How to Make a Sinner Sleep

95 | haunting; ghosts revisiting

VOLUME III: MAGICIAN

In the cobbled alleyway that steered off the common streets, a blue-eyed man crouched down, rubbing his chin as if he had a beard to stroke. He examined the mangled shape—it was presumed to be the remains of a human or other species.

Besides, a young woman whose beauty was hidden by dirt and grime, dull blonde hair left in one long braid on the verge of untangling, scribbled furiously in a notebook.

If one were to peer over, the notes were mixed with the crime scene details and the food she craved.

She patted her stomach as the sky rumbled above her. "See, even the Watchers above know of my hunger."

The man stopped stroking his imaginary beard, grinning. "Hey, I warned you. Our dear Pres even made you a sandwich before we left, despite her busy schedule."

"Don't discriminate against my large appetite. Just as I don't discriminate against your face that can't grow hair."

"I'm trying a new cream that was recommended to me!"

"Haven't you tried three different ones already? No offence." She added, though the woman's words often contained plenty of offences.

"Holly, has anybody told you that you're too blunt sometimes? Not that I don't appreciate it."

She paused, lowering her gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, he told me that. When we first met."

The man paused, expression growing somber. Then, quickly as the gloom came, he chased it away. "That's sort of a taboo topic?"

"Is it honouring the dead to erase their existence?"

"Holly."

"...I know, I know." Holly fiddled with her braid, tangling the loose strands even further. "Anyway. What's your observations?"

"This person is definitely dead."

"Right. I wouldn't have guessed by the twisted limbs and the intestines peeking out from—is that their mouth? Please say it's their mouth."

The man leaned closer, squinting and scrunching his nose as the odour of rot wafted in the breeze. "Let's say it is."

"Seriously, Niklas. How can you get so close and not be disgusted?"

He smiled vaguely. "This isn't the first corpse I've seen."

"Of course, we've seen many. The civilian and Blessed death toll are increasing. It's nothing dramatic, but regular deaths are abnormal to begin with. Let's hurry back. She's waiting!"

Niklas laughed, collecting the samples and quickly scribbling further observations. A professional team would deal with the corpse and cleaning later—their job was to investigate.

Back in the underground of the Academy, a woman with a leather apron and glasses squinted at a small object in her hand, her silky hair tied back neatly without a stand out of place.

Pale cherry eyes carefully observed the sample, placing it back with gentle hands.

"Hey, I think they're coming back soon. There have been more deaths in the city. I hope we have more leads." A man said quietly, a sense of pleading in his voice.

His sister had been part of the deceased several months prior.

The woman gave a reassuring, comforting smile. "Our investigators are thorough. We'll determine the cause and the criminal—if there is one. I promise."