The veteran's left arm was missing below the elbow. The stump was jagged and uneven—clearly torn or blown off by brute force. The scar tissue at the end showed no signs of healing, no suture lines, and, most unnervingly, no decay. Instead, it was overgrown with a thicket of thorns.
Translucent, silvery fungal filaments speared out from the crosssection of the bone, tangling, branching, and creeping upward.
If no one had opened the shroud, you'd never have noticed they had already carpeted the inner lining of the stretcher, climbing up along the cabinet walls, and forming a drooping, netlike structure near the ceiling.
Anger followed the pattern upward with his eyes. At the densest center of the web on the ceiling, the mycelia intertwined into a distinct shape.
Anger squinted, trying to make it out.
The pattern resembled a crest—a shieldlike outline with a vertical fissure down the middle. On either side of the fissure were symmetrical scrollwork patterns, ultimately coiling into something like the teeth of a clockwork gear.
He felt he had seen this crest before.
In the Annals of Noble Lineages and Heraldry, it should belong to some northern family... but which one? He couldn't recall just then.
But how did a veteran from the Northern Reaches end up here?
Before Anger could ponder further, the flame of the oil lamp suddenly flickered.
The morgue had no windows, and the door was shut—it was perpetually airtight. The flame leaned, pulled, toward the direction of the fungal mass.
Then Anger heard the sound.
Skitterskitter... rustlerustle...
From the corners, from the ceiling, from the gaps between those iron cabinets—he turned his head and saw them. Countless small, ashgrey flying insects, their wing edges dusted with sootlike speckles.
Moths.They swarmed out from the shadows, surging toward that silvery thicket.
They alighted upon the filaments, wings vibrating rapidly, proboscises extending to secrete a glistening fluid onto the surface. More and more moths gathered, layer upon layer, until the fungal mass was completely shrouded.
Then the swarm began to move.
Without any visible conductor, they coalesced and shifted shape. Above the shrouded filaments, they assembled into a blurred outline.
A face.
Hollow eye sockets, a gaping mouth. The moths' wings trembled at the edges of its silhouette, creating the illusion of twitching skin.
A throbbing pain shot through Anger's temples. He took a step back, his heel knocking against the metal wheel of a cart behind him with a screech.
Then, his legs gave way. He halfcollapsed to his knees, one knee hitting the floor hard. A sharp, cramping pain seized his chest in the next instant.
Utterly unable to resist, Anger could only brace himself against the wall and slump into a sitting position.
But the moths did not stop. The assembled face dissolved, erupting into a cloud that filled the room. Anger lacked even the strength to wave them away. He could only endure as the tiny insects flew chaotically around him, their bodies thudding softly against surfaces in the silent room.
demanded that Ang leave, stating that the Church needed to perform a purification.
******
It would be a while before the pain in his chest fully subsided, but the moths, in contrast, had grown relatively quiet. However, from the direction of the corridor outside came the sound of footsteps.
The flame of the oil lamp leapt violently.
Three men cloaked in deep black, each wearing an insignia on their chests, pushed the door open. A sword hung at each of their waists, and the two behind even kept their hands tightly gripping their hilts. Parish Knights.
The leader removed his mask. His eyes first swept around the mortuary, then settled on Ang, before finally moving towards cabinet B7 and the strange spectacle covered in moths.
"Detective Hastings," the lead knight spoke. "The Police Bureau informed us of an anomaly in the mortuary."
"Just routine evidence collection, Your Excellency, KnightCaptain," Ang steadied his breathing, stepping aside to clear their line of sight. "In connection with the investigation into Lady Vinter's case today. There might be some relevance here. I came to take a look."
"Relevant evidence?" The KnightCaptain took two steps forward but came no closer.
One of the knights behind him drew from his cloak a brasscased instrument; its needle trembled violently beneath the glass dial, emitting a faint hum.
"Detective, this is a corpse suspected of occult contamination and posing a potential public health risk. It must be reported immediately to the Church's Bureau of Anomalous Phenomena and jurisdiction transferred."
