Reverse: 1999 story ยท Event stories
Route 77: The Haunted Highway
20 scenes, 2,139 lines
1. A Trail of Footprints
150 linesRain-soaked soil. Shallow footprints.
...
A mercenary in a wide-brimmed hat kneels on one knee, her left eye glowing brightly.
10.6 inches long.
The soil beneath the footprint is uneven. One side presses deeper into the ground.
Signs of limping.
Wide stride, heavy indentations, a slight drag.
Male.
Heavy pressure on the forefoot, lighter on the heel. Deep scrapes at the front, fewer at the back.
Around 20 years old.
Light on his feet, uneven pressure on the forefoot.
Light-weight.
She scratches her scalp with the barrel of her shotgun.
The further she goes, the more irregular the footprints becomeโand the more clues emerge.
More sets of footprints here.
There's a rustling in the grass nearby, along with the faint sound of a conversation.
Boss, are you sure this is where the materials for the revered one are?
There isn't even a single trace of human activity here, let alone a market!
...
I guess the only possible explanation is we're here for these plants, right?
Of course not, you idiot.
Haha, that's too bad! I'm great at harvesting plants. I'm a pro, see? Check out these calluses. Although, my mom would probably disagree.
Do you have any idea what these materials look like? They must be important, so we better handle them with care. Don't wanna risk mistaking them for weeds, you know.
I hope they're easy enough to find. With my leg messed up like this, I can hardly handle any delicate work.
That's him. The one with the limp.
Sorry about this, man.
There's a distant sound of a gun being cocked.
But at least you'll see your mom soon, up there in heaven.
Wh-What?
*bang*
The mercenary decisively pulls the trigger of her shotgun. The bullet grazes the assailant's cheek.
Who's there?!
...
What're you waiting for? Get your ass outta here.
I ...
His trembling hands betray his fear and panic.
Ah. You got a couple questions for this one too, huh?
Well, first come, first served.
I'm afraid you're gonna have to get in line.
She steps on the man's chest and presses the barrel of her gun against his throat.
Alright, here's how we're gonna do this.
I ask. You answer. If you lie, I'll blow your jaw off.
Have you ever met a girl named Kayla?
Kayla?
Let's try that again.
A girl, about 5 foot 3, chestnut hair, emerald green eyes, speaks like a Texan.
Have you seen her? Yes or no?
The man shakes his head in terror.
No?
She smirks.
Then why's her hair clip in your pocket?
She presses down harder, jamming the shotgun into his throat.
I-I remember! There's a girl, 5 foot 3, chestnut hair. She's always carrying a basket. Her name's Kayla, too!
But her eyes ain't emerald green. They're ... They're ...
The man's mouth opens helplessly as he desperately tries to remember the color of the girl's eyes.
It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't seem to spit it outโthe crucial detail he should remember but has now forgotten.
Tell me how you got this hair clipโthe more detailed, the better.
We just bumped into each other by chance. She dropped it on the road, and I thought my daughter would like it, so I ...
Relieved to have moved on from the color, the man blabbers on obediently.
...
Her finger tightens on the trigger.
...
At a place called Tuesday's Motel.
There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it?
She hefts the shotgun and knocks the man out with the butt.
Next time, just spit it out. Save us all some time.
Are-Are you with the Foundation?
The Foundation?
Yeah. They hate the Foundation, you see.
But you saved me! I need some help. My mom ...
The mercenary cuts him off harshly.
I ain't never heard of no "Foundation," and I don't give a you-know-what about what's going on between you and them. Got my own matters to deal with.
I'll leave him with you. Keep the gun. You figure the rest out yourself.
A thin cloud obscures the setting sun, scattering its light.
She looks out into the horizon.
Now, where's this motel?
The young follower points a trembling finger southward, where the stars have started to appear in the sky. The red lowlands lie still, their furrows rising and falling gently.
Listen! You saved my life, so I owe you one. I have to warn you, that motelโ
Save your breath. We're done here.
Wait!
The follower hurriedly pulls out a few dollar bills from his pocket.
You're a mercenary, right? I can tell by your gear. I'm, I'm worried about my mother. If you see her on the road, please give me a call.
He hesitates for a moment before taking off a metal locket from around his neck.
Here's a photo of her.
The mercenary opens the locket to reveal an elderly woman with a kind smile.
Got it.
She hands it back to the follower.
And here. My phone number.
He writes a series of numbers on a blank section of one banknote.
And listen, be careful. Something ain't right about that motel.
Alright.
She takes the money, slips the dollar bill with the phone number into her pocket, and turns away.
The afternoon heat lingers on the highway. The mercenary makes her way back to her car, shotgun in hand.
She comes to a sudden stop.
One sheep, two sheep, three sheep ...
A soft voice echoes from afar, and she notices a fluffy white figure circling around her car.
Is that a sheep?
The fluffy creature turns its head. It's a sheep-headed, human-bodied arcanist.
Hm. Two sheep, three sheep ... Funny how we hit the hay every night, just like kids hit the books every day.
I'm Barbara. Nice to meet you.
The sheep-headed arcanist extends a handโa gesture befitting an introduction. But she doesn't get the expected response.
You're in my way, ma'am.
I've tried waving and shouting at the drivers, but none of them stopped for me.
Thankfully, pacing around on the road seems to have done the trick!
She gets in, closes the door, and looks at the hitchhiker through the open window.
No.
My driver left me here. Probably because of that scraping sound on the car roof. That scared him half to death.
Everything happens for a reason. Destiny's brought me to the right place, I think.
Could you give me a ride? I'm on a business trip, so money is no object.
It ain't about money.
Oh, a disappointing answer, but I understand. One must be vigilant. If you don't mind me asking, Miss ...
What happened to your eyes? They're bloodshot. It's best not to drive with your eyes in such a state. You have a much higher chance of getting into an accident.
The mercenary closes the window, finally blocking out the endless chatter.
She turns the ignition key, and the radio bursts to life, blaring disco music inside the vehicle.
...
She shuts it off and stomps on the gas.
The engine roars as the speedometer climbs higher and higher. In the fields on either side of the road, shepherds are herding their sheep.
Unwelcome memories begin to surface.
The land at the foot of the hills is covered in Indian grass, now turning a sunset red as autumn approaches.
Argus, come over here. This little lamb almost didn't make it outta her mama's belly.
The girl cuts the lamb's umbilical cord with a pair of scissors, while the ewe lies in the hay, baaing weakly.
That's life.
Don't say that. No living thing is born to suffer. Look, it's already standing.
The ewe licks off the afterbirth as the lamb struggles to stand on its shaky legs.
Hah. What an adorable little thing.
She grins as she wipes the blood and fluid from her hands onto her apron.
It's getting dark. We should take them back. Ain't no way they'll make it through the night out here with their mama hurt.
And you can't see a thing at night.
You're right. Let's go.
The wind sweeps through the grass and rustles into the distance.
Screw it!
Argus grits her teeth and yanks the steering wheel, screeching her car into a U-turn.
She slams on the gas, rushing back to where the sheep-like arcanist was.
But when she arrives, there's nothing but a few cotton plants swaying in the breeze.
Should've minded my own damn business.
She turns the wheel again, harder this time. The tires screech as she makes another U-turn and drives off.
In the distance, the sun dips behind the hills.
...
Her vision is fading. She switches on the headlights.
As expected, the light is too dim to make up for her night blindness. She can hardly see a thing.
...!
A hard brake.
*bang*
Unfortunately, it's too late to stop the crash.
2. Fog Descends
94 lines
Before we left, TTT was telling me an urban myth about Texas.
Hah. Sounds about right. What's the story about?
The story starts off in the typical way.
A man was driving down a long Texas road when he saw a girl hitch-hiking.
He offered her a lift and a piece of chocolate.
The man dropped the girl off at a cemetery and drove on. It was late at night, so he was hoping to reach his destination quickly.
Soon after, he saw a funeral procession going down the road.
The photo of the dead seemed familiar.
Curiosity came over him, and he followed them to the cemetery.
Look, a piece of chocolate.
A sudden beeping interrupts her story.
Give me a moment. I have to take this. It's from the Foundation.
The voice on the other side is as calm as ever.
Timekeeper, this is an emergency notice. The Zeno Base in Texas, USA, has conducted a large-scale evacuation.
Zeno has not yet responded regarding their actions.
Should you encounter any difficulties on your trip there, please contact headquarters immediately.
Understood.
Despite these developments, your mission remains the same.
Contact UTTU editor Barbara, who was last seen near Route 77 collecting information, and find Urd's current whereabouts through her.
Since UTTU editors use a special communication channel, her current location is still unknown. We'll be in touch as soon as there's any new information.
Any questions, Timekeeper?
No. Thank you.
All the best, then.
The communication ends. Lilya looks thoughtful.
What did they say?
There was a mass evacuation at the Zeno base in Texas.
Tsk. What's that all about?
They called me two days ago, saying that Red 38 was still under routine maintenance in their armament factory.
But now, all of a sudden, they're gone? How am I going to get my Red 38 back now, huh?
If they hadn't taken her away for inspection, we wouldn't be traveling in this little car, wasting all day on the road.
The operator only mentioned an evacuation. It's still possible that some of them have stayed behind to keep the factory running.
If you're worried about Red 38, we can take a detour there. It's in Chisos. The town isn't far from here.
Lilya squirms in her seat.
Hey, mister, can you take us to the Chisos? It's just a little detour.
Hmm.
He taps his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel.
Girls, I don't know why y'all are here. But whether it's just for a bit of adventure or for business, I gotta tell you. Something ain't right in that town.
We've all heard the storiesโscratching sounds on car roofs, animal bits stuck to car grilles, and those people in black robes running around. It's all too weird for me.
Ah, give the ghost stories a rest.
Look, if you're trying to negotiate a higher price, at least be a little smart about it instead of trying to spook us with a few tall tales.
You got me all wrong. Who in their right mind would throw away the cash in their hand unless they were forced to?
Benjamins are good and all, but they ain't worth my life. Ain't no way I'm taking you there, no matter how much cash you throw at me.
Why? Were you the driver in that ghost story?
N-No.
Have you seen these things happen yourself?
...
Come on, it's just a little detour! It won't even cost you much fuel!
...
He clenches his hands tightly around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.
Sir?
You see that? It's fogging up.
Thick, milky fog envelopes the car.
The driver pulls over.
Ain't no way this fog is natural. We shouldn't go any further. I'm stopping right here.
Ugh, fine, I'll drive. Swap seats with me.
No. Nobody get out of the car.
Why?
Are you kidding me?! You haven't heard the stories, have you? Then what in the hell are you even doing here?!
When the fog rolls in on Route 77, you should always stay in the car. All kinds of terrible things hide in the fog. Some folks say they saw giant white crocodiles; others say they saw dead bodies hanging from trees.
Ain't nobody leaving this car. Not until the fog's gone.
*screech*
He's interrupted by a drawn-out scraping sound on the roof of the car.
...!
Is that ... Is that ...?
Oh, come on! Don't tell me you're scared of this stuff!
No response.
He's fainted.
A strange atmosphere spreads inside the car as they sit and listen to the scraping on the roof. But this is nothing compared to what happened at Green Lake Campsite.
Finally, the scraping stops, and a few black-and-white figures dart past the windows.
I see. This looks like the work of a Mummus. It's a critter commonly seen in the southern US. When they're frightened, they produce a fog-like gas from their respiratory trumpet.
So that sound is just some critter scratching along on the roof.
Lilya opens the door.
At this rate, I won't get my Red 38 back for another month!
Well, I've always wanted to try this. Help me move this guy! And you'll have to give up your passenger seat, Captain.
I know what you're thinking. But do you have a US driver's license? Or any driver's license at all, for that matter?
What do I need that for? I can fly a broom and even do all those maneuvers. That takes more skill than driving a car, don't you think?
Ha, compared to flying, driving a car is child's play. Just look at the number of drivers compared to pilots in the world.
...
Following the pilot's plan, they adjust positions.
Now, where do we start?
She glances at the dashboard in front of her.
This doesn't look like the interior of an Su-01ะฒะต. A minor issue.
She thinks back to her training.
Start both engines. Keep the tachometer at 70%.
Here's the nose wheel steering, the position indicator for the joystick, the throttle lever ... ah, and these are for the flaps.
No, no! That's not right! We're in a car, not a flying machine!
...
*click*
The rear-seat passenger quietly fastens her seatbelt.
Let's just get out, Captain. Can't wrap my head around this hunk of metal.
Good decision.
If these critters are responsible for this fog, our solution is simple. We drive them away.
Let's go.
She opens the door, and the thick fog outside rushes in like a tide.
3. Baby Broadcaster
84 linesThey get out of the car and step onto the asphalt road.
...
A barely perceptible moisture fills the air. The mist is pervasive, even filling their ears and nostrils.
A faint breeze runs along their faces, like a spider's web blowing in the wind.
...!
A flash of insight comes to her from some distant, unreachable place.
What is it, Captain?
Someone's casting arcane skills nearby.
*baby cries*
The crying of a baby throbs faintly in her ears like an insect bite.
Do you hear that? Sounds like a crying baby.
Better go take a look.
The grass is rustling, as if something is moving nearby.
You know, a Texan soldier once told me about a notorious bandit back in his hometown many years ago.
