Chapter 8

A few seconds of silence hung at the front desk.

Cavendish’s gaze clearly flicked toward where Ode stood, though it remained unfocused.

Ode’s reaction, however, was remarkably calm. “Maybe.”

He turned back, smiling as he took the map from the landlady’s hand. With a nod of thanks, he stepped toward the inn’s exit.

Cavendish paused in confusion for a few seconds before hurrying after him, taking two steps at a time. “Don’t you find that suspicious?”

It took Ode a few seconds to sense something was off as he headed for the back door. He whipped around to see Cavendish striding confidently toward the front door.

“…”

Ode was momentarily at a loss for words. He glanced at Cavendish charging toward the main entrance, rolled his eyes in utter exasperation, then turned back, grabbed the man’s arm, and dragged him toward the back street. “How many suspicious things are there about you?”

Ode wasn’t doubting Cavendish’s blindness for the first time.

For starters, why would a blind man carry a standard edition of The Sea-Wolf? Ode had specifically checked the book before bed last night—the text had no braille. How had Cavendish read it? Were his fingertips sensitive enough to distinguish ink by touch?

Second, when Cavendish had knocked on the door with his gun last night, he hadn’t been using a cane. That proved at least that he didn’t always need one to move around.

But if Cavendish was faking his blindness, it didn’t entirely add up either.

After all, if it was an act, why had he walked straight toward the front door when he could clearly hear Ode’s footsteps?

It wasn’t just blindness—what kind of person couldn’t pinpoint the source of a sound? If their conversation hadn’t been so spot-on, Ode might have suspected the man was faking deafness too. No one faked it that poorly.

Ode thought back carefully. Every time Cavendish had zeroed in on his position, there had been physical or indirect contact—like just now, when Ode had pressed down on the map Cavendish was about to take, allowing him to turn toward the obstruction.

Or earlier in the dining room: when Ode had stood to leave, Cavendish had stuck close behind him. Now Ode suspected the man had been using the sweep of his long coat against his body to gauge his direction.

“You’re too strange, you know that?” Ode said as he unfolded the map and glanced at it.

Cavendish’s expression showed clear disagreement, but he ultimately asked politely, “What does the map show?”

Ode lifted his eyelids, eyeing Cavendish—who was facing roughly the right direction thanks to their arm contact, though his gaze fell a bit low. Ode couldn’t help wondering what image he cut in the man’s unfocused eyes. Did he seem short?

“…The layout of Dreamcatcher Town, and some scenic spots worth visiting.”

The town was large, but its districts weren’t complicated.

Ode pointed toward the sea to the south. “The town’s southern edge meets the coast, with a low-lying island not far offshore. Whether it pokes above the water depends entirely on the tide’s mood that day.”

“The harbor area has fishing grounds and the commercial street—we’re staying at an inn right on that street, so you can look up from the window and see the pitch-black sea to the south. Don’t be too disappointed; even with good eyes, there’s nothing worth appreciating in that view. No beauty, but plenty of gloomy oppression.”

When Ode was in a bad mood, his words always carried a touch of venom. “Farther inland, there’s a school built on the northeastern cliffs. I don’t get why they’d put a school up so high—maybe to train the kids in mountain-climbing for their daily commute, or to make it easy for stressed-out students to jump into the sea and forget their troubles.”

“To the east, an Anglican Church. But since you’re standing here in one piece, I have to seriously doubt the priests there are doing any real work.”

Cavendish pretended not to catch the barbed undertones in Ode’s words. “The sea view isn’t good? I think a stroll along the shore, listening to the waves, would be—”

“There’s also that dense forest the waiter mentioned. A bit farther inland, past the town’s self-farmed fields, and you reach it.” Ode finished on his own terms, stuffing the memorized map into his pocket before sparing Cavendish a skeptical glance. “Why are you so keen on getting me to the seaside? Earlier, when I was upset, you suggested there. What’s at the seaside?”

He wasn’t really expecting an answer from Cavendish. Having voiced his doubts, he grabbed the man’s arm again and strode toward Lola’s home. “Whatever it is, forget it. I’m not going to the seaside—at least not until I get a weapon. There’s no gun shop in this town, so after seeing Lola, we’ll figure out how to get one from the police station.”

Ode had originally planned to visit the Lady in Black Fur Coat after Lola, but rethinking it, what if she wasn’t friendly? Basic caution was necessary.

By the time they finished chatting idly, they stopped in front of a two-story cottage.

Ode reached out and touched the fresh wildflower wreath hanging on the door. “Very fresh—I’d bet a child made this.”

He leaned to the side and peered through the spotless window. Inside, a boy of seven or eight was hunched over the wooden dining table, scribbling something.

Ode raised an eyebrow slightly. Instead of knocking on the door right in front of him, he tapped lightly on the window. The boy jolted up as if startled, swiftly hiding his drawing behind his back. Upon recognizing the face outside, the wary boy froze for a second, then gasped, flailing his arms and shouting as he bolted into the back room. “Mom! Mom! An angel! There’s an angel knocking on our window!”

