Canto VI: The Heartbreaking

<So this is what T Corp.'s Nest looks like...>

Well... Somehow, we made it through this Nest checkpoint without any trouble.

Ahem, ahem...! 'Tis nothing! Forsooth, such wild compliments are unnecessary, says I~

But... we... didn't say anything...?

She's grown so much...

…….

<We're headed to this place called 'Wuthering Heights' next, right?>

Huh? Uh… yeah.

'Wuthering' Heights...

That manor must've been built on one windy hill, huh?

Yeah. Bloody 'wuthering', like its namesake.

... Not a single corner of that place gave any comfort.

A return to one's homeland must bring forth quite the tangled mass of emotions.

Homeland? Well...

I wasn't born here, I was raised here… I suppose that could still count as a 'homeland', in a way.

But it doesn't conjure in me the same feeling that a 'homeland' is supposed to.

... That is to say...?

You've no idea how many times I imagined it, played it out in my head. Returning to that bloody manor, smashing every little thing in that place to bits until there is nothing left...

Okay, so you'll smash everything to bits. Then what?

Did you really learn nothing from watching what I went through at the Lake?

... I did learn something.

If I ever lose the plot and push myself to the brink of no return, I trust that one of you louts will pull me right out of it.

... Are you giving us permission to beat the sense back into you?

Yeah. If that's what it takes.

Interesting. How far are we allowed to go with bodily harm? Amputation? Nerve mutilation?

Maybe we can at least smack his head really hard?

All right, you cheeky bastards...

Seriously, this ain't an invitation to use me as your emotional punching bag. I'm not in the mood to -

Still, I think your present self can do this, Heathcliff.

Huh? What do you mean my 'present self'?

Heathcliff, your present self is… deprived. You're poor, and you don't have anything left...

What? 'Poor'…?

Right, now you're skipping past the pleasantries and going straight into personal insults, yeah? I'm -

Oh, ha ha… I think you took my words the wrong way.

In a way, we're all 'deprived'... and that can change a lot of things. Maybe there are things that we can understand only when we're left with nothing.

Doth that poverty explain our current unsightly lack of colorfulness…?

I was wondering when we'd bring that up~

Haah, maybe we'll get our colors back soon...

… or so I thought, like ten hours ago...

Are we gonna be colorless forever? Are we gonna be stuck in this gloomy hue for the rest of our lives? Seriously, nothing looks tasty in this sepia hue… I'm starting to lose even my will to live...

Everything's in that sickly brown hue! Guys, even meat looks downright rotten in this color!

... That's a bit of an overreaction, isn't it?

Oh, and what about those guys? They've got color in their clothes!

A sufficient amount of payment must be made in order to retrieve your colors. It must be emphasized that this question has been repeatedly answered on twenty-three separate occasions.

Well, let me have a gander. His coat, his trousers...

Hah, That bloke's not even that loaded. He's only trying to come off as though he is. Real toffs spare no cash to get every single colour back, even to their trivial trinkets like the rims of their glasses.

Did you also have to live without color when you lived here, Heathcliff?

No. The manor had some colour, yeah. … Though it was still far from vibrant.

Agreed. This is the color of shit. Blood should've remained red.

That poor sod's going to get himself jumped wanderin' about with that look. That's just enough colour to invite the bandits, but not enough to keep 'em away.

Fie, a bunch of shameless villains they are!

Preying on a weak civilian like a pack of hyenas...!

Are they... what you would call a 'gang'?

Tsk, the gangs of T Corp. have certainly seen better days. I wouldn't even call 'em a gang… they're just lowlives running out of 'time'.

The last time I was here, scum like 'em couldn't even dare to infest the streets so brazenly.

<… There are gangs that aren't scummy?>

'Course! The gang I was in would never dogpile on some poor, unarmed bloke like that.

Charon wants to vroom-vroom. Can't vroom-vroom with a roadblock.

Well, there isn't much point in waiting for the situation to resolve itself.

Take care of them before Don Quixote starts making a fuss about it.

Ooh! An enactment of justice! I thank thee!

He's really starting to get the hang of this, huh...

... Haah.

Away, ya gits. This one's ours!

Looks like you lot are running low on time as well… tough luck! We've only got thirty minutes ourselves!

Oi, maybe they're one of the Dead Rabbits or somethin'.

Thirty minutes? Thirty minutes for what?

Ain't possible. The old Dead Rabbits and their vigilante ways are no more… All they do nowadays is starin' at ya funny from behind those odd masks.

Masks? What? What are you -

Bollocks, we don't got time for this… let's kill 'em quick!

Oi.

... Nice hat you've got there. Where'd ya get it?

EEEK!! I-I'm sorry! Please, take everything! Take as much time as you want! H-here's my watch!

SIR HEATHCLIFF…!!!

Lass, I was just complimenting him for his sharp fashion choices! The lad's overreacting!

T-this is literally everything I have…! I don't got any money for ransom even if you were to kidnap me!

P-please, please don't kidnap me! I've got family… they're all waiting for me to come home…!!!

The hell is this racket… Oh?

Well, well, well. What do we have 'ere? I think I'm seein' loads of time rolling in right before us!

Ten minutes! No, we'll take five minutes, too! Hand it over, now!

Why the hell is every fella here so obsessed with time?!

If you won't give it up willingly, we'll have to kill you all and take that clock for ourselves!

<Huh? Clock?>

<… Wait, me?>

You...

EEEEK!!!

Quiet… Or you'll attract even more of 'em to us.

Shut your gob right now or we'll feed you to the meat grinder back at our rickety, cannibal bus. Is that clear?

T-then...

You're not here to kidnap me?

No. For the… I don't even know how many times we've told you.

Of course not, indeed! For we are the Limbu - Fix - Justi -

… the passers-by. Of justice. Sir Heathcliff here can be rather brutish in his manner of speech, that is all...

R-right… Passers-by of justice...

So why are they asking us for time, not money?

… Maybe time's just another commodity to be sold and bought here.

Guys… is it just me again…? The T Corp. pamphlet guide... did no one really...?

In T Corp… also known as TimeTrack Corporation...

… its citizenry utilizes timepieces as personal identification. They oft trade with 'time' instead of physical currency; their means of transaction done via the timepieces they carry. Most laborers in these lands are rewarded for their efforts with time.

Haah… thanks for the explanation, Yi Sang. I'll let it slide this time.

<So… is this going to be a problem? Outis is the only one of us who carries a watch.>

Ohh~ you mean her broken wristwatch? I always thought that wearing a stopped watch was a neat fashion statement -

… It's not a fashion item. It never was. How insolent of you to assume.

Right, I've been meaning to ask… what got ya so freaked out about a kidnapping earlier?

Oh… There's a pretty scary rumor of indiscriminate kidnappings going around these T Corp. streets.

These are abandoned streets, so when I saw a dozen or so people running around together, I was scared that you guys might be the infamous kidnapping Syndicate or something...

We need more details. I want the who, when, where, what, how, and why. Proceed.

P-people have been going missing around here.

This kinda became the last known location for a bunch of missing people. Everyone becomes a shut-in during the foggy days 'cause they don't wanna get kidnapped.

L-look, it's even on the front page of this T-Times newspaper here. Mysterious Kidnapping Fear Sweeps District.… Not Even A Single Body Found… I can keep reading, if you want...?

Hm...

Oh… Ohoho… I gotta check out that award-winning eatery… it's not so far from where we are...

Aha, so the time retrieval Fixers have said as such in these interviews...

<Are you guys even reading the same article?>

... Lad's right. There's a lot less people around here than I remember.

This street used to be packed with workers headed to their factory jobs and inventors selling their useless trinkets… It's never been this... empty.

This reminds me of the kidnapping 'rumor' we heard when we were working on the Blade Lineage case.

Missing people… Maybe there really is a messed-up kidnapping, human trafficking Syndicate roaming this area.

I've never heard of such Syndicate strutting about this place. Back when I lived here, at least.

It is a statistical impossibility for a human trafficking Syndicate to leave zero evidence behind. There is bound to be one or two they let slip between their fingers.

Especially if this 'Syndicate' is so prolific to the point of indirectly discouraging the public from leaving their homes, a body or two will invariably be found.

If they really didn't leave any bodies, then maybe it's worse than just your usual murders...

Maybe it'll be more dangerous the more we look into it?

<If it's not just another violent tragedy… then maybe there's more to this than we think. Maybe there's some powerful organization pulling the strings...>

Y'know, that's a lot of conjecture to make just from the fact that no bodies have been found.

I'm sorry?

Guys. The Night in the Backstreets.

A single sweep from those Sweepers leaves nothing behind. Every trash in the Backstreets, including corpses, is completely cleaned up.

Right… They'd clean up even the corpses, yeah.

'Course, it's kinda scary that they clean up more than just trash~

<Yeah… The idea of Sweepers really freaked Sinclair out for a while.>

… That's because Rodya kept making funny noises and Sweeper impressions at me every night…!

A mysterious case of missing persons in a street shrouded in thick, heavy fog...

It's... almost as if we're in the middle of some scary urban legend. Not that I'm scared... Not at all. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Don't force yourself to laugh, Sinclair.

I don't like this at all~ We're this scared so soon after entering the nest?

<Hey, Heathcliff. That invitation… can you read it out loud for us again?>

Hmph… It's just an invitation. There ain't anything special about it.

Ahem.

"... Please, honour this occasion with your presence."

"… With great respect, Nelly."

And…? And…?

… Bollocks.

"Y-you have to be here, Heath. I'll be waiting. - Cathy".

Daaamn...

Oho~!

Ugh... What are we, a party crowd at some dive bar?

Oh, that wasn't what we were going for?

I knew that this would happen… I ain't even mad.

Besides… all she said is that she'd be waiting. She never said she missed me or 'wanted' to see me.

C'mon, bud. Just look at the way she wrote it. Here...

Lemme see, lemme see~

Haha… they're like school kids opening their first love letters.

What, were ya never ever interested in those things, Sinclair?

I was…! I was… a good, diligent student. The only things I ever cared about were my textbooks and the school lectures!

Sinclair, thy countenance appeareth to be turning rosy agai -

For the last time, I said! It's! Genetics!!!

What about you, Dante?!

O-oh, nevermind...

<Hey, what's with that oddly sorry look on your face…?>

The manager has no need for your sympathy. I am certain that there are those who appreciate their unique appearance.

<…….>

Is it not… odd?

What, that someone actually wrote Heathcliff a love letter?

Oh my, Yi Sang… that is such a rude thing to say...

N-no, I had no intention of relaying such crass sentiments to... I -

Just kidding, Yi Sang. Just kidding. I was actually thinking the same thing.

Since we're not looking for a Lobotomy Corp. branch of T Corp., since we're heading to this 'Wuthering Heights' manor instead...

… I suppose that that's where we'll find the Golden Bough.

That was precisely what I had intended to convey, Miss Ishmael.

Thank you for bringing that up. I was starting to get tired of being the bringer of unpleasant news.

Hopefully, none of you are under the impression that we're headed to Wuthering Heights just because of some invitation Heathcliff received. Because if you are... you'll be sorely disappointed.

Right, so if we're lookin' at the context she wrote this in, what she's really tryin' to say here is...

No, no. Bud, you gotta look at the tone she used here.

… Sure. Moving on.

There was a report from the LCCB that a Golden Bough has been observed.

They narrowed its location down to somewhere within the Wuthering Heights manor...

But there was a significant risk, on account of the manor's unique security system, that prevented the Before Team from conducting their on-site preliminary survey. The exact location of the Bough is yet to be identified.

Unique… security measures? Not sure if I remember anything like that.

Right, then it's even more… odd. No other ways to put it.

Indeed. Though I remain ignorant of the monetary value and the public perception of its worth...

… I do know that the Golden Bough is not an item so easily obtainable that it may be housed in a normal, private manor.

It can be shared that the Golden Bough wasn't… always located inside the manor.

