Whoosh!
Carl sat by the window in a well-furnished room lined with brown wallpaper, a book open in his hands as he tried to keep himself calm. The morning light filtered in softly, reflecting off the wooden desk where a few scattered books and his smartphone rested.
A few quiet minutes went by, until the door creaked open.
A man with slightly brown hair, dressed in a black polo, stepped in casually. His eyes swept across the room before settling on Carl. He walked over and glanced at the desk, noticing the books and phone, but said nothing at first.
Carl didn't look up, as he continued flipping through the pages. The silence was enough to make the man speak up.
"Carl… good morning. How're you doing?"
"Good," Carl replied flatly, still reading. After a brief pause, he added, "You need something."
The man chuckled. "Still sharp as ever."
He hesitated for a moment before lowering his voice.
"There's a job I think we should take."
That made Carl lower his book slightly. "Hope it's clean. What kind of job?"
The man smiled. "Better than clean. Pays around three thousand pounds."
Carl let out a small breath, almost amused. "Three thousand? That's a whole year sorted…" He glanced at him. "So what is it?"
The man's smile widened.
"Simple job. We kill the King of Betyl."
"..."
There was a long pause. Carl stared at him for a second, then shook his head lightly and went back to his book.
"Yeah… no."
The man blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Wait—what? Why not? That kind of money—"
"I said no," Carl cut in, calm but firm. "I'm not doing assassinations. And killing the king?" He scoffed faintly. "His son takes over. With the way things are, that'll just make everything worse."
The man frowned. "You sure about this?"
Carl didn't even look up this time. "If you've got a bank job, I'm in. This? Forget it."
Hearing that, the man glared angrily at Carl, gritting his teeth uncontrollably.
Without warning, he shot both of his arms forward, and lunged.
"You think your better than us!"
Carl barely had time to react before he was shoved hard against the window, a hand clamping around his throat.
The impact knocked the air out of him as he was forced halfway out, his body dangling dangerously.
"What the hell—?!" Carl choked, instinctively pressing his legs against the frame to keep from falling.
The man's grip tightened, veins bulging as he tried to push him further.
Carl's expression hardened. Using his Order abilities, he jerked his leg up and drove a hard kick into the man's side.
Bam!
It was a hard one indeed, making the man grunt, and loosen his grip, just enough for Carl to quickly drop back inside.
As he did that, he immediately pushed the man to the wall, holding him by the collar, before switching to the throat and pulling him upward with one hand.
"You lost your mind?!" he snapped.
The man clawed at Carl's hand, struggling, his movements growing weaker by the second… until they stopped completely.
There was silence once more, as the body grew lifeless. Carl stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, before slowly letting the body drop.
"…Idiot," he muttered under his breath.
He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hand, his expression twisting into annoyance.
After a brief pause, he dragged the body to the window and pushed it out. It disappeared into the alley below.
A breeze slipped into the room, brushing through his green hair.
Carl stood still for a second, exhaling, before forcing himself to calm down.
Then, as if nothing happened, he returned to his desk and picked up his book again—though his eyes didn't immediately move across the page.
A moment later, the door opened again. An older man with white hair, a pipe resting in his mouth, stepped in.
"Carl… what happened to Mark?"
Carl didn't look up this time.
"He tried to break the rules," he said simply.
The man paused, then gave a small chuckle. "Heh… can't say I'll miss him."
He turned slightly. "I'll call a graveyarder."
Pulling out his phone, he stepped back into the hallway as the call began.
Carl remained seated, staring at his book. After a moment, he closed the book. His fingers slowly formed a triangle.
"Bless the Almighty Sun God."
Withdrawing his hands, he noticed that his skin was covered in slight pokey pigment.
Almost immediately they vanished. This was as a result of his Order! His body could only be hardened briefly.
He breathed softly and brought the book up to his face, continuing to read.
...
Montmartre Heights, Defent Street. Celestial Brigade Faculty.
In another country, the Celestial Brigade Faculty stood lively and active. Members moved about at ease, some engaged in quiet conversations while others carried out their duties.
Slowly, the door opened. It was a familiar figure with slicked back hair, and black eyes. It was Benson.
Dressed in a black trench coat with a matching black hat, his presence was calm yet noticeable as he entered the faculty.
...
He held a cup of coffee as he walked, soon slipping past the partition and into his office. Letting out a heavy sigh, he sank slightly into his chair.
Thankfully, Mrs. Hathway made us take the train this time, he thought. Still stressful… but at least we didn't have to deal with some giant tentacled monster.
A soft chuckle escaped him. Moments later, his expression straightened. He turned to his laptop and began typing, his face growing serious as his fingers moved across the keys.
After finishing, he stood up, adjusted his black hat, and stepped out.
Making his way downstairs, he turned right and opened a door.
Inside, at least three figures were gathered around a table, their eyes fixed intently on a computer screen.
...
They glanced at him briefly, then returned their attention to the computer. Only William smiled, raising a hand in greeting.
"Good morning, Detective Benson."
Benson smiled back. "Morning. How's the investigation going?" he asked, stepping closer.
A man with short hair and glasses—giving him a distinctly Asian appearance—answered calmly, "It's progressing, but… with Captain Hathway, you, and the others gone at the time, things slowed down."
He moved the mouse and clicked on a section of the screen. An image appeared—two houses clustered together with a narrow alley between them.
"Here," he said. "Another body was found."
A brown-haired girl let out a small chuckle. "The Borough Market Butcher again?"
The man turned to her and gave a faint nod. "Yes. But during that time, we managed to gather some traces—enough to narrow down where he might be."
The girl crossed her arms lightly, a faint smile still on her face. "Then why are we even trying to kill him? He's basically doing what we do—getting rid of humans who've lost control."