He raised his eyes. "This body, and all items at the scene, are now under the custody of the Parish Knights. Please leave."
"Your Excellency, KnightCaptain," Ang began. "This body is that of a Northern Frontier veteran. Time of death was over three years ago. An abnormal incident occurred at Vinter Manor this morning, possibly related to a serial case, even implicating noble murder. The Police Bureau has the authority—"
"The Police Bureau's statutes do not apply here," the KnightCaptain interrupted him. "When an incident involves supernatural contamination, as defined by the Church, jurisdiction for anomalies automatically transfers. This is under the intersecting clauses of Kingdom Law and Holy Canon. Need I recite the statute number for you, Detective?"
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"If it involves noble murder, the Church also needs to provide an explanation to the Police Bureau," Ang showed no sign of backing down. "At the very least, I need to record samples of the mycelium and the state of the scene."
Ang had no choice. He needed to invoke the Vinter title to pressure the Knights. They had always looked down on the Police Bureau. Prolonging the argument would only leave Ang vulnerable later. He would definitely face trouble back at the precinct. He knew the temper of these slovenly hounds all too well.
"Noble murder, you say?" The KnightCaptain turned his head slightly towards the knight behind him. "Report to the High Purifier, inform them of the situation here and the name of House Vient, and apply for a Special Purification Mandate."
The young knight behind him retreated. The other remained unmoving, hand still on his hilt.
As the young knight left, the moths, which had quieted down, began to stir again. Instead of flying towards the light source, some hovered, some circled around Chamber B7, around that clump of mycelium, resuming their chaotic, erratic flight.
The KnightCaptain glanced at the remaining knight. The young knight's hand actually began to tremble involuntarily, and he seemed about to retreat further.
"Steady!" the KnightCaptain barked, and the knight behind him stiffened, his grip on the hilt tightening even more.
The humming swarm of moths began to coalesce again. Without forming any particular pattern, they suddenly surged directly towards Ang in a frenzied onslaught.
Ang hadn't anticipated this. There was no time to dodge. Countless moths flew straight at him, while the knights remained completely unaffected.
Suddenly, one moth landed on Ang's hand. Its proboscis pierced his.
******
The first thing Anger felt was not pain, but the sensation of kneeling in the mud.
[The trench.]
Mud deep enough to swallow his knees. The rain never stopped. The shriek of artillery shells tore through the air.
To the left, a young soldier had half his skull torn away by shrapnel—red and white matter splattered across his face. The veteran's face.
To the right, the sergeant was shouting, "Hold the line! For the King!"
Both the veteran and Anger felt a sudden, deafening roar in their ears.
When the veteran looked up, the scene was no longer one of gunfire and dust, but of comrades hauling away the bodies of other soldiers.
The veteran looked down at his left arm. He could not see his hand. He could not feel it. He tried to pick up the photograph lying on the ground to his left.
He looked up at those carrying the bodies. From the black water at the bottom of the trench, pale maggots began to crawl out in endless streams. As the maggots reached chestlevel on the carriers, they began sprouting fungal hyphae, piercing thorns, steadily enveloping the men.
Anger heard the veteran's whisper:
"……Sign it……"
"……Give us the pain……"
"……we will give you peace……"
Then came another whisper:
"……The debt must be repaid……"
"……The interest is more pain—others' pain……"
"……You must bring it back. …… "
"……Bring it to us…… "
"……The mine……"
[The mines.]
The colonial sun. The assembly line, workers exhausted into numbness.
The veteran stood in the shadows, holding a small brass vial. Its open mouth was turned toward his own nearcollapsed body.
From his breath, from his sweat, from his hollow gaze, faint threads of dark light continuously streamed out, flowing of their own accord into the vial.
Chains bound the veteran's body. With each thread that flowed in, one link of the chain loosened.
Not enough. Never enough. Interest compounding.
Interest upon interest.
The chains grew heavier, sinking into his bones.
[East End alley]
the veteran lay curled up, clutching a scrap of cloth torn from a noble's garment, murmuring: "Save me... Someone... please take it away from me..."
