Chapter 49 Part 2

“That leaves two possibilities: a personal grudge against Brown himself—but I doubt an ordinary person could make a body rot here for a month without anyone noticing. And if it was a wizard grudge? Dumping a fresh corpse like this in such a public spot feels like a waste…”

“What I mean is, if the killer’s some dark sorcerer, wouldn’t they want to use Brown’s body to boost their own power? Why suddenly grow a conscience about desecrating the dead right then? And if it’s a good-hearted witch, why not just cremate Brown outright? Why toss him here in plain sight, leaving a trail straight to themselves?”

“That leaves only one possibility,” Ode said, smoothly picking up on Faust’s line of thought. “Whoever made the move—or whatever entity it was—was targeting him specifically because of his role as a Mi-Go Proxy. Who holds a grudge against the Mi-Go, anyway? When I was cramming for history class, all I remembered was that the Mi-Go race has incredibly widespread beliefs. They follow all sorts of deities.”

Faust shook the scrap of paper he’d found in the body bag. “Luckily, we don’t need to guess. See this line of crooked writing? ‘The Conspiracy Spanning Eons.’ Ring any bells?”

“The Conspiracy Spanning Eons…” Ode murmured. “You mean the Yellow Sign Brotherhood? I remember the lecture mentioning it. It’s an organization that worships Hastur, the King in Yellow. Most of its members are Kunyang people with psychic abilities. Their goal is to thwart the Mi-Go’s ‘Conspiracy Spanning Eons’… but what exactly is that conspiracy? No one knows.”

“So, in summary, this case is just the Yellow Sign Brotherhood hunting down a Mi-Go Proxy? What’s our next move? Track down the Yellow Sign Brotherhood and take out some Kunyang to avenge the Proxy?”

Nah. Better to sit back and watch them tear each other apart like clams and herons locked in battle, reaping the benefits as the opportunistic fisherman.

The only thing puzzling Ode was: “If Brown was really a member of that Secret Society, why would he bother becoming a Mi-Go Proxy? That Secret Society was powerful enough to hire the Black Brotherhood as mercenaries. They must have far better forbidden arts for achieving immortality than turning into a jarred brain. So what did Brown gain from becoming a Mi-Go Proxy? What was in it for him?”

Faust handed Ode an untainted cigar, a gesture of agreement between kindred spirits. He was just about to light it for him when his phone buzzed. Two calls came in almost simultaneously. “?”

Faust ignored the call from the Prime Minister and picked up the one from the GORCC outpost. “What is it?”

[The Royal Opera House in London is under attack by the Yellow Sign Brotherhood. They’ve thrown up a massive barrier—no one’s getting out of there, and no one’s getting in. Good lord, there are all sorts of bigwigs from the military and government inside today, plus plenty of nobles. If something goes wrong, the pound’s exchange rate is going to tank again!]

An exchange rate dip was small potatoes. Far more critical was the potential paralysis of the military and government—and the massive ripple effects on ordinary people’s jobs and lives.

Most folks might weather a bit of turmoil, but for some, even a few months of economic hardship could mean the difference between life and death.

Faust didn’t tense up at the news. Compared to the Deep Ones—or even the Ghouls—the threat from the Yellow Sign Brotherhood was minor. For GORCC, this was just another routine crisis, albeit with some higher-profile hostages.

“Handle it as usual,” Faust said curtly, then switched to the Prime Minister’s call. “Greetings, sir?”

[No peace at all! Good heavens, have you seen the news??] The Prime Minister’s raised voice crackled through the speaker.

Faust winked at Ode. The two political science grads, both former civil servants, shared a sly grin. “No, but I’ve heard the report. Don’t worry, Prime Minister. I’m certain that even if the entire Royal Opera House were packed with civil servants, it wouldn’t make up a thousandth of the active workforce.”

[That’s. Not. Funny at all!] The Prime Minister sounded on the verge of tears. [My cabinet secretary and my private secretary are both in there!! God… I’ve heard the reporters’ on-the-scene reports. They say this hostage crisis was started by some cult called the Yellow Sign Brotherhood? Isn’t this exactly your—]

“Hold on, hold on.” Faust’s brow twitched. “Reporters? On-the-scene reports? How do the reporters know the hostage takers are from the Yellow Sign Brotherhood? Has the Brotherhood issued a claim of responsibility?”

[What? No! I suppose they have some special sources—reporters always do. Listen—any chance you could put that special agent who saved us last time in charge of this op? It would put my mind at ease… Please, I can’t afford to lose my two right-hand men.]

“…” Ode exchanged a frown with Faust, their expressions mirroring each other.

Ode could certainly head over to provide support—it was his job, after all. But something about the whole situation felt off. The Royal Opera House gets taken hostage, GORCC intel just comes in, and reporters are already reporting on it?