She tilted her head slightly. "That just saves us the trouble, doesn't it?"
Benson clicked his tongue softly and took a sip of his coffee before replying.
"If he can kill the cursed," he said evenly, "what makes you think he won't target normal people someday?"
He lowered his cup slightly. "Besides, this faculty operates as a police force. We don't get to ignore things like this."
The girl's smile faded as she nodded. "...I understand."
Benson gave a small nod, then turned to the man.
"Wei, is that everything for now?"
Wei paused, thinking for a moment before replying, "There is one more thing. While you were away, there was another murder."
He hesitated slightly.
"This time… the corpse was arranged into the shape of a letter."
Benson frowned. "A letter?"
Wei nodded. "The letter 'A.' "
Benson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "A… Is that supposed to be a message?"
...
Benson tapped his fingers lightly against the table, thinking before he spoke.
"Or… could this be the Borough Market Butcher? Where was the body found?"
Wei frowned and shook his head. "I know what you're thinking—but it's not him. The Borough Market Butcher was first identified after they discovered a shed near the riverbank, close to Borough Market, filled with cursed remains."
He clicked his tongue softly. "This one was found on Francisca Street."
William raised a brow. "That's far."
Bella gave a small chuckle. "Far? That's practically leaving the city."
Benson narrowed his eyes slightly. "Then that only leaves one possibility…"
He paused, tapping the table once more.
"He wants attention."
The others looked at him. "Placing something like that near the border—it's deliberate. He's trying to make people see it."
As he spoke, his thoughts drifted inward.
This feels similar to the Holy Communion case…
Are they moving again? Trying to awaken the Primordial Lord of Chaos…?
Wei absentmindedly chewed on the end of his pen before nodding slowly. "Detective… I hadn't considered that. We should probably launch a full search of that area. If he's leaving signs there, there's a chance he operates nearby."
Benson gave a small nod—but then suddenly paused, as he remembered the bundle of paperwork in his office.
Changing his face to a serious expression, Benson coughed lightly, straightened his coat, and turned toward the door. "I'll be back. I have something… important to handle."
Without waiting for a response, he stepped out and closed the door behind him.
The room fell quiet for a second.
Then Wei glanced at the door and muttered under his breath, "That's our detective… never resting. Always thinking about the city."
He shook his head slightly. "Didn't even stay five minutes. What a man."
William nodded in agreement.
Bella smiled. "Honestly… he deserves an award."
And just like that—
The two of them started clapping.
...
Cornerstone. Number 21.
It was morning. The crimson glow of the sun spread across the sky, reflecting off nearby rooftops and tinting the houses in shades of red.
Lumian walked down the stairs with disheveled hair, letting out a long yawn as he entered the seating room.
He had stayed up all night thinking about Patricia's situation. But deep down, he knew thoughts alone wouldn't bring answers. His main focus now was waiting for a week before attempting the spirit dance—and then finding another way to obtain the Magician formula.
"Where's Laura? Hasn't she prepared breakfast yet?" Lumian asked casually.
Kelvin, sitting nearby with a newspaper, let out a soft chuckle.
"Lumian, you can always cook yourself. But don't worry—your food's already in the kitchen."
"Hm," Lumian hummed, without hesitation heading straight there.
Still in his white and blue sleep gown, he quickly took the food, went upstairs, and closed his room door behind him.
Inside, he opened the container. A rich aroma of beef and rice immediately filled the room, hitting him like a wave.
He took steady bites, savoring each mouthful before finishing his meal.
Afterward, he headed to the bathroom and took a warm, steamy shower.
When he was done, he returned to his wardrobe and dressed in black trousers, a black shirt, and his black coat. As he fastened the buttons, he paused—realizing they were slightly mismatched.
He smiled faintly, undid them, and fixed them properly before putting the coat back on.
Then he picked up his amethyst pendant and placed it in the right side of his trousers, though a small part of it still showed. After a moment, he returned to his wardrobe and put on the silk black hat his siblings had bought for him.
After spraying some cologne, he headed to the kitchen, washed the container, and said goodbye to his siblings.
With Kelvin and Laura still at home, Lumian stepped outside, hailed a taxi, and made his way toward Lamenti.
...
Lamenti, Moonlight Watchers Faculty.
Lumian arrived earlier than expected.
He noticed Lury behind the counter, her expression slightly gloomy as she focused on her notes.
Approaching her, he smiled. "Good morning, Lury. How are you this beautiful morning?"
Without looking up, she let out a small chuckle. "I'm good."
Lumian paused, a bit taken aback. Normally, she would have already been chatting energetically with him.
The silence lingered, making things slightly awkward.
He considered heading upstairs to his office, but changed his mind and kept the conversation going.
"So… what did you bring for lunch today?" he asked with a light smile. "I was thinking we could go out later—maybe stop by Cornerstone and grab some bread from a friend of mine."
Lury finally looked up at him, a small smile forming before she giggled. "I already brought something—bread and jelly, to be exact."
Lumian pouted slightly. "Trying to make those of us without food jealous?"
She chuckled. "You're the one who asked. But if you really want to go out, I don't mind."
Lumian smiled, watching her expression.
Hmm… I thought Patricia's death would affect her more… she still seems cheerful, he thought.
Just as Lury was about to speak again—
Knock. Knock.
Both of them paused.
Lury frowned slightly and glanced at Lumian. "Weird… who knocks before entering here?"
She straightened up, tidied her desk quickly, and said, "You can come in."
The door opened.
A young woman stepped inside—around twenty-five or twenty-six, with yellow hair and a black dress.
She looked around briefly before asking,
"Excuse me… is this the exorcism faculty?"
"Yes," Lury replied.
The woman hesitated for a moment, then said,
"I'd like to make a request."