“Missing? Truly missing?”

The cop thumbed a lighter, a copper‑aluminum trinket glinting like a beetle, while fishing a pack of smokes from his right pocket like a quiet eel.

In a blink, he remembered he stood inside the Sacred Cathedral, beneath stone ribs like whale bones.

He slid lighter and pack into the other pocket like slipping fish into shade, then nudged the talk forward.

“Who told you?”

The girl’s eyes were round, clear as pond water, her pure white habit like rice paper.

Her small hands fluttered like sparrows.

“Shopping with the sister, didn’t you carry a photo?”

“You asked everyone if they’d seen the person in it.”

The cop didn’t answer.

He gave a woodpecker’s chuckle, a little tap‑tap of sound pecking the air.

“Everyone’s discussing it.”

“Don’t join the buzz.

Study well.”

“It’s break time.”

She nodded twice, a tiny drumbeat to match her words.

“Seeing you in the Sacred Cathedral, I wanted the truth.”

He brushed his stubble, bristles like dry grass.

He saw the Holy Maiden arrive, calm as the moon crossing clouds, and dipped his chin.

His gaze slid to Hedi and Selina, a quick sour twist like smoke stinging the tongue.

“What’s the matter?” the Holy Maiden asked, keeping her voice level like still water.

Uniforms rarely crossed the threshold of the Sacred Cathedral.

“I was at the window,” she said, then bent with a warm smile, sending the girl to the garden like a fledgling to green.

When the child had run a little way, she finished softly.

“They were discussing someone’s disappearance.”

“She might’ve left, but the line wasn’t running then, a broken vein in town,” the cop said.

“We can only follow clues, one footprint at a time.”

“Witnesses say she came to the Sacred Cathedral that day.”

“I want to know if anything seemed off—any odd behavior or signs.”

“Many come here every day,” the Holy Maiden said.

“I can’t promise the hall sisters remember each face, but I can ask.”

“Last place she was seen was the Sacred Cathedral?” Hedi cut in, voice cool as metal.

The cop swallowed a lump of heat and answered with a crooked mouth.

“The Burning Tavern.”

“Shouldn’t you start there?”

“We did.

The lights are dim, the crowd a stew.

Plus your magic incident—no one remembers a woman drinking.”

“Do you have to bring that up?”

“It’s juicy.

Everyone’s talking.”

“So without a magic incident, nobody goes missing?”

“Enough.”

The Holy Maiden pressed her temples, pain like a tight band.

“You’re still in confinement.

Go back.”

“It was him—” Hedi flicked a glance at the Holy Maiden, then sighed.

“Fine, fine.

Naghtown’s mess isn’t for an outsider like me.”

“An outsider with teeth,” the Holy Maiden said.

“Very dangerous.”

“You should say less too.”

The cop nodded to the Holy Maiden and steered back to the path.

“Please ask the sisters in the main hall.”

“May I take the photo?

It might spark their memory.”

“No problem.”

“Are you really classifying this as a disappearance?”

“Her family searched the places she always went.

No luck.

They came to us.”

“It’s big enough that kids know.”

The cop lowered his head, shame like dust on a boot.

“Nothing like this has ever happened in Naghtown.”

“I understand.”

“She’s been missing three days.”

“Why not come to the Sacred Cathedral earlier?”

“Under the Goddess’s protection, and this still happens,” he said, voice dry as old parchment.

“It’s strange any way you turn it.”

“I’ll ask the sisters, but I can’t promise a spark will catch.”

“Sooner is better.”

“If you’re in a hurry, we can ask now.”

“It’s prayer time… I’d rather not intrude.”

“This is a grave matter,” the Holy Maiden said, twining a strand of hair like a thread between fingers.

“It won’t be set aside because of the Sacred Cathedral.”

“It’s fine,” the cop murmured, rubbing his throat like sanding wood.

“After prayer works too.”

“We’ll ask now.”

She led him into the main hall, a slow river of footsteps beneath the vault.

Photo in hand, she asked each sister, one face at a time, like turning pages.

They paused for praying sisters, waiting like quiet stones until the murmur ended, then questioned gently.

They asked seven or eight.

Only one recalled the woman in the photo.

“Nothing felt strange,” the sister said.

“She was like other believers who come to pray.”

The cop stood in silence ten seconds, a clock hand scraping.

He squeezed out a “Thanks,” and followed the Holy Maiden out.

“Strange,” he muttered.

“She vanished like mist in sun.”

“Her last known place was the Burning Tavern,” the Holy Maiden said.

“We should ask the staff again.”

“You know, the lighting—”

“I don’t.”

“Sorry.”

She let out a slow breath, a reed bending to wind.

“What about the lighting?”

“Very dark.”

“No one could see anyone?”

“According to the servers and the barkeep, everyone was buzzing about magic.”

“Can we trace the drinks?

See what she had.”

They walked out of the Sacred Cathedral.

At the threshold, he lit a cigarette with impatient sparks and breathed out smoke like a coiling dragon.

“Near dawn, she drank some high‑end liquor.”

“By herself?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Find the person who drank with her—”

“No idea.

No one noticed who she was with that night.”

“You sure?”

He held the cigarette, eyes odd, like a cat at a window.

“I’ve no reason to lie to you.”

“No matter how dim, a shape shows in dark.”

“Hide her shape?

Is that possible?”

“With magic,” the Holy Maiden said, then added, clear as glass.

“And it’s not related to the gray‑haired one who made a scene.”

“Hedi Melvina.”

“How do you know her name?”

“She told me in the interrogation room.

Same family name as yours, worlds apart in style.”

“Then you should know what she does.”

He crushed the cigarette out, ember dying like a star, and pocketed the stub.

“I only know she works at Hervor Academy of Magic.”

“A Professor who researches magic.”

“Really?”

“Do you read the paper?”

“You flatter me.”

The Holy Maiden’s chuckle was a bell under silk.

“We can ask her for help.”

“We don’t even know it’s magic.

Let’s start with the outsiders.

There are two more, right?

One bear‑strong, one bird‑thin.”

“The short woman comes to the Sacred Cathedral often.

The tall man—” she frowned in thought, ripples in a bowl, “has prowled around here a few times.”

“After the disappearance?”

“Always like that.”

The cop lit another cigarette, a pale comet.

“We can ask.

But that man’s obvious—if he was at the tavern, you’d notice.

And the woman… I can’t picture her frail frame abducting another woman.”

“So now it’s abduction.”

“It’s not pilgrimage season.

A bunch of out‑of‑towners drop in, and it screams abduction.”

The Holy Maiden fell silent, her pause like snow.

The cop looked up.

He exhaled a cloud that drifted like milk in sky.

“Has that thing always been there?”

“What thing?”

“The line in the middle of the sky.”

“It appeared these last few days.

No one here knows weather.

Maybe it’s a cloud.”

“Tycoons’ airships,” the cop said, certain as an iron nail.

“They really know how to play.”