Ode noticed that even in his excitement, the boy kept that drawing hidden, as if it were a secret he didn’t want to share with his parents.

“An angel?” Cavendish leaned close to Ode’s ear and whispered the words.

“I’m good-looking—what about it?” Ode shoved him away as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Half a minute later, his handsome face having earned instant trust, Ode was seated at the wooden table where the boy had been. He glanced around the furnishings in Lola’s home.

A row of black-and-white photos on the wall stood out, capturing Lola’s radiant, unclouded smiles from childhood onward. Her large blue eyes held a steadfast strength. “You said Lola’s in class right now?”

“Yes,” Lola’s mother replied, carefully tucking the pendant Ode had given her into the family album. She looked up with a smile that froze briefly upon seeing Cavendish, but it warmed again the moment her gaze returned to Ode. “As you know, our town’s school is way up high on the cliffs. Most students don’t want the daily hike, so they board there. Lola comes home every weekend, but today happens to be Wednesday…”

“Get her out of class!” the boy named Paul urged. “She can study anytime—missing a chance to meet such a handsome big brother would be a huge, huge regret! He might not come back. Besides, Lola doesn’t like the classes at that school anyway. She wants to take the same ones as the boys, but they force her to learn sewing and cooking.”

“Girls are supposed to do those things,” Lola’s father said, scratching his cheek with some distress, though he ultimately indulged the request. “Fine, I suppose skipping a class or two won’t hurt. I’ll call the school and say… uh… her mother is sick!”

“Darling…” Lola’s mother shot her suddenly inspired husband a reproachful look.

Lola’s father spread his hands. “Or you call, and I’ll play the sick one.”

“…”

Ode stayed silent, quietly observing the family’s dynamic.

At first, seeing the boy hide his drawing, he’d nearly jumped to conclusions about family abuse. Now it was clear he’d overthought it.

Lola’s father’s attitude toward his daughter bordered on doting, even if his views were limited by the era in ways modern people wouldn’t endorse.

“Lola seems to have a good life here—nothing to worry about,” Cavendish whispered in his ear again, prodding. “We haven’t had breakfast. Aren’t you hungry? Let’s stroll by the sea. I know a tavern there with really crispy grilled fish.”

Ode ignored him ruthlessly and turned to Lola’s mother. “Have you heard about the man-eating monster prowling the town? It’s terrifying! Especially since I have to pass through that dense forest to get home.”

“I’m wondering— is there anywhere around here to get ammunition? I don’t know if bullets work on the monster, but having a weapon for protection would ease my mind.”

Lola’s mother looked into Ode’s eyes, which shone with tense confusion in the sunlight, and blurted out without thinking, “We actually have some spare shotgun shells at home—”

“What did you say?!”

A roar erupted from inside the house. Lola’s father’s bellow cut their conversation short. “What happened to Lola?!”

“?”

Ode looked up at the sound and stood without hesitation, following Lola’s mother—who had jumped in fright and rushed toward the back room—into the inner chamber.

“Missing…” Lola’s father gripped the phone receiver, his usually mild face flushed red. Anger, shock, fear… a storm of emotions flashed in his blue eyes as his hand trembled on the phone cord. “How does she just vanish out of nowhere while living on campus?! She’s—she’s been missing for three days?! Why wasn’t I told? Why did no one inform me that my daughter went missing at your school?!”

“No…” Lola’s mother’s legs buckled, and Ode caught her, helping her to a nearby wooden chair. “It can’t be… Why? Why would this happen to Lola?? …The monster—that man-eater—did it take her?!”

“Nonsense!” Lola’s father shouted in denial. “Absolutely not!”

The voice from the school came through the receiver: “I understand you’re very worried, and I sympathize. But truthfully, we can’t confirm yet if Lola met with an accident on campus. As you know, your daughter often skips class because she doesn’t like to study—”

“That’s because you refuse to offer her the same courses as the boys!!” Lola’s father bellowed. “I’ve looked into it! Don’t think just because I’ve never left Dreamcatcher Town, I have no knowledge! At Oxford! At Cambridge! They allow women to attend lectures and take exams—”

“But not to receive degrees.” The school’s voice remained calm and rational—a subtle arrogance in its tone. “Doesn’t that say something?”

Lola’s father’s lips quivered with rage; he was about to unleash a tirade when he saw Ode holding up a piece of paper with childish crayon scribbles of people. Beneath the crude drawing, elegant italic script read in colored pen:

【Don’t get sidetracked. Just ask about Lola’s disappearance.】

Lola’s father stared at the note, his entire body trembling. It took him a long while to exhale deeply, his voice strained as he growled, “I don’t care. Right now, all I want is for you to give my daughter back to me—safe and in one piece. Where. Is. My. Daughter?”

“…I told you, she skipped school three days ago. We’ve talked to you about this undisciplined behavior of hers many times before. We even warned you it could lead to safety risks—”

Ode finished scribbling a line, then held up the doodle paper he’d borrowed from Paul again: 【Ask them if they’ve called the police】.