I see. Then, the Golden Bough, its previous location in an unknown area within the T Corp.'s Lobotomy Corp. branch, has been transferred to the manor for a reason we are yet to be aware of.

Right. Then... this 'Catherine' person will be a major part of this operation.

To have a Golden Bough all to herself in that manor...

And she's gotta be one confident woman, too. Confident enough to believe that Heathcliff will come to the manor just to see her face, even if it wasn't for the Golden Bough.

Oi, lemme know if you see a barbershop or a boutique nearby.

... This isn't a tour bus, Heathcliff. We will not make unnecessary stops like the ones you suggest.

Right, I get it. Then why don't you just leave me behind and go on ahead? I'll catch up...

So Heathcliff… I've been watching the shops very closely...

… but I haven't noticed a single open shop. It might be because of the rumors from earlier, and the fog...

Why don't you just leave it to us? Rodya and I...

What the hell are you... Wait, WAIT!

<Have you been here by any chance, Yi Sang?>

Though I have resided here for some time, most of my hours were spent earning a living and conducting my research when I could afford to do so. Thus I have not ventured freely the streets of T Corp.

<I can't imagine doing any research at a place like this… Can't have been easy.>

It is quite manageable once one grows accustomed to this monochromatic sight. The presence of variance in color itself is a concept alien to those who are born and raised in these lands.

And I had shoulders of those that I could… lean on, even for a fleeting moment. It helps to have such support when acclimating to a place as foreign as this.

… Did you ever hear anything about what T Corp.'s Singularity is?

… As all Singularities are, its true nature, its mechanisms, and function are all something of an enigma. Yet...

I am aware is that it has aught to do with time. Though I am unsure of its use...

Well, I suppose all this is but meaningless conjecture, and only Miss Faust among us must be aware of the answers.

…….

Its singularity is one of the reasons T Corp. constantly drains colors from its inhabitants.

What's time got to do with… color?

If the control of time is so imperative to T Corp.'s operations... then they must also control the realm of 'light'.

As light inherently has much to do with the spectrum of colors, these two subjects eventually overlap.

That is as far as I could deduce regarding the concept of time that I am aware of. Yet, it must also be said that it takes time for me to reach Faust's specific knowledge regarding T Corp.'s Singularity.

Miss Faust, as we discuss the subject of time -

Indeed. It would be safe for us to move on from the subject of T Corp. at this time.

<Aw...>

There she goes again, teasing us with stuff she's not going to tell us anyway...

That's… kinda sad.

That there are people who's never seen color their whole lives, all because of this Singularity.

Well, that's just how it goes, isn't it. In the eyes of a stranger, we'd be just another one of those poor, miserable people who's never seen color.

That's the danger in trying your very first bite of the 'meat'. You taste it once, and you'll never un-know the flavor. And in the end, you'll start to wish you never tried it.

Hm… It is pretty disappointing that even the sun loses its vibrancy here.

Oft did I long to see the colors of the sky. Especially the sky that looms over a light shower of rain.

Yeah. Things like the color of the sky, too. You long to see it only because you've seen its beauty. If you were born here, never to escape its borders to the last of your days without ever seeing the blue sky... then I'd hardly call that death miserable.

Calling even that miserable... is nothing but sheltered arrogance.

I guess that could also be true...

Oh! Hey, speaking of color, I got something to ask ya. Have you guys ever heard of the 'colors game'? Apparently, each type of personality has a corresponding color!

If Yi Sang enjoys the light blue color of the sky, then… Let's see. You must be a thinker and a philosopher who prefers the calm and quiet.

Ooh… How did you come to know that? That is quite the remarkable talent you have.

Hark, hark! I wish my favorite color to be rated as well! Forsooth, I quite fancy the color red! Nay, yellow! Nay, red! Nay -

Now, wait your turn. Next in the order is… Faust.

I -

Wait up, wait up. I know exactly what you're about to say. You were about to say, 'Faust does not hold much belief in such ideations~' or something like that, right?

Which is exactly what people who like the color white would say. I'm right, aren't I? Like, your hair's white, too!

I will not comment further on this subject.

… Me? My favourite colour…?

Tsk, what a stupid question. That's naff, lass.

But I like…

... black.

It's the colour you get when you dump an entire set of paint into a bucket, innit?

And that's exactly why I tolerate it. Keep throwing paint over paint over paint… and you get black. Simple.

Mirror… I need a mirror. Anyone got a mirror? Come on, anyone?

What has gotten into you, Heathcliff… T-this mirror isn't -

<… What a terrifying noise.>

Was the weather here always this awful?

It was always this… windy, yeah. Almost like a constant tempest.

But this thunder and lightning...?

Well, the weather at Wuthering Heights was always this awful, thunder or not.

That really is one massive manor if it looks that big from this far away.

Charon can't see well. Not sure if this is the right place. But we're here.

Lightning goes boom. Eyes go ow.

<So are we just waiting for Vergilius to go 'off the bus' again?>

When hasn't that been the case, manager bud...?

I mean, it's not like we're digging into a Lobotomy Corp. Branch or entering one of the Wings, right? It's just a manor, so I don't see what's stopping him from coming with us.

Now, off the bus.

Charon and I -

- will wait outside until we're done with our mission?

…….

By the looks on your faces… clearly, you all collectively have something to say.

I… of course not. Ahem. I... I would hardly ever dare to challenge thee.

Vergilius.

You introduced yourself to us as our 'guide', didn't you?

So what kind of 'guide' just tosses everyone at the start of the journey and goes off on their own with the bus driver? Where are you guys even going?

…….

I want to make it clear that I'm not being a hardass for no good reason.

I'm asking you, because I want to trust you.

After all, we're technically all in the same boat. We're coworkers. I'd say the least you could do is to tell us where we're headed.

… Just like you Sinners who joined this company via your individual contracts…

I also signed a contract. With specific clauses and conditions I must abide by.

Huh? The company made thee, a color most illustrious, sign a contract as well?

Of course I did. Why would I be babysitting you children on this bus otherwise? I'm not one to work for free.

I don't want to bother detailing each and every clause of my contract to you, nor should I…

... But Ishmael, I quite liked that you used the word 'trust' in your speech. So I believe that you deserve at least a brief explanation.

I am not supposed to retrieve the Golden Boughs myself, nor am I allowed to provide you with any direct support. The contract stipulates that I must leave everything to the manager and the Sinners.

Why… the hell would you sign a contract like that…?

As always, it's meaningless to ask me 'why'.

Contracts are rarely ever fully understood by those that are not a part of it.

But...

What I can tell you is that… when I ask you Sinners to leave this bus for a mission...

... I suppose, in a way, I... say it with a lighter heart than I used to.

I am no longer concerned that, in my desire to fulfill the conditions for every clause in my contract, the manager might be irreversibly... hurt. I would be left with nothing if such a thing were to happen.

<…….>

<Did he just admit to trusting us more than he used to…?>

Don't make him repeat something like that, Dante~

Especially when someone went through the trouble of expressing their true, hidden feelings.

Besides...

W-wait...

I am NOT going in there like this.

Nope, can't do this. Oi, turn the bus around!

Mephi doesn't do U-turns.

Bollocks… I ain't going back to the manor in these wrinkly rags!

<Hey, you don't look *that* bad...>

If I go back in these rags, those bastards will -

... Those 'bastards'? Who are they?

Bastards that'd always eye me up and down, trying to find a speck of dust, a single flaw, something to latch onto just to humiliate me…

Then gouge out their eyes.

Oho, that would be quite the clever solution.

What are you even…

Fuhu...

Huhu...

The hell is wrong with the pair of you? Quit gigglin' like that!

Good thing we came prepared exactly for this occasion~!

I just couldn't imagine Heath managing to pull off this makeover on his own.

Rodya and I did some shopping in the Backstreets before we entered the Nest.

We were waiting to reveal these just in case there was anything more impressive in the Nest, but thanks to the disappointing lack of anything even remotely interesting… we'll just make do with what we picked up earlier.

Wait a bloody second. When the two of you went off on your own… No. All you brought back was a whole basket of cookies, wasn't it?

Those cookies were decoy cookies, Heath! Though some of 'em did end up as a part of my daily sustenance, of course… heh.

While I couldn't find the particular brands I used back home… these should be more than enough for a proper fashion makeover.

Hm.

Verg, c'mon. Can't we keep things nice and happy for once, hmm? Let him wear something else other than his uniform. Just for today.

Like, no one wants to meet their old flame while wearing their work clothes, right?

…….

W-well, I doubt the guide'll ever let anything like that sli -

Fine.

What...!

I would prefer it if we didn't have to encourage another rogue incident with the Backdoor.

Seriously?! Guide…!!!

Now, Heathcliff, close your eyes...

Relax… and let us take care of everything. Pretend you're at the proverbial peach blossom spring.

Wait, don't touch my hair like -

…….

Woah...

Oi, you ain't half bad...

Shh~ Heathcliff's getting a makeover!

Ahem...

<…….>

Um… I think you might've overdone it with the hair.

Don't touch it! Do you even have any idea how hard Hong Lu worked on that?

... Where'd his bat go?

It's a reunion of the century! We can't possibly let him say hello to his old flame with a big brutish club in his hand~

Sir Heathcliff appeareth... a tad more merciful than usual. Mayhaps he shall accept my request should I implore him to purchase me a pint of ice-crrream...

And he no longer looks like he's on the verge of punching me when I make the smallest noises!

…….

Lad, please... please don't bring up anything even remotely like that in front of Catherine…

Well, I'll be. Clothes really do make the man. Do let me know how this reunion goes; I'll be looking forward to hearing that tale.

Ahm… s-sure.

<So, Heathcliff?>

<Why'd you leave Wuthering Heights? It's where the love of your life lives, isn't it?>

... I didn't mind it. The thrashings, the starvings, the abuse, them treatin' me like a servant, like I'm something beneath them...

I didn't mind being treated like I'm nothing more than an afterthought, like I'm some impure trash to be discarded.

But when I heard what… Catherine said...

… I realized that I no longer had any reason to remain in that manor.

<I see… >

…….

Ooh, looks like Charon's got something to say about your new fit!

Mhm, Charon has something to say. Something big.

Great, awesome! Now, Charon! What do ya think~?

Looks oily and greasy. Charon doesn't like greasy.

…….

Oh… This… isn't how I thought it'd go… ha ha…

Tsk… this is uncomfortable.

Oi, is it normal for these clothes to squeeze harder with every step I take?

That is what it means to maintain an air of dignity~ Once you get used to that feeling, you'll feel like you're missing something whenever you're dressed casually!

So this must be the front… gate to your former place of abode, Heathcliff.

<That's one big front door.>

It is known that, in certain regions of the City, the size of the front gate is an indicator of one's social standing. The magnitude of this front gate indicates that... the owner of this home is very affluent.

Heathcliff, you picked on Hong Lu for being a rich kid when you were raised at some huge mansion yourself?

Heh heh, I don't mind it at all~

... I'm feeling a bit betrayed, actually.

Sir Heathcliff, thou appeareth quite different today...

... Keep your stupid comments to yourselves.

I wasn't even remotely close to being rich.

I was never once 'rich' in this manor. I wasn't even allowed to be content. Not even for a moment.

And this manor. This manor never accepted me, not even for a -

…!

W-what the hell...

A lightning strike. It seems to have struck an area near the forest.

<That was so loud...>

It's okay. I-I heard that it's extremely rare for lightning to actually hit people.

... A momentary musing reveals that a strike of levin brings about a sensation that is not unlike the joy of fireworks.

It fills the dark and cold void of the night sky with its incandescent brilliance, even for a brief moment, before fading away into oblivion.

… Right. And in exchange, it loses everything it has, burning and leaving nothing but ash behind.

What joy is there to be found?

Ooh! Behold, a tiny squirrel over yonder!