He would record the sound of a crying baby and play it outside the homes of single mothers. Then he'd wait, ready to attack them if any of them opened their door to look for the baby.
Yes, but the actions of one man don't negate all other calls for help.
Of course not. It's just a reminder to be ready for anything. We're close now. Prepare yourself.
Got it.
The grass sways, and the faint crying stops. The fog grows thicker.
Vertin, over here!
A broken flashlight lies on the ground. The damage looks recent.
Not far away, they spot a foot in a black shoe, and a pale ankle disappearing under purple fabric.
Ah. Hello. Please help.
A frail woman tightly cradles a swaddled infant, her body curled up and trembling with fear.
Are you alright, Miss?
The maid turns her head. Her face is pale, as if all the blood has been drained from it.
Finally, someone ...
Please, help me. These critters won't let me leave. Every time I try, they knock me back.
My baby's starving and crying. If you hadn't come, I really don't know what I would've done.
Cooumm, cooumm ... Urhm, urhm ...
The critter makes a wary sound.
You mean these Mummus? I've never read about them attacking anyone in any reports. In fact, they're known for being rather timid.
Reports don't necessarily capture the whole story, Captain.
Look at them. They don't seem very "timid" to me.
Coo ...
The Mummus before them opens its mouth wide, revealing its sharp white teeth.
Careful! It's going to attack!
The creatures scatter, the grass rustling as they flee.
Ah. They always run off so quickly.
The woman pulls herself up off the ground and brushes the dirt from her skirt.
Are you alright?
Did you get a good look at them? Those slippery little things look like seals, don't they?
They always jump on passing cars and rub their flat hind legs on the roof, making that coarse scraping sound.
Amazing creatures, aren't they? These little fearmongers.
Wind sweeps across the plains, dispersing the fog. The woman's face flushes red as she sways lightly in the breeze.
But they are, in fact, easily frightened; the slightest movement could startle them. That's why it's foggy all year around here. Many of my guests have trouble finding their way to the motel.
Are you ladies looking to check in at the motel?
Motel?
Yes, Tuesday's Motel. If you're looking for a comfortable bed for the night, it's the place to go.
Anyway, thank you so much for saving us. I owe you one.
She pats the swaddled baby.
Excuse me, are you the maid at Tuesday's Motel?
Ah, I almost forgot to introduce myself. Folks around here call me Tuesday.
"Hey, Tuesday, over here. Hey, Tuesday! Breakfast for one, please. Tuesday, Tuesday ..." Ain't we all like horses, and our names like the reins pulling at us?
She looks the two of them over.
Do you need a place to stay, ladies?
Thank you for your kindness.
But our driver's still in the car. We can't just leave him there.
And our luggage and travel documents are still in the trunk, along with our cash, too. Let's head back now that the fog has cleared.
Shall I lead the way?
You?
She looks the maid up and down suspiciously.
What were you doing out here alone, anyway?
...
I-I was waiting for a guest. It's been two hours, and they still haven't shown up.
I thought, rather than waiting here, I would pay you back for helping me.
I assume you parked near Route 77? Let me take you there.
The setting sun scatters its light, illuminating the dogwood and cotton plants in the fields.
That coward!
The car is gone. Nothing remains but a few scattered pieces of luggage.
He just threw out our luggage and took off! Tsk, how pathetic.
At least he didn't take the luggage with him.
Mmm. Are you going to thumb a ride with all these bags?
I'd advise against that, especially here. You've seen those movies, right? Bad things can happen on the road out here.
There are a lot of smugglers around these days.
There's a clear concern in her voice.
...
Did you say your motel wasn't far from here?
Yes. Come this way. There's an easy trail that won't dirty your shoes.
Don't worry. It ain't far.
The walk isn't far, indeed. Before long, they're standing in front of the motel.
When night falls and the signs are lit, a weary traveler may find a comfortable place to rest here.
Under the shade of the neem trees, the wooden porch awaits its owner, darkening in the fading sunlight.
Welcome to Tuesday's Motel, ladies.
4. Medal of Honor
140 linesThe maid stands behind the front desk in the motel lobby. She's checking in her new guests.
That'll be 25 dollars altogether. Will that be on card or cash?
Cash, please.
The maid holds up the passport, comparing the information on it.
Hey, do you know if there's an armament factory in the town nearby?
An armament factory?
She studies Lilya's outfit and smiles as she responds.
Yes, there is one. Would you like a map?
She opens a drawer, pulls out a map, and hands it to her.
If you plan on visiting, make sure to return early. It can be a difficult walk in the dark.
Lilya quickly finds the town labeled "Chisos" on the map.
Doesn't seem far from here.
It's about an hour's walk. I'd recommend leaving tomorrow morning.
It's getting late. It's best not to be outside at night.
Thanks, but I'm going right now.
She moves with swift purpose to the front door.
Nothing can go wrong as long as I have the Red 38 by my side.
Call me if anything happens.
Like what? I can handle myself.
A rush of wind enters as Lilya opens the door and makes her way out of the motel.
...
Don't worry. She'll check in later.
Here's your passport.
Have you been working here since the opening of this place?
Yes.
How's business?
The maid laughs softly.
Not too great. It's the off-season now.
You don't seem too good at small talk. Is there anything you'd like to ask?
...
I do have one question.
Have you seen a sheep-headed arcanist around?
She shows the information provided by the Foundation.
For world peace.
Looking for an editor of UTTU.
World peace?
The maid blinks in surprise, then laughs.
Well, that makes this request simply too adorable to turn down.
Well, I'm sorry to say that I've never met an arcanist with the head of a sheep.
I can help you ask around if youโ
Suddenly, the ceiling starts to tremble.
A surge of arcane energy comes from above.
What's ...
Sounds like something's gone wrong upstairs. Sorry about that.
Let's head up. Your room's on the second floor, too. Then we can take a look at what's happened.
Sounds good.
Just so you know, the guests upstairs are a little ...
The maid hesitates.
Well, you can stay behind me if you like.
How about it?
A voice echoes from down the hall.
It's just a simple room swap. I'm sure it won't be no trouble at all for a generous lady such as yourself.
That's the guest staying in room 210. She arrived here the night before yesterday.
She was injured when she came in. Seems it didn't take her long to recover.
But I don't quite understand why she insists on swapping rooms with the other guests. If she does the same to you, please call the front desk. I'll do my best to help.
Why don't you offer her your help? She needs it more than I do.
Oh, things don't work like that here, Miss.
Everyone has their own secrets. With the variety of guests we get, it's best to keep your mouth shut, or else somebody will shut it for you.
Although there are fewer bounty hunters around these days, my advice is to stay quiet if you don't want any trouble.
Especially if you're dealing with an armed mercenary. You know how things like that play out down here in Texas, don't you?
Understood.
The voice down the hall continues.
Or do you have something else in mind?
Is your room bigger and better than this one?
A more lively voice chimes in.
That's the guest of room 218 speaking. She too is a young lady like you.
You remember all the guests and their room numbers?
You'd remember her too if she'd been staying in your motel for a month. Ms. Kimberly's been here for just over that.
I ...
Hm?
The maid quickly moves toward the source of the voice.
The man before her looks haggard, his back slightly hunched, his eyes yellowed and cloudy.
Mirror ... The mirror ...
Mr. Stefen, are you coming out for some fresh air?
Everyone in the hallway turns to look at the maid.
If Ms. Kimberly and yourself have come to an agreement, then I see no reason why you can't do so.
Ah.
The man makes a dry, rasping sound, his vocal cords trembling unnaturally. It's like he's speaking for the first time in his life.
Timekeeper?
Have we met?
This response seems to trigger something. His expression twists.
Vertin?
That's me. Do I know you, sir?
I saw youโin the newspaper.
Arh, the newspaper, that vacuum bombโdid you see the explosion? You must have, because you made it happen! You dropped the bomb! You murderers!
But have any of you been brought to justice? No, not a single one! Instead, you were congratulated and given medals.
Revolting! Disgusting! Why were you rewarded for murder?!
He blabbers on, working himself into a frenzy.
Meanwhile, I'm stuck in this hotel. Lord, is this what my life has come to?
But we've never met before. I don't even know your name, sir.
Of course you don't know me. But I'll get the truth out. I'll expose your crimes to the public!
The man's deranged rant continues, his knuckles turning white as he clenches his fists.
That rotting woman in the tub, that sheep-headed monster, and that one inside the mirror.
Sheep-headed, you say?
Wait! Sirโ
Shh. Don't startle him. He's totally crazy.
I should've known it was all fake!
If they're giving out medals for killing people ...
Ah, then I should have one, too. That shiny medalโit should be mine!
He bites down hard on his lip, his cloudy eyes staring straight ahead.
He steps forward.
Stay back!
But the man has already lunged at them.
A single blow from the butt of the mercenary's shotgun knocks the man out.
...
The maid breathes heavily, her face slightly flushed.
I'm ever so sorry about all this, Ms. Vertin.
You've only just arrived, and you've had to deal with so much trouble already.
Oh, it's no trouble. In fact, I'm glad that we came here.
That man said he'd seen a "sheep-headed monster."
Oh, that ... He's quite delusional. Surely you won't take the ramblings of a madman for a fact, will you?
He's been peculiar since the day he checked in. He spasms and twitches and pays little attention to his surroundings.
It's best not to have a face-to-face conversation with him. Who knows what he'll do next.
Hey, you, maid! Enough chatter. You have a job to do.
The girl impatiently interrupts their conversation.
I've accepted the offer this, uh, Ms. Argus made. What's next? What should we do?
Apologies, Ms. Kimberly. I'll be with you in a moment.
Could the both of you wait for me at the front desk? The rooms need a tidy-up before they can be occupied. You may take a rest on the couch in the lobby while you wait.
Ms. Vertin, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you here. Do you mind going to your room alone?
Not at all.
The suitcase sways with her steps as she heads to her room.
Once again, the air pulses with the flow of arcane energy, compelling her to look back.
Ma'am, you can just leave the room as it is. If you clean it, it'll interfere with my work.
You might wanna check on that Kimberly lady. She looks starved. She wouldn't stop shaking.
A cluster of emerald light sparks in the mercenary's left eye, scattering like a bird unfurling its brilliant tail feathers.
Oh, Ms. Kimberly. Would you like something to eat?
I'm fine!
The guest's face visibly sours.
I agreed to change rooms, didn't I? Why are you two still mocking me?
She turns her attention to the mercenary.
You're not exactly a pleasant person to do business with; you know that, right?
Well, darn, what got you so riled up?
It's too late now. A deal's a deal. You can backpedal if you like, but it ain't wise to mess with a girl packing heat down here in Texas.
Later, Ms. Kimberly.
The mercenary's eye gleams as she turns the lock and enters her hard-won room.
Her arcane skill.
5. A Sudden Message
136 linesThe door creaks as she opens it, and her nostrils are hit with the distinct scent of floor wax.
She flips the switch, and after a brief hum of electricity, the room lights up.
That man, Stefen. He clearly knows something. But he appears to be rather mentally unstable, and he's hostile towards me.
Madam Z cautioned me on this. I must be extra careful when dealing with people like him. Should make sure I have a backup plan in place before proceeding.
Still no sign of Lilya.
She tries contacting her on her communication device, but the line is busy.
...
She tries again, but still no luck.
Did she get in trouble?
Suddenly, the phone on the nightstand rings. It vibrates violently.
Hello?
*tap, tap, tap, tap*
Hello?!
A series of strange tapping sounds comes from the other end of the line.
Erm, is that Ms. Tuesday?
*tap*
*tap, tapโtap, tap*
*tap, tapโtapโtap*
...
The short and long sounds are distinct. They form a certain rhythm.
Oh, I think I know what this is.
*tap, tapโtap*
That's an R.
*tap*
E.
*tap, tap, tap*
S.
*tap, tapโtapโtap*
P.
*tapโtapโtapโ*
O.
The phone is abruptly hung up. But it doesn't matter. The thoughts are complete.
RESPOND
...
A message conveyed through Morse code.
A means of communication that sacrifices efficiency for safety. It's commonly used in intelligence, but rarely for anything else.
Why would there be such a message in a motel?
*ring-ring-ringโ*
The telephone rings again. She picks it up without hesitation.
Hello, is this Ms. Vertin?
Ms. Tuesday?
Yes. I have an announcement for you.
There's a service outage going on in the area. Some critters nibbled through the cables of a nearby signal tower. But all our internal phone lines are still running well.
I see.
It should be repaired soon, since we share the signal tower with that armament factory. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.
I'll bring your dinner up later. It's on the house.
Ask about the strange phone call.
Ask about dinner.
There's something I want to ask you. I received a phone call earlier.
Oh, Ms. Kimberly was also prank-called not long ago.
I suppose it's a critter's doingโyou know how mischievous they can be, and since they have decent smarts, they can play some pretty nasty tricks.
In theory, a group of monkeys could write Shakespeare's complete works on a typewriter if given the time. But would this happen in reality?
I don't think that's what made the phone call.
Mm, well, Ms. Vertin, this is what I understand to be the truth.
Is there anything else I can help you with?
I'm good for now. Thank you.
As she hangs up, she feels a light touch on her neck, like a feather brushing against her skin.
