantically jotting it all down alongside his dream-self—
He didn’t care about burning through his lifespan.
Truth be told, his life’s ambitions now boiled down to rescuing Lola and giving Grandfather a proper burial.
After that? He didn’t care if he lived or died. Everyone he loved, and who loved him, was already gone from this world.
What kept him running around now was merely Grandfather’s body still unclaimed, and his refusal to let the shadowy mastermind behind it all succeed—screw fate.
If fate wanted him dead on June 2nd, he’d live to see June 3rd, then put a bullet in his own head. Right before pulling the trigger, he’d laugh in fate’s face and call it a fool.
“…Ode. Ode. Wake up!”
An urgent voice pierced the dream from outside, latching onto his heart like a hook. But he impatiently shook off The Tugging. Eyes unblinking, he stared at the alchemy table Faust used for demonstration until the final stroke fell. Then he jolted upright from the river of dreams and opened his eyes.
“…Ode?” In the darkness, Cavendish’s voice held a note of uncertainty.
“Oh, I’m fine.” Ode pretended nothing had happened as he stood and brushed off his clothes. “Must be low blood sugar acting up again—”
He paused, looking down at his intact body in confusion. “You… didn’t take the chance to do anything while I was out?”
That genuinely surprised Ode.
If Cavendish’s identity was suspicious, it meant the house collapse last night was his doing—aimed at killing him. But for some reason, it had failed.
This basement was tiny. Even blind, Cavendish could’ve groped his way to him in seconds. Even if mystical powers couldn’t kill him, there was a perfectly good gun right there by his side! Cavendish had even explained how to use it earlier. Why not seize the perfect opportunity, press the barrel to his temple, and bang?
“…” Cavendish fell silent for a few seconds, his tone carrying a faint, utterly cold laugh. “How do you know I didn’t try?”
“?” Ode rose in bewilderment, half wondering in his mind if Cavendish really was a good guy and he’d been overthinking it. As he fumbled for the gas lamp, his hand brushed something red-hot: “Hiss!”
Ode yanked his hand back on reflex. Half a second later, realization hit—
That was his shotgun.
The barrel was scorching hot.
Cavendish had indeed fired at him while he was unconscious.
Click.
The gas lamp ignited with a soft pop, illuminating the cramped basement.
It also lit up the countless black bullet holes riddling the walls, floor, and ceiling.
“…” Ode’s breathing quickened slightly, a chill racing from the back of his neck to the top of his head.
He opened his dry mouth. “By the way—”
I still haven’t asked what you’re doing in Dreamcatcher Town?
That was what he’d meant to say, but reason whipped his dazed brain awake before the unforeseen scene could muddle it further:
What good would asking do? Would knowing why Cavendish came to Dreamcatcher Town make him any less intent on killing him?
It was already the third day of Lola’s disappearance. Every toll of that church bell shrank her chances of survival a little more.
Was satisfying his curiosity more important than Lola’s life? This blackout had already proven Cavendish wanted him dead—but couldn’t kill him. What was left to care about?
Look up! Ode. Check the basement for clues. Find Lola!
“…” Ode took a deep breath. Amid the horrific stench, the gag reflex actually helped him refocus.
Leaning on his shotgun, he rose as if the scalding barrel and the bullet-riddled room were nothing. “Did you check the corpse? Find anything?”
Cavendish stared at the empty air in front of him with the look one gives a freak of nature. After a long moment, he replied, “You’re right here in front of me. Why would I bother with a corpse?”
