An Old Rival

What to do when an evil god is howling outside your window in the middle of the night? Seeking urgent advice online.

Could it have been attracted by something? Lynch instinctively looked down toward the floor under his bed, trying to spot traces of a mouse. Unfortunately, Mrs. Maggie had cleaned the room spotlessly—he couldn't even find a single tentacle.

No, I’ve already been assimilated by this world. Otherwise, why would my first thought be a tentacle?

As Lynch was grumbling in his heart, the meowing outside the window grew louder and carried a touch of annoyance. It even began scratching at the glass with its paws.

Alright, you win. I can't afford to mess with you.

Lynch sighed and reluctantly climbed out of bed to open the window. Immediately, a black shadow lunged forward like lightning, slamming straight into Lynch's face.

Holy shit!

Lynch's hair nearly stood on end. He hadn't forgotten what he'd seen on this creature last time. Panicking, he grabbed the black cat with both hands and tried to pull it down, but the cat clung stubbornly to his head with all four limbs. Its claws hooked into Lynch's hair, and its tail lashed across his face like a steel whip—thwack, thwack, thwack!

“Ouch! What are you doing?!”

Lynch was immensely grateful that he hadn't spent his life writing code in this world, leaving him with a respectable amount of hair. Even so, having it snagged by sharp claws made him jump from the pain. For a moment, the roars of man and cat echoed back and forth in the bedroom as the two sides fought fiercely.

A moment later, the outcome of the battle finally became clear. Fear of the Great Old Ones was indeed an inescapable nightmare for living beings. The evil god once again trod upon humanity, demonstrating its formidable horror to the world.

Yes, after an intense struggle, the black cat had finally gotten its wish and perched atop Lynch's head. Its warm body radiated heat, making Lynch's head feel cozily warm and actually quite comfortable.

Oh well. Having a cat sitting on my head makes me look somewhat brainless, but since I can't resist, I might as well close my eyes and enjoy it. Luckily, you're a black cat; if you were a big fat orange cat, my neck would be broken by now.

Lynch let out a deep sigh. “Lady Hathaway, watching someone suffer and giggling to yourself isn't something a noble lady should do. And don't