She reflexively touches her neck. It's a spider's web. She follows it up to the corner of the ceiling.
Spiders?
A spider falls onto the surface of the wooden cabinet. It moves its slender legs, crawling from one shadowy spot to another.
As it moves, sparks ignite in the air.
Then, in the glow of an arcane skill, she can see everything clearly.
Is that an arcane array?
The pattern's familiar. I've seen it somewhere before.
The surface of the bedside cabinet has a rough engraving on it. She traces the markings with her fingers, trying to discern their texture and direction.
...!
The array burns her fingertips, and in that momentary pain, memories are awakened.
Yes, I've definitely seen this before,
when I was in school.
This is an extremely dangerous arrayโone that you are prohibited from using. It can go easily beyond the caster's control.
We study arcanum and tame it for our use.
But once its power surpasses our limits, it is highly likely that it will lead to our own destruction.
I need you all to remember that. It'll be in your next exam.
The students put their heads down, and the sound of scribbling fills the classroom.
Vertin? Are you listening?
The instructor just said it'd be in the next exam. If you like, you can check my notes.
The top student nervously clutches her notebook in her hands.
Oh, thank you. My mind was somewhere else.
Why have they made it a key point of the exam if we can't even use it?
I see. They didn't teach us about arrays so that we could use them.
They wanted us to be able to identify them so that we could avoid danger.
She looks out the window. It's getting dark.
It's highly likely to cause an explosion or other severe consequences if I act too hastily.
The array glows faintly.
Lilya still hasn't come back. I must find someone else to help.
What qualities should an ally have?
Decisiveness, efficiency, some means of offense or self-defense ...
A sudden knock on the door interrupts her thoughts.
She opens it to a familiar face.
What exactly do you want from me, Miss?
The mercenary raises an eyebrow.
Well, it's simple. The person I'm looking for is right here in this motel, and I'm scouring every corner of it to find her.
Look, missy, I don't wanna make things hard for you. Name your price, and we can talk.
If this person's gone to such great lengths to avoid you, perhaps she doesn't want to see you at all.
Well, that ain't my concern, is it? A job's a job. Whether it's catching a cheating spouse, tracking someone down, or delivering a letter, it don't make no difference to me.
Very well. But you'll have to look elsewhere, I'm afraid. There's no one but me in this room.
Hah.
Look, I know what I'm doing. How about you turn around and take a good look around the room?
So you can knock me out as soon as I turn my back to you?
Hahaha!
The mercenary gives a hearty laugh.
Missy, if that were my plan, I wouldn't have spent all this time talking to you.
I much prefer to do my business pleasantly. I don't like to see things get too ugly.
I see.
Fine. If you don't wanna turn around, I'll tell you what I see.
The mercenary squints, that same emerald light shimmering in her eye.
You've burned your finger there. You should be more careful.
This is ...
Don't look like a fire burn to me. What was it? Some arcane energy?
Looks like this room has a couple secrets, too.
The mercenary shifts her gaze to the room further away.
So you touched an arcane array, and its power burned you. How's that for a guess? Pretty close, huh?
...!
She examines the mercenary's burning emerald eye.
This is my arcane skill. It allows me to see the traces that people leave behind. That's how I get these jobs, you see.
Ain't nothing happening that don't leave a trace. If there ain't no trace, then it never happened. I came to your room to look for evidence, not a person.
I see. You want to know whether the person you're tracking has been here, right?
Now we're talking.
Before I let you investigate the room, I have one more question. You take jobs from people nearby, don't you?
Of course. It's obvious, ain't it?
She doesn't get the response she wants. In this familiar silence, the experienced mercenary smells an imminent deal.
It's a mixture of caution and trust, anticipation and doubt.
You seem more intrigued by my profession than my peculiar request.
You're in trouble, ain't you?
Then let me formally introduce myself. The name's Argus, I'm 26, and I have extensive experience as a mercenary.
Let's make a deal.
You may search this room all you like, and I won't say a thing. But in return, I'd like your assistance in my own investigation.
How, exactly?
Can you tell when that array on the cupboard was drawn?
Argus slings her shotgun over her shoulder and crouches down beside the nightstand. After a brief examination, she gives her assessment.
Less than 24 hours ago.
In other words, this was left behind by the last guest who stayed in this room.
Argus shakes her head.
Can't say for certain.
6. Glass Bottles
91 linesThe empty factory is cold and damp.
Hah, let's see what you've got in there for me.
She wanders the factory, eventually spotting a large crate covered in postage stamps in the receiving room.
The crate is nailed tightly shut. She squints, having only the moonlight to help her read the words on the box.
Red 38, Lilya.
Hey, buddy!
She squats down and inspects the crate. After tapping it a few times, she frowns.
They just left her in a wooden box. What kind of safekeeping is this?
Anyway, I don't have much time. I'll settle that with them later.
She grabs the crate and tries to lift it.
It doesn't budgeโit's bound by arcanum.
Alright. At least they bothered to put a gravity ritual on it.
Light footsteps echo behind her.
Are you also preparing to evacuate?
Lilya turns around. A slender girl stands before her, a basket in her arms.
Ah, perfect timing. Are you in charge here?
The girl looks her up and down before giving a sweet smile.
No, I'm not in charge of anything, Lieutenant. I'm just passing through. I'm Kayla, by the way.
I heard some rattling here and thought some of those kids might've come back to steal weapons again. These things aren't cheap, and the kids know it.
Kids stealing from the military? Hah, that's a new one. Where are the guards here?
Oh. Didn't they tell you, Lieutenant?
The girl sounds surprised.
The army stationed here started evacuating a month ago. There aren't many of them around these days.
Evacuating?
The Foundation's report was correct. Lilya senses impending danger.
Then where can I find the soldiers that are still here?
Hmm. You're new in town, right? Did you see a bar on your way here?
That's where the Zeno soldiers spend their nights drinking. You might wanna check there first. That's probably where you'll find him.
Him? What does he look like?
Like every other Zeno soldier. They all look the same to me. You'll know when you see him.
She pauses, looking the pilot up and down.
But I have to tell you: The bar doesn't like outsiders. Have you heard of the Order of Enlightenment?
It's an occult societyโvery active these days. They were preaching in this town just a few days ago. Today is their day of prayer.
And, what does that have to do with me?
The bar you're going to is where they gather to pray.
That's all I know. If you're going up there, please be careful.
Hah. Thanks.
Lilya turns and leaves. The girl watches her as she goes.
May the Sufferer watch over you.
Great Sufferer, by your decree, the glory of former days shall grace our present path.
She whispers a prayer. As she clasps her hands together, the black facets of her ring shimmer.
Great Sufferer, by your decree, the glory of former days shall grace our present path.
We dedicate our souls and minds to you. We seek the well-being of our people in your name.
A solemn atmosphere fills the bar. A small group has gathered under the dim lights, some in black robes, others in everyday clothes. They lean on each other like brothers and sisters.
The man leading the prayer raises his glass and gives a toast.
May the Sufferer watch over you.
Under THEIR grace, may our cups overflow.
To the Sufferer.
To the Sufferer!
The bar door flings open.
Hm? Odd time for a stranger to come.
The young pilot looks around.
Not crashing the party, am I?
She heads straight to the bar, where the shelves glitter with various bottles.
Napa Valley, Californian red, Kentucky whiskey ... Hah, there's a lot of good stuff here.
One vodka. Straight. The best you got.
It ain't business hours, lady.
*click*
She knows that soundโsomeone's cocking a gun just inches away from her.
Hey, all I did was ask for a drink! Is this how you treat your customers?
As I said, we ain't serving you.
Why? Don't you have vodka?
Fine, I can settle for whiskey. Have to learn to take what we can get, eh?
You ain't getting that, either.
Seriously? You don't have any whiskey?
She glances at the whiskey bottles lining the shelves.
Pft. I'm starting to understand why Zeno evacuated. What's the point of living in a town where there's no real liquor? Especially for those drunkards.
What's a Zeno lieutenant doing here, anyway? No alcohol fuel in that warehouse of yours?
The patrons laugh.
Hah! You sure have some interesting drinking habits down here.
But I'm curious. What did this Sufferer promise you to make you all change your faith?
I mean, that's quite an achievement, especially here in Texas.
She turns, narrowly avoiding a bullet. It whizzes past her hair.
Oh, so we're doing this now, are we?
Bottles crash to the floor, splashing alcohol all over the bar.
*pant*
Look, I don't care what you're doing here. Just tell me where that Zeno soldier went.
She looks down at the bar owner slumped over the counter.
What Zeno soldier?
The man strains to open his swollen eyes.
Don't play dumb with me.
Oh. That soldier. He's a complete idiot, that one.
It's obvious that Zeno's abandoned him. But he insists that they left him here because they believed that only he could keep the warehouse safe.
Why are you looking for him now if you decided to ditch him in the first place?
Listen, I can tell you guys aren't the biggest fans of Zeno, but that has nothing to do with me.
I'm just here to get my stuff back.
*exhale*
He takes a labored breath.
Fine. If you insist on finding him, try your luck on the outskirts of town. He might be drinking there.
Hmph. Thanks.
She steps over the unconscious man beside her and leaves the bar.
7. The Parchment
69 linesWe can't say for sure if this ritual was created by the last guest.
Fact is, you can find all kinds of unusual markings in this motelโmost of them less than a month old. Very recent indeed.
The maid said that there ain't many tourists these days, so my guess is that a group of skilled arcanists have left their work in every room.
Based on the markings I've seen so far, there were about three to five people in this group.
And was there a sheep-headed arcanist among them?
Well, that I don't know.
What I can say, though, is that there was a sheep living in here. I saw some hoofprints on the hallway floor.
It looked like someone had stayed in this motel with a sheepโsounds pretty odd, but I suppose it ain't too strange given the local farmland.
But I'm sure this will catch your attention.
What?
We all know that sheep walk on four hooves.
But the hoofprints I saw were different. They were small and delicate and, most importantly, followed the movement pattern of a human. Judging by the trail ...
The owner of the hoofprints was about the size of a slender kid, maybe 5 feet tall.
This description exactly matches the Foundation's report.
That's it. That's the one I'm looking for.
Don't I know itโthey can question my morals, but nobody can question my competence.
So, may I enter your room now, Ms. Vertin?
Please.
Now, let's start with this little thing.
The carvings are new. No sign of woodworm damage or moisture absorption.
These splinters along the edge are extremely sharp. Mm?
She dips her finger into a dark red, crumbly residue.
Is this dried blood?
She rubs the granules between her finger and her thumb, reducing them to a fine powder.
Blood was used as the medium for this array.
The circle isn't fully closed here, and the lines are a bit uneven. Whoever drew this doesn't seem to be an expert.
You know how to deal with this, right?
All you have to do is ask, boss. You might be surprised.
We need to destroy it as quickly as possible. I think it's been left by a dangerous occult group.
Hold on.
She places a pillow over the wood and pulls the trigger.
After a faint gunshot, the lingering light goes out.
*squelch*
Fresh blood oozes from the array, settling in the faded carvings.
Is that blood?
The mercenary, unfazed, dips her finger into the red liquid and sniffs it.
Yup. The blood of an arcanist. So it can't be Kayla's.
Can you discern the owner's identity?
Hah, I ain't all-knowing. I can't identify people by their blood.
No, I'll need more than just blood to find out who was here.
Mm?
She fishes out a dusty sheepskin journal from the gap between the cabinet and the wall.
...
She flips through the pages.
"We are the beginning and the original source of metals."
"Through us, the highest tincture of art is brewed."
"There is neither a spring nor water like mine. I heal and help both the rich and the poor."
"Yet I am full of hurtful poison."
What the hell does that mean?
It's a quote from a text on alchemy.
"All challenges will be resolved with the provision of sufficient and high quality materials and the precise execution of the array."
"But where do we find these materials?"
She continues to flick through the journal, releasing the accumulated alchemical residue on its pages into the air.
On the last page, tortured words are scrawled on the paper. It looks like something a criminal would write in their final moments before their death sentence.
"What was once sundered shall reunite."
*cough*
Her nose burns as barely visible sparks heat the air.
I've seen this handwriting before.
And here. My phone number.
He hands over a dollar bill with a string of numbers scrawled along the blank space.
The mercenary pulls out the crumpled bill from her pocket, comparing the handwriting with that in the journal.
Yup. This is definitely the same.
*bang*
...!
That sound. It's a Flying Arrow M1903 pistol.
Ahhh.
Kimberly? What's wrong with her now?
I better go check it out, boss. Something don't seem right. You coming?
That Kimberly must've run into something.
8. Face Reality
158 linesThe thick carpet in the hallway is usually enough to dampen any sounds.
But no amount of soundproofing could stop the sound of a gunshot from echoing through the place.
At its source, Stefen's limp, twitching body lies on the floor. There's a gaping hole in his head.
Ah.
She's trembling in fear.
Is-Is he still alive?
Just when I thought you couldn't get any dumber.
...
Is this a suicide?
He pulled out the gun and shot himself in the head.
His brains splattered on the walls and flowed onto the floor.
Her muttering is almost a confession.
Argus kneels down to examine the body.
Mm. There's gunshot residue and powder burns near the wound.
Gunpowder particles on his fingers.
...
