Chapter 7

“?”

Ode jolted in surprise, whipping his head back to look downstairs.

A monster… that eats people?

After last night’s ordeal, Ode couldn’t help but harbor self-doubt: Could this case have something to do with me? Or was there another man-eating monster lurking in the town?

“Hey…” Two little girls in lace-trimmed ruffled skirts covered their mouths as they giggled, stealing glances one after another at Ode and Cavendish, whose bodies were practically pressed together, as they brushed past them.

“See, you’ve got everyone misunderstanding us,” Cavendish said, his voice laced with reproach. “Give me back my cane. Since you’re not planning to discuss The Sea-Wolf, I’ll go catch up on some sleep.”

Ode was still mulling over how he couldn’t possibly be the culprit—otherwise, there would surely be traces of his nighttime wanderings in the room—when he turned back to stare at Cavendish, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

“Catch up on sleep? At a time like this? Didn’t you hear what they just said downstairs about a person being eaten by a monster? Doesn’t something like ‘a man-eating monster prowling the town’ bother you at all? This isn’t just some theory I cooked up.”

“I’m not leaving the inn, so it would be hard for this monster to pick me—” Cavendish didn’t finish his sentence before Ode grabbed his wrist and yanked him along. Without his cane, he had no choice but to follow Ode’s pull toward the stairs. “It’s not very gentlemanly to tug and pull like this between gentlemen.”

Ode shot back without turning his head, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “And you showing up at my door in the middle of the night with a gun was gentlemanly?”

He had no intention of letting go of Cavendish. After that “accidental” room collapse last night, Cavendish had become Ode’s prime suspect as the mastermind behind it all.

He even felt a twinge of regret for letting Cavendish return to his room alone yesterday. What if this new corpse had appeared after they’d switched to new rooms and gone their separate ways—caused by Cavendish?

Were there really such things as coincidences in this world? Ode believed only in calculated inevitability.

The two of them tussled and stumbled their way down to the first-floor dining room, where quite a few guests were already seated. The moment Cavendish steadied himself, he straightened his rumpled suit. “My cane.”

Smiling faintly, Ode switched the cane to his right hand, keeping it farther from Cavendish—a picture of utter stubbornness. “With me here, do you really need that clumsy, silent stick?”

He dragged Cavendish into the dining room and picked a corner table at random, settling down just in time to take in the full chaos unfolding within.

“Who died?” The one grilling the waiter was a woman dressed to the nines in glittering jewels and an expensive black fur coat. Something about her features inexplicably reminded Ode of the Deep One he’d just finished devouring last night.

Ode was chiding himself that judging by appearances—especially a lady’s—was terribly rude when his gaze flicked past her to the people behind. “…”

If her resemblance to a Deep One was mere coincidence, then the thirteen or fourteen swollen-headed, bug-eyed companions traveling with her made it impossible to dismiss as chance.

“What is it?” Cavendish noticed Ode shifting in his seat.

“I’m starting to miss my gun.” As Ode pondered where he might scrounge up another firearm—even a standard one would do—his eyes drifted to the group at the back, unmistakably tied to the Deep Ones.

There, a few children who looked cute as dolls, around twelve or thirteen years old, were laughing and shoving each other playfully, occasionally running around in boisterous chases.

They didn’t seem afraid of the grotesquely featured adults in front, nor did they appear to be victims of trafficking or abduction. One child tugged at an adult’s hem and reached up for a hug, showing the spoiled affection only a kid would direct at family.

“…” Ode hesitated.

Though the Deep One that ambushed him last night had been an utterly evil monster, this group seemed to retain some human traits—and human emotions. Perhaps he shouldn’t treat them as monsters?

Maybe these people were descendants of ancestors who’d once had… a forbidden romance with Deep Ones, giving them mixed-blood features—but mostly human at their core?

“Tell me! Who died?!” The Lady in Black Fur Coat clutched the waiter’s hand tightly, her voice trembling.

Scattered at her feet were shattered vegetables—pumpkins, onions, and the like—likely spilled from the basket the waiter had been carrying during their tussle. “Impossible… it can’t be my Ryan!”

“…” Cavendish suddenly frowned beside him, his expression twisting into one of near disgust as he turned his face away from the drama.

Ode keenly caught Cavendish’s reaction and probed with half his attention. “What, do you know that lady or Ryan?”

“No.” Cavendish elegantly drew a handkerchief from his breast pocket and held it lightly over his mouth and nose. “Can’t you smell it? The stench coming from those things on the floor.”

“?” Ode blinked, his gaze dropping to the unremarkable produce.

He had indeed caught a whiff of the rotten, putrid stench of overripe fruits and vegetables on his way down, but he’d assumed it was kitchen waste not yet cleared from the morning. How could it come from these freshly bought veggies?

“I don’t believe it!!” The Lady in Black Fur Coat’s shrill wail yanked Ode’s attention back. “My husband just went into the dense forest to collect mineral samples. How could a monster possibly eat him?! Someone must have harmed him… someone set a trap, caught him on purpose, killed him!”