The Yellow Sign Brotherhood had never been as flashy as the Black Brotherhood, which loved to broadcast its assassinations. Even if someone had snapped photos of their people at the Opera House, how could reporters identify them so quickly?

Faust ended the call. As soon as he looked up, Ode said gravely, “I’ll head over and help out.”

“No, you’re not going.” Faust shot to his feet. “The whole thing reeks. What if it’s a trap? A trap aimed at you?”

“Why would the Prime Minister specifically suggest putting you on this? Just panic making him think you’re the most reliable? Until things are crystal clear, I’m suspicious of everything. I don’t think you should go.”

“And what about the next trap that might target me? Dodge it too? Send someone else to their death in my place?” Ode met Faust’s gaze steadily. “Sorry, but that’s not my style.”

Faust laughed in sheer exasperation, whirling to glare at him. “What’s your style, then?? Charging into traps like a bulldozer? That’s what you did on the cruise ship, and you’re doing it again. Have you ever considered what happens if one day you can’t bulldoze through? What if the trap is bigger than your damn bulldozer?”

Ode looked deeply into Faust’s eyes. “So it’s fine for you to send other colleagues to fill the pit in my stead?”

“…” Faust’s chest heaved with turbulent emotions. Then he grabbed Ode by the collar and slammed him against the bridge pillar. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

“I could repeat that answer to you a thousand times. Now tell me this—in all those past lives of yours, didn’t you get to where you are today precisely by doing that?”

“You’re the greatest hope we can see right now. No matter what we have to sacrifice, we need to propel you further ahead. If not this round, then the next. If not the next, then the one after—eventually, one of these rounds, you’ll amass enough power to face any trap without a care. That’s when you can indulge your so-called style!”

Faust shoved Ode away hard and staggered back a few steps. “Eva said you’re my best successor. I told her she was wrong.”

“A leader has to learn patience. He only strikes when victory is all but assured. Only soldiers are the ones who charge ahead blindly, heedless of everything—”

“Then treat me like a soldier.” Ode cut Faust off, his unwavering voice roughened by exhaustion. “I don’t know. Maybe there won’t be a next round.”

“Look at me—my mental state is already this shot. The next one would only be worse. Can you imagine what I’ll be like after a few more rounds? …What if, in some round, I open my eyes and it’s no longer me staring back, just a raving beast?”

Silence fell beneath the bridge pillar.

After a long moment, Faust scrubbed a hand over his face. “I thought sending you to meet Duke Cavendish might improve your mental state a bit.”

Ode chuckled. “What a coincidence. He’s been hoping GORCC would assign me a top-notch therapist too… But we both know it wouldn’t help.”

He couldn’t heal without setting down the burden on his shoulders, but how could he set it down while this war raged on?

“Let me go,” Ode pleaded, gazing at Faust. “Don’t let me—or us—leave any regrets in this round. That way, if we have to move on to the next one, I might still have the drive from knowing I saved something, someone…”

“…” Faust finally turned away after a lengthy pause. “Check your earpiece. Eva’s upgraded the gear. Even if you enter the barrier, you should stay in contact.”

—

Meanwhile, in the Phantasmal Dream Realm.

Two figures cloaked in black robes stood at the edge of the massive chasm left behind after the “Mad King”‘s territory was purged. Nyarlathotep, disguised as an ordinary human, couldn’t help but squat down. It caressed the fissure’s edge in a way that set teeth on edge, making little tutting sounds as if stroking the crack allowed it to touch the soul of the territory’s former master. “What a magnificent sight… Don’t you think?”

If Jack were here, he would have been stunned to recognize the man standing beside Nyarlathotep as his brother, Zane Paine—whom he thought was dead, his body vanished without a trace.

Zane stared impassively at the black void before them: endless as the sea, bottomless and profound. He just wanted to turn tail and flee as far from this spine-chilling place as possible. He felt no magnificence in it whatsoever.

“Maybe. I passed a tea stall on the way here, and the owner said the Elder God Nodens—their leader—handled the purge personally. It took a lot of time. But that Mad King’s territory was so vast that the resulting void can’t possibly be sealed.”

From this angle, it was indeed pretty magnificent, Zane supposed. Not the vista itself, but the Mad King’s power, glimpsed through the gaping hole.

…He almost felt jealous.

Nyarlathotep was still crouched there, waxing poetic. “What a shame we arrived too late. I really wanted to see what that Mad King looked like. What kind of personality it had? Oh well, no way to know now.”

Its moods always came and went in a flash. Soon enough, the thing was grinning again as it stood. “But luckily, there’s another grand show waiting for us! Come on, dearie—next stop: London, Royal Opera House!”