There's no doubt. He died from a gunshot wound. The bullet was fired from the pistol in his hand and went straight through his skull.
But this ain't just any pistol. It's a Zeno pistol. You've got yourself in some serious trouble, missy.
It wasn't me.
Her face is still pale, but she manages to stop her shaking.
I'm just an innocent, sad, terrified girl who just happened to pass by.
...
Well, Ms. Innocent-Sad-and-Terrified ...
If you wanna prove your innocence, start by telling us what happened here.
And mind you, I will call you out if you lie. The evidence here will tell me what's true and what ain't.
She points to her eye.
...
If you're so clever, then why are you asking me? Just figure it out yourself!
Her protestation is weak. She quickly gives in.
Ugh! Alright, alright! I'll tell you. This madman has been harassing me.
Ever since I moved into this place, I'd often seen him pacing around in the hallway.
Day and night, he'd stomp around out here. He didn't care if anyone else was trying to sleep!
I thought he must have had a lot on his mind, like he was troubled or something. So I asked him what happened.
...
His deep, sunken eyes were bloodshot. Every fiber of his being screamed that something was wrong with him.
Sir, if you're having any problems, there are many ways to solve them, but pacing in the hallway isn't one of them. Plus, it disrupts everyone's sleep.
I swear I didn't say anything too harsh, but he was just downright rude!
Get the hell away! Get out of my face!
Excuse me? That's pretty rude, you know.
I had no desire to argue with a madman. Thankfully, the maid intervened when she heard what was going on.
I have no idea what she said to him, but eventually they came to terms. He stopped pacing the hallway from then on. That was a relief. I'm sure the other guests would agree.
That maid can vouch for what I've said. Ask her yourselves.
Not long after, I found a letter from Stefen on the floor of my room. It'd been slid under my door.
In the letter, he apologized for his behavior.
...
"Should I make peace with him?" I thought.
As I wondered, I took a look through the peephole. It was strange. I couldn't see a thing. It was pitch black out there.
"Is it broken?" I wondered.
Before I could dwell on it too much, the phone rang. I was startled, but it was just the front desk calling.
Hello, Ms. Kimberly.
Is it dinner time already?
She seemed hesitant to speak.
Mm?
I know it's not my place to ask, but the situation is a little concerning.
Mr. Stefen is standing at your door, his face pressed up against it.
So I just wanna confirm that everything's alright between you two.
And that's what happened!
Calm down, Miss. It's all over now.
Do you still have that letter with you?
A look of disgust comes across Ms. Kimberly's face as she gestures to the trash can nearby.
Who'd hold onto that? I threw it out right away. It's somewhere in that bin.
Argus quickly retrieves the crumpled piece of paper from the trash can.
She smooths it out on her palm and reads its contents.
"Dear Ms. Kimberly ..."
I've got a question already.
How did he know your name? You didn't know each other well enough to have exchanged them, did you?
I'm the victim here, damn it! You can't interrogate me like this!
Ugh, but if you must know, maybe he heard it when my friend called me.
Your friend?
Why, what's so odd about that? A young girl like myself should never travel alone to places like this!
She continues in her indignation.
I need someone to make my bed and prepare my clothes, and, most importantly, I need to eat! I wouldn't even be here if I weren't looking for ...
...!
She gasps, covering her mouth with her hand.
But Argus isn't listening. She continues to read the letter aloud.
"I wanna apologize for my behavior earlier in the hallway."
Hmm. Looks like a perfectly normal letter to me. No hints that this is from a man on the verge of a mental breakdown.
If you won't take my word for it, go ahead and ask the maid. She was there! She can vouch for me!
Please. We aren't accusing you of anything.
Argus lets out a laugh.
Though graphology has been criticized a lot these days, I gotta say ...
This looks more like a woman's handwriting to me.
So you mean Stefen was a woman?
Her aggression seems to dissipate as her eyes widen and her mouth drops.
Hah! You still with us, missy?
What I'm suggesting is that Mr. Stefen didn't write this letter, but a woman did.
But that's just speculation. Chances are Mr. Stefen's handwriting was just a little feminine.
I'll keep this letter for now. Back to my questions.
If the story you told is true, then why are you at the scene of his death? Did you go looking for him, even after all the weird things he'd done?
...
I was hungry, okay?! That a good enough answer for you?! I can't just starve myself!
Hungry? If I remember correctly, the motel offers room service.
And you get one free meal a day, so even if you ain't got no money, you have enough food to get by.
What-what do you know?!
She looks flustered.
I'm not eating one of those ham sandwiches.
Alright, so you've got some standards when it comes to food.
Let's drop that. You were there when he fired the shot, right? What happened then?
Take your time and think it through. There's no rush.
...
About fifteen minutes ago, he rang my doorbell.
I thought my friend had returned from town. She always brings something amazing with her. So I opened the door. The last thing I expected was to see Stefen standing thereโwho'd have thought that he could get back on his feet so quickly after the beating he took?
I was terrified when I saw him there. He towered over me, one hand on the doorframe and the other pushing against the door. I slammed the door shut. I thought he'd let go.
But he didn't. The door closed on his fingers.
Hahaha, I understand now. I understand it all! You're with Zeno, aren't you?!
His fingers were bent at a peculiar angle. It must've been painful, but he didn't seem to feel the pain at all. The fracturing of his fingers was no more painful than a mosquito bite to him.
You came to me and made me drop my guard so that one day you could turn me in for a bounty. But why me? Why are you doing this to me?!
It wasn't me who made the plan. It wasn't me who executed it. It wasn't me who pressed that damn button!
All I did was expose their crime to the rest of the world. Tell me. Why else would they want my head so desperately if they didn't believe they were guilty?
In the meantime, the actual killers are treated as heroes. But I'm the hero! Me! ME! But, but all my sorry ass gets is a lifetime of hiding out in some random motel in the middle of nowhere! This world is sick!
What the hell are you talking about?
Come on. Drop the act. Right after you spoke to me, Vertin showed up at my door. Are you trying to tell me that that was just by chance?
Vertin?
He totally ignored my question.
The world has fallen ill.
I can see that now. The, the realm above truly does exist. How else would we have gotten the idea of a perfect heavenly realm?
Obviously, it doesn't exist in this world.
I don't care. Even if that place does exist, it has nothing to do with you. Get out of the way. I'm closing the door.
But at least I get to decide when I step through that door, right?
I had no idea what he was talking about.
And he didn't give me much chance to figure it out, either.
I'm afraid your mission is doomed to fail, young lady.
In that moment, a smile of relief came over his face.
Then, without a moment's hesitation, he pressed the pistol against his temple and pulled the trigger.
*bang*
And you know the rest.
The approaching footsteps stop abruptly. They turn to the source.
The maid stands before the group, showing just the right amount of surprise as her eyes fall upon the body.
What's going on in here?
This man killed himself.
Oh, dear. There's blood everywhere.
It'll be a lot of work to clean it all up, and with the weather being so hot, the room will soon start to smell.
All the carpets have to go.
The maid lets out a long sigh, her tone tinged with annoyance.
Ms. Tuesday, can I ask you a question?
Yes?
Have you ever had any guests who looked like or claimed themselves to be Manus Vindictae?
Manus Vindictae?
Her face flushes as she smiles faintly.
I'm not entirely sure what you mean. Could you explain in more detail?
Most of them dress in blue and black, some drool a fair bit, and most of them can't speak in full sentences.
The most notable feature is that they all wear masks shaped like hands. Have you seen any before?
Masks shaped like hands ...
She taps her finger on her chin.
No, I've never had a guest who wore a hand-shaped mask. Never seen anyone in blue and black, either.
But if an organization was going to do something in secret, I don't think they'd be too public about it.
Hey, lady.
Argus doesn't hesitate to interrupt the conversation.
Take me to his room.
She points the barrel of her gun at Stefen's corpse.
Oh, it shouldn't be too hard for you to find the room yourself, right, Ms. Argus? After all, that's how you make a living.
But I can just tell it to you. It's 214. You must be curious about that room.
I'm surprised. You've been in almost every room in the motel, and you've been here for two days. You're like a child in your curiosity.
This place would be much safer if you were the sheriff here.
Anyway, I hope you can find that girl soon.
Standing before the bloody corpse, she looks down and gently adjusts the baby in her arms.
9. Spider Silk
101 linesWhy do you want to go to Stefen's room exactly? Is it related to our investigation?
She falls into an unusual silence.
What is it?
That arcanist you're looking for, is her name Barbara?
You know her?
Yup, we met.
On Route 77.
I'd just got done asking two men about Kayla's whereabouts, and saw that it was getting dark.
My sight ain't so good at night. And the nights are long these days.
So I was in a bit of a hurry, hoping to get somewhere with proper lights as fast as I could.
That's when I saw her, Barbaraโall alone by the road. Some jerk of a driver dumped her there, and she asked me for a ride.
I turned her down. Heck, I could hardly see. She'd have been better off waiting for the next driver than riding with a blind bat like me, you know?
But as I drove away, I changed my mind. She was too young to be left out there all by herself.
So I turned back to get her. But when I arrived, she was already gone. There was nothing but a trail of hoofprints in the dirt.
When I got to the motel, I saw those hoofprints again. I gotta say, I was kinda relieved to see them. At least she made it here safely.
And is she still here?
Well, I've never seen any hoofprints leaving the motel.
But that don't mean she's still here. You gotta be mindful of what your mind picks up and what might slip you by. It's easy to ignore other evidence when what you've seen already fits your hypothesis.
That being said, it's still likely that she's somewhere in the motel.
Alright. Then let's look for her.
It seems we're in agreement. To room 214.
202, 203 ...
She counts the doors as they walk down the hallway.
Mm?
Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of red catches her attention.
I've checked those two. Ain't much in them.
Argus, did you see a red door just now?
A red door?
Nothing. Must've been my imagination.
As they approach the end of the hallway, they spot room 214. The door is slightly ajarโclearly Stefen left in a hurry.
They enter. The thick curtains are pulled shut, blocking out almost all the light from outside. They're hit with the stale, sour smell of old alcohol.
The glow in Argus's eye flickers like a light with a faulty circuit.
Are you alright? Can you still see?
Don't worry about it. Ain't the first time this has happened.
This eye issue runs in the family. It's the price we pay for having our arcane power.
The mercenary glances around the room, a slight frown on her face.
Now, what are we looking for, boss?
People leave all kinds of evidence behind all the time. It'll be like wandering around in the woods without a compass if we don't know what we're looking for.
So, if you don't wanna be inundated with meaningless clues, you need to give me some directions.
Alright. First, I'd like to know what happened to Barbara.
Second ...
Fleeting images surface in her mind.
Whether Manus Vindictae has been here, or anyone from that Order of Enlightenment. And last ...
About Mr. Stefen. The pistol he used was a Zeno military weapon, and he seemed to know about my relation to the vacuum bomb operation. It's likely that he once held a high rank within the Zeno military.
I want to know why he came to this motel and what happened to make him lose his mind here.
"Lose his mind here"? What makes you think he wasn't crazy already?
Zeno pays much more attention to its soldiers' mental well-being than any conventional military organization.
It's because quite a few of them are arcanists. They're both Zeno's strength and weakness.
So I'm inclined to think Mr. Stefen developed these mental health issues after entering the motel.
Huh, is that so? I gotta say, I don't know much about all this military institution stuff.
Right, so here's the plan: first, locate Barbara; second, look for any signs of Manus Vindictae or the Order of Enlightenment; and third, find out how poor old Stefen lost his marbles.
And, of course, I've got my own business to deal withโtracking down Kayla.
She starts to meticulously search the room.
Hey, boss! I've got something.
There's a series of small but clear traces imprinted in the dust.
These footprints are from a spider. Looks like the little guy went back and forth along here quite a few times. I know this might not seem pertinent to our investigation, but it is worth noting. You ever seen a spider make a phone call?
I'm afraid I'm not interested in the movements of spiders right now.
Argus shrugs.
Come on, boss, loosen up a little.
*drip-drip*
...
The sound of dripping water echoes nearby.
Do you hear that? Sounds like dripping water.
*drip-drip-drip*
With every drip, a water stain grows larger and larger on the wallpaper.
I'm sure it's just the motel plumbing.
But ...
The stain gradually takes the form of a hand, its five fingers all clearly defined.
Watch out!
Suddenly, the hand pulls itself from the wall and slams down.
This place is definitely more than meets the eye.
I'm with you on that.
There's just too much arcanum-related weirdness going on here. Never seen so many arrays in a motel before.
But we've only found one.
In your room, yeah.
But there are a load more. One room has them drawn from floor to ceiling.
Looked like some kinda transformation array to me. I ain't no expert, so, I can't say for sure.
What are they trying to do, I wonder?
Who knows.
She brings the conversation to an abrupt end and continues searching the room.
Oh, boss, you might be interested in this.
She peers under the bed.
It's another one. Just like the others.
...
A huge array lies beneath the bed. It's scattered with dark crystals.
The design is familiar.
I've seen this before. It was also drawn in that parchment notebook.
This is indeed a transformation array. But it's not in its full form.
They were trying something. Check it out.
She plucks a hair from the carpet.
This is hair from the mane of a howler lion, and there are some other materials around it, too. Not exactly sure what they are, though. They're too finely ground.
