Just as Inchworm was dealing with the newspaper's daily work while preparing various measures for the trip to Morien... he learned from the editor-in-chief's casual chat that an extremely experienced investigative reporter was about to return to duty.
Upon further inquiry, he found out it was the reporter "Rosalia" who had previously been involved in covering the fallen city.
Inchworm had absolutely no fondness for those fools who chased after noble gossip all day, but for this investigative reporter with quite unique insights, he held a shred of admiration.
Being able to devote a great deal of energy into such thankless work and achieve certain phased results was indeed quite rare. According to a few colleagues after drinking, Rosalia was even transferred to Moldway because of this.
After a whole day of writing articles, even though Inchworm was a Night-Moth acolyte, he still couldn't help feeling exhausted.
Recently, he had been working almost non-stop, day and night.
High-intensity work at the newspaper during the day, investigation and covert interviews at night, preparing possible weapon supplies on the black market, and secretly contacting transportation companies willing to take him to the outskirts of the fallen city.
When he finally finished all his to-do's and lay back on his residence's bed, he fell into a deep sleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.
Consciousness rose; a dream appeared.
It was a grand and absurd dream. Inchworm vaguely glimpsed a distant, shattered door, with branch-like, translucent long horns and an elegantly coordinated deer body reflected within it. Flickering, like a fleeting glimpse.
Inchworm instinctively wanted to approach, but vaguely realized that door and doe were far beyond reach.
Separated by an endless, long staircase.
Embedded on the steps were blade-like thorns and sharp objects from broken glass. Just looking at them made his eyes feel bloody and dripping, enveloped in terrifying pain.
Just as Inchworm was bewildered and confused, a letter stamped with a deer-hoof wax seal floated down like a feather before him.
In his daze, he opened and read the letter.
[To Tiyel Humphrey.]
[I have seen the efforts you have devoted to investigating the Sands of Slumber Bell Tower. Therefore, I will send someone to assist you. In the coming days, the Moon's Favored 'Rosalia Nolaria' will return to Foy. Explain your purpose to her; she will accompany you.]
[At the same time, you can contact the Secrets-Hunter supervisor Bartley. He will also provide you with some assistance.]
[Finally, when contacting these two, please say it is upon the request of 'Dr. Fran.' She is a trusted friend of mine within the Secrets-Hunters.]
[— Hermit.]
It was... a letter from Hermit.
Seeing its contents, Inchworm, previously in a dreamy, trance-like state, suddenly became clear-headed. The hazy scene instantly became more real.
The first emotion rising in his mind was sincere joy.
His efforts over this period had been acknowledged by Hermit; they weren't futile. Her sending others to assist proved it. As for how she knew his progress... it wasn't hard to guess.
Inchworm raised his hand, gently touching his left eye socket.
This eye was her creation; Hermit could naturally grasp his movements in real time. As she said... this blessing wasn't without its price.
If "monitored" in this way by a fellow cult acolyte of a similar level, Inchworm would feel strong unease, anxiety, and even be on pins and needles. He would remove it by any means, even if he had to dig out the entire eyeball.
But if that person was a Night-Moth Apostle, things were different. The colossal deity idol high above also watches the world, but no one feels constrained; rather, receiving its attention... is itself a reward.
"And, this dream..."
After reading the letter, the entire dream structure began to gradually fade. But he could also examine the surroundings and wonders with a near "lucid dream" rational perspective.
Although everything he saw was beyond his range of mystical knowledge, he still felt an uncontrollable thrill. It was an almost instinctive yearning, just as a night-moth may not know why it chases the light.
Moments later, as the long-horned doe let out a long call, all physical forms in the dream vanished.
Leaving only complete darkness.
After who knows how long, Inchworm opened his eyes.
"Phew... Was that deer shadow last night Hermit's 'messenger'? A dream creature so powerful as to be nearly impossible to look at directly, yet willing to accept such errands... unimaginable."
He held his forehead; the contents of last night's dream were clear in his mind, not forgotten at all.
Generally, dreams come from subconscious emotional redundancy, and most presented things are quickly deleted by the brain through forgetting. But that letter's content was as if branded into his brain for Inchworm, every punctuation mark clearly visible.
He checked the time: it was almost 7 AM the next day.
Time to wash up and get ready to go to the Foy Daily newspaper office and throw himself into another day of day-and-night rotating work...
Thinking of the newspaper, Inchworm considered the letter's content about the assistants.
One was the Moon's Favored Rosalia, and the other... was actually a Secrets-Hunter named Bartley. Intelligence from the Veiled Assembly mentioned him; that guy was a Burial supervisor who used a saw cleaver as a weapon.
Reportedly, he alone hacked dozens of armed pirates into pieces in the Abyssal Sea Tavern. And even when facing Louisa, who had transplanted Carapace Kind remains, he managed to fight his way out of encirclement with his last breath.
"To be able to command a Burial supervisor... Those stubborn hunters aren't easily swayed... Or perhaps Hermit can influence the Secrets-Hunter Cult through some means or someone?"
"Speaking of which, Reporter Rosalia actually has connections with Hermit, and is also a Moon's Favored."
Before knowing of her existence, Inchworm thought he had the power distribution of Foy Port and even all of Gormouth down pat. But after meeting her at the Third Perch... he realized how laughably shallow his past presumptuous understanding was.
Inchworm got up from the bed, did his daily washing up in the washroom, then went to the kitchen and casually heated some toast spread with Moldway cheese.
For a Foy Port resident with decent financial circumstances, this was a relatively common breakfast. But to save energy and time, he only ate cheese toast for lunch and dinner too... spending most other time compiling materials at the newspaper.
Competent newcomers without background always inevitably face such exploitation.
