“The Heart-Ripping Banshee... an enchanting yet deadly witch haunting the Lower City District, said to seduce passersby and drunkards on bright moonlit nights, luring them to secluded places to rip out their hearts and devour them.
The Shadow Butcher... identity unknown, known for wearing a loose black raincoat and wielding a bloodstained cleaver...
The Insomniac... an eerie figure wandering through the night...
The Lake Monster of the Grine River... widely rumored among the docks, said to be capable of engaging twenty hardy men in battle simultaneously.”**
Celicia placed the urban legends, blurry photos, and vague information she had gathered overnight about the Lower City District on the table in front of Viscount Guen, her lips curling into a faint mockery:
“Quite impressive, these urban legends of the Lower City District. I only asked you to investigate the Heart-Ripping Banshee, and yet all these bizarre tales came pouring out.
Viscount Guen, it seems the Lower City District is far livelier at night, isn’t it?”
“Er... is it?”
Viscount Guen wiped sweat from his brow, his body trembling uncontrollably:
“They’re just rumors, mostly vague hearsay. They don’t mean much, you know, heh... they mean nothing at all.”
“Is that so? Then are the recent reports about missing persons in the Lower City District also mere rumors?”
Celicia tossed another report onto the table. Its contents detailed a surge in kidnappings, abductions, and even human trafficking in the Lower City District over the past month.
“This...”
Looking at the report, Viscount Guen’s face turned deathly pale, forcing an ugly smile:
“There’s no actual evidence yet...”
“When people disappear, of course there’s no evidence.”
“Well, the Lower City District has so many people...”
“Viscount Guen, surely you’re not suggesting that the Lower City District has so many inhabitants that losing a few makes no difference?”
Celicia’s gaze abruptly turned icy.
“No, no, no... Of course not. I’m merely saying it’s challenging to investigate due to the sheer numbers. Challenging to investigate. And, well, it’s only been two days. Even if you’re in a hurry, Your Highness, you can’t expect results so quickly.”
Viscount Guen was practically whining now, overwhelmed by the oppressive aura emanating from the young woman. He wished he could just kneel before her, but the cramped space of the carriage left no room for the gesture. Any movement might even be seen as inappropriate.
“Difficult or not, it still needs to be investigated, doesn’t it?”
Celicia lowered her gaze and stopped paying attention to the terrified man in front of her. Instead, she flipped through the other documents.
She wasn’t here to prosecute him, nor did she waste time pretending to.
The chaos that engulfed the Lower City District had layers of complexities tied to various factors that went far beyond what this mere Viscount could resolve.
Truthfully, his appointment to this position was likely the result of being chosen as a scapegoat by those “benevolent and virtuous” bigwigs above him.
Otherwise, how could someone as lowly as him become the Governor of the Lower City District, such an important role?
“One after another—useless, every single one,” Celicia sighed softly and rubbed her temples in frustration.
A Count’s son had died violently.
Bizarre urban legends remained mysterious.
A spike in missing persons reports.
The current state of the Lower City District hinted at an unimaginable darkness brewing. Even for Celicia, holding the title of the Empire’s Third Princess with considerable resources at her disposal, the situation was proving to be quite tricky.
Most concerning was the unsettling calmness exhibited by those who truly held power in the Empire.
Even if they looked down on the Lower City District, it was still part of Belland.
If something erupted here, it could spread like wildfire, climbing to higher echelons, dragging everyone into it—with no one left unscathed.
By then, nothing could be undone.
“Or perhaps... something even more significant is preoccupying their attention, leaving them unable to mind even the minor crises at their feet?”
Celicia suddenly recalled the recent dark god invasion at the academy. If these were connected—or, rather, if they were all one interconnected matter—
Then this event’s magnitude might far exceed her expectations.
“How fascinating. A Count’s son’s death has unearthed so many problems.”
Celicia’s slender fingers subconsciously tapped on the edge of the window. Feeling the mental exhaustion from excessive contemplation, she began to miss the sugar-laden coffee from the student council room.
At least it could replenish her energy—plus, it tasted great.
But there wasn’t time for indulgence now.
Even if Belland faced potential calamity, there were others higher up who would bear the responsibility. Since her father hadn’t commented on it, it meant she, merely a daughter still enrolled at the academy, wouldn’t need to intervene yet.
For now, her priority remained with finding the perpetrator who killed Tek Rod. Otherwise, the Count might stir trouble, presenting headaches for both the academy and herself.
“That’s all for tonight, Viscount Guen.”
Celicia rose, sensing she wasn’t going to glean anything more useful.
“Eh? Your Highness is leaving already? Shall I escort you?”
“No need.”
Celicia denied him with just her gaze and lifted the curtain herself, stepping out.