But one thing's for sure: Someone held a ceremony here, and for some reason, it didn't work out for them.
This is important. The Foundation needs to know about this.
The air is silent.
Argus?
The mercenary doesn't respond. She's still staring at the strand of hair between her fingers. It's chestnut colored.
This is Kayla's hair. She was here! In this room!
Or at least someone who came into contact with her.
The phone rings, cutting her off.
10. It's Spooky Time!
125 linesA man lies in the grass just outside of town. He's strumming a guitar and humming to himself.
Ah, this is the life. A warm, beautiful night, a cold drink, and no one but me and the stars in the sky. Eh, maybe I'll just lie here till morning.
It's a young Zeno soldier, his eyes hazy from intoxication. He raises his flask to the twinkling stars above.
A good night with good drinks! I wish every day could be like this.
A dark figure looms over him, but in his blurred vision, he can't make out who it is.
Hey, buddy, you're blocking my view.
Huh? Are you stargazing?
The soldier blinks. He knows that voice.
Has anyone ever told you that you sound awfully like Lieutenant Lilya?
The rider of Red 38. Heard of her? No one can fly like her.
Of course.
The soldier concentrates, getting the figure's face a little more into focus.
Oh, my! You even look like her.
Keep playing dumb, and I'll show you what it's like to have her kick your ass.
The soldier's drunken eyes finally focus to see Lilya herself, a look of displeasure on her face.
...!
He stumbles to his feet, dropping the flask in his hand on the way up.
He tries to salute, but almost falls flat on his face in the attempt.
Lieutenant Lilya! Airman First Class Andreas at your service!
Luckily, he manages to complete the wobbly salute.
Are you the warehouse guard?
She looks at the soldier doubtfully.
Yes, ma'am!
...
Few would so eagerly admit to the dereliction of their duties. In a way, he possesses exceptional courage.
On your feet, soldier. My Red 38 is in your warehouse for maintenance, and I need you to remove the gravity ritual from it.
Gravity ritual?
If you don't understand what I'm saying, go get someone who does. I need it today.
The soldier ponders, slowed by his inebriation. Just as Lilya is about to lose her patience, the soldier's eyes light up.
Oh, right, the gravity ritual!
Yes, yes, I know! Please, come with me. I'll take you to the warehouse!
Are you certain you can undo the ritual?
Yes, ma'am! They made sure I got the hang of it before they took off. Leave it to me!
Lead the way, soldier.
They stand side by side in the factory, the wooden crate before them.
Open it.
Oh, I remember this package.
I thought it was some kind of joke, or someone with the same name as you sent the package. Who would've thought that you'd come to Texas yourself?
He rambles on. Lilya's patience is coming to an end.
Ma'am, I know you want to do this quick, but ... *burp*
I haven't been authorized to undo this incantation.
If you can't do it, find me someone who can. I won't say it a third time.
Truth be told, there's no one else to turn to. I'm the only one left.
I was made an Airman First Class to do this job. I was still in training before this, you see.
He proudly pats his chest.
The others were either transferred back to headquarters or just left.
I don't know where they are now.
But since they entrusted me with such an important task, I'm sure I have a bright future ahead of me.
Lilya's patience has officially run out.
You just said you aren't authorized, not that you don't have the ability, right?
I have two options for you.
One, remove the ritual now.
Or, two, I beat your ass, and then you remove the ritual.
Well ...
Choose. No more gibbering.
She readies her fist.
I pick the second one.
Huh?
She is genuinely confused.
Haha. *burp* You see, I'm happy to get rid of the ritual for you, but I can't do it on my own initiative.
I'm only an Airman First Class. I can't make decisions about this stuff.
So, you have to beat me up to avoid future inquiries.
One day, after I'm promoted, I'll be able to better assist you, ma'am!
I mean, you're the best pilot I've ever seen! I even made a scrapbook of the reports on your flights.
Before he can finish what he's saying, Lilya has already clocked him.
Alright, no screaming, soldier. Let's do this.
Each hit seems to clear his head a little more.
By the time his face is completely swollen, he has snapped back to reality.
Stop! Stop! This is plenty to prove my innocence!
I'll undo the ritual now.
He squats down and performs the necessary movements around the crate. There's a flash of light, and the crate opens.
Oof. You almost blinded me there.
She eagerly grabs the Red 38 and feels the familiar touch of the cold metal in her palm.
Yes, ma'am!
Do you know why Zeno pulled out of here so suddenly?
Hmm.
He squints, trying to remember.
They said it was an order from "the top."
"The top"?
That's all I was told. But word is, it was because Admiral Igor got real mad about the video leak of the vacuum bomb.
But that's just a rumor. Ever since the evacuation, strange things have started to happen.
Such as?
We started getting visitors from this group called the Order of Enlightenment.
And now, the farmers have stopped tending their fields. The cattle and sheep have been abandoned in the wilderness. All the townsfolk do now is go to these gatherings, hoping that the Sufferer will bring them eternal joy.
I don't know who this Sufferer is, but he ain't doing any good here.
Where do those people stay? In the town?
Mm. It's a ways away, I think.
The soldier struggles to recall.
A place called Tuesday's Motel.
Damn! Vertin! I have to go back!
She clasps the Red 38 with both hands, the cool grooves of the metal settling into her grasp.
Let's get out of here, girl!
With a victorious stance, she mounts the Red 38.
A silver light traces an arc in the sky as the pilot leaves the factory and disappears into the night.
Safe travels, ma'am!
The young soldier calls out after her, his voice soon swallowed by the night.
Short-distance flights are no challenge for Lilya.
She lands near the motel, guided by its glowing sign. The shadows of the trees around it look like hunched human figures.
Tuesday's Motel.
She locks onto her destination and is about to proceed when she feels something tap her on the shoulder from behind.
Hello, can you give me a ride?
I can't help you. Ask someone else.
Can you give me a ride?
I said I can't help you!
The repeated questions are getting on her nerves. She swivels around, ready to give the questioner a piece of her mind, but freezes on the spot.
There's a girl wearing an out-dated outfit. Her face has no discernible features, like it's been smoothed over with cement.
Oh, can I have some chocolate?
The faceless girl holds out a candy wrapper.
I met a kind man who gave me some chocolate. I've never tasted anything so sweet.
The hellโstay away from me!
Can I? Can I have that candy? More. I want more.
She opens her mouth wide, revealing a row of razorsharp teeth.
Hey.
...!
The pilot relaxes her poised fists when she recognizes the person in front of her.
It's you.
Are you alright? You look pale.
You shouldn't sneak up on people like that. I could've hurt you.
My apologies. But you're safe now that you're at the motel. No need to be frightened.
11. "Please Do Not Disturb"
138 linesArgus presses the speaker button on the telephone.
A familiar tapping sound comes from the other end of the line.
*tap, tap, tap, tap*
*tap*
*tap, tapโtap, tap*
*tap, tapโtapโtap*
HELP.
*tapโtap, tap*
*tap, tapโ*
*tap, tapโ*
BAA. Is that the sound of a sheep?
You noticed it, too, huh?
Ain't no way that's a human on the other end. It's gotta be some kind of animal.
Animal?
Based on those sounds and the tracks in the dust, I figure it's something small like aโ
She stops.
One sec, boss.
She fishes something out of her pocket and pops it into her mouth.
Picrasma candy?
Using your arcane skill so frequently must be tiring. You should take a break.
The job ain't done yet. Far too early to rest.
Don't worry, boss. It's just a condition that runs in my family, no biggie.
What are its side effects?
Ha, boss. You expect a merc to reveal her weakness? We ain't that close yet.
One thing I can tell you, though, is that I suffer the side effects as long as my eyes are open. Luckily, I've got cutting-edge technology at my disposal.
She holds up the candy between her fingers.
They're safe, efficient, and, most importantly, satisfy my sweet tooth.
...
They may be called candy, but they're actually medicine and ought to be used following medical instructions. You should know that.
Gimme a break, boss. What do doctors know about my life?
I use these candies whenever I need them. Ain't that the whole point?
But ...
Argus motions for her to be quiet.
Shh! Did you hear that?
Hear what?
Argus lowers her voice.
A heartbeat, right outside the door. Someone's eavesdropping on us.
Thump, thump, thump.
She crouches down.
Thump, thump, thump โฆ
With a faint clink, she loads her shotgun.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump โฆ
Then she swiftly turns the door handle.
*gasp*
The eavesdropping girl nearly falls forward into the room as the door swings open.
Care to explain why you're here, Ms. Kimberly?
Just how obsessed are you with Mr. Stefen, huh? Even now, after his death?
Oh, n-no, it's not what you think! I was just looking for my toy, and it just so happensโ
Toy?
You know, it ain't my style to point a gun at an unarmed person, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Especially when they're speaking with a forked tongue.
Five.
I told you, I was just looking for something.
Four.
Are you joking?! Why won't you believe me?!
She stomps her feet anxiously, making the floor tremble a little.
Three.
I-I didn't ...
She closes her eyes as if she has made a decision.
Two.
...
One.
She pulls the trigger.
The bullet flies past Ms. Kimberly's ear. Her face turns pale. She curls up, desperately trying to make herself smaller.
Don't kill me. D-Don't kill me, please. I didn't do anything.
Her fingers tremble uncontrollably as black claws extend from her fingertips.
โ!
She looks at the claws in shock, quickly tucking them into her chest, then looks nervously at the two of them.
I saw the name "Kimberly" in Matilda's report.
I'd thought it was just a coincidence. But now I realize it wasn't.
Ms. Kimberly, you're a member of Manus Vindictae, aren't you?
I swear, I didn't do anything wrong! All I did was follow my partner like the people in black told me to.
Who's your partner?
...
I'm hungry all the time, so hungry. Oh, how I envy the likes of you. You can store your food in so many ways.
You have enough bread and water in your barns to last an entire winter, and your pastures are full of meat and dairy products. But my food ...
I promise, all I'm trying to do is get back what I lost.
There's no need to be afraid. We won't hurt you, as long as you tell me the name of your partner.
Ms. Kimberly's eyes dart around.
Um. If I tell you her name, will you let me go?
That depends on your sincerity.
Sh-She's called Ms. Grace.
What's your purpose here?
I don't know! Those people in black told me to follow Ms. Grace's orders, but she hasn't asked me to do anything since we got here.
She must be hiding something from me, but I couldn't care less! I just want to eat!
She speaks earnestly, but her other hand pulls something out of her pocket.
...!
Heh heh.
She gives a sly smile and crushes the item in her hand, releasing a veil of thick black smoke.
You annoying little brats can catch me in your dreams!
She's casting a teleport ritual. Argus, your assistance! We can't let her get away!
*bang*
In a final burst of smoke, Ms. Kimberly vanishes.
...
Tsk, she disappeared fast.
At least now we can draw some conclusions.
Manus Vindictae has set their eyes on this motel.
Under the name of the Order of Enlightenment, they used this place as a base and conducted some failed ritual experiments before they left.
Manus Vindictae. I've heard of them. That infamous group of arcanists.
She looks worried.
I wouldn't worry too much. They usually only target pure-blooded arcanists.
Alright, that's a relief. Kayla's bloodline is a hundred percent human.
But why would Manus Vindictae choose to come here specifically?
What are they trying to do?
The conversation continues under the neon lights of the motel.
I was worried you wouldn't be able to make your way back, so I lit the porch light for you. Oh, but how annoying that these moths keep fluttering around.
I rarely turn on this light. My baby never gets lost, you see.
She gives a faint smile.
But a young, spirited child such as yourself always needs a light to lead the way. Am I right?
To the weary traveler, this light is a shelter; to a child, it's a mother; and to you? What does this light mean to you?
The maid's face flushes red.
No matter who they are, people need a light to shine through the darknessโto chase away their fears. Don't you agree?
Are you a member of the Order of Enlightenment?
Guests?
The maid ignores her question and continues talking to herself.
I don't like them one bit. They've scribbled all over the place and made a mess of the rooms. They hurt my baby!
Oh, my poor baby. Shh. Don't be scared. Everything's alright now.
She gently comforts the child in her arms, patting the swaddling cloth softly.
Are they still here?
Oh, of course. They made an offer that I couldn't refuse, after all.
How much did they pay you?
Oh, you are naive, my sweet child. There are countless things in this world that money can't buy.
A traveler can't buy the sudden appearance of a hotel at just the right time. A crying child can't buy the comforting embrace of their mother.
Ha. And I can't buy that thrilling satisfaction brought by sweet darkness.
The maid's near-neurotic muttering is getting on Lilya's nerves.
With every blink, Lilya's sight becomes increasingly blurred. She can just about make out the maid's smile.
She gently soothes the dazed pilot.
Sleep tight. Just leave everything to the adults. Yes, what a good child you are.
She flips the sign on the door to "Do Not Disturb."
12. The Girl and the Hound
81 linesFound his medication prescription, and, oh, is this his notebook?
She pulls a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket.
Ha, just as expected, boss. This motel ain't what it seems to be. Ain't no way that letter was written by Stefen.
Take a look. The writing in this letter is delicate and slender, while the writing in this notebook is total chicken scratch. Even a blind person could tell they're written by two different people.
Stefen didn't write the letter. So it's very likely that the person who sent it wasn't Stefen either.