However, after delivering some "friendly greetings" to his harsh boss and a few senior colleagues who liked to put on seniority airs on a certain night recently... his work schedule became considerably more leisurely.
The reason he still seemed so busy was more because the time at night was used for covertly investigating the Sands of Slumber Bell Tower.
This wasn't a simple, easy task. Lately, for some reason, the Stellar Abyss Society had become abnormally sensitive about this. Foy Port was okay, but reportedly the Tide-Listeners in Moldway had already entered a state of martial law.
Their state was completely overreaction. Like wild dogs driven mad by hunger, trying to bite any meat they saw, almost hysterical.
Likely, something happened that seriously violated their bottom line; otherwise those stargazing guys wouldn't be so angry.
After over half an hour of walking, Inchworm arrived at the Foy Daily newspaper office.
He saw a black-haired, black-eyed woman sitting beside his workstation. She hadn't been there before, and... her skin carried a trace of an unusual, pale coldness. Though slightly concealed, careful observation revealed some clues.
Black eyes—probably concealing the original eye color...
But don't the Moon's Favored need to avoid sunlight? Why would she appear in the morning?
Inchworm looked out the window: only a heavy expanse of grey-black gloom, like the precursor to a typhoon's downpour.
Reportedly, Moon's Favored now mostly shed their undead traits, so they no longer fear sunlight as before. Though the midday sun could still incinerate them, they could barely manage to walk outside on relatively overcast days.
Seeing an unfamiliar person by her workstation, Rosalia roughly guessed his identity.
Likely, he was that new colleague who joined the newspaper. She had seen his name on the attendance roster.
"Good day, Mr. Tiyel."
Rosalia offered a polite greeting. But just as she was about to give a brief self-introduction, she heard him respond almost instantly.
"Good day, Ms. Rosalia."
Inchworm's reply was without hesitation, as if they weren't meeting for the first time but had known each other for a long time.
"Hmm?"
Rosalia was momentarily puzzled, couldn't help but slightly raise her eyebrows, carefully examining the person before her.
He wore silver-rimmed square glasses, his winter coat's double row of metal buttons neatly fastened to the collar, his speech was methodical, and he lacked Foy Port's much-criticized coastal accent... Seemed the well-educated type.
"Mr. Tiyel, you know my name?"
"Of course. You are in charge of the section on the fallen city 'Morien.' I happen to be quite focused on that area. And I've learned of your situation from some other sources."
Seeming worried that Rosalia might misunderstand, Inchworm explained as clearly as possible.
Then, his gaze shifted, subtly scanning the surroundings. Ensuring no one was paying attention to this conversation.
It was still early; the newspaper office was mostly empty. No need to worry too much about prying eyes or eavesdropping.
Seizing this gap, Inchworm slightly parted his lips and, following Hermit's dream instructions, whispered a fragmented murmur only Rosalia could hear.
"Ms. Rosalia, while most others keep silent about the fallen city's calamity, you are one of the few who persist in visiting the victims. But without seeing it with your own eyes... one can never truly understand the truth."
"I wonder if you have any intention of going to the fallen city, Morien?"
Hearing this, Rosalia's delicate brows slightly furrowed, her gaze gathering a trace of gravity.
For a "strange colleague" meeting for the first time, this was an extremely inappropriate invitation. Almost writing "ill intentions" on his face.
But Tiyel acted so calmly, making one couldn't help but wonder where his confidence came from.
Moreover, she vaguely caught a wisp of moth-phase spiritual energy lingering at the tip of her nose. Undoubtedly, he deliberately revealed it to indicate his identity.
"Without special reason, I must refuse. The fallen city is now just dangerous ruins. I don't want to rashly die in such a dark corner."
After a moment, Rosalia cautiously responded with a refusal.
But she didn't leave directly, wanting to see Tiyel's reaction. To some extent... this was also a conversation strategy of retreating to advance.
After the expected refusal, Inchworm stopped the pointless verbal sparring and, according to Hermit's letter, explained the reason to Rosalia.
"Ms. Rosalia, please forgive my earlier rudeness. This matter is upon the request of 'Dr. Fran.'"
Though he didn't know who Fran was, Hermit's letter mentioned she was a trusted friend in the Secrets-Hunter Cult. Probably a senior physician or medical supervisor.
"..."
Hearing Inchworm, Rosalia narrowed her eyes, falling silent for a moment.
If it was Dr. Fran's request, then it all made sense. This sudden yet unexpected development was quite her style...
Out of respect for Fran, Rosalia agreed for now.
"Alright. Mr. Tiyel, how many people do you plan to go with? I must declare, I am not the combat-proficient type. At most, I can guarantee my own safety and assist with things like blood scent tracking."
Hearing this, Inchworm scratched his cheek, his gaze slightly awkward.
"Unfortunately, I am also somewhat lacking in that regard..."
His secret arts and spiritual energy specialize in deception and driving others mad, but he himself isn't much stronger than ordinary people. That's why the Nightmare Guest took his eye in an instant, with no room for resistance...
"However, we should get help from a Secrets-Hunter Burial supervisor. He is a true killing expert."
"Alright."
Rosalia gave a slight nod, not dwelling on the issue further.
Back in the Norlington sewers, Sister Haida cleaving the Evil Spawn's body with one sword left an extremely deep impression... to the point that "Secrets-Hunter" was an extremely reliable concept in her subconscious.
As time neared the attendance limit, other newspaper members entered one after another, and the two stopped their conversation.
Upon learning they would go to the fallen city Morien, Rosalia's emotions were quite complex. She had always wanted to see the city's true state with her own eyes but was constantly hindered by various factors.
The dissuasion of the Nolaria family, the obstruction of the Stellar Abyss Society, and her own inner fear of aberrations and death...
To some extent, Dr. Fran's request, as a strong external push, finally made her resolve to fulfill this wish.
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