“Ma’am, ma’am…” The waiter’s face had shifted from sheer terror to regret; he clearly wished he hadn’t raised such a fuss earlier and brought this trouble on himself. “Monsters love to lurk in the dense forest! Don’t the bedtime stories say as much? The police chief has already posted notices telling everyone to stay away from the forest. Your husband—”

“What do you know?!” The Lady in Black Fur Coat’s eyes blazed red, tears streaking her face. She shoved the waiter hard, sending the full-grown man—who towered over her—sprawling to the floor like a child. “There shouldn’t be any monster in this town that could eat my husband!”

She whirled around, her protruding eyes—spaced so wide they seemed perched on the sides of her head—burning with grief and rage as human as anyone’s. Her gaze swept viciously over every seated guest in the dining room before she charged straight at one table of sloppily dressed patrons who, even amid the uproar, kept their noses buried in their books.

“It was you! You did it, didn’t you?! The last one ‘unfortunately eaten by a monster’ was one of yours. You must have your eye on Ryan’s special—”

“What’s that got to do with us?” The Gray-Haired Scholar looked up with a frown. He only bothered responding because, in her agitation, the Lady in Black Fur Coat had thrust her hand toward his face, her sharp long nails nearly gouging out his eyes. “We’ve got our own business. Your husband means nothing to us.”

“Lies!!” The Lady in Black Fur Coat shrieked through her tears. “Everyone knows you lot spend all day in that dense forest except for eating and sleeping! Ryan must have gotten in your way—”

“Absurd nonsense.” The Gray-Haired Scholar snapped his book shut in annoyance and rose to his feet. “Now, if you’d kindly step aside. We’re heading to the forest to start our research—”

“My husband is dead!!” The Lady in Black Fur Coat lunged at him like a madwoman, ignoring the bookish companions who stood with the scholar. Her hands seized his collar and hoisted him clean off the ground. “Someone has to pay for—”

A soft thud.

Cavendish, who had been perusing the menu, gently closed it and reached for his teacup, taking a sip of the steaming red tea.

“…” For some reason, the Lady in Black Fur Coat’s roar cut off abruptly, terror freezing on her tear-streaked face.

Seconds later, her companions behind her snapped out of their stupor. They hurriedly pulled away her rigid form and the few children who had suddenly slumped to the floor in a daze. Without a word, they hustled out of the inn.

“…” Ode paused for a moment before turning to Cavendish—who, by remarkable coincidence, had made that little noise just before the Lady in Black Fur Coat’s sudden fit. “Don’t tell me that was your doing.”

“What do you mean?” Cavendish’s sea-mist eyes hid behind rising steam. “I merely looked over the menu—”

“You’re blind! What menu are you looking at?!” Ode couldn’t hold back his sharp whisper.

“…” Cavendish blinked. “Why do I get the feeling you’re kinder to that unreasonable lady than to me? You seem to empathize with her. Why? Have you lost someone you loved too?”

“…” Ode’s face hardened. He stood abruptly, fishing out his pendant necklace, ready to stick to his original plan: ask the Landlady about the Old Madman’s granddaughter, then seek out the Lady in Black Fur Coat to probe those oddly logical ramblings of hers.

But Cavendish, who had been eager to shake Ode off and return to his nap, followed of his own accord. “That’s not rational. Sympathy might make you overlook key clues. Your heart will bias you, clouding your judgment—”

“Why are you following me?” Ode spun around to face him. “Why did you show up at my door last night with that book? You’ve got plenty of your own unexplained mysteries. What gives you the right to tell me what to suspect or not?”

“…” Cavendish looked thoughtful. “So you did lose someone you loved.”

Ode took a deep breath, sorely tempted to punch that handsome face, but his bitter lesson from dealing with Faust was still fresh. In the end, he reined in his impulses. “Can you learn to shut up? No one’s saying you talk too much?”

“No one has.” Cavendish trailed after Ode obediently. “Slow down, will you? Where are you going? If you’re in a bad mood, maybe the seaside—”

“Shut. Up.” Ode whirled back, enunciating each word as he shoved the cane into Cavendish’s hands. “Either follow quietly, or—”

Telling him to get lost wouldn’t work; he needed to keep the prime suspect where he could watch him. Grimacing, Ode repeated with added emphasis, “Follow quietly.”

The Lady in Black Fur Coat and her group had left. The scholars soon departed the inn as well, presumably off to the dense forest—new victim or not.

Ode reached the front desk, his mindset swiftly adjusted. The tension from having his old wound prodded had eased from his body. He leaned casually on the counter with one arm. “That sure gave me a scare just now—good thing it didn’t turn into a brawl.”

“Yeah…” The landlady let out a wistful sigh as she gazed toward the dining room. When she turned her eyes back to Ode and saw his improved state, surprise flickered across her face. “You look much more spirited than you did last night. Just look at your complexion! I figured after that mishap last night, you wouldn’t have gotten a wink of sleep.”

Ode couldn’t very well tell her his better color came from devouring a Deep One. “Yes, the bed was very soft.”

From behind him, Cavendish seemed poised to offer his own commentary. Ode’s hand, resting on the counter, clenched into a silent fist. Wisely, Cavendish kept his mouth shut.