The maid suddenly comes to mind.
And this ...
She picks up a stack of bound papers from the table.
It appears to be Mr. Stefen's records of his daily expenses, along with some notes.
Cigarettes, alcohol, and a significant amount of psychiatric medication.
It says he was tormented by his hallucinations day after day, so he had to increase his dosage.
Hm. And it says he saw a room numbered 707 here.
The motel only has two floors. There can't be a room starting with seven. Did he describe it at all?
He said the room had a bright red door that seemed completely out of place.
Maybe it was just one of his hallucinations.
...
There's a flash of red in the hallway.
No, it's not that.
He also saw all kinds of things: a pair of twins in the hallway, long hair hanging from the ceiling, and ...
He saw Barbara but assumed she was another hallucination.
A small sheep's head is sketched on the paper.
This proves that Barbara's been to the motel.
Which means ...
Well, I'm sorry to say that I've never met an arcanist with the head of a sheep.
I can help you ask around if youโ
Why did she lie to me?
Argus interrupts her thoughts.
So, did you find anything useful from the expense record?
I need to talk to the maid.
Hold your horses. We haven't searched the washroom yet.
You should never skip the bathroom. Ain't you seen the Godfather? Michael Corleone grabs his gun from behind a toilet tank.
She pushes open the bathroom door as she speaks.
The bathroom mirror is surrounded by half-burned candles.
...
She holds out a hand to signal a stop.
She moves closer and knocks on the mirror. The copper frame gives a hollow echo.
A vivid, venomous green flashes across the mirror, and an ivory face appears in its reflection.
Argus, Argus. You've come to me.
โ!
Do you know her?
Argus doesn't respond. Her eyes are locked on the mirror, as if lost in a daze.
...
Argus ...
Argus ... Argus ...
The faint voice echoes around the bathroom, like waves crashing repeatedly against the shore.
It-It's not possible.
Argus's silence gives rise to a bold speculation.
Is that Kayla?
No, there's no way that's her. If you knew Kayla like I do, you'd say the same. This distorted reflection in the mirror is probably a result of the excessive arcanum in this motel.
A ritual similar to Bloody Mary used to be quite popular among the kids in this town.
If you look into a mirror at exactly midnight, the spirit within will morph into the shape of the person you desire most. But if you respond to the spirit's call, it will drain your soul from your body.
I always thought those were just myths.
So did I. But after all the strange things I've seen, I've become less surprised.
These spirits feed on the energy of our souls. That's why you should never trust a word they say.
The people who are tricked by them fall into a kind of trance, and, some, like Mr. Stefen, go crazy.
I wonder what he saw in the mirror.
Anyway, I won't repeat his mistake.
She raises her shotgun, ready to fire.
For mercs like me, the deepest despair ain't external danger; it's internal hesitation.
If some pale imitation makes me hesitate so easily, then how can I claim to be able to protect others? You've gotta be able to stand your ground.
A cunning criminal would use every excuse to defend themselves in court. And a scheming spy would wear all kinds of disguises to gather information on the enemy.
That's why we've gotta stay sharp. When it comes down to it, we only have our own two legs to stand on.
Mercs ain't philosophers. Once a merc starts pondering morals, justice, and ethics, they're digging their own grave.
For a merc, the mission objective is the only thing that matters. Overthinking don't bring nothing but disaster and destruction.
That's why sheโno, itโwon't fool me.
Her gaze is steady.
Memories flash by, distant and playful.
Laughing and running in those grassy fields.
The folks on the ranch adored little Kayla.
She was the apple of all their eyes.
How dare this ugly imitation!
<speed=9>She forcefully loads the shotgun.
So ...
She aims her gun squarely at the mirror.
Here's my response.
Urgh, i-it hurts.
Argus, Argus. You've come to me.
...
Let this serve as a reminder to remain vigilant. If there were a "Deceitful Spirit of the Year" award, I'm sure that would win.
13. The Churning Stomach
47 linesStefen Garcia, a Zeno captain, 36 years old.
For unknown reasonsโlikely connected to Manus Vindictaeโhe moved into this motel.
He attempted to make contact with Zeno several times, all of which failed.
During his stay, he was tortured by increasingly intense hallucinations, delusion, and fear.
And as a result ...
Chaotic clues are rolling in the mind, like a churning stomach.
No.
We must've overlooked something.
A military officer killing himself; a phone call asking for help in Morse code.
Not to mention Manus Vindictae.
Where's this going, boss?
We've encountered a series of bizarre events, one after another, ever since we arrived at this motel.
The rituals in the rooms, the officer that went mad, the spirit in the mirror, and Manus Vindictae.
Only one person remains uninvolved.
Are you tryna say that she's the mastermind behind all this?
She should know more about all this than anyone, yet she feigns ignorance at every turn, which is suspicious in its own right.
But what's there for a motel housekeeper to gain from all this? It's not like these spooky scandals would attract more guests.
Unless someone else is pulling the strings, but that don't make much sense either, does it?
When all these unusual things happened, she was happy to stand by and watch, but by whose orders? Some larger, more mysterious organization?
Gimme a break.
What if she doesn't desire money or power?
So what you're saying is that you need to ask Little Miss Maid a couple more questions.
Precisely.
Argus sighs.
That spirit morphed into Kayla, so it must've seen her face at some point. Which means that, at one time, Kayla was in this room.
And you're right. Tuesday's definitely not a run-of-the-mill motel maid. It wouldn't be wise to approach her rashly.
Let me finish up here first, then we can go question her together.
Alright.
After a moment, Argus shakes her head in disappointment.
She makes her way across the room and opens the door. She freezes.
Where'd the body go?
The corpse that had been lying in the hallway has vanished, leaving only a pool of blood on the floor.
Ain't no signs of dragging, neither. Who, and how?
*ring-ring-ringโ*
The ringing echoes through the doorway.
The phone again.
What do you think? Should we answer it? I bet it's another one of those prank calls.
Those weren't prank calls. Someone was sending a distress signal in Morse code.
She picks up the receiver and presses the speaker button.
Could you tell me what year it is now?
A soft voice plays through the speaker.
Who's this?
This is Barbara.
14. May They Be Blessed
87 linesThe voice on the other end continues.
Wonderful, I can talk over the phone now. The wind must still be wandering nearby.
That's good to hear.
Are you an editor for UTTU?
There's a sigh of relief.
Yes, Miss, I am.
But before we continue our conversation, could you please tell me what year it is now?
... 1990.
I see.
The frail voice steadies.
Ms. Barbara, can I meet you in person?
You want to meet me?
Yes, I'm Vertin, the Timekeeper of the St. Pavlov Foundation. I was sent to ask you about Urd's whereabouts.
But you don't seem to be in a favorable situation right now.
Ms. Vertin, I couldn't possibly locate Urd's whereabouts. The whispers of the wind can't reach this room.
The whispers of the wind?
Yes, it's a special form of communication.
Right. Well, is there anything I can do to help you rebuild this line of communication?
Hmm. Let me first explain the situation to you. Here are a few things I'm certain of:
First, this isn't an ordinary motel. It possesses some kind of supernatural life force.
Before checking in, I interviewed some of the residents nearby. They all mentioned eerie rumors centered around the motel these past few months.
Yes, we've encountered some bizarre events here. Like real-life urban legends.
Second, I'm now trapped in a red room.
This room is in the same motel as yours. What's different is that it blocks all forms of communication.
I couldn't get the room to open, and my voice didn't reach through the phone.
That was until a gunshot broke this intangible restraint. This small room contracted violently, and now I can communicate with the outside world.
At first, I thought it was an earthquake, but the contracted space soon returned to normal. Earthquakes can't do that, can they?
Before this happened, were you using spiders to communicate with the world outside?
Yes, I was. As luck would have it, there are many spiders here. Thanks to the prevalence of spiders in urban legends, I assume.
They can hear the sound of pages being turned from the other end of the telephone.
There's some paranoia about "spiders living in hair." It originated in a sermon from 13th-century England.
A woman was always late to mass because she spent too much time styling her hair. Eventually, a devil attached itself to her hair in the form of a spider.
Yes, they delivered messages for me in their own peculiar way.
Being completely isolated from the outside world greatly unsettled me. It reminded me of that terrible phenomenon.
She takes a few light breaths.
Fortunately, that wasn't the case.
But you're still trapped in that room, right?
Yes. The door's gone. I can't get out from the inside.
How did you get in there in the first place? Or rather, who brought you into that room?
Just as I expected.
Wait.
The mercenary cuts in.
You're that driver who left me on the road, right? I remember your voice.
Yeah, it's me.
I actually changed my mind and turned back to get you, but you were gone by the time I arrived.
I guess that's when you came to this motel, right?
Yes, Tuesday saw me and invited me here.
Oh.
Did you wanna ask me something?
...
Have you seen a girl of about 5 foot 3 here?
In a white dress. Curly chestnut-colored hair. Green eyes. Small hands.
...
I may have seen her.
When I first arrived, I saw a girl who matched your description coming down the hallway.
She was carrying an empty basket. I presumed that she'd been shopping in the town nearby.
If I recall correctly, she didn't check out.
Thank you.
She slumps her shoulders, and the light in her eye dims.
She says no more.
How can we find this room?
*beepโbeepโbeep*
Looks like the phone got disconnected.
So Barbara's in that room that Stefen saw. Number 707.
I'm going to find it. What about you? Heading into town for Kayla?
After a brief silence, Argus speaks.
I did notice a weird spot in the hallway earlier. The maid's footprints were going back and forth, like there was an entrance there.
But I didn't see no signs of a door.
She scratches her head with the barrel of her gun.
I wouldn't be surprised if you died by your own gun one day.
She perks up.
Our Little Miss Maid tried so very hard to hide Barbara from us, but I guess the lamb's out of the bag now.
Yes. It's all crystal clear now. Let's go.
Hold up a sec, boss.
She bites her lip.
Do you have any candies? I'm running on fumes here, and I ain't got no way to replenish my stash.
Asking for help seems very difficult for her.
...
She pulls a few pieces of candy from her pocket and places them in Argus's palm.
Us and Barbara will be out of here soon.
And you'll find some candy and Kayla in town.
15. The Front Desk Call
76 linesIn the center of the red room stands a snow-white crib.
The hanging curtains sway slightly, like pulsating veins.
An arcanist with the head of a sheep stands there, silently observing the translucent fabric.
Footsteps draw closer, but she doesn't turn to face them.
Are you not satisfied with my services?
The maid withdraws her hand from the telephone's hook switch with a hint of apology.
Nor should you have isolated me from the outside world.
Because you should know better than anyone what that means.
Why should I?
All I know is that a poor, helpless child like you shouldn't be alone on the roadside.
Where's your mother? Didn't she tell you to be careful?
...
She sighs softly.
You really don't remember anything, do you?
What do you mean? What do you think I should remember?
Well, clearly, it doesn't matter now. This motel's well decorated. Did you do all this yourself?
The maid smiles.
Heh heh. Are all children like this? Always talking in circles to draw Mama's attention.
Ah, but these innocent words make them all the more adorable.
I am not a child.
Ha. That's exactly what a child would say.
...
She yields helplessly.
I've always felt a familiarity with you, like I've known you for a long time.
Can you tell me about itโwhy were you out here on Route 77 all alone?
Maybe I can help you.
Have you heard of UTTU?
Oh, I have!
It's a magazine about fashion, trends, and the avant-garde.
My brother loved that magazine, but my father found it unacceptableโto think his eldest son would read those softies' magazines instead of working on the farm!
Fashion, trends, disco ... these aren't things a Texan man should pursue, at least according to my father.
In the end, my father destroyed all my brother's disco records, along with his plane ticket to Los Angeles.
Perhaps that's for the best. He avoided the riots.
Huh?
Nothing. So, what do you think?
She's treating the maid as an interview subjectโthe woman behind the legend, a chance not to be missed.
Me?
She looks somewhat surprised.
Why should I have any opinion?
Let me rephrase that. What impact has this had on you?
Oh.
Tuesday ponders for a moment, then shakes her head.
But what happened between them has nothing to do with me, does it?
These were the choices they made.
She purses her lips, her face flushed.
When I first arrived, a local resident told me not to stay at Tuesday's Motel.
He said his aunt went mad soon after she stayed here.
The windows rattle gently, emitting a faint sound.
Ha, I remember that lady. Her head was so large. It reminded me of those stories of people with deformities.
So I had her "watch" a freak show at midnight. Sadly, she didn't seem to enjoy it.
...
A harvester starts up in the distance. The sound of the engine fills the room.
At this time of year, the farmers run their combine harvesters on the fields nonstop. The harvest is a joyful time of year, but the accompanying noise always frightens the children.
Have you heard the stories? Of how naughty children get too close to harvesters and get caught in them, losing a hand or even a head, haha.
Fields, machinery, children with severed limbs ... Hmm, these stories are exactly what my motel's missing.
The window rattling grows more frantic.
Oh, my baby's calling. Please excuse me; I don't want another temper tantrum on my hands.
Apologies, my fluffy little child. I look forward to our next conversation. Talking to you always brings me inspiration.
But the motel's been too busy lately. It's starting to get on my nerves.
The maid speaks slowly, her face flushed again.
*cough*
Her cough is weak, like a sickly child's.