Though his actions were impolite, the Viscount—his legs trembling uncontrollably—could only stick half his embarrassed face out through the carriage window, forcing a strained smile:
“Safe travels, Your Highness, be careful.”
Celicia ignored him, walking directly into the shadows.
The thin mist in the night seemed to swirl, and a man in a black trench coat silently appeared before Celicia.
His complexion was unnervingly pale, as if sunlight hadn’t touched it in years. On the chest of his trench coat, a peculiar insignia shimmered under the moonlight, emitting a cold and chilling light.
The insignia depicted a dagger-like, razor-sharp finger placed gently against blackened lips—a mark signifying absolute silence.
A *Silencer*.
Celicia immediately recognized his identity, unsurprised by his arrival.
“The analysis results are out,” the man said flatly, showing neither excessive respect nor disrespect toward Celicia. “That’s indeed a serpent’s scale.”
“So it was a moon-worshipping cultist who killed Tek Rod after all?”
“Without a doubt,” the man replied. “The so-called Heart-Ripping Banshee is very likely a serpent. Serpents have an inherent craving for the hearts of the opposite sex.”
“Can we capture it?”
“It’s difficult. In fact, we’ve been planning to capture that Heart-Ripping Banshee for six months now. But she’s cautious, evading us several times. What’s worse is that she ceased activity two months ago, complicating our efforts further.”
“Two months?”
Celicia’s gaze darkened.
Perhaps she was being overly sensitive, but that particular timeline coincided perfectly with the academy’s start date.
“So, after all this, there’s no progress?”
“Not exactly. Actually, we received something... this.”
The man suddenly produced a sealed metal box.
The box looked exceedingly robust, with magic runes etched onto its surface. Celicia recognized the markings as an extremely powerful sealing spell.
His gravity sobered Celicia’s mood.
After a complex authentication process, the box finally opened, revealing... a single letter.
Celicia’s expression froze briefly. “This? What is this?”
“As Your Highness can see, it’s a letter,” the man replied, donning gloves woven with silver and picking up the envelope. “Five hours ago, it was delivered by a courier to one of our branch mailboxes.”
“... And the problem?”
“Problem one: That branch has never sent or received mail.
Problem two: There’s no trace of the sender. The courier has no memory of delivering it to the branch.
Problem three: Your Highness will understand once you read it.”
The man handed her the letter. Celicia hesitated briefly, then coated her hand with an icy layer before accepting the envelope.
Opening it, nothing happened.
Celicia quickly scanned the contents, and a sharp tilt of her eyebrows betrayed her shock.
“A whistleblower letter? And the accused is...”
“Correct. That is precisely why I sought Your Highness. As a fellow student of Saint Maria, you might be able to deduce something—or at least verify the letter’s claims.”
“Real or not, wouldn’t finding the person answer that?”
After a moment of thought, Celicia raised her hand and beckoned with a finger.
From above, the sound of flapping wings echoed. A white pigeon emerged from nowhere, landing on her arm.
“Find me someone,” Celicia commanded coldly.
“Who?” The pigeon asked, speaking human words.
“Anna Kablin.”
...
...
“Did we cast the bait?”
Two figures—a tall one and a shorter one—stood amidst a desolate street, their gaze fixated on the brilliant moon above.
Though the moon had just passed full bloom, it remained round and radiant, with only faint traces of shadow marring its edges.
Yet, imperfect as it was, the two figures appeared utterly enraptured, consumed by its cold, silent beauty.
Finally, the shorter figure spoke, her unsettling fervor demanding clarity.
The taller figure said nothing, gnawing loudly on something in their mouth—crunch, crunch.
“Ah... so it’s done already?”
The shorter figure seemed answered. She raised her arms as though to embrace the moon, her tightly fitted leather garb accentuating a serpentine and seductive silhouette.
“Then... let us begin.”
Twisting sinuously, her tone carried reverence and madness, as if performing a strange dance—or reciting poetry drenched in devotion.
“Ah, moon, illuminate me."
"I shall tear apart all falsehoods of this world and bestow great truth upon its people."
"I shall witness your descent and herald unmatched blessings to this earth."
"I shall forge your new divine vessel with cold finality and death’s stillness—"
"Those crafted from blood and hatred shall adorn your resplendent crown."
"And I shall, within your celestial kingdom, live eternally!"
With the ceremony complete, the shorter figure reverently lowered her head once more.
Her face was enchanting, every frown and smile captivating and soul-stirring.
"Let's go."
She said:
"Let us welcome the return of the divine heir."
The taller figure smiled silently, his large hand wrapped in a black raincoat grabbing a writhing, twisted shadow. He tore off a piece, stuffed it into his mouth, crunch, crunch, and continued chewing.
"Delicious," he replied with a grin.
