The Deceiver killed Julie, yet failed to wear her skin; somewhere, a knot in the current snagged its plan and stalled its hunt.

It used a spiked octopus… pins under the skin, a threat like thorned coral.

Would it be that Blue Ringed Octopus?

No, no, probably not. Lucimia shook her head, hair rippling like ink on water.

That Blue Ringed Octopus was already dead; this attacker was another octopus, another ripple darting in the dark sea.

Unease pricked first; as she lowered her gaze to think, a flustered man brushed past like a moth at dusk.

She raised her head on instinct, eyes catching his motion like hooks catching a fish.

The man wore coarse linen, hunched, and ran oddly toward a soldier, clutching the man’s arm like driftwood.

What are you doing?! The soldier flung him aside by reflex; the man toppled back, landing hard like a dropped sack.

Yet he neither got angry nor cried out; he sprang up, hands trembling, voice fluttering like a sparrow.

S-s-soldier, sir! I—I—I saw it!

Huh? What did you see? Speak! The words cracked like a whip over dusty ground.

I—I—I, I saw, saw… I saw the murder scene!

He shouted so loud it carried; Lucimia, Captain Cole, and the crowd heard, drawing in like a tide around a rock.

Say it again—what did you see? Cole strode over, gripping his shoulders roughly, fingers like iron tongs.

I—I—I… I saw how she died! She was—killed by that, by the Evil Entity!

You say she was killed by an Evil Entity? An Evil Entity, or those believers? His voice slid cold as a blade.

I—I don’t know… His courage shrank like a pricked balloon.

You don’t know? Cole’s eyes widened; he shook him hard, anger snapping like dry twigs. You don’t know if it’s an Evil Entity or believers? Or are you playing me?

I’m not! the man shouted, words tumbling like pebbles down a slope.

I really saw it! A black shadow behind that person, ink spilled behind her back.

The woman screamed; I yelled at it; it got scared, dropped her, and ran.

But you only saw a shadow; did you see its features, anything with shape? Cole pressed, tone grinding like stone.

I… maybe… no… His voice thinned to a thread, fading like mist.

Alright. Cole clapped; the sound popped like boards in heat.

He told the crowd, This gentleman got scared at the scene and likely hallucinated; his words drifted like dust.

He bent toward the man, voice soft as dusk light.

You’re overstressed. You’re a witness anyway; come to our post, a lantern-lit harbor, and we’ll talk it through.

The man nodded woodenly, neck moving like a hinge.

The crowd scattered again, rustling like leaves under a sudden breeze.

Watching them go, Lucimia bit her lip, a petal caught between teeth.

This captain named Cole felt off, like grit under the tongue.

At first she thought he faced Ritch to calm the crowd, like rain easing dust.

Yet even with a witness, he insisted it wasn’t an Evil Entity; his tone and motions rang wrong, like a drum out of beat.

One thing was clear—the Deceivers were stirring, snakes waking in tall grass.

Worried about tomorrow’s Exorcism Ritual? No. Deceivers don’t fear exorcism; that idea crumbles like damp paper.

She burned to avenge Aunt Julie; she wanted that octopus caught, resolve taut like a drawn bow.

After one last look at the burly man, she turned and walked toward Delicious Delicacies, feet clicking like beads.

Handle Father’s matter first; with Miss Kaeli shadowing me, he’ll learn what happened here, a lamp in the dark.

How to slip past Miss Kaeli’s eyes and pull Yuna aside? Simple; move under cover like bamboo shade.

After testing, she’d confirmed Miss Kaeli wouldn’t watch her privacy, a curtain the wind wouldn’t lift.

So she’d take Yuna to a restroom, then walk out together, steam fogging the glass like soft cloud.

She stepped inside the shop; Vittor sat at the counter as always, counting coins that chimed like rain.

He looked up when Lucimia came in and smiled, a crescent clipped from the night.

How come you’re here again today? Want something to eat? His voice steamed warm as broth.

No. She shook her head, went to the tall counter, gripped it, and stood on tiptoe like a sparrow.

Uncle Vittor, Aunt Julie is dead. Her words fell like stones into a deep well.

What?! Vittor sprang up, shock cracking like thunder. You’re not teasing me, right?

Uncle Vittor didn’t know? It was loud outside just now, the street roaring like a river.

I truly didn’t know… Vittor sank back into his chair and held his brow, a wilted leaf.

Lucimia didn’t console him; she waited in quiet eddies, then shifted the stream.

Uncle Vittor, did you prepare what my father asked you to send?

Uh, what thing? Vittor stared at her, blank eyes like empty bowls.

After a pause, he brightened, a spark in ash. Oh—right, I remember. My bad; I drank last night, heard your father, and now forgot!

He drank? Vittor drank? Doubt rippled through her like wind on water.

Lucimia cupped her face, puzzled, palms holding her cheeks like two shells.

Vittor ran the food storeroom, talked breezy, and loved money like a golden retriever.

But he disliked wine; he always said too much booze ruins a Holy Knight, mud in the gears of honor.

Uh… Vittor made a vague sound, eyes drifting like minnows; after a moment, he rubbed his temples.

Actually, when I went to see Julie last night, she was fine, the night as cool silk.

What did Uncle Vittor go to Aunt Julie for? Her question flew like an arrow.

Well, actually… I like Julie. Last night I brought food and wine, called it a friendly dinner at her place.

I planned to use wine for courage, a small fire, and confess; she refused, so I went home alone.

Who knew this morning she’d… Damn it, if I find who killed her, I won’t let them go, an oath like iron.

After speaking, Vittor hammered the table, the thud a drumbeat.

Watching his deliberate show, she remembered yesterday’s Deceiver and this morning’s Captain Cole.

She recalled Father’s method for spotting a Deceiver, rules etched like knife-cuts.

Lucimia offered a brief comfort, then licked her lips and tested him, words dangled like bait.

Uncle Vittor, you promised me roasted meat for today at noon. Is it ready?

She made sure to mark the time, a line chalked bright.

Maybe he thought forgetting that would be too much; Vittor’s gestures grew flamboyant, a peacock showing feathers.

Oh! Roast meat, right—don’t worry. I remembered; it was yesterday noon, so I didn’t forget. It’s ready. Wait, I’ll fetch it, promise held like rope.

Vittor walked into the storeroom; soon he returned carrying a slab of roasted lamb, steam curling like white snakes.

Here, hold it. Grease gleamed like amber under the light.

Thank you, Uncle Vittor. Lucimia accepted it sweetly, like a kitten with cream.

Uncle Vittor, my father needs food for tonight’s banquet; the Church’s team arrives tonight, a flock coming in at dusk.

Oh, oh, I get it. I’ll check Julie’s matter first, so I may be late. Give your father my regards, waving like a fan.

Mm! Lucimia’s smile bloomed, bright as sun on water; she nodded.

She turned and stepped out the door; its breath closed behind her like a sigh.

Her smile vanished; her face clouded over, moon veiled by ragged cloud.

She exhaled and looked to the far sky with complicated eyes, thoughts circling like swallows.

It was obvious, truth sitting like a stone.

Vittor was no longer Vittor, a name now an empty shell.