See, this is what I mean. How could I bear to send you out on your own? You'll stay right here in this cozy little room until you're fully recovered.
I don't need this "special treatment" of yours. Staying here won't cure my illness.
The maid lightly steps out of the room.
Barbara watches as the door vanishes.
...?
She looks at the pool of blood in the hallway where the officer's body once was.
How many times have I told you not to eat things off the floor?
*cry*
The bundle in her arms suddenly lets out a strange cry.
There, there. Don't cry, sweetheart.
16. Picrasma Candy
114 linesIs this the spot?
Sure as shooting.
The hallway looks identical to any other.
But where's the door to room 707?
I can sense some energy fluctuations nearby, but they're definitely not from arcane skills.
She presses her palm against the wall.
What else could produce such intense energy?
Oh, can I help you with something?
The maid's voice comes unexpectedly from behind them.
Ms. Tuesday, I've got a question for you.
She stares intently at the maid, her gaze sharp as if she's finally caught the scent of her prey.
Do you know how to get to room 707?
707?
Yup. What I've been looking for might just be in that room.
Hmm. I'm usually more than happy to satisfy the requests of my guests, as long as it's within my power.
But this one crosses the line.
After a brief moment, a glimmer of emerald light reignites in her eye.
Using arcane skills so frequently is bad for your eyes.
Didn't your family ever tell you that?
Her voice carries genuine concern.
So you knew what we were doing all along.
Ha, of course. You weren't exactly subtle in your actions. What did you expect?
But you've reached your limit now.
Three.
What's that supposed to mean?
Two.
Tsk, screw this. Your mind games won't work on me.
One.
...
The light in the mercenary's eye goes out in an instant.
Her eyes widen.
Huh? Who turned the lights off?
...
...
The hallway lights are as bright as ever.
The lights are still on, dear.
Argus doesn't respond. She pulls a Picrasma candy from her pocket.
Her hands tremble slightly, causing it to slip from her grasp and fall to the floor with a clack.
...
She picks it up and places it back in Argus's hand.
You rely far too much on Picrasma candy. It can't solve all your problems.
...
She tosses the candy into her mouth and chews it along with the dust from the floor.
They usually work wonders for me.
Just one candy restores 50% of my vision. But in my line of work, 50% is never enough.
That's why I take two. I need my vision to be at least 100%.
She runs the candy along her tongue, and the expected sweetness fills her mouth.
That'll do the job most of the time, but sometimes I've got an extremely challenging task.
That's when I eat a third candy. At that point, it's getting extremely dangerous.
She pops another candy into her mouth.
No miracle occurs. Her eyes remain still, like a night sky with no stars.
Sh-Should I take more?
Absolutely not.
The large amount of candy you've eaten is exactly why your eyes have failed you, and in such a crucial moment, no less.
Excess leads to destruction. This is true for all things. You'd do well to learn your limits.
What?
I also had to be careful not to frighten those children too much.
The maid seems to relive some fond memories, a satisfied look on her pale face.
Hmph. You've always put your faith in these candies, haven't you?
One candy, 50% recovery; two candies, 100%; three candies, and you can tackle even the most insurmountable problem.
Oh, how dependable they are! Just like the venerable Argus who succeeds in any job she takes on!
She chuckles.
Heh heh.
It's precisely your excessive confidence in these candies that has led to your marvelous destruction.
Just as the people's trust in you as a mercenary has led you to this bottomless abyss. Oh, you poor thing.
And of course, they'd never have imagined this. Argus, the mercenary named after the hundred-eyed, all-seeing giant, is in fact a blind fool!
Who the hell are you?!
She fires in the direction of her voice, the gunshot ringing in their ears.
โ!
The bullet pierces the wall, and a strange wail echoes through the halls of the motel.
Damn it! Damn it!
Hahaheh. Missed me.
She digs her fingers into her hand as she tries to control her trembling.
Uhn.
She steps forward, pushing her chest against the barrel of the gun.
She tilts her head slightly, smiling.
The decision's yours to make, but once I'm dead, you'll never find room 707.
Barbara, Kayla, everything you're looking for is all in that room, isn't it?
Don't you dare say her name with that filthy mouth!
But why? Ms. Kayla's such a lovely guest. I've very much enjoyed her company.
The maid looks at the mercenary's face with interest as it twists in rage.
Enough.
You and I need to have a serious talk.
Your baby?
She looks at the bundle of swaddling cloth in the maid's arms.
Yes. In fact, the baby is the master of this motel.
She holds out the bundle.
I think the two of you ought to meet each other first. Here, hold it.
She places it in her arms. The bundle is much lighter than she expectedโnot the weight of a child.
This is ...
She sees the carpet beneath her feet transform into a quagmire. Tuesday stands on top of the mud, smiling at her.
Vertin? Vertin!
The mercenary's shouts are dulled. It's as if she's been plunged under water.
She hears hurried footsteps approaching from a distance and feels the once-light bundle become as heavy as lead.
Something engulfs her ankles, pulling her down, down, down into a world of endless darkness.
Let go of it, Vertin!
An emerald flame struggles to light up, and the mercenary, lying on the ground, tightly grabs her hand.
I ain't letting our deal end this way! Not while I draw breath!
Argus ...
Aaargh!
The maid presses her foot against Argus's fingers and steps down. Argus screams in pain.
Don't you interrupt them.
There's no need to worry, Ms. Vertin. I've done this countless times.
Now, allow me to peer into your dreams.
17. The Puddle on the Road
206 linesThe sounds of the world fade into total silence, and when she opens her eyes again, there is nothing but darkness.
Where am I?
*plop*
A cool drop of water falls on her nose.
Is that rain?
I can catch anything with a toss.
...
Vertin, that's why you've gathered us here, right?
You shouldn't be here.
You understand what we desire most, right, Vertin?
The falling rain surrounds them. The children watch curiously.
Vertin, we made it, right?
But why is it still raining?
Don't be such a baby, Isabella. Haven't you seen rain before?
The children reach out as they try to catch the raindrops in their hands.
No!
Are you afraid of children? Or rain?
A familiar voice echoes in the darkness.
...
No, I'm not afraid of them.
Rain is common. It's always falling somewhere in the world.
It's merely an ordinary weather phenomenon.
The maid snaps her fingers. The raindrops halt, then start to flow upward.
This is the kind of rain you're afraid of, isn't it?
Hmm, I've never seen rain fall upwards. Is this some creation of your imagination? Still, I don't see why you'd be afraid of rain falling in reverse.
Would you care to enlighten me, dear child?
...
Ms. Tuesday, please. Stop trying to get in my head, and tell me where Argus is.
The maid ignores her and steps closer.
Before I met you, I never thought that a person without fear could exist in the world.
I've never once guessed someone's fear incorrectly, either. You really are something else.
You didn't guess incorrectly.
These reversed raindrops have brought utter chaos to the world, pulverizing people under the crushing wheel of time.
You should be thankful you've never seen it.
But it can't stop us anymore.
Because the umbrella's here.
She opens the umbrella.
At least now, when the "Storm" comes, I can hold up the umbrella and protect my companions.
And although this ability has come too late for some, we still have a future to protect.
...
Why are you so obsessed with people's fears? Your hands have been trembling with excitement this whole time.
The maid clasps her hands under her chin, her face flushed like a blooming flower.
Haha. So I wasn't wrong at all.
Why waste your time with that mercenary? She may look tough, but she's hollow inside. Have you ever eaten a macadamia nut? Crack the hard shell, and you'll find the delicious center.
Who could resist the soft texture and rich flavor of fear?
Ms. Tuesday, this has to end.
You're the one pulling the strings here, aren't you?
The maid blushes as she twirls her skirt with one hand.
Oh, what an astounding accusation.
But, oh, do I feel so, so gratified. I've never felt so satiated in my entire life!
Her very being seems to be caught in a strange tremor.
Oh, you! You're the only one who's ever seen through me! How exhilarating!
However, your accusation missed the mark.
She stretches out her hands. They look especially pure under the rain.
You see my hands? They're immaculateโnever once tainted by a single drop of blood.
I take great pride in it. You see, I barely do anything to make people's fears arise.
Her hands tremble with excitement.
Ha, I would never injure anyone. Fear created through physical harm is its crudest and most base form.
What I crave is the fear that lingers in their hearts forever.
The maid's cheeks flush a faint pink.
The kind of fear that, even years later, when they recount their experiences here to their friends and families, a seed of fear is planted in the listeners' hearts.
Ahh, haha.
I instill fear in my guests, and they become my beloved children.
In the rain, her fingers tremble uncontrollably, and a beautiful smile spreads across her wet face.
...
Where is she? Where's Argus?
Well, I suppose she's experiencing her own fears right now. Under that hard mercenary exterior, she's tormented by them. Can you imagine that?
Sorry, Ms. Tuesday.
But I'm not interested in this vile obsession of yours.
โ!
The one with the umbrella walks deeper into the darkness.
The sound of birds chirping fills the air. Argus is back homeโon those familiar plains.
She stands in the field, nothing but the wind and the rustling grass before her.
Howdy, Argus, long time no see. We thought you'd never come back.
Mr. Dennis? Why are you here?
Oh boy, you listening to yourself? Why wouldn't I be here?
It's my daughter's wedding day!
Huh? W-Well, congratulations.
She finally catches on.
But, you really shouldn't be here.
Don't you remember? Three years ago, your daughter ran away from home.
She left a letter and then went with Mr. Shaffer to a city in the northeast, Detroit, I think? I don't quite remember.
Oh, come on, quit fooling around.
After three months of searching, I found her, but she refused to come back with me. So, you went to Detroit yourself.
And then, you ...
Her words drift off.
Dennis died in Detroit while looking for his daughter. At least, that's what she remembers.
DENNIS (1938โ1987) R.I.P.
But, how can that be? He's right here, standing in front of her.
In any case, I'm sorry I couldn't bring her back.
What're you talking about, Argus?
You must be tired from working on all those requests that the townsfolk have pushed upon you. I've told them so many times to go easy on you!
That said, I have a request for you myself!
What is it? Did you lose some livestock orโ
The townsman winks and hands her an invitation.
Come to Alice's wedding!
We've prepared plenty of food and beer. And we've got the chapel choir together. Don't miss out, missy!
Why?
Why, Argus?
I-I need to deliver a letter to, to Mrs. Mary's husband. She can't go herself because of her bad legs, you see.
Hey, Argus. I didn't ask you to deliver any letters.
Mrs. Mary, didn't you ...?
Mary passed away in 1989. Argus saw her coffin being lowered into the ground.
MARY (1945โ1989) R.I.P.
Another person declared dead is now standing before her, smiling brightly.
You're still alive?
What kind of nonsense are you spouting?! You really ought to take a proper rest.
Today's Alice's big day. We should all be at her wedding, don't you think?
Oh, my sweet child, why are your hands shaking?
I ...
Are you afraid? Why?
Are you afraid of their happiness?
Or are you afraid of your failure?
I'm not a failure!
Oh, my sweet child.
Argus! Argus! Got a message to send? Go get Argus, your trusted friend!
Argus! Argus! Got a cheating spouse to catch? Go get Argus; she's got your back!
Argus ... Argus ...
A foreign voice echoes through their mouths and surrounds her.
Who's there?!
Her surroundings recede like a tide, leaving only a girl in white standing before her.
Wrapped in a half-soiled birth cloth, a lamb lies at her feet. The girl's hands are covered in blood and amniotic fluid. Her smile is as pure as a dove.
It's me, Kayla. You haven't forgotten me, have you?
Kayla ...
It's getting dark. We should take them back. Ain't no way they'll make it through the night out here with their mama hurt.
And you can't see a thing at night.
Yeah, we need to go back now. Can't delay any longer.
Oh.
What?
Hold on a moment.
The lamb bleats.
What are you doing?
There, there.
She kneels down and gently strokes the lamb's neck. The lamb bows its head and licks her fingertips. They're still wet with amniotic fluid.
Kayla smiles and tightens her grip around the lamb's neck. It lets out a piercing cry, sending a distant flock of birds into the air.
The cry becomes weaker, more strangled, and then silent as the life is squeezed out of its body.
...
Isn't it better to die a quick death than end up in the belly of a wolf?
You've got no right to make that decision.
No living thing is born to simply die. It could've stood up. It could've survived.
The girl gets to her feet.
We can go now.
No, don't go.
The girl smiles as the long grass rustles against her flowing skirt in the breeze.
Oh, you've reminded me.
There are two problems left unsolved. Those two over there.
Argus looks into the distance. Dennis and Mary are standing and smiling at her.
Kill them. It would only take two bullets. Three seconds max.
As long as they're alive, they'll come after you just as hard as you hunt the targets of your missions.
I'm sure you know that better than I do.
Why should I kill them?
Do you need a reason?
Just do as we've always done. I say, and you do. No need to think about it. Isn't that what you pride yourself on?
A mindless tool that blindly follows orders. That's all a mercenary needs to be.
Isn't that the so-called value of a mercenary that you always talk about?
No, it ain't true.
What's with the hesitation, anyway? It's not like you give a damn about other people's lives.
The only reason you can't bring yourself to kill them is because you enjoy how they always praise you and depend on you.
You ain't Kayla.
