Chapter 47 | The Crimson Moon Returns

“Grant is a liar. He’s in league with that thing, and they’re looking for me.”

“I’m going to hide at the base. Once construction starts, I’ll be safe.”

“Beware of the hillmen. They are monsters.”

“My body is feeling more and more wrong. What is happening to me?”

And at the very end were the frantic words written in plain text after she had lost control of her emotions: “Save me, Donnie.”

Lynch exchanged a glance with the lady officer, a chill running through both of them. In that moment, their minds pieced together Maya’s ordeal—the reporter had glimpsed an entity she never should have seen, became entangled in the occult mystery, and had been driven down a path of no return amidst terror and panic.

Though his throat felt a bit dry, Lynch sighed and picked up the second letter found in Donnie's office.

“I’ve hidden the things in the secret storage room at my home. These photos are seriously wrong; I think I saw something terrifyingly bizarre. In the next couple of days, I’m going to find an expert to consult. If something happens to me, whatever you do, do not touch them.”

“Phew.” The lady officer let out a soft breath, narrowing her eyes in thought. “Just what did she see? Grant, the hillmen, monsters... are they all working together? And what happened to her body?”

“I'm afraid that abnormal putrid stench is the problem.” Lynch tossed down the slip of paper and sighed, reminded once more of the zombie movies from his previous life. “I just hope she hasn't turned into a rotting walking corpse.”

“A zombie? The smell might fit, but those things can’t write ciphers.”

Heh, right. This was a world of the occult; walking dead really did occasionally crawl out of graveyards here, though at least they weren't contagious.

“Barring any unforeseen circumstances, she’s hiding in that ‘base.’” Lynch scratched his head, staring at his decoded notes. “It seems she thought it was safe enough to hide out for several months.”

“If you’ve truly become entangled with the mystery, no place is safe.” Officer Natalie patted Lynch on the shoulder from behind. “You should know that better than anyone.”

“I’m still experiencing it right now.” Lynch rolled his eyes. “So what you’re saying is, she could still die at any moment.”

“Yes. That’s why we must find her as soon as possible. Even if she’s just an ordinary citizen, I can’t stand by and watch her be consumed by mystery and die.”

“I understand that all too well.” Lynch looked up and smiled at the lady officer. “So well that I doubt I'll ever forget it for the rest of my life—especially those three conditions.”

“I’ll make you forget right now.” The lady officer ‘gently’ bopped Lynch’s top hat with her fist, squashing it flat and physically inducing amnesia. Yet a trace of worry lingered in her expression as she continued, “She likely knows the secrets of the mastermind Grant and the hillmen. We have to keep her alive no matter what. The problem is, where on earth is this damn base?”

“I’m afraid no one knows except the two of them.” Lynch tapped a word on the other translated sheet. “Donnie mentioned his home and even hid the photos that might be tainted with mysterious filth there. Our next best move is to check their homes. We might find clues pointing to the base.”

“Do you know where they live?”

“Huh?”

Lynch froze, immediately realizing his mistake. He had come from a high-speed information age to this quasi-Victorian era. There was no sophisticated personnel records system here, and the flow of information was far slower. He had to gradually adapt to this new pace.

“Wait here, I’ll go ask.” Officer Natalie stepped away and returned a short while later with a disappointed look. “Donald doesn’t know either, though the girl at the front desk knows the general neighborhood where Donnie lives. Once I head back to the club, I’ll dispatch people to canvas the area. With any luck, we should find the exact address in a day or two. Let’s be patient and wait a couple of days.”

“Fair enough. Rushing won’t solve anything anyway. Maya planned on hiding for months, so waiting a day or two shouldn’t hurt. But we’d better avoid alerting too many people. I’m worried about those troublemakers.” Lynch pointed toward Donnie’s office next door. “I get the feeling they didn’t come here to investigate the case at all—they came to sabotage us. And they didn’t even do a proper job of sabotaging.”

“Understood. I’ll keep it quiet.” Officer Natalie copied Lynch’s deciphered transcript and tucked it away. “Are you coming back to the club with me? If you come along, I can bring the two mystery documents tonight and walk you home.”

“No. Since I have some free time, I want to go see my client and borrow some reference materials from him. Then, this afternoon, I plan to look into the history of the Mythological Era.”

“About the red moon?”

“And the great catastrophe at the end of the First Age. I can’t have someone asking me down the road, ‘Whose Soul Severer are you? How did she fall?’ only for me to know nothing at all,” Lynch said in distress. “If I really gave an answer like that and that lady ever woke up, that moonlight beam would probably blast right into my skull.”

“Heh, waking up isn’t that easy. You worry too much.” The lady officer couldn’t help but chuckle. “Still, learning more is good. Deepening your understanding of deities and authorities will only benefit your future growth and deeper alienation. Go ahead then. I’ll head back to the club to arrange the search and drop by your place tonight to deliver Duke Vane’s gifts so you won’t have to make another trip.”

Though they had only known each other for four days, Lynch found himself chatting casually with the lady officer about everyday matters, as effortlessly as old friends who had known each other for years.

Perhaps it was because they had gone through life-and-death trials together, Lynch thought. He accompanied the lady officer in sealing off Maya and Donnie's offices, then waved goodbye at the newspaper entrance.

Right after, though, he turned back—he had forgotten his actual business.

Locating the newspaper's business supervisor, he took out one pound from his newly acquired seven pounds and booked an advertisement to run for an entire month.

Good news, good news! Lynch Levive Detective Agency is reopening at its new address: 221 Villa Avenue, King District.

We handle all types of bizarre occurrences and accept all manner of special commissions. Backed by extensive collaboration with official authorities and trusted by law enforcement, we are your best choice for resolving troubles.

Heh heh, not bad. Hopefully clients would come pouring in. If he got the chance to meet more big figures in the future, he’d ask to take photos together and hang them on the agency’s wall. The primitives of this era didn’t know the first thing about personal branding.

Filled with hopes for the future, Lynch stepped out of the Investigator newspaper’s small courtyard once more, intending to make a trip to the Black Night Cathedral.

Carrying the massive fortune of six pounds in his pocket, Lynch naturally chose to... walk.

No kidding—he realized that in just four days since transmigrating, he had already spent over ten pounds. At this rate of expenditure, the six pounds in his pocket wouldn't last more than a few days. He had to pinch pennies when he could, treating the walk as exercise.

And so, braving the eleven o’clock sun, a sweat-drenched Lynch arrived beneath the arches of the Black Night Cathedral.

The moment he stepped inside, he noticed something was off. The security here was far tighter than yesterday, and he passed numerous burly men who were clearly guards along the way.

Yet none of these men paid him any mind. After a brief glance, they let him walk straight into the chapel, where a priest ushered him into the parlor he had sat in yesterday.