******
Ugh— Anger spat out a mouthful of bitter fluid.
The moths were gone, and silence fell again. Throughout the whole process, the KnightCommander and the younger knight behind him simply watched.
Only Anger had been attacked by the moths, and he was now coughing up dark fluid.
The KnightCommander narrowed his eyes, glancing at the small wound on Anger’s arm—and the moth.
“I’m fine,” Anger lowered his head, but his fingers instinctively brushed against the inner pocket of his coat. Something inside was restless.
The KnightCommander paid no further attention to Anger. He simply nodded toward the knight holding the brass instrument.“Record contamination level. Prepare holy water spray and sealed body bag. Notify the Purification Bureau—requires Level Two handling.”
“Your Excellency, KnightCommander,” Anger spoke up abruptly, “the body and the scene are yours to secure.”
The KnightCommander turned to look at him, a flicker of surprise in his sunken eyes.
“However,” Anger straightened up, withdrawing his fingers from the edge of his pocket, “the case of Lady Vinter’s death remains under investigation by the Police Directorate. If the Church discovers any clues related to the noble murder during the purification process, please, in accordance with Article VII of the RoyalChurch Joint Investigation Agreement, submit a summary report to the Directorate.”
The KnightCommander was silent for a few seconds. He gave a curt nod. “The Agreement will be honored. After purification is complete and the risk of contamination is confirmed to be contained. Now, Inspector—leave. Immediately.”
Anger took one last look at Chamber B7. The fungal brambles on the old soldier’s corpse seemed even denser than before. He turned and walked toward the morgue entrance without looking back.
Once outside, he pulled out the Log of Inquest.
There was new content on the latest page—words that should not exist.
Deceased: Harker Brennan, Northlands Veteran
Anomaly: Silver Mycelium, Moth Swarm
Linked Clue: Target shows signs of Edict 9 on neck
Check the silk.
Anger stared at the page. Edict 9 was mentioned again—another term he had never heard before.
The Church? Or perhaps the Royal Legal Charter?
******
He closed the logbook and stuffed it back into his pocket. Lifting his head to move forward, he caught sight of a flicker of fabric at the far end of the corridor—a corner of clothing. Then, a hand belonging to that figure dropped something before vanishing around the corner.
"Who's there?"
No response. Anger quickly moved forward. Though the distance wasn't great, he had clearly seen an impossibly smooth, abnormally pale hand. The fabric was the hem of a skirt.
A woman.
In just a few strides, Anger reached the corner, but no one was in sight.
Vanished? A grown man can't outrun a woman? Another illusion?
Looking down, he spotted a note on the floor. Anger picked it up casually and unfolded it. A single line of elegant handwriting read: "The laundry's secret needs washing."
Three hours later, Police Headquarters, Underground Archives
A duplicate document bearing the Church's wax seal had just been delivered.
The title read: "Abnormal Contamination Disposal Report & Evidence Destruction Record."
Subject ID: B7Corpse (Doe)
Contamination Type: Abnormal fungal proliferation & controlled insect swarm aggregation
Basis for Disposal: Kingdom Public Health Act Article 12, Sacred Purification Act Article 3, Anomaly Control Regulation Article 7
Disposal Method: Onsite holy water purification, followed by transfer of the corpse to Churchoperated incinerator for hightemperature destruction. All related evidence destroyed accordingly.
Site Status: Cleared. No risk of diffusion.
Signatories:
Church Purification Bureau Representative: Bishop Morris
Police Headquarters Liaison: Chief Schneider
The document bore both signatures and official seals, marking it as valid.
An appendix included a brief evidence transfer list, cataloging all items removed from the corpse.
The original documents, which should have been stored in the Public Archives section of the Police Headquarters, were noted as: "Transferred to Church Archives for sealing due to involvement in anomalous incident. Copies destroyed."
"Henrick," Anger leaned back in his chair, the thin duplicate document pinched between his fingers, "find out how all clothing from the Vinter estate is typically handled."