Seriously? Are you saying I'm a fraud just because I don't meet your expectations of what I'm supposed to be?
The girl gives an inexplicable smile.
Fine. If you think I'm not Kayla, then why don't you kill me now?
Just shoot me in the chest, and these people will treat you like a hero. They'll gather in the fields, holding torches, and chant your name.
Argus abruptly raises her gun, but her hands are shakingโthe barrel trembling.
Argus! Argus! She's spineless!
Argus! Argus! She'sโ
*bang*
Argus! Argus!
...!
The bullet pierces the girl's soft chest. Her blood splatters on the field, dotting the grass like a smattering of poppies.
It clings to the grass, its weight causing the blades to bend.
Oh, Argus! Our great hero!
The tales of your heroic deeds will be passed down through generations!
Now, now, you're lying to yourself again. Of course she's Kayla!
It's not possible.
Do I need to show you the bullet through her heart for you to believe it, bonehead?!
Damn it!
She loads a bullet into the chamber with a crisp click.
Don't pull the trigger!
An unexpected voice comes from beside her.
Vertin?
How did she get all the way out here? Where did she come from?
Calm down, Argus.
Remember, what you see isn't real. You're still inside the motel, at least for now.
...
Oh, here comes another little lady.
Excellent timing. Come join the party!
Vertin?
I'm here to get you out.
So, that wasn't Kayla.
She lets out a long sigh of relief.
Couldn't ask for better news than that, really.
No, it wasn't.
Let's get out of here.
She reaches out her hand in invitation.
Okay.
Argus reaches out. She feels like something abominable is chasing after herโthat if she stops, the shadow of confusion will come and swallow her whole.
And this hand is her only salvationโher escape from this labyrinthโso she grasps it tightly.
She ain't Kayla.
She declares this with absolute certainty.
18. Sleepless Night
83 linesThe motel hallway is as quiet as ever. The maid stands, smiling.
Did you see it?
It?
My baby, of course. Oh, so it didn't show up, then? What a shy little pumpkin!
What is it exactly?
A supernatural being, an amalgam of urban legends, an ever-pounding heart, and a shy little babyโall under one roof.
But seeing how you got out of there in one piece, I'm certain you've already earned its approval. Come on in. I'll show you the sweetest little room in the motel.
A red door appears behind her.
Don't be afraid, sweetheart. Go ahead. Open the door.
The door remains motionless.
Open it. Now.
The mercenary says nothing. She silently wipes the barrel of her gun.
*bang-bang*
She fires two shots at the red door.
The entire motel trembles violently.
That'll do it.
Before she can reload, the ground starts to shake beneath her feet, and a deafening sound reverberates through the hallway.
The maid's eyes widen in surprise.
Why didn't I think of that?
Your eyes haven't recovered yet, have they? Tsk, Tsk. Such poor aim.
Let me lend you a hand.
Listen to Mama.
I told you long ago about the consequences of disobedience.
Oh, it's out of bullets. Could you help me reload?
Oh, my sweet child.
Can you see it? This is the beauty of fear.
Watch out!
Please, come in, my dear guests.
You'll find what you seek inside.
When I found it, it was still called Sweet Home.
It was all alone, abandoned in the wilderness. The poor little thing.
So you took it in? Some unknown, growing arcane consciousness that takes the form of a motel yet somehow also exists as a baby?
Yes.
The maid bends down and picks up the swaddled baby from the crib.
There, there.
But it's seriously impacted the lives of the locals.
Oh, Ms. Vertin, they chose to come here of their own volition. I never forced them to stay.
But after leaving, some of them went mad or even committed suicide.
Well, they made those decisions themselves.
...
Now is not the time to dwell on such trivial matters, Ms. Vertin.
Haven't you been searching for Ms. Barbara?
She points to the open door.
Don't get any bright ideas, maid.
Her eye shines emerald again as she presses the barrel of her shotgun against Tuesday's back.
If Vertin gets so much as a scratch, I'll blast your chest open.
Along with your baby.
Go inside, boss. I'll keep an eye on her.
Red curtains cover every inch of the room, like flesh clinging to a body. An ivory bed stands in the center.
Here you are, Ms. Vertin.
I'm so glad. I was beginning to think I'd never regain contact with the outside world.
Ms. Argus, you can put your gun down now.
She speaks, trembling slightly as she savors every moment of her heightened heartrate.
I've shown my utmost sincerity, have I not?
Shut your trap!
Let's get out of here, Ms. Barbara.
I don't think it's the wisest choice to have this conversation while we're still inside a living thing.
Argus, I need you to keep Tuesday in check until we make it out of here.
You ain't gotta tell me twice.
A beam of light shines in through the window. Dawn is breaking.
I've gazed at this scenery countless times, but never have I felt as enthralled as today.
But, Ms. Vertin, don't you think you've forgotten something?
Forgotten what?
That guest who came with you. Shortly after her arrival, she hurried off to that armament factory. She's such an impatient child. Luckily, she made her way back here.
Her name's Lilya, right?
What did you do to her?
The maid laughs softly.
Relax, she's fine. She's sleeping soundly as we speak, with or without nightmares.
Follow me. I'm sure she's eager to see you.
This is the room.
Open it.
The maid finds the key on her keyring, puts it in the lock, and turns it.
The room is empty.
Oh.
The maid frowns, her annoyance visible on her face.
The owner of the suitcase rushes to the window and looks down.
Lilya is sitting exhausted below. Their eyes meet.
Vertin! There you are!
Listen, those Manus scum have already wormed their way into the town. We can't go there.
You look terrible.
I couldn't sleep at all in that haunted room. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw all kinds of creepy stuff.
Can you come down here, Captain? Talking like this hurts my neck.
Okay.
19. Gone in the Wind
107 linesWhat's going on?
Outside the motel, the rising dawn paints the earth a deep orange. Lilya looks confused as they approach.
Are you okay, Captain?
I'm fine.
I have good news and bad news.
Don't bother with the order; just lay it on me.
The good news is we've found Barbara.
The bad news is we've got a new problem. This motel is the manifestation of a living consciousness that constantly generates urban legends and spreads fear. It might turn into a supernatural arcanist in the future.
We can't let it grow here unchecked. We need the help of the Foundation to keep it under control.
Boss, my job here is done. I'm heading into town for Kayla.
She looks off into the distance.
How do I pay your fee?
Fee?
She laughs heartily.
We're friends, Vertin. I don't need no payment.
She says her goodbyes and sets off on the road ahead.
Alright, Captain, any progress on finding Urd?
...
The little sheep's ears twitch.
That's why you came looking for me, right?
I'll ask the wind for you. It's the least I can do.
She closes her eyes.
Did she doze off?
The gentle breeze caresses her ears, like an invisible thread being woven between them.
She opens her eyes.
A distant wind told me that Ms. Urd's latest submission came from the Sรฃo Paulo Veterans' Residence.
The article she submitted was an excellent piece, but UTTU doesn't know anything beyond that.
Okay.
I suppose we'll all have restful sleep and sweet dreams tonight.
I've collected the material I needed for the upcoming feature interview. I bet the readers will enjoy it.
I'll be sure to include your name on the byline, Ms. Tuesday.
Me? I don't think I contributed anything.
Quite the contrary, you played a significant role. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have realized my inner fear of losing communication with the world.
First-hand experiences like this are invaluable to an editor.
Oh, with the way you put it, I almost regret letting you go.
I won't be returning. The interview's over.
She closes her little red notebook.
If all goes well, you'll be able to read about it in the next issue of UTTU.
I'll take my leave now.
Goodbye.
Good, I can't wait to leave this place.
We can't leave yet.
I just contacted the Texas branch. Their staff is on their way here. They have to investigate this supernatural being as soon as possible.
And they'll be here soon, I presume?
I can feel the energy fluctuations of teleportation rituals. It must be them.
She turns her head to see a stranger standing before her.
Mm?
The girl in front of her has chestnut hair and carries a woven basket on her arm.
Looks like you guessed wrong, Captain. I met her in town. Name's Kayla.
Kayla?
The girl smiles brightly at her.
Do you know someone called Argus?
The girl's smile becomes more gentle.
The name doesn't ring a bell. How strange! What kind of parent would name their child after a one-hundred-eyed giant?
...
You must've mistaken me for someone else. Kayla is a common name, after all, like Emma, Anna, or Catherine. More importantly, Miss, you look ...
The girl smiles once more.
Although I've never met you before, you seem familiar.
She reaches into the basket and pulls out a crumpled flower.
A pale moth lands on a petal, gently fluttering its wings, its scales shimmering in the morning light.
I hope you have a wonderful day.
Thank you.
The girl tucks the flower under her arm.
Are you a guest at this motel?
The girl nods.
What happened here?
The St. Pavlov Foundation has taken over. I suggest you find alternative accommodation, given the dangerous incidents that have occurred here.
Hmm. What should I do? All my things are still inside.
The Foundation staff will take care of it for you later. You can trust them.
Can't I just go and get my things now?
I would advise you to wait until the Foundation staff arrive.
Oh, I can look after myself. No need to worry about me, Miss.
The girl winks and pushes open the motel door, promptly disappearing from their view.
That girl ...
Lilya breaks her long silence.
What about her?
Never mind. It's probably nothing.
The light from a teleportation disk flickers nearby.
Apologies for our delayed arrival, Ms. Vertin.
We'd been unable to locate the motel until about ten minutes ago. It's as if something was deliberately interfering with our sense of direction.
While the Foundation staff is busy assessing the situation, a faint sound echoes from the depths of the motel.
Oh.
...!
The door suddenly swings open, and a pale, trash-covered corpse is thrown out of it.
Once again, it insisted on eating garbage off the floor. Is every child this stubborn?
...
...
It's Stefen, a Zeno officer.
Hmm, Stefen. Sounds familiar.
The staff member flips through his records, quickly finding the information he's looking for.
The records show he was a high-ranking Zeno officer who went missing after the vacuum bomb footage leaked.
Zeno issued a staggering bounty on him. I guess whatever he did really angered Admiral Igor.
Who would've thought he'd be hiding in this little motel in the middle of nowhere?
Obviously, luck wasn't on his side.
Alright, Ms. Vertin, we'll take over from here.
...
The maid remains calm, gently patting the bundle in her arms.
After the branch completes its procedures, you'll be sent to the headquarters for a more thorough assessment.
Will you return my baby to me?
It's too early to discuss that.
Let's go, Lilya.
She picks up the suitcase.
We must report back to Madam Z about Urd.
20. Gone Are the Old Days
52 linesOh dear. It seems a lot transpired while I was away.
...
After a moment's thought, she dials a number on her phone. A few rings later, the call is answered.
Ms. Grace, I thought you'd forgotten me!
I've been exposed!
As expected, the voice on the other end is restless.
Kimberly, care to tell me what happened in this motel? There's blood and brains splattered in the hallway. Who died and how?
It was that Zeno madman! He shot himself in the head!
But I still haven't managed to destroy the ritual sigils under his bed. And I couldn't find the ...
...
She sighs.
Now that our base of operations has been exposed, we'll have to take away everything related to the "ritual" and leave.
The Foundation's rats will thoroughly search this place soon.
Ugh, the last thing I need right now is to deal with them!
There's a brief and unusual silence on the other end of the line.
And, uh, could you tell me more about this Vertin?
There's a hint of anxiety in her voice.
I might've had a slip of the tongue when she confronted me earlier. How good is her memory?
Fret not, Kimberly. People rarely pay attention to things that don't directly involve them.
She smiles faintly.
But I do look forward to seeing her again.
Several days later.
We're just here to have a conversation, Ms. Tuesday. Relax.
I found it in the wilderness.
You mean, the "motel" with arcane powers?
Just to confirm, the base form of this arcane consciousness is a heart-shaped "fetus," correct?
Yes.
It's about as intelligent as a one-year-old human, and it lacks the ability to deliberately plan or cause the incidents in the motel. Meanwhile, it sees you as its mother, displaying remarkable trust and dependence on you.
Therefore, we believe you were a major contributor to these incidents, or rather, the one who pulled the strings.
You may not have acted with evil intent, but your actions have caused many residents in Chisos to suffer mental breakdowns.
They were seeking some form of relief from their mental anguish, which provided the perfect opportunity for the Manus to entrench themselves so deeply in this town.
Isn't that so, Ms. Tuesday?
Well, I've never been to that town. And even if it is as you say ...
They made their choices, didn't they?
I see.
She scribbles down the information on her clipboard.
The Timekeeper just reported another crucial piece of information to the Foundation.
Were there any activities going on in the motel undertaken by the self-proclaimed followers of the Order of Enlightenment?
Oh, there indeed were. They left not long ago. I still remember their faces.
What did they do at the motel?
They scribbled on the floor and made strange noises. Oh, I remember now.
Whatever it was they were trying to do, it was a total failure. One poor girl became trapped inside their mirror.
She never stopped trying to escape. The mirror would make banging noises all night long, haha.
We didn't find anyone trapped in a mirror during our search.
Well, that's sad, I suppose.
Her expression remains calm as always.
If you knew they were from a dangerous arcanist organization, why didn't you report them to the Foundation?
She licks her lips.
Fear doesn't frighten me. No, quite the contrary ...
It excites me. I would embrace fear any day of the week.