“Listen,” Ode said, “I wanted to thank you for the spare clothes you sent over. Last night, I was so caught up thinking about my relatives here that I didn’t even consider needing extra outfits before heading out.”

The landlady jumped in with warm enthusiasm, just as he’d hoped. “Oh, you poor thing. Last night was ordeal enough—this little gesture was nothing. Come on, tell me: who’s this relative you’re looking for? After everything you went through yesterday, you deserve a smooth day for once.”

Ode held out the pendant for her to see, careful to leave himself an out. “To be honest, I’m not even sure if this is family. Yesterday had me all worked up. I found it rummaging through my attic back home, and it had Dreamcatcher Town written on it.”

“Hmm…” The landlady frowned as she turned the pendant over in her hands, front and back. Ode was on the verge of giving up hope when she suddenly broke into a smile. “You’re in luck, dear. I know her—Lola Green. This photo’s from when she was a little girl, isn’t it? If I didn’t know her so well, I might not have recognized the little rascal. She’s all grown up now! But—oh heavens, why has your face gone so pale all of a sudden?”

Ode swallowed hard, waiting for the deafening roar in his ears to subside. “What do you mean by ‘all grown up’? How… how old is she now?”

“Why do you sound so tense?” Cavendish murmured softly.

Of course Ode was tense.

Think about it: the Undercover Agent didn’t know about the time reversal. What did that imply? It meant the agent he’d met wasn’t the one who’d come back with him from June 2nd to 1888.

In other words, the one he’d encountered was the original agent from the first loop, the one who’d entered the town with him on May 24th.

Which meant he’d indeed been hurled back to May 24th by the time reversal—but Dreamcatcher Town had already been stuck in 1888 by then.

The dates might twist one’s brain into knots, but the conclusion was simple enough:

For whatever reason, time in Dreamcatcher Town had frozen in 1888.

So when he’d tumbled back here from June 2nd, he’d landed smack in 1888’s version of the town. And when the Undercover Agent had followed him into town on May 24th—before any supernatural weirdness had befallen them—they’d both stepped into 1888’s Dreamcatcher Town.

That raised another thorny issue—

From 1888 to 1980, how many years had passed?

Ninety-two.

If the Old Madman’s granddaughter had wandered into the sealed-off Dreamcatcher Town afterward, the timeline might still hold water. But the landlady said this was a childhood photo of Lola? And now she was a grown woman?

Didn’t that mean Lola was a native of 1888? So how old was she now? Nearly a hundred?

Then… what about the Old Madman, her grandfather? Two hundred?

Ode couldn’t help raising a hand to his throbbing forehead. …Was Lola really the Old Madman’s granddaughter? Or had the Old Madman lied to him?

But—why? Was the old man truly so lost in madness he couldn’t tell reality from delusion? Or had it been deliberate?

“Are you alright?” The landlady asked, concern etching her features. “I thought you’d be thrilled to hear about Lola!”

“I am,” Ode said, lowering his hand.

His emotions always flared hot and faded fast. Restraint and calm had been drilled into him by Grandfather from a young age: one of his core tenets was “Knowing the truth is always better than being deceived.” “Alright, can you tell me if her family is kind? Do they treat her well?”

The key question being—did Lola’s grandfather still draw breath? Was it the Old Madman?

“Oh, they’re a lovely family, all hardworking folk. Her parents are farmers, and her grandparents and great-grandparents run a little general store together nowadays. My family and theirs have been thick as thieves for at least three generations! That’s why I hadn’t heard about any out-of-town relatives before—they’re all locals going back four or five generations if you dig that far.”

Ode: “…”

Fine then.

He’d half-wondered if maybe the Old Madman’s first love had shown up in Dreamcatcher Town pregnant. But with the landlady tracing their roots back four or five generations, that nailed the coffin shut. No room for doubt.

Ode sighed, the sheer absurdity weighing on him. Still, out of a sense of responsibility, he pressed on. “Could you tell me where she lives? I found this in the attic, so it’s kismet, right? Even if we’re not related, I ought to return it to her.”

Just to confirm, one last time. For safety’s sake.

On the brighter side, if he could verify Lola was safe and sound, it would lift one weight off his overburdened shoulders amid all this chaos.

Consider his plate right now: the possible Deep One Outpost, the inexplicable blaze, the baffling time barrier and reversal… And soon enough, he’d have to try chatting up the Lady in Black Fur Coat.

He had too many leads to chase as it was. If Lola was thriving, that freed him to laser in on the rest.

As for the Old Madman—could he just storm out of town and deck him now? Any reckoning would have to wait until he escaped.

Ode had been calmly rationalizing this to himself one moment; the next, he was mentally etching a vicious grudge into his ledger. He never wore his grudges on his sleeve, though—his face stayed easy and light. “A map would be ideal… Oh, you’ve got one.”

The landlady pulled a town map from beneath the counter—likely for tourists—and marked a spot with quick strokes before handing it over. She eyed the two men standing shoulder-to-shoulder with evident amusement. “Never imagined you two striking up a friendship. Is it because you both weathered that ordeal last night?”