Woah… such nature so close to home? I didn't know you used to live at such an eco-friendly place. I suppose I wouldn't have to go through the trouble of building a private zoo if I lived at a place like this!

To have a garden or a forest so near their home… Even if we were to ignore everything else, that alone indicates that its owner is someone of unimaginable affluence.

Hmm~ Right! I remember that Sinclair's home was in the middle of a forest, too.

Squirrels, sure. There were other animals roaming about, too.

Sometimes, when I was so miserable that I could hardly bear to even be in that manor... I'd go to the forest and not return for a long, long time.

Ooh, then this tiny forest friend, little Sir Squirrel, must have been quite the jolly companion for thee!

LITTLE SIR SQUIRRELLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!

That was… a weird lightning strike. Did it just curve midair?

The chance of such an occurrence is extraordinarily low.

Um… it might just be that I'm overreacting, but it looked as though that lightning was curving itself to strike exactly where that squirrel was standing.

Woah… Heathcliff, I had no idea you grew up at such a dangerous place. I'm impressed you even survived…

… No. Blimey… I've not seen anything like it.

<Right, Heathcliff. Ready to knock on the front gate?>

The front gate…

I've... not knocked on this gate in good many years.

I once had to wait out here for hours because they all refused to let me in. Everyone... except Catherine. She snuck out of the manor to open it for me.

Walking through the heavy rain.

Well, then... I'm sure it won't be different this time.

So if I knock... Catherine will come out to let me in?

<…….>

... Hup.

…….

Huh, nothing. That's not what I meant when I said it won't be different this time…

Oh, we can try climbing over the fence. I think we can clear that height as long as we're okay with breaking our ankles…

No.

I was invited to this manor! This invitation would be meaningless if I were to leap over the fence.

CATHERINE! I'M BACK!

They've ignored you once. Continuing to shout won't -

CATHERINE!

CATH -

… The makeover was worth it, hmm?

Though we have long made it past the front gate, not a soul doth appear...

Cathy! Have you been well? No… Catherine, it has been a while, hasn't it? No, this ain't it either…

Didya catch that…?

A bird. A subspecies of sparrows, to be exact.

Lightning continues to strike aggressively… even this far past the front gate.

We would've been burnt to a crisp had it struck even a little closer…

Is it gonna hit us if we walk faster? Or maybe it hits things that are moving too slowly? Maybe we should speed up? I don't know…

Our walking speed seems irrelevant. Instead, it's almost as if this lightning has a will of its own, striking with intent. ... This brings back some... unpleasant memories.

Ohh~ Maybe it's like this house's defense system?

Defense system… Do you imply that this may be a part of the manor's security measures?

Maybe it only targets things that enter the manor grounds without permission.

I've seen security measures that are more precise and more... conclusive than this.

Larger manors often do install more effective security systems, after all.

Ohh… I think our family talked about installing a defense system at our home, too. It was one of those topics that kept coming up during dinner.

... That would make sense. Not that I'll ever understand the thought process behind these… systems…

Perhaps the 'security measures' that prevented the Before Team from approaching the manor may be…

Yeah… But we have the invitation with us! I think we'll be just fine.

<…….>

This is pretty interesting, though. I heard that the technology to change the weather itself is really, really expensive to the point of being inefficient. So expensive that I've not seen it myself.

Oh? Huh, these flowers...

... they've got color!

I wonder what these flowers are called?

Huh, I guess you can return the colors even to flowers if you cough up enough cash?

Indeed.

Then the proprietor of this manor must have held a particular love for these flowers.

To return the colors to such transient things as flowers...

Or, perhaps, it may simply be that they are preposterously affluent.

…….

You're wrong.

There was no particular love for these flowers.

There was no room, no warmth in that heart to spare for mere flowers.

My, oh my!!! Please, come this way!!!!

What an awful weather, hmm? Well, T Corp. is… the Wuthering Heights manor is rarely ever sunny, but this is quite the storm!

... Long...

… Long time no see, Nelly.

... My word, Heathcliff? Is that you? It really is you!

Y-yeah...

You haven't the slightest idea how worried I was since you left! Have you been eating well? You've not been bullied by a rough crowd, have you?

<Bullied by a what…?>

We've wanted to hear from you for so long!!

…….

Do come in now, come in!

…….

<…?>

If I may be so bold as to presume…

Would you be our dear Heathcliff's friends?!

Ahem...

Yeah, uh, well...

Friends...? Are we?

The answer to that question hinges on the range of affinity one would define as a delineation that separates friends from acquaintances.

'Course we're friends~ Precious friendship, forged in fire! Multiple fires, actually!

Your dear Heathcliff's precious friends are about to freeze to their deaths in the rain, woman.

My, what honourable guests I welcome to this place today! I must be all over the place to leave you all standing in the rain! Come in now, come in! It's a tad warmer in here than it is outside.

This manor… doth have color.

What'd I tell you? I could see colour inside this manor.

Well... it's all bought by money, anyway.

Believe it or not, there's something about these lanterns hanging about the manor that brings back colours.

Ah, the lanterns that return the objects' original saturation. These are quite the expensive luxuries, are they not?

It still doesn't bring all the colours back. Things still remain a tad gloomy.

So where's Cathy -

Heathcliff! Please, tell me of your life since you have left us, hmm? Where have you been staying? Have you been eating well? My, have you lost weight?

Huh? Uh… I…

I'm glad your delay wasn't too substantial. We have all been waiting for your arrival.

We…?

Now let me get a better look at you. The refined dress clothes, the hair... My, you've certainly grown into a right proper gentleman, haven't you? Quite the popular lad you are, with a posse of friends and all.

Well… Hm… D-did I?

But of course! I would not have recognized you from a distance.

Nelly… was it?

What is your precise relation to Heathcliff? As his precious friend, colleague, and comrade in arms, I cannot help but be curious as to how you two know each other.

Oh, I'm… let's see… Heathcliff's... hm, how should I put this?

... Nanny, I suppose?

Nanny...?

What, like… you wiped Heathcliff's snot, changed his baby clothes, and... am I thinking of the right 'nanny'?

And when the baby's fussy about the food, nannies spoon-feed it to them.

Oi, Nelly! Quit teasin' me like that.

You weren't exactly my 'nanny', and you know that.

We've known each other since we were both young.

And I did not treat her like a servant or follow her around like she was my nanny.

Fuhu. Mind you, I am now the Chief Butler of the house. You must see the other Butlers moving about like soldiers when I give a word!

… Well, you were the best at your job.

Nelly, I'm… getting quite impatient. So I've got to ask…

So when's the… banquet starting?

…….

The banquet...

Oi! When's that witless brigand coming? Is he even on his way?

You can't just leave after gathering us all down here! If I have to sit any second longer next to these mugs, I'm going to lose it!

Nelly, wait… I recognize that voice…!

My, don't rush! He just arrived, mind you!

Let's join the others, Heathcliff. Like I said, we've all been waiting for your arrival.

This… doesn't feel at all like a manor that's about to throw a party...

Yeah, that cruise ship party, this manor…

You can't hide the rising sense of dread from places like these. Doesn't matter how hard you try.

This manor does not appear to have been a place where liveliness is an expected element.

I see signs of rushed cleaning, conducted immediately before the guests arrived. Several cracks and areas in need of repair have been identified as well.

Also…

I was scant expecting a raucous par-tay, yet… this is quite the depressing presentation...

Fixers…! I recognize their outfits! Forsooth, they must be Fixers from the O-Ou-Öufi Association!

'Tis quite rare to even get a sighting of a single Öufi Fixer…! They requireth quite the momentous occasion to even grace us with their presence!!!!!!

<Shh, shh… We'll have time to ask for autographs later. Later, all right?>

By gum, that vagabond 'as returned. The bloody shame o' Wuthering Heights...

… Same old Josephine, huh…

Look at 'im, struttin' about like he owns this place... If our Mistress were to witness this travesty…

Gosh, Josephine! That is quite enough!

Don't mind her, Heathcliff.

This blessed land o' Wuthering Heights, reduced to an asylum for vagrants and drifters… if the Mistress had been here to witness this tragic, deplorable state o' affairs…

Ah, the witless brigand returns, and quite delayed at that! How dare you show your face -

... Hindley, please. Exercise some restraint.

Heathcliff. I hardly did expect your return.

... You have yet to let Catherine go, still?

... Hah.

Right. I wasn't exactly expecting a grand welcome upon my return.

But I ain't here to see your ugly mugs. It's like you always said: my base nature's just incapable of change.

…….

You unscrupulous shite! You bloody animal - No, a thing lesser than a savage beast!

By the looks of it, you've found yourself a band of vagrants and vagabonds just like you, eh? Crawling back to see if there is something worth pilfering from this place?

You lot! Beat his arse and teach him a lesson. Break a bone or two!

… No orders… from… boss…

Shut it! I'm your boss' boss! I hired him and the rest of you!

I don't expect these boneheaded fools to give you much trouble anyway.

Head... of bone? What on earth is that fellow speaking of?

He's just expressing his explicit desire to get his ass beat. Well, since he asked for it....

…….

Good. Now I'll separate the bones from your flesh and personally introduce you to your own skull.

Oiiii, lads.

I was gone just for a minute to get some water… what the hell happened 'ere?

This is one big feckin' manor, eh? Would've been faster to go bucket a cup of water from the well meself.

Boss… we have… a guest…

<So that's their boss…>

Yes, Executive Manager. It is immediately obvious from the way he walks and from the way he carries himself that he is someone quite experienced in combat.

Right on time. Your lackeys are… lacking. How could they let these group of no-name hooligans knock them on their arses?

Go on. Show them the meaning of pain!

…….

Looks like I've got to give my men some proper demonstration.

…!

Oi, lad! Ain't the first thing to do when crawlin' back into yer neighbourhood to give a quick "'ello!" to yer dear old boss? Where'd ya leave yer manners?

<… Huh?>

You lot, wipe that stupefied look from yer faces and bow before 'im. C'mon, hurry up. Show some bloody respect.

…….

W-what? No, it can't be…

Boss…? Matthew…?

Right on, you muppet! You've been gone for so long that people don't even recognize the infamous Mad Coney!

Mad... Coney?

Y-you've known that vagrant for long? Why haven't you told me so?

Well, I hardly imagined you'd be interested in hearin' about every little friend I made back when we were just another gang rollin' in the sweaty, muddy streets.

Boss, why are you working with this blighter… Wait, no. But…

That mask… those rabbit ears…

Wait, you're still with the Dead Rabbits?!

Yeah, we've uh, changed a tad, eh?

Remember, lad? Back in the day, all we needed to crack some Addams Family 'eads was some tattered scarf 'round one arm and bottles of beer on tab.

We even named one of them beers after you, didn't we? The pub that used to sell that beer closed shop a few weeks ago. Ain't got much business around with that dreadful rumour keepin' everyone home nowadays.

What?! The Wolf's Fall closed? Bloody hell...

…….

Oh… I suppose I'm leaving you all out the loop, eh?

Well, allow me to introduce the gaffer.

He was a boss of the old Syndicate I used to run with.

They all friends of yours, eh? Joined some posh proper company after running out on us outta nowhere, did you?

Well… things just worked out that way.

Are all them lads and lasses your lackeys? Blimey, got a walking timepiece with you too... You daft bastard, you've certainly moved up in the world, eh?

Heheh...

Lackeys…?

So what's up with the masks, boss?

What, is it odd? Trends change with time, lad! The time for scarves with rabbit embroidery is long past!

Uh, is that so? It looks a bit…

'Course not! Who do you think we are? We the Dead Rabbits ain't a bookish rabble that follows the coattails of some naff trend.

You've… really not once returned to this place since you left, have you?

No. When I left this manor… and eventually, the Dead Rabbits…

... I made a promise to myself that I'd not return.

Not even a step closer to this place until I've made something of myself. Not until I can return as a successful man.

Well, you've always hated this place. Even when you were one of us.

…….

