The granary floor, meant for storing food, had been cleared, leaving a broad open space in the middle. The displaced food was piled to one side like a small mountain.

White liquid, already congealed, spattered across the ground. Rein didn’t need anyone to tell him what it was.

He sniffed, nose twitching. The air was thick with a rotten stench. Rein didn’t have much to say about what these people had done, but that smell would contaminate the food. He felt a little sorry for it.

He looked around. Every trace here pointed to a major party last night—maybe it even started in the afternoon. It matched the scents he’d seen by the fields with the Detection Spell yesterday. That red scent he couldn’t identify? Likely the Sorceress’s. He just didn’t know what trick she used to hide her own scent so well.

Rein and Sophia went upstairs. Unlike below, there wasn’t much room to stand, but it was much cleaner. Rein also saw the blood the militiaman mentioned.

In the eyes of the Detection Spell, he could confirm it was identical to the blood he found last night in that house. It belonged to a patient with Beastification Sickness.

Which meant the patient had been here, but didn’t hide here. Beyond that blood, other traces were scarce. And from what Rein knew, a Beastification Sickness patient’s daily intake is dozens of times that of a normal human, if not more. It needs constant feeding.

Yet no households were missing people, and there were no bodies. So there were two possibilities. First, the patient had just begun to turn—capable of killing, but not yet crossing the line into eating people. Second, the killing was done under control. The Sorceress of Desire could do that. If she can grant desire, she can strip it away. Take the patient’s desire to eat people, and it fits.

Still, after all that, it’s hard to prove that prostitute is the Sorceress of Desire.

“Let’s go.”

“Eh? Little Rein, aren’t you going to use magic to find evidence?”

“Already did.”

Detection Spell, duh.

“Eh? When did you cast it? Why didn’t I see anything?”

“…”

“Don’t Mages have to chant a long spell before casting?”

“That’s just beginners.”

For beginners, most spells have to be spoken aloud. Mentors say it helps lock the lines into memory. Chanting that in public is pretty embarrassing.

Later, most magic can be done with a silent chant. Focus and it’s faster, and it won’t tip your opponent off to what you’re preparing.

At the village entrance, Rein noticed two farmer-looking men squatting by the wall, puffing hand-rolled tobacco as they chatted. Their topic drew his attention.

“I heard Old Third’s little daughter went missing and still hasn’t been found.”

“I heard too. He went to the mayor, wanted the militia to help search. But the mayor refused.”

“Why would he refuse?”

“You don’t know? I think the girl’s disappearance might be tied to the mayor. So he suppressed it.”

“For real?”

“Why else didn’t the mayor mention a missing girl when the Sister came to town?”

The distance was far, but Rein still heard it clearly. Maybe they were saying it loud on purpose for Rein to hear. These residents really fear that unimpressive-looking mayor. They can’t even report him face-to-face.

“Sophia…”

“To the mayor’s house, right? I heard it too.”

Sophia grabbed Rein with one hand like he was a rag doll, then dashed into town.

***

“The prostitute’s name is Camille. Beyond that, we don’t know anything.”

“You let someone with unknown background move in just like that?”

“We didn’t have that authority. The mayor let her in. There—the small hut up ahead.”

The militiaman pointed at a low house. “It’s basically a makeshift place. I lent a hand building it.”

“Camille!”

Hill knocked on the rickety wooden door. No one answered. He pushed, and the unlocked door swung open. The room was bare—only a bed and a trunk.

Hill checked the room, confirmed no one was inside, then turned to the militiaman. “There’s not even cookware. How does she eat?”

“No idea. We don’t really watch that prostitute’s movements, so we’re not sure how she eats.”

“What about the tavern?”

“No. We haven’t seen her at the tavern.”

“A prostitute—and the only one in town. It makes no sense for her to be this poor.”