“…” A vein throbbed at Lola’s father’s temple. He reined in his anger and glanced at the paper. “Have you called the police?”

The school staff, caught trying to shift blame once more but failing: “…We thought your daughter had gone home after skipping! How were we supposed to know she—beep. Beep.”

“?!” Lola’s father’s eyes widened in shock as he stared at Ode, who had just yanked the phone line out of the wall. “What are you doing? I haven’t gotten the answers—”

Ode cut him off. “Do you really think you’re going to pry your daughter’s whereabouts out of the school like this?”

“…” Lola’s father’s mouth opened and closed uselessly for a moment before his eyes reddened. “But aside from grilling the school, what else can I do? They’re my only lead! They said Lola left the school three days ago, but she never came home—”

“No, something happened to Lola at the school.” Ode handed the crayons and paper back to the startled Paul, then gently ruffled the little boy’s hair. “If she’d gotten into trouble off-campus, the school would’ve called the police right away to avoid any liability—to have the most timely proof that they weren’t responsible. The fact that they’re hiding it and not even telling the parents means the fault lies with them.”

Lola’s father immediately replied, “Then—then I’m going to the school! I’ll confront them face-to-face—”

Ode placed a hand on Lola’s father’s broad shoulders, toughened from years of farm work. “And then get blocked at the gates while they stall you, buying time to clean up any evidence that might hurt their case?”

He shook his head, pulling the bored-looking Cavendish—who had been staring out the window—along while reassuring the father. “It’s not hopeless.”

“The school hasn’t notified you yet, which means they haven’t tied up all their loose ends.”

“They might be in a panic themselves, maybe even conducting an internal investigation. That’s why they were caught off guard when you showed up and had to spill some truth.”

“This kind gentleman and I will head over together, posing as someone who won’t raise their suspicions. If we hurry now, we might still find some clues.”

“…?” The so-called kind gentleman glanced at Ode, following the grip on his wrist, a faint look of puzzlement on his face.

Lola’s father looked equally baffled. “You two? But… why? We’ve never even met—”

“Listen.” Ode interrupted the father’s growing doubts.

“I came all the way from London to Dreamcatcher Town for Lola’s pendant necklace. I’ve come this far already—I don’t mind doing a little more for the girl.”

Ode’s tone was steady and reassuring, his voice carrying a weight that could anchor someone amid chaos. “Maybe this is God’s will, putting me right here with you at this moment. My mission on this trip is to find Lola.”

Lola’s mother froze, tilting her head up slightly to gaze at the earnest Ode, his eyes resolute. Just then, sunlight poured in from behind him, outlining his profile in pure, flawless lines and wrapping it in an almost ethereal glow. “…Take the gun from our house.” She quickly wiped her tears, stood, and strode toward the shotgun hanging on the wall. “If someone’s trying to hurt Lola—if there’s a monster out there—take it. At least I don’t want you getting hurt for helping us.”

Ode nodded slightly, took the gun, and led Cavendish out of Lola’s home without any hesitation.

The moment they stepped outside, Cavendish—who had been wearing a subtle expression until now—finally spoke up. “You believe in God?”

“Hell no, I’ve never even set foot in a church my whole life.” Ode grimaced, hefting the firearm in his hand and feeling much more secure. “Come on! Let’s head to the school.”

·

Fifteen minutes into the climb, Ode—sweat-soaked and panting like a dead dog—fully appreciated how wise it had been to board at the school.

The Deep One Corpse Chunk that had invigorated him last night seemed to have been completely digested. He was back to being the guy who turned into a puddle after one gym class. Midway up, Cavendish kindly offered to carry the gun for half the hike, but Ode flatly refused.

What a joke—that’d be like handing his lifeline to Cavendish. Might as well invite a killer in, hand him a knife, and ask him to hold onto it.

He paused to catch his breath partway up. Cavendish—who hadn’t broken a sweat (Ode suspected the man might not even have pores)—gazed toward the sea. “You really should read The Sea-Wolf sometime.”

“What?” Ode just wanted to kick Cavendish off the cliff into the waves below.

“There are some great passages in it,” Cavendish said. “Like, ‘Life is like yeast—a wild, blind ferment. The strong eat the weak, the lucky ones survive, the strong grow stronger. That’s all.’”

“…” Ode straightened up slowly, unable to shake the feeling that this was aimed at him. “I’m afraid I can’t agree. —Do you know what my favorite book is?”

“What?” Cavendish turned, genuinely curious.

“…” Ode stared blankly at Cavendish, who seemed to be talking to thin air on the other side. Speechless for a moment, he wiped his face and resumed climbing. “The Little Prince.”

“I’ve read it.” Cavendish kept pace as Ode’s shirttails fluttered in the mountain breeze, occasionally brushing his arm. “But—what part moved you?”

“Are you messing with me?” Ode couldn’t help glancing back. “When I read that book, almost from the second-to-last chapter, I cried all the way to the end.”