Wright turned around and gave a slight nod: "Sheriff."
Catherine merely lifted her hollow eyes to glance at the Sheriff, acknowledging him.
Marcus walked up to them, rain streaming down the edge of his umbrella to form a small curtain of water.
He looked around, confirming that no one else was nearby to overhear their conversation.
"I know."
He spoke, his voice kept very low yet exceptionally grave.
"Everything that happened underground three days ago is an unbearable nightmare for anyone. Smith... and Mr. Hawkins... their sacrifice..."
He paused, seemingly unable to find the right words, and finally just shook his head heavily.
"Their sacrifice cannot just be... completely covered up by a 'gas leak' report."
Wright's gaze darkened. He straightened his back, and his injured arm seemed less stiff.
Catherine instinctively took half a step back, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off the chill surging back into her heart.
"That thing..."
Sheriff Marcus's gaze swept over Wright and then landed on Catherine, carrying a sense of scrutiny and heavy concern.
"That summoned... will, and those monsters... they were not buried along with Claire and that underground hall. I have this premonition."
His rough fingers unconsciously rubbed the handle of his umbrella.
"We disrupted the ritual, but what about the source? Is there really only one lunatic like Claire? That... knowledge, that power... they are still scattered out there."
"The Theological Seminary has been sealed off, but just yesterday evening, a patrol reported that a group of suspicious people was discovered on the perimeter of the blockade, near the forest behind the mountain. The leader seemed to have slurred speech."
Wright's pupils constricted sharply: "Gan? That lisping man?"
"The cell lock was corroded by some kind of strong acid."
Sheriff Marcus nodded, his face grim.
"He disappeared right when we were fighting for our lives underground. No one knows how he did it, nor does anyone know where he went or what he wants to do."
Sheriff Marcus looked back at Wright, his tone becoming exceptionally sincere, even carrying a hint of imperceptible pleading.
"The police station needs eyes."
"A pair of eyes that can see those... anomalies beyond ordinary cases, a pair of eyes that won't be easily deceived by appearances."
"I cannot apply to my superiors to establish a 'Ghost and Monster Investigation Department'; that would only get me branded as a madman. But I need someone who can give me a direction, a warning, when I encounter things that cannot be explained by common sense."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping even lower, almost to a whisper.
"Mr. Williams, Miss Catherine, I am here, in my personal capacity, to implore you... to become my'Special Consultants.' Unofficial, secret, known only to the three of us."
"When those shadows from underground, or perhaps from the starry sky, attempt to shroud this city again, I will need your help. I need to know that I am not the only one fighting against them."
"For Smith, for Mr. Hawkins, and for all the innocent people in this city who know nothing of this and could become the next victims."
Rain tapped against the oak leaves, making a monotonous and continuous rustling sound, like countless whispers. From the distance of the cemetery came the sound of vehicles starting and driving away, making the silence of this corner feel suffocatingly heavy.
Wright Williams was silent.
His injured left arm ached faintly in its sling, reminding him of that nightmarish struggle in the underground hall three days ago.
The sickening gurgling of the Flesh Giant, the shriek of the Insectoid's bone claws tearing through the air... and that blinding white light at the end... these fragments of imagery collided in his mind.
The Sheriff's words were like a stone thrown into a deep pool, stirring up violent ripples in his heart.
Becoming a secret consultant for the police? What did that mean?
It meant he would officially step into a dark realm that was hidden from the world yet truly existed.
It meant his Williams Detective Agency would no longer just handle those trivial or scheming ordinary cases. He would need to be constantly vigilant against the whispers and tentacles from the non-human realm hiding beneath ordinary cases.
He felt an instinctive resistance. Intuition told him that once this door was pushed open, it could never be closed again; the darkness behind it would follow him like a shadow.
What he had always pursued was order built on logic and evidence, not this kind of chaos and unspeakable horror.
However, another, stronger emotion overwhelmed this resistance.
It was anger! It was also determination! It was a sense of mission that had been thoroughly ignited.
Joseph Hawkins's pale, despairing face flashed before his eyes, and the image of Police Officer Smith spitting blood as he was sent flying by the giant was etched deep in his memory.
And there was Catherine, standing beside him at this moment, so fragile she seemed as if a gust of wind could blow her over. Her hollow eyes carried a darkness that ordinary people could not imagine.
They did not die from accidents or ordinary crimes; they were sacrifices offered to some... incomprehensible existence from the depths of the cold universe!
This world is not just about the crimes under the sun. Those blasphemous rituals, twisted monsters, and greedy wills from the starry sky—they are real. They are right there, breeding and spreading in the cracks of civilization.
If even those who know the truth choose to retreat, then next time, when the darkness descends, who will be able to stand up?
A searing, hot current rose from his chest, dispelling the chill of the rain and suppressing the dull pain of his wound.
Wright raised his head, meeting Sheriff Marcus's gaze, which was mixed with anticipation and anxiety. His voice was not loud, but exceptionally clear and firm.
"Pleasure working with you, Sheriff."
"This world... indeed contains things we cannot understand but must fight against. Escaping and denying will only make them more unscrupulous."
"My agency... needs the police's information channels, and I... also need a reliable ally. Fighting alone is indeed unable to deal with that scale of darkness."
He instinctively used his right hand to gently press the wound beneath the sling on his left arm.
Sheriff Marcus's tense shoulders instantly relaxed, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.
A glimmer of relief flashed in his eyes, mixed with deep gratitude and respect.
He extended his uninjured hand and firmly shook Wright's right hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Williams."
His voice was still hoarse, yet full of strength: "This trust, I, Marcus, will remember."
Immediately, the Sheriff's gaze turned to Catherine beside him.
Catherine's body trembled visibly. She abruptly lowered her head, avoiding the Sheriff's gaze, her long hair falling to cover her profile.
"Miss Hawkins?"
Marcus's voice became even softer, carrying cautious probing and sincere concern.
"I know this is... too hard for you. You just lost Joseph, and you yourself have experienced... harm that ordinary people cannot imagine."
He looked at Catherine's face, which was so pale it lacked any hint of color. Her deep eye sockets and hollow gaze made any words of comfort seem pale and powerless.
Catherine slowly lifted her head. Rain wetted her eyelashes, gathering into droplets that rolled down, sliding along the curve of her cheek, leaving cold, wet traces behind.
Her gaze was somewhat unfocused, seeming to pierce through the Sheriff and Wright before her, landing on some void point deeper in the cemetery.
She opened her mouth, a dry, breathy sound escaping her throat. After a few seconds, she finally found her voice.
"Sheriff... thank you for your kindness."
"I... I just want to stay quietly. I miss my brother... every day, every moment."
Her voice was weak, carrying a tremor of exhaustion.
"Those... sounds in the basement, the lights, and... that woman's face..."
She abruptly closed her eyes, her body swaying violently. Wright instinctively reached out to steady her, but she slightly avoided him.
She took a deep breath, struggling to calm her body's trembling, and opened her eyes again. In them was a sense of exhaustion and resistance that bordered on pleading.
"They are still in my head... like a nightmare that won't go away. I cannot... come into contact with anything related to that place anymore, not even a little. I just want to... bury all of this."
She looked at the Sheriff, then at Wright, her eyes filled with pleading.
"Please let me... return to a normal life. I beg you."