I've got news for ya, Heathcliff. We're no longer the same lowly Backstreets gang yer familiar with.

I 'spose we've also 'moved up in the world'. Someone from the Ring who'd been keeping their eyes on us plucked us right off the streets and into their fold. We're bigger now; we're one of the up-and-coming Syndicates.

T-the Ring? One of the Fingers?

… Must be the Fauvists of the Ring, then. They're the only ones who'd outfit their underlings with these cheap, tacky animal masks.

Then you're…

Yeah, ya little shite. I'm the top boss of the Dead Rabbits now.

Boss...

Remember what you always used to say when we've each filled up with more than three bottles of beer?

What we drank were some lousy beer made from halfway rotten wheat, Heathcliff.

All that I remembered come the next morn was a poundin' headache and the light feeling of our emptied pockets.

You used to tell me that it hurt like hell every time one of your own men came back to us hurt. Even the recruits.

Like they hurt not just any underling, but an extension of you.

I knew you'd make it big one day, boss.

Well, I 'spose drunk me knew how to wax poetic.

I knew it was you, Matthew. The mask threw me off for a moment, boss.

What a sorry sight this is.

I sincerely apologize to you two sweethearts for crashing your tearful reunion…

But the point is, while you were wandering the streets, wasting away the best years of your life on the road…

Matt's made something of himself. Which is why I hired him as my bodyguard. You hear me?

Not like you and your merry band of no-name, second-rate hooligans!

... Hindley. You seem to be sorely mistaken. This isn't the same winter you thrashed me, treated me like an indentured servant, and abused me like a hound.

I won't deny that I spent many days and nights imagining tearing that foul tongue from your gob.

But…

Even a poor sod like myself found a place to belong. Went on adventures to places you couldn't even imagine. Learned a thing or two from 'em.

So I just… feel bad for you, mate.

What…?

Because you really haven't changed one bit.

Besides…

The hell is that rag you're wearing? You look more like a drifting vagabond than I do.

What? ...WHAT? Y-you insolent fool…!

That man's been saying some pretty nasty stuff about us…

But he doesn't even look like someone that's worth arguing with...

Haah… mate, did you even check yourself in the mirror in the last week?

I can't bear to look at you so down in the dumps, Hindley.

You… you fucking bastard…!

Now, now. Mister Hindley, why don't ye seat yerself on this sofa and calm down?

Be more considerate of our boys standin' in that corner, watching the whole thing go down, huh? They don't even get these comfy-looking leather sofas.

Tsk…

I see what happened.

He let the alcohol consume him, and not the other way around. Fell into a big, nasty barrel with no way out.

I've seen the same look on some sailors. Failing to pull themselves out of that habit… would lead them straight into the merciless maws of the Lake. Not even a trace of them would be left.

Well, this man's still my client.

Mister Hindley hired me for some job, which is why I'm here at Wuthering Heights.

Job?

Catherine's hosting this banquet, ain't she? What kind of job could possibly need the Dead Rabbits' help here?

… What?

… Hah. A banquet?

Well, I suppose there is one thing that hasn't changed with time. It's that witless, useless idiot brain of yours, you absolute dullard.

Hindley…!

Please, cease this at once. I implore you.

I do not wish to see my manor sullied by such... foul obscenities.

This is not your home, Linton. It's mine. It's my manor!

You're the one who sullied this noble Wuthering Heights, MY birthright bestowed upon me by my father, by taking it from me by the means of trickery!

Was your own family manor too small for you, Linton Edgar? Your oh-so-noble Edgar Family?

… Edgar Family?

The time for whining, crying, and throwing a tantrum to get what you want is… long past. Cough.

Bold words for some milksop who's about to choke himself to death on air!

Please maintain your distance, Mister Hindley.

I've seen mongrels more loyal than you lot! I was your master only a few years ago! Have you cast aside your memories as well when you did your loyalty?

Cease this at once, Master Hindley. The Butlers have all left Hindley Earnshaw behind, as you are very well aware yourself.

And you too, Butlers. We do not want to make further trouble here, hmm?

Understood, Chief Butler Nelly.

…….

Nelly, where is Catherine?

You must know, Nelly, that Catherine never did like these commotions. So many guests making so much noise in her home... she won't be pleased.

... I suppose she never did.

I've been... keeping my volume in check because I didn't want to offend her. But it's getting harder and harder to keep it down.

…….

Where is Catherine? What's with this dour look on everyone?

I'm terribly sorry, Heathcliff. I...

Why... why are you sorry? What the hell are you sorry about?!

…….

Heathcliff.

I may have a correct assumption as to what this silence indicates.

So I have no other choice but to tell you, as it is common courtesy to do so, that I am very sorry to hear that.

What the fu - aagh!

Can't you talk normally for once?!

I hardly know how to tell you this, but...

Miss Catherine... isn't here anymore.

What do you mean she's not...?

Catherine, she's... dead.

…….

As you said earlier... none of us are here to see each other's 'ugly mugs'. What other reason could we possibly have to reconvene like this?

…….

That... can't be real. What kind of insane -

Now.

The promised hour is come.

Mister Hindley Earnshaw, a blood-relative of the deceased.

Mister Linton Edgar, the spouse of the deceased.

And Mister Heathcliff, an individual mentioned by name in the will.

Now that the three relevant parties are all present, we, as the executors of the deceased's will, may begin the ceremony.

The first order of business will be the execution of Miss Catherine's will.

Thus commences this solemn occasion of Miss Catherine's funeral rites. As per the deceased's wishes, the will shall be read out aloud here, at Miss Catherine's manor, in attendance of all those present. Then -

No.

You... stop. Shut up for a second.

Whose funeral rites?

And...

What... what was that about her 'spouse'?

After you abandoned this place with nary a word to her...

... Catherine immediately turned to me.

Then we married. Every waking hour we spent together were filled with happiness and joy. We were happy to the very last day, to her very last breath...

Shut your stupid gob.

The moment I set my foot in this manor...

... I heard her voice. I *felt* her presence. So what the bloody hell are you even talking about?!

This has to be some ploy. These fucking bastards, they must've... This... This can't...

... This can't be how it ends.

I won't believe a single shite coming out of your mouths until I see her body with my own eyes! Where is she?! Bring her here, now!

What a repulsive sight. The least you could have done was to show some proper respect for the dead, but I suppose even the bare minimum was too much to expect from someone like - cough.

I understand how you feel, Heathcliff. So please, calm yourself and take a seat -

Get your hands off me! You can't just decide for me that she's dead! I won't accept any of this, not until I see Cathy with my own -

Warning. Should this interruption to the will-reading continue, we may have to resort to use of force to ensure the full execution of this will.

Shut up! You don't know shite, so shut your fucking mouth!

Ha! Ha! Heathcliff, why don't you go have a look in the mirror yourself? What a pathetic mess you've become.

It doesn't matter what posh garb plebs like you wrap yourselves in; that filth from your low birth seeps right through the fabric at the slightest provocation!

You'll eventually see Catherine's corpse all right. It's all part of the funeral process, so don't be in such a hurry to get there. I can't wait to see how well she's resting after what she's done to me.

Mister Hindley Earnshaw. Mister Heathcliff. We order that both of you immediately return to your seats. This is your final warning.

Manager Esquire...! We must do aught anon...! Fixers of the Öufi Association may even execute those involved should there be a breach of contract!

I ill wish to see Sir Heathcliff be executed, nor do I wish to have to battle the honorable Fixers of the Öufi Association...

<I don't think Heathcliff's going to listen to us...>

You have refused to comply.

Kah, gahh...

... Y.S.

Do speak.

Not you.

... Speak still, your intentions notwithstanding.

You, Stop. All of you. Something's off about this whole thing.

Would you like to speak for this individual?

... Was what she was going to say, but she decided to remain silent in favor of not getting in trouble, ha ha ha ha ha... ... Right?

Haah? What are you doing, B.G.?

Ryōshū, I understand that seeing our fellow Sinner get smacked around like that can be pretty aggravating, but…

... once you get involved, peace will simply no longer be an option...

<…….>

<... Didn't know you cared so much about Heathcliff, Ryōshū…>

... N.C.

You... you bastards...

Fine. Let's crack some skulls then, shall we?

I see that you are still refusing to comply, despite our initial attempt.

Should you refuse to let go of your weapon within the next minute, we will have no choice but to escalate to our next steps.

I couldn't care less about your 'steps'. Give me Catherine, or...

... none of us are leaving this manor alive. You lot, me... we're all goin' six feet under.

<Heathcliff!>

SHUT IT, CLOCKHEAD! This ain't the time to bring up shite like the company rules. Stay out of my way.

<Ah...>

I... I don't have anything to say. If someone that important to me died... I'd be blinded and deafened to all reason, too...

Hey, Heath... I understand how angry and frustrated you must be. But you can't -

Shut your trap! All of you, don't you dare touch me unless you want your faces caved in too...

... It's nap time, Heathcliff.

Gah!

Woah...

D-did she just knock him out cold with her bare hands?

And it wasn't even a punch! It was just a light tap...!

His breathing is stable. It appears that she gave the nerve on the back of his head a precise, focused strike, which led to his loss of consciousness.

What a flawless execution of that move... I can certainly say that I've seen something like that before. Reminds me of my family's -

S-Sir Heathcliff hath been defeated with a single fell strike...

Every self-respecting Butler has to be equipped with one such move. What other choice have we got when the child fusses and fusses for twenty hours instead of going to sleep?

F-forsooth, I can say with quite the confidence that I can immediately slumber to the dreamlands upon tucking myself in bed! F-for truth!

Though it was not by his own volition, we have confirmed that he is no longer in possession of a weapon, and has been... subdued.

We will allow for a ten-minute recess to let things calm down for a moment, then we will proceed as planned.

Um, excuse me, Lady Nelly...?

Lady Nelly?! No need for such honorifics! Please, just call me Nelly~

The contractors that Mister... Linton Edgar brought... they once worked at this manor, right?

Yes, indeed. Some Butlers from the Earnshaws, like myself, followed Miss Catherine to Master Linton's. Of course, most of Master Linton's Butlers are from his own Edgar Family.

So... if he gives the order to... attack us, Lady Nelly would...

Oh, pish posh! Ridiculous!

I was a Butler in direct service of Miss Catherine.

Young Master Linton could plead and beg all he wants, but I won't always be taking his side.

So, uh...

What exactly are the Butlers?

Butlers? Forsooth, I am quite well-acquainted with this matter! They are -

House dogs on tight leash, groveling before their masters.

The most trustworthy and loyal people I've ever known, I'd say.

- Fixers bound to families!

... Nice. Gotcha. Some great help you fellas are.

<Well, I'm glad that I'm not the only one out of the loop for once.>

At least some of you know who we Butlers are. It is a rather rare occupation, so not many people even know that we exist.

Mm~ doesn't sound like most normal folk would have a reason to know anything about 'em.

... Unless they're in a position where they have no choice but to work at the rich folks' homes.

Well, one of us is quite... a passionate fan of Fixers.

Quite. Oh, I'm very pleased to know that our dear Heathcliff made some very intelligent friends!

Lady Nelly...!

I promise thee that, once I make my return to the bus, I shall have my hands on the Butler figurine I had given up on acquiring! It shall stand tall and proud on the front-most row of my display shelf...!

Allow me to explain! Butlers are Fixers, indeed; yet they are raaather distinct from most Fixers thou hast encountered thus far.

A 'Fixer' oft refers to those who accept contracts as a part of an Association or an Office! Alas, there exists a distinction when it comes to Butlers!

Butlers join families or manors to serve them, and only them, on long-term contracts! Forsooth, like any other Fixers, Butlers may be hired by a single person to serve them and only them as well!

Do note that our service is not limited to combat; we also conduct household management and care as well.

It must also be mentioned that proficiency in many fields is a necessity to be a respected Butler~ This is no easy occupation, mind you!

Yet from what I have learned... to hire a Butler is to pay an inordinate amount of salary...

Indeed. While Butlers are always oh-so busy, we are promised expensive compensation at every contract extension, with stable bonuses such as pensions.

Many famous Association Fixers also retire to serve as Butlers as well.

I was once a Butler in service of Miss Catherine's family, and was transferred to Master Linton Edgar's family to join their ranks when she married him.

Still, after a rather peaceful, mutual 'debate' we came to the conclusion that I would be assuming the position of the Chief Butler... leader of the Butlers in that household.

Gotcha... totally peaceful. Mhm... I'm sure it really was one peaceful transfer of power.

Ooh... 'tis quite fascinating to imagine that even Sir Heathcliff once had been a tiny bairn... How was he as a youth?

Mm, he was... quite the special child. I do not believe that I would have become a Chief Butler had it not been for him.

Oh, what a lovely boy he was~

Umm... lovely... quite...

Ugh...

<Are you okay, Heathcliff?>

... It's that classic Nelly technique, eh... Her secret technique to send us hurtlin' into the dreamlands. ... Been a while.

I am terribly sorry, Heathcliff. I was hoping to avoid having to use the 'sleepy smack' on you, and not after a reunion like this...

…….

Is it true, Nelly...?

Is Catherine really... gone?

Yes.

And Miss Catherine...

... wrote your name into her will.

…….

... Her will, huh? We should at least give it a listen to hear why she mentioned Heathcliff.

So... was this manor Miss Catherine's?

Well, it used to be Young Master Hindley's, once. Then...

... Catherine, that shrew. She stabbed me in the back.

Why don't you elaborate on that injustice, Linton? Share the tale of how Catherine and Linton Edgar stabbed me in the back! How the pair of you destroyed me!

There was no injustice. It was done in a perfectly legal manner; bring the case to T Corp. courts if you wish. It will change absolutely nothing.

The allotted recess has expired. We will now proceed to the inheritance bequeathment will-reading.

This is the will of the deceased. It has been verified via multiple tests and screenings that no counterfeiting or tampering of a similar nature has occurred.

If they're verifying if it's a counterfeit or not, who verifies if they're not just straight-up lying about it?

Good question.

Maybe it's just a standard industry practice?

Miss Catherine has requested that this letter be read in audience of the three attendees...

... before the bequeathment of personal property commences.

I will now read the full contents of her will.

…….

What the fu - Dammit...!

Right...! I knew I'd be in there somewhere...!

Come on, Catherine. Give me something, anything...

Wha... what?

NO! That's absolute nonsense...! How the hell am I even supposed to get to M Corp. in a week?!

No, this is a load of shite!!!

Should another instance of disturbance to the execution of this will occur...

... we will take forceful action without warning.

H-how dare you, you plebs...

…….

Cathy, I'm...

…….

... Huh?

<…….>

The Golden Bough... was her personal property? Not even her estate's or her family's? Just her?

Seventh strike of lightning? What do you think that means?

<It's not 'a' Golden Bough...>

What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean? What...!

Dante. Are you all right?

<There is... a second Golden Bough in this manor.>

No... this isn't at all what I... I...

Come back, Cathy. Please...

Hear my voice just this once, Cathy!!!

I'm serious! Oh Nelly, this room is haunted! I saw a ghost!

Again with this, Miss Cathy? What did I say? I told you I would thrash that evil ghost and hang them to dry on the rack.

Ghosts aren't real. She's such a big liar.

I'm not lying!

I'm sorry, children. Have you been waiting long?

Dad, where's my violin?

What about my X Corp. all-purpose wrench?!

Again, I'm sorry. I did not have the room for the violin or the wrench.

What room...? Ugh, what's that?

What's that dirty rag? Eww...

I found this child dying alone in the streets. He was without parents or a home... the boy would surely have died in a weather like this.

So what? I don't want that gross, dirty kid living here.

Yeah! I want my violin! Throw that thing out...

... What are you gawkin' at?

…….

Violin! I want! My violin!

... Papa, why was he all alone? In the streets?

Because there wasn't anyone to take care of him. Poor child...

There are other children like him in the Backstreets. No parents or relatives to look after them, no homes to shelter them...

Then... what does he have now?

Well, Cathy, now he's got us to look after him. And this place as his home.

NO! I don't want that ugly thing.

So you're saying that you don't wanna have him... right?

Wind's howling. I can hear something wailing; its cry is echoing through the manor halls.

I hear it too, miss. Close the windows; there is a nip in the air outside.

Do you remember still? As a child, you were terribly afraid of these howling winds...

That you're seeing ghosts...

Nelly. I see them still.

Miss. You've grown far too weak ever since Heathcliff departed the manor. That is why you are seeing things.

That is all right, Nelly.

I no longer fear the ghosts.

Because all fear stems from the ignorance of its origin.

... Where do you suppose he is? Heathcliff.

Miss...

He doesn't have anything left. I am everything he has...

What just happened? Everything went dark for a sec...

I think the lightning caused a brief power outage... the power's back now, though.

What we just saw were...

... Catherine's memories, right?

... I think so.

As it has been in the past, such occurrences can be attributed to the influence of the Golden Bough.

Hold on. This is...

... This is the corridor we walked through earlier, isn't it? This isn't where we were before the power outage.

<I don't see Hindley or Linton anywhere, either.>

Oh my word... what just happened...?

But... we didn't, like, take a step or anything, did we?

Mm. I do not believe that any of our fellows have moved.

If we were all standing still, then I suppose this means that it's the house that moved!

What the... Know anything about this, Nelly?

I-I haven't the slightest idea.

I have been away from this manor for many years myself. I seldom had any reason to return ever since Miss Catherine married Master Linton and left this place to live with him.

Catherine, the deceased... didn't someone mention that she purchased this manor, Wuthering Heights?

Yes, indeed. But she did not immediately move here after the purchase.

Oh! Now that you mention it... I see that some changes have been made to this manor since I was gone.

Had I been the Chief Butler of this manor... I would not have let such slovenliness slide.

But...

Maybe she was trying to make modifications to the manor?

Is it normal for rich folks to just buy a whole manor and modify it to their liking?

Mm... I'd say it's kinda like changing your hairstyle once in a while!

Maintaining the exact same style of hair for too long gets pretty boring, you know~

Uh-huh. So that's how, uh, casual a full-on house remodeling is like for rich folks. I see.

Heathcliff...

…….

I hardly know what to tell you. I do not know what words could possibly comfort you now.

But what you said about Miss Catherine's death... and how you didn't believe that she was truly dead...

... What.

... I gave that idea some thought.

And I agree. To an extent.

... What?

Even I... haven't seen Miss Catherine's body.

I was so beside myself when Master Linton told me of Miss Catherine's passing... that I did not even care to verify it with my own eyes.

So what you're trying to say here is...

Uh... is it really what I think it is? You're saying that Cathy might... still be alive?

Nothing but a suspicion at this point. ... Besides, you know how Miss Catherine can be.

Stubborn as a mule, sometimes doing things so unexpected that they're almost frightening...

Honestly, I even wondered if this whole funeral business was but an awful, elaborate jest from the Miss.

…….

What's certain is, however, that the will was undeniably in her own handwriting.

And Master Linton, he... never once stopped making modifications to the manor...

... even after Miss Catherine passed.

That bastard Linton made these modifications to the manor?

Yes. I haven't gotten a good look at this place, nor did I personally ask him of his motives, but...

... it is quite evident that something is to transpire here, isn't it? ... Or that something had already happened.

Bollocks... I don't understand any of this.

What do you think the 'lightning' in her will is talking about?

Maybe she meant it literally. Seven lightning strikes.

Are you suggesting that she knew we would arrive precisely under this weather, on the day of her funeral? Unless she moonlighted as a renowned prophet, I don't see that happening.

Who knows? I don't even understand what Miss Catherine was trying to do here with that will.

Right... We can't... ever know the will of the dead.

Oh...!

Perhaps there is something, a clue, to be found in Miss Catherine's room?

She did visit Wuthering Heights from time to time, even after her marriage to Master Linton.

Don't you remember, Heathcliff? Miss Catherine...

... Yeah. She always liked riddles.

Not like you, who preferred a more... direct approach. Which involved smashing everything to pieces.

Got me in plenty of trouble for trying to brute force problems without even trying to think about the intent.

... I don't know if I've gotten any better at it since.

<I guess... our next order of things is to find where that room is.>

I espy blood, everywhere on the floor...

I doubt anything nice went down here, that's for sure...

And I doubt there's anyone nice down here, either. Look.

Get back! Back off, you dogs! Have you even an inkling of who I am?!

Speak plainly, Hindley. What have ye done to this manor?

Hells, I do not know! I'm just as lost as you are!

Nelly, get these brutes off me!

What are you all doing here?

My, my. If it isn't Nelly, the vagabond child, and his gang o' uninvited guests.

... Is... is she talking about us?

Josephine. Something is terribly wrong with the manor. Is there anything you know about this?

Wuthering Heights has always been like this. More importantly... how dare ye bring those louts to this place! Mistress would have had ye whipped, had she been here to witness this desecration!

We are in the dark as much as you are! Everyone was displaced when the lights flickered. Besides... what is this noise?

How are you still unaware? The Dead Rabbits louts and the Butlers are battling in all corners o' this manor! Ripping, tearing, biting... Oh, what I wouldn't give to have them kill each other until they all lay dead!

They're fighting...? But why?

After the lightning struck, after the lights flickered...

The Dead Rabbits suddenly charged us.

Hindley... that fool must be scheming to take over our manor.

What in the blazes...

Do you fail to heed the voice of Wuthering Heights... the voice of the Mistress?!

What the bloody hell do these out-of-control Dead Rabbits have got to do with me?! I haven't even given them any orders!

…….

Nelly, is there something you can do to deescalate this? We'd rather not get involved in something like this...

Josephine and those Butlers... Didn't they serve Hindley once?

Their service is to Wuthering Heights, and Wuthering Heights only.

Strictly speaking, Josephine and her Butlers are bound to a contract different from mine.

I am contracted with a specific person within the family, while they are contracted with the manor and the estate itself...

Wow, okay. I get wanting to work for a rich family to make yourself some dough, but... is such a complicated contract worth it for Butlers who are bound to the manor and its land?

That depends on the terms of their contracts.

Once they have completed their duties as Butlers, which may be over a set period of time or over specific conditions stipulated in the contract...

... they may be able to raise their Fixer grades or gain the rights to certain valuable assets tied to the land itself.

Therein lies the irony... Butlers bound to manors and estates often inherit their parents' careers and contracts. Sometimes, it continues for generations upon generations...

... until the initial contract is eventually forgotten.

Ugh, really? What if they forget what the contract was even about?

Ha ha... Still, the contract isn't voided merely because people stop remembering it. Breaking it may invite the Taboo Hunters from an unexpected Nest or Fixers from the Öufi Association we had the pleasure of meeting earlier.

And that Josephine is obsessed with following the long-dead Mistress' orders and won't listen to anyone else.

Ye know me well, Nelly. Well enough to get out of my way while I remain courteous.

Do not get in my way of punishing this rat that dared to scheme, to take our Wuthering Heights from us.

S-sure thing~ We'll just go, 'kay? Let's just pretend we didn't see anything.

…….

I'm locking the door now, Heathcliff. You don't deserve to come indoors.

Do you really think that a thing like you deserve to sit next to our family? To dine alongside us?

Stay put in the barn. If I see you wandering in the living rooms without my permission, I'll...

<…….>

Haah...

... No, Clockface. I won't leave him to die.

<... You won't?>

I won't...

Because Cathy... wouldn't have wanted me to abandon that sod to die by their hands. Not like this.

... Understood, Mistress. I shall do as you command.

We will not waste any more time here. Let's go and clear out the Dead Rabbits rabble.

... We'll put the rest of you in the bin should our paths cross again.

Tsk...

Well… I could've handled them all on my own. I didn't need your help to beat up some insane old hag and her pawns…

<... Maybe we should've just left him behind.>

And that 'Boss' of yours… you don't even remember his name properly, do you? So much for your loyalty.

… What dodgy nonsense are you blathering about?

He goes by 'Matt'. Not Matthew, or whatever you decided to call him.

What? What are you... have you finally gone mad? I've known the gaffer for years, and you think I'd get his name wrong?

…….

Besides...

That insane old hag still has some of her wits about. Because I do intend to take this manor back. No matter what.

I almost had it! If only I hadn't gotten that confounded card in that round...!

No, the game must've been rigged. That's the only way this makes sense. Nothing else explains how Catherine could have had the funds so ready to purchase Wuthering Heights the moment it was put up for sale at the auction.

You lost this manor in a gamble? And Catherine bought it back?

Yes! That girl was always as insane as Josephine.

But mark my words, Wuthering Heights shall be mine again.

Matt's made a deal with me.

He promised to help me retrieve this manor, as long as I let him and his Dead Rabbits into Wuthering Heights.

Master Hindley, wait. Where are you going?

You didn't seriously expect me to be cosy with you lot after that, did you?

I'll find Matt. And I'll do everything I can to make this place mine again.

... And don't be so quick to assume that you've really changed, Heathcliff.

You haven't. You simply can't change.

You're nothing but a ragged sack of waste. Don't you forget that.

What an asshole...

Ahem, Sir Heathcliff... I am quite unsure as to how much of my words may reach thine ears, given thy fury, but...

Hah.

Back then... whenever I heard that kind of contemptuous shite from that bastard...

... it felt as though every word he spat out rang true. That I really was just a useless lowlife who deserved nothing but the rags.

I've spent days and nights coming up with all kinds of ways I'd exact my revenge on 'im. But now it's...

Hah, bloody hell. I can't even put this feeling to words.

He's the one that couldn't change, not you. Look at him, clinging desperately to his past like it's the only thing he's got.

He's just... he's just like an immature kid who never grew up past ten.

Where is Catherine's room? We would do well to be on our guard in this manor. We must always be wary of our surroundings in this field of battle.

It should be there once we turn right here. Odd... I don't recall the corridor being this long.

Heavens! There...

Dead Rabbits. At the end of the corridor.

Is it just me, or do they look a bit different from earlier? I'll take "it's just you" for an answer, by the way.

That reminds me... I have heard tales from the streets about those strange, wandering Dead Rabbits.

Word on the street is that we should steer clear of the Dead Rabbits with red eyes... Just... like... the ones they have...

…….

Excuse me, are you looking for something... or someone?

Just for your information, that 'Linton' fella ain't here! Those 'Butlers' of Wuthering Heights ain't here either. They all went that way, past the hallway. Clearly, you've got no beef with us, right? Ha ha ha.

…….

Looks like they've got plenty of beef with us.

Can they even hear what we are saying? If you have demands, then state them. If there is room for negotiation -

…….

<They all look a bit... no, they all look completely out of it, don't they?>

What a shame. I, Outis, would have loved to demonstrate my excellent negotiation skills to the Executive Manager.

You all heard that too... right?

That noise every time we killed one of them. That noise from beyond their masks...

... The sound of mirrors.

They made a sound not unlike a shattering mirror.

... Wait.

...!

... Wait, something's wrong...

... We should unmask the rest of them to get a better picture of what is happening here.

I don't want to judge a book by its cover, but...

... Hardly do they appear to be members of a violent Backstreets Syndicate.

I can tell from their build that none of them were ever part of a Syndicate. They look more like… civilians.

But... they attacked us first, right? We were just…

Eyes up. More Dead Rabbits... Red eyes, all of them.

Hark! Heed mine words! Whatever is thy -

…….

Gah...!

I don't think this is the best time to attempt the diplomatic approach...

<What are you looking for, Heathcliff?>

They don't have 'em.

<The timepieces that Yi Sang mentioned earlier?>

Yeah. Everyone born and raised in T Corp. carries a watch. They have to.

It's... like a form of personal identification. It's something you carry around to show others that you are who you are.

I abandoned my watch when I left T Corp., but...

I see... They don't even have their pocket watch chains with them.

If they did carry a watch, we would have been able to learn at least where they were coming from.

So someone either doesn't want people finding out who they are... or they're simply not from around here. Right?

I have witnessed such garb commonly worn about within the T Corp. territory. I have no doubts that they must be locals...

There are many unanswered questions... but let us save that discussion for later.

... Here it is.

Whew... Now that was quite the journey, wasn't it? Shall we enter?

... Nelly. Tell me.

After I... left without a word... how did Catherine fare?

…….

Of course, I already know that she lived happily ever after with that sod, Linton. But...

Are you sure you want to know?

Dammit, I do. But... I also don't.

I must look so... pathetic. If Cathy was here, she would've mocked me mercilessly.

I would have brought you a mirror so you can see that priceless look on your face...

... if I hadn't removed them all from the premises... Ha ha.

Tsk, I'm not interested in your stupid jests.

But has Catherine ever, even once, talked about me at all since I left?

... No.

…….

Of course she didn't. A witless brigand, a scoundrel like me… I'm sure it didn't matter to Catherine whether I -

I wouldn't be so sure, Heathcliff.

That is not what I meant.

When you left, Miss Catherine… she began withering away. She skulked in her room for days upon days, refusing to eat or even speak.

Then she'd suddenly grow lachrymose, scream, cry, whisper things to herself… Master Linton would come by to coax her, but it hardly helped matters.

She was so ill that I was worried that we might have to start making arrangements with a mortician in advance.

Really? I... Catherine… she was in that much pain?

Yes. It pained us to even watch her suffer. And one day, she…

Nelly, look. Linton's left a flower on my pillow.

Oh, it's golden. I didn't know that spring had come to Wuthering Heights already. I suppose the snow has all but thawed, too.

Is that not so romantic of him, miss?

I suppose it could appear that way. He must have paid quite the fortune for this.

But if Linton truly cared for me, truly wished to return a color to a flower for my sake...

... then he should have brought me a violet flower.

…….

So... he did not bring this flower for my sake. This was only for his own satisfaction.

Are you... okay, Miss?

Whatever do you mean? I have never felt better than I do today.

Walk with me, won't you? I would like to see which flowers have weathered the wintery cold and bloomed.

After that day, Miss Catherine truly appeared convalescent.

We were all happy to see Miss Catherine be herself again, but...

... now that I think about it, it was a tad strange. She suffered for months upon months from fever; how could anyone so suddenly recover from all that after a single night's repose?

That is also when she purchased Wuthering Heights from Mister Hindley Earnshaw...

... and started making sweeping modifications to this place.

I thought the two of them had intended to return to Wuthering Heights, so I asked them what exactly they planned to do with it… but they never gave me a straight answer.

Haah. I'm just as in the dark as you are. I've not the slightest clue as to what she was thinking...

What about... my letters?

I sent her letters. I haven't been able to since I joined this company, but... when I was a part of that gang...

... I wrote her letters. Though I didn't sign my name on 'em.

I... just wanted to let her know that I was doing fine.

Well, I don't recall her ever opening a letter.

Seriously, once she has her mind set on something, no one could convince her otherwise. No one...

You... What are you doing?

... We were cleaning the room, as per Master Linton's orders.

You lot were clearly ransacking the room!

... Chief Butler Nelly, have you seen any of the Dead Rabbits or the Wuthering Heights Butlers on your way here?

We have good reason to believe that the Wuthering Heights Butlers are scheming with that villain Hindley to harm Master Linton.

... The Dead Rabbits ain't the type of gang to kill people for no reason.

Okay, but they did try to kill us for no reason.

I know, dammit! The boss can't be doing all this for nothing. He must have a good explanation for this.

Just tell us what dodgy shite you were up to in Catherine's room.

We told you, Heathcliff. We were... cleaning the room.

Or have you sided yourself with the rest of those lowlives, the Dead Rabbits?

Like Master, like Butlers, eh? Just as stupid and soft as Linton himself.

That was uncalled for.

No. This dodgy shite you're trying to pull here is what's uncalled for. You've crossed the line.

I'm the only one who can tell you what to do with this room. Not that posh wanker.

That's enough, Heathcliff!

Gaah... Cough...

We can't kill her. Otherwise we won't know what they were looking for, or why.

... Speak.

I am going to take your utensils and cut off your fingers one by one with each dodgy answer you give me.

You must know how sharp your own blades are.

... Please cooperate, won't you? I don't want to have to use the sleepy smack on my own subordinates.

The... diary.

Master Linton told us that we must find the diary in Mistress Catherine's room.

That she must have hidden her diary somewhere in here as they were making modifications to the manor...

I see. So why do you think Master Linton's looking for that diary?

Master Linton told us that it was to find... a way.

Please, do keep up your mysterious attitude. A few more answers like that and I will personally demonstrate how I managed to become the Chief Butler.

It's the truth. He did not let us in on what this... 'way' is. I have told you all that I know.

That's it. Looks like I'll have to -

That's enough, Heathcliff. I believe that she is telling the truth. All of you, leave us. Now.

…….

And please, do stay out of my sight.

Chief Butler Nelly...

According to what intelligence we could gather...

The 'Dead Rabbits', the Syndicate of an Urban Plague classification, had long been obliterated from the T Corp. Backstreets.

… What?

…!

They have been inactive for a long, long time - in other words, they have already been vanquished. Other gangs have not seen the Dead Rabbits in the Backstreets in a while, either.

We have no way of verifying their identities. Please, do be careful.

Who in the blazes did Mister Hindley let into this manor...? And that diary...

<A diary, huh... I'm not sure what to expect from it, but...>

If we do find it, it'll at least clue us in as to what kind of situation we've just walked into.

A small container, a space to hide such a thing as a diary... would be these bookshelves or drawers.

But it appears that the Butlers have combed this room clean already.

Hm hm...! I have once beheld such a sight.

Forsooth, 'tis oft the case that a hidden button exists somewhere! We ought to scour this room from corner to corner with magnifying glasses much larger than even Gregor's...!

These are glasses for my myopia...

There are a thousand feathers of so many birds in this pillow.

Other people of means like to collect rare bird feathers and stuff their pillows with them. But... I don't like that.

Do you know... why?

…….

Because birds are meant to fly. Not to be killed like that.

Yes. Birds do not belong in their cages; they are beings born to soar the skies.

So I am going to empty this pillow of their feathers.

Instead, I will fill it with my secret.

So that I will always have it at an arm's reach.

Heathcliff...? Why are you tearing that pillow open...?

This is where... Cathy would have...!

... A diary. Hidden within the pillow.

Hm... it's stained by ink. Even the cover, too.

I wonder why anyone would do this to their own diary...?

Mm... when I would hold my pen against the paper for a long, long time, because I'm not sure what to write...

... the ink will start to pool and spread, leaving big stains like these.

These ink stains appear to have been made from nonstandard, special ink. A pool of ink that stained this page has left no marks on the subsequent page.

Perhaps...

... these stains were made on purpose to hide the words under them.

If that Linton guy's trying so hard to find this diary, then...

... I'm willing to bet that it's something important.

Most of these pages are stained.

... I would have liked to read them. Even a little bit.

Boy, this all feels extremely private. Should we...?

Why don't we leave Heathcliff alone so he can...

... No. This entry seems... off.

Who do you think this 'we' is?

The basement... the basement...?

From what I remember, Nelly...

I agree, Heathcliff.

Everyone, it appears that our next destination lies at the basement of this manor.

What makes you say that?

The old Mistress, who passed many years ago, ordered us to seal the entrance to the basement.

…….

Which means that the basement was unsealed when the modifications were made to the manor.

But why... why the basement...?

Cathy hated the dark. Enough to keep her room always lit with several lanterns.

Indeed. I recall having to purchase an entire set of lanterns whenever I left the manor to procure the groceries.

That is certainly suspicious.

Got any idea as to where we might find the basement, Nelly?

Well~ It's usually by the kitchen, isn't it? Let us investigate that place first, shall we?

Odd... from what I recall, turning right here should have led us to the first floor.

No. We should have found the kitchen ages ago.

And Nelly, it makes absolutely no sense that you of all people would be lost here.

Indeed. You could blindfold me and I would still know where everything in this house is.

This feels quite familiar. It is like...

The corridor.

... Indeed, like the corridors of the Backdoor.

Yes. Considering the exterior of the manor and comparing it to its internal map, its shape and size is far from being even remotely reasonable.

…….

<What's on your mind, Heathcliff?>

This feels familiar. Like it's all just one big riddle Cathy used to give me.

I'd sometimes get the right answer early in the game. And every time I did, she kept making the answer more and more convoluted, annoyed that I actually managed to get it right.

This... is exactly what that felt like. Like she's cross with me, hiding the basement from us, making us go in circles...

Darnit, lemme see the diary. I wanna see if it says anything else about the basement.

This is like the third time we're walking through this hallway, 'kay? I'm starting to lose my cool.

Look! That picture frame again! Oh, I could recognize you from anywhere now!

There wasn't anything else in the diary, lass.

Just lemme have a look, Heath. What if you missed something?

EEAAUGH!

... Was that overreaction really necessary, Don Quixote...?

…….

What... the heck... was that?

Hm. A window shattered, quite literally, out of nowhere.

Aww, my bad, Heath. I dropped the diary. That noise really got me.

Don't bother. I just need to dust it lightly...

... Huh?

Wait. This page wasn't here earlier.

Huh, you're right. That page was one of those ink stained pages, wasn't it?

This is a riddle, isn't it...? So where could this be?

If this is her riddle, then the only one who can solve it has to be...

The entrance of that basement... just chatting our day away...

…….

The fireplace in the dining hall.

Catherine enjoyed chatting with me before the fireplace.

... I see.

Those moments must have been very precious to her.

Precious enough to write about them in her diary, so that she will always remember them.

…….

You lot again.

…….

Where is he? Where's... boss?

…….

Any further attempts to communicate with them appear futile. They're clearly -

No... the Dead Rabbits, they...

Dammit... I suppose it doesn't matter what I've got to say.

I don't know. None of this feels real.

They're saying that Cathy is dead... the Dead Rabbits have changed... and this bloody maze of a manor...

Master Linton...

So you've arrived...

This can't be a coincidence, can it? I suppose you're also trying to enter the basement.

…….

Master Linton, what are you hiding in the basement?

... I see that they have gotten their hands on it first. Despite the fact that you had the head start.

Our most profound apologies, Master Linton...

... Return that diary to me.

Why must we?

... Is it that unreasonable for a husband to request that you return his loving wife's memento to his hands?

Don't provoke me.

Tell me why Catherine died.

And like I said earlier... I won't believe a word from your gob until I see her body for myself.

Even your claim that she married you.

How desperate.

Allow me to offer you an alternative. Go hide in some corner of this manor. Wait until the lightning strikes seven times... Then take the Golden Bough Catherine left you, leave, and never return to this place ever again.

It is what you do best, Heathcliff - turning tail and hiding. Shrouding your shameful, tear-soaked face from the world, fleeing from the beatings, abandoning Catherine... because you were too busy running away from the gnawing hounds.

... Keep talking, 'Young Master' Edgar. And you'll find that I'm no longer that weak child you once knew.

Well... I'm not so sure what has really changed about you since then, Heathcliff.

And those... cheap, tacky letters you sent...?

All burned with the rest of the trash in the incinerator.

…….

What have you done to this manor?

I did not... tamper with the manor myself. I have not once been anywhere near the subject of workshops or engineering in my life; I am but a sheltered child of the esteemed Edgar Family. How would I have the capacity to do the modifications myself?

All I have done is... make a few investments in a separate organization that worked on the construction.

They were introduced to me as a group that was once a part of this... Syndicate called 'the Ring'.

... Hah.

The Ring...? Didn't the Dead Rabbits guy say something about being plucked by the Ring?

What the hell are you doing... bringing those blighters here...?

I don't know... I never really cared much about the details of how this manor was modified. If my brother found out what I was doing, he would have tried to kill me... but I cared not.

How did you even come across the Golden Bough? It's...

... impossible for a private individual to acquire the Golden Boughs? Indeed. But the Edgar Family is a family of vast means.

When my eldest brother left, most of the family fortune became mine. I quite enjoyed the affluence. One could say that it's the only thing of my possession that I liked. Though I have spent most of it... procuring... the Golden Bough... Cough...

The Edgar Family... I believe that I have once espied that name in the Fixers Monthly magazines... Mayhaps...?

Haah... what have I got to say to a bloke who looks like he belongs in the infirmary?

Just tell me what happened to... Catherine. That's all I'm asking.

Do you really think that you even deserve to meddle in my family's affairs...? To meddle in this business between me and... my wife?

Don't talk like that to me, dammit! What, are you trying to flaunt those words at me or something...?!

We were married. De facto, de jure.

I was Catherine's lawfully wedded husband, and we lived under the same roof. We built a family together.

…….

Right, 'husband'. I suppose you will never know how it feels to be called that... am I wrong?

It's only expected at this point, is it not? Who in their right mind would leave everything behind just to be with some... poor Backstreets vagrant... like you...? Cough.

... I told you to stop provoking me.

It's... Agh. Dammit...

You were the first to leave her, yes... but I assure you, it was certainly for the better.

Because she would have... left you first if you hadn't. Because she would have grown tired of you!

Tired... of me...?

Linton. You said that on purpose, didn't you?

What do you mean?

Just now. You provoked Heathcliff. So that you'll anger that boy, so that he'll attack you first.

No! I never said anything to him. You see, I was just talking to Hindley.

Besides, let's be honest. Just look at him. His unkempt hair, the rags he's wearing... He's laughable, isn't he?

Do you even know what you've done? Hindley will thrash that boy once you leave! Do you understand?

No, no!

Quit your weeping, Linton! You have no idea how unhappy your tears make me.

Linton. You love me, don't you?

Of course, dear Catherine.

... That... diary...!

You can... read it...?

Yeah. As you can plainly see yourself.

When I tried to read it, it was full of nothing but pages upon pages of ink stains...

So why does it refuse me but not...

... Hah.

Catherine... this is your answer, then?

I no longer know if I even have the right to stand in your way.

…….

Master Linton...

This staircase leads to the basement...? What the hell were you doing down there...?

All I can say is that... I have been preparing to invite a new guest.

Descend. Whatever appears before you, whatever transpires...

... it shall all be as Catherine willed.

Is there even an end to these stairs...?

I wonder if this depth was really that necessary? The servants must've had quite the hard time putting these stairs together.

If they operate under the identical mechanisms as our corridor, then there is a chance that they may not have been installed by hand.

…….

This is... exactly what the basement at my home felt like.

<Sinclair, what happened back then... it still haunts you, doesn't it?>

Can't say that I've completely moved on from it...

But... I'm moving forward, little... by little.

<... Yeah. I can clearly see that.>

... That's good. Sometimes, I'm not sure if I'm just imagining that I'm getting better.

<…….>

Something's crawling this way... It can't be an Abnormality, can it? At a place like this?

<No, this is... it's gotta be...>

…!

The Peccatula.

However, this place does not appear to be the Lobotomy Corp. branch, nor does it appear to be connected to one as Sinclair's mansion was.

Correct. The L Corp. branch in T Corp. is a fair distance away from this manor.

Causeless effects. I fail to see why this is happening.

As always, even in seemingly inexplicable circumstances such as this, laws of causality remain constant. There is always a cause to an effect.

... Understood.

Well...

I guess we'll find out what that 'cause' is at the end of this stairwell.

I haven't the faintest idea as to who might be behind this, but...

... man, someone really doesn't want us reaching the basement.

We're finding more and more Peccatula the closer we get to the entrance.

Since we haven't come across any other entrances on our way down... I guess the only place they could be coming from is the basement.

What... the heck are they keeping in this basement...?

Don't the rich families with big mansions usually keep basements for...

... fancy, classy stuff like fermenting some good whiskey?

They also use 'em for storing treasures... Hehe, I have many fond memories of raiding their basements.

Hmm... It probably depends on the family, but if a rich family wanted to hide something they're doing, they'd do it in the basement.

Can you check the diary again, Heath? Maybe something new appeared on the pages like it did earlier.

It can't possibly be that easy. This is just a diary, nothing more. You can ask these papers all you want, but -

…….

<... Is there something wrong with the diary, Heathcliff?>

I felt an odd sensation earlier. I dismissed it, thought it was just the chills.

But I just felt it again.

This diary... I ain't even sure how to put it... haah. The point is, I just had the strangest sensation.

The same feeling I felt earlier when that glass window suddenly shattered all on its own.

…….

Heathcliff, if I may...

I know! I know I must sound like I've gone barmy. But...

No, Heathcliff. It appears rather obvious that the ink used to write the entries was not an ordinary ink.

There is a small chance that your 'suspicions' may be true. That is what I believe.

What are you two even talking about...?

I would like to recommend that you open the diary yourself, Heathcliff.

…….

Here it is again. The 'we'...

Most diaries are written in first person. Do you know anything about this, Heathcliff?

No... She's never once mentioned this dream to me.

Though it may be baseless conjecture...

But to say that we must "embrace the encroaching sins and descend into the world beneath"...

... Perhaps the diary means to instruct us to face the Peccatula and continue to descend into the basement.

You're saying that Catherine... planned all this?

Mm. Though I remain uncertain if this is what Miss Faust had implied earlier, yet...

... Heathcliff, did it not appear to you that the diary is answering directly to your beckoning?

... Right, it's not just me who felt that, then?

Miss Catherine, she...

I don't want to speak so ill of the dead, but she seems a bit...

Yes, she was quite the character. And she could be a tad frightening, from time to time.

... Nelly. Linton said... something about my letters being burned at the incinerator, didn't he?

You think he's really the prick who nicked all my letters before they reached Cathy?

Well... I wouldn't put such behavior beyond Master Linton.

…….

…….

What an ostentatious production.

... Is everyone seeing this?

There are people... in those glass tubes. Their eyes are closed... no, some of them are open...

Are they... dead?

Dead or alive, it doesn't make sense either way. I just don't understand why there's something like this under this manor...?

... They are all dressed in different garbs. I don't see any recognizable age or gender patterns among them.

Recall that large-scale cases of missing persons have been sweeping T Corp. lately.

Then...

T-there! Is that the Golden Bough you were searching for...?

CATHY!!!

... Look. There are machines attached to her coffin.

Mm. I see two levers, both pointed downward.

Cathy... Cathy, wait for me!

<... Don Quixote?>

There... there ought to have been a misunderstanding...

<A misunderstanding?>

What misunderstanding? Those people in the pods are clearly the same people who were kidnapped at T Corp.

Lo, at those who stand flanking the machines...

We have seen them afore at the manor, have we not?

... Fixers of the Öufi Association.

H-honorable sirs and ladies.

…….

Oft was I told that I am rather ignorant with the goings of the world and my surroundings, so I wish not to so carelessly assume...

Thus I must implore thee to answer us.

All of you... out of my way. Now.

This area is off limits.

Off limits...?

She's there. I can see Catherine right there, before my eyes.

I won't let you fucks stand between us.

…….

Didn't expect them to get here so soon... well, we need to buy some more time.

Unlease the dregs.

This is...

…!

They're crawling out of the pods! The pods that people are trapped in...!

N-no...! This shouldn't be happening...! Why are the Peccatula...!

... Miss Faust.

Speak.

I am certain that you, with your gift of omniscience and brilliance... already hold the knowledge the rest are not privy to.

Yet you have deemed that there must be some things better left unuttered, thus you have not shared with us all that you know.

So allow me to ask first.

As this sight is all too familiar to my eyes.

…….

I wish to hear your opinion on my conjecture, in case that I am found to be incorrect.

This is an experiment on the subject of 'humanity', is it not?

... Faust explains that the purpose of this experiment is to use the energy stored within the Golden Bough to utilize every strand of possibility. It is but one of many experiments made possible using the Golden Bough's powers.

To be more precise, it is... it is an experiment to birth a human...? It is an experiment to create a certain kind of human.

If we were to cast a wider net of possibilities... it can be assumed that this basement is merely an engine room where the power source is activated...

... and that the entire manor itself has become a laboratory of its own.

<... Sometimes, Faust looks like she's pausing to look at something before speaking.>

…….

Does any of this resemble what you've seen before, Yi Sang?

Resemble? Nay... they lie plainly before me.

The machines of my very own design, my very research.

This... is not what I had hoped my research would be used for. Not for such hideous purposes, not to exploit humans... not to 'produce' them...

... You're turning pale.

... The fact that your research is being misused... isn't the only problem, is it?

Oh... is there something that you fear, Yi Sang?

…….

What I fear...

Though parts of these machines are of my design, none of these could have been... Nay, I could not have, not without the assistance from my fellows...

Not without...

<That man is…>

…….

... You have recognized me long ago, have you not?

Do not stand there in silence; utter aught to me.

What better response is there for you than my utter silence...

... when the customary greetings, words of antagonism, and inquiries about your well-being all feel so inappropriate?

This is no different from how you had always remained a close fellow of silence then... no?

If you can speak so placidly, surrounded betwixt these abominable horrors...

... then you must have always been a part of this.

Aseah.

Well... it was not by my sole volition.

You must already know that I am not one for such grandiose ambition.

Hey, you shouldn't reveal yourself just like - !

They are already all aware of who we are. To hurriedly hide in the shadows when the light has already shined upon us is an unsightly cowardice.

We are getting tired of playing by your whims. We will make sure that they will hear of everything that has happened -

Oh, 'they'? Interesting, who might this 'they' be? Docents? Or Maestros?

What are you talking about, Ryōshū? They're...

I did say that there was something off about them.

They're not Öufi.

They're nothing but cheap imitations.

Huh?!

You... you were to be sacrificed for the ritual in this laboratory. You should never have been down here...

You are ruining our plans. Who sent you down here?

Well, I don't know if you guys will believe what we've got to say, but it was a diary.

Aseah... stop. Please.

Why do the faces of those I once longed to see... appear at such unexpected times, only to depart in such a hurry? I...

You do remember, do you not?

That I never had any talent in fisticuffs. Well, perhaps I may one day allow myself to use the Mirror as you do.

... This experiment would have been a tad more entertaining had you been here beside me all along.

Do not be so sorry for the brevity of this reunion, dear old friend. We shall see one another again in due time.

Regrettably, I must make my exit. I rarely ever leave work on time, for I wear so many hats.

Ugh...

I normally couldn't give any less of a crap about what kind of art the Ring makes.

But this one... I find this one quite interesting.

The Ring playing at being the Öufi... What is this, some kind of pop art?

They're... the Ring?

<What's the Ring? The Middle's neighbor, or something?>

Neighbor... ha ha. Yeah, I don't really know much about them. What I do know is that they are all at least halfway insane. Obsessed with what's beautiful and all that...

They run their own gallery and display their own art, but none of their work is quite to my taste.

How... pitiful... you... do not understand the true philosophical beauty of Pointillism...

Is a Maestro involved in this? Where are they?

A Maestro wouldn't bother to be in a place like this, would they...? Besides, we're not even a part of the Ring anymore.

Then what are you?

Ahahahahaha! You think I'd tell you that so easi -

Heathcliff!

Tsk... and it was just starting to get interesting.

<... What are you going to do, Heathcliff?!>

Obvious, innit? I'm going to get Cathy out of there. Out of that experiment pod, a machine, a coffin... whatever it is.

<But what about...>

But what about all those people in the glass pods...?

... Don't think you can stop me with your meaningless pleas.

You already know what a heartless bastard I am. You know how much I've been waiting for this moment.

Heathcliff...

W-wait. Give us some time. There has to be a way to shut down the power supply.

Then we'll pick up the Golden Bough from this coffin, then -

DON'T! Don't lecture me! Don't you even try. Do you really think you can change my mind?

…….

I knew it... You were all nothing but a band of thieves, eh...? Coming to pilfer my home...

Mister Hindley...!

You. What order did you give to the Dead Rabbits?

... Boss.

Where have you been this whole time? Do you even have any idea the state the Dead Rabbits are in?

Not to mention the rumor I heard. They said that the Dead Rabbits were long -

Woah, Heathcliff. Take it easy, lad.

This was my home, dammit...

I nearly had that game. It was mine! If only that bloody bastard hadn't gotten that card...

But... Mister Hindley.

I did advise you that such problems require a deeper consideration.

When everything suddenly starts going wrong in your life...

... the cause has got to be lurkin' somewhere, hidin' out of your sight.

... Right. I've given it some thought.

I've given some thought to when or where everything went wrong.

And I see it now. The cause of all this misery...

It's because of that thing that everything went wrong.

…….

That day... that one bloody windy winter night.

When some lowlife, vagrant child arrived at my home, before my eyes, with the broken pieces of my violin.

That's when everything went wrong.

He should've died that day. Succumbed to frostbite, all alone...

... in some colourless Backstreets shithole.

... Calm yourself, Mister Hindley.

I've got to tell ya that I am runnin' rather low on manpower. There is no need to waste our strength against 'em.

No! I can handle them! I'll have you know that I -

- have gone through several augmentation procedures and was sent to a boarding school by your father where you learned how to fight?

Haah... I was once... the master of this manor. Not like you lowlife hooligans who crawled in here, looking to reave what does not belong to you.

Stay out of my way, then.

I'm going to kill that mangy dog... I should've killed him when I had the chance.

Gah... Agh... Shite...

Haha. What did I tell you, Mister Hindley? Again and again?

Beware the obsidian grass.

...!

You... You...!

…….

Wait, wasn't the Dead Rabbits boss supposed to be working for Hindley?

So why...

... why does it look like he is provoking Hindley to fight us? Why is he trying to rile him up...?

And what's that about the obsidian grass?

Haha... Don'tcha get it?

He's talking about black clovers...

Like playing cards for poker. The shape and the color...

The obsidian grass...? Ha... hahaha...

Dammit, I see now. It was you. It was you all along!

No, it was always like this.

I was surrounded by those opportunistic, backstabbing fuckers whose only goals were to suck my fortune dry...

There never was a place for me.

Not even in here, this vast manor of Wuthering Heights.

WHY? It's that bloody vagabond who invaded our home! Why... why should I be subject to such -

... Huh? Who's that...?!

<…?>

Yes, exactly, you understand...! All I wanted...

... all I wanted was a small, fancy violin. That's all it was. But he tossed me to the mud pits in the rain like I was a rabid dog...

Yes! I remember every single word of what my father told me! OF COURSE I DO! I can even recite it from the top of my head!

<He's distorting...>

Hindley!!! I regret that I cannot bring myself to consider a reprobate like you as my own child. That boy, Heathcliff, is more like my son than you shall ever be! HAHAHAHA!!!

All those who found themselves at the edge of suffering, as my old fellow Dongrang had...

... muttered aught to themselves. As though they were conversing with an invisible partner.

Then...

<Meursault, can you stop this, like you did last time?>

It is impossible. I am attempting to approach him, yet I feel an equal force pushing me in the opposite direction.

... Unlike the case with the Monolith, this is a Distortion occurring as it normally should. Faust explains that such Distortions occur as though it has been ordained by fate itself. Once the sequence has started, it cannot be stopped without a strong will from the subject of Distortion.

<Then...>

... Yes. He will Distort.

Yes. Yes... Of course.

I have no reason to protect Wuthering Heights anymore. Not a single one!

This place that never once welcomed me... This 'home'...

Can't you see? Wuthering Heights is rotting away.

This sickening, rotting stench that penetrates your nostrils! Gah... Can't you feel it? This rot?!

You...

Hahaha... this isn't much of a surprise, is it? It has absorbed so much hatred over the years.

Even Catherine must have hated me as she expired.

So...

Wuthering Heights, this decaying manor... must crumble.

It is simply as it should be... haha!

I know this for certain...

That Catherine died... because you dared to set foot in our manor, interloper.

You... you are but a wretched devil...

... that never should have come to our home...

Well...

Your father likes me more than he likes you.

...!

You might be the one warming yourself by the fireplace now, but...

I'm the one your father truly cares about. Me, a poor child from the filthy Backstreets.

You... you fucking mutt...!

Come on, hit me if you wanna. I can take it.

What do you think your father will have to say when he sees the wounds you've inflicted on me?

Give it back...

Give it back...! My home! My violin! My future! Aaaahhhhhh!

Ha ha...

Ahahahahahahaha...

What are you laughing at, boss...?

What's he doing there... right next to the coffin...?

His motives are unknown. But I see that an additional lever has attached itself to the coffin.

When did it...?

Immediately after the power outage.

What's...

What's there to not laugh about?

Oh, how I've spent days upon days wishin' he'd survive no matter how long I had to wait. That he'd survive until I could be there to watch him die with me own eyes.

I imagined it every single day. Wonderin' what kind of death would befit a prick like him.

Yet every time, there was something so unsatisfying about the way he went out. There was always something... missing.

"Every time"?

…….

But this one... oh yes. I quite enjoyed this one. A dog's death, stinking with that hideous stench of defeatism...

... So pulling that lever kills the power. But I doubt that's the only thing it does. Am I right?

... Are you going to pull it?

Yes, I am.

I knew that something was off about you earlier.

Now, I can think of two possibilities.

One. The gaffer's lost it while I was gone, and it's going to be up to me to beat the sense back into 'im.

…….

... Two.

He's some deranged lunatic who's only pretending to be the boss. Some mental fuck who should never be allowed anywhere near Catherine.

If you're really him, you must know at least know your own name. What is it?!

Matt.

... I suppose he didn't go by 'Matt' here, then?

What...?

... I've grown complacent. I wasted quite a lot of time and effort in an attempt to learn his mannerisms.

Just like this.

Seat your arse down and pour me a pint, Heathcliff. What a bloody gloomy day it is.

You... You!!!

What the hell do you want?

Hindley, you, and your mysteries... everything. I'm tired of it.

If you won't talk, then I'll...

Ahaha...

What, kill me?

You're going to kill... *me*?

...!

I suppose introductions are unnecessary.

I am you, as it is plain to see. And I have clawed my way back from hell.

... H-how can there be two of the same person...?

They are... not the same people.

This one is an Identity.

Identity...? He's an Identity?

So he's a Heathcliff... from one of the Mirror Worlds?

All those who challenged me, stood in my way. All those who humiliated me.

I intended to find them one by one, to give them deaths that befit their crimes.

And in the end...

I would kill... the one who killed my Cathy... with my own hands.

My Cathy? The one who - Who... no, what the bloody hell are you talking about?!

Obvious, is it not?

It's you. And... me.

Do you still fail to understand? We are her murderers.

What a load of rubbish... talk like a normal person or...

... Wait.

How much do you know about Cathy's death?

I have no love left for anyone in this world. This world has none to spare for me, either.

I had but two paths before me. Death, or inferno... because I was already cast into the depths of hell upon Cathy's demise.

But you...

I watched you going on your puerile adventures, dreaming of some saccharine, heartfelt reunion with her.

Thus, I have journeyed to this world. To devour every one of those hours.

So that you may be stained with the same despair that painted me...

Stop talking in circles!

Are you saying that you're the one who killed Cathy?

Us, Heathcliff. It's us.

That's what we are. How we were born to this world.

A witless brigand. A vagrant. A thing wrapped in a filthy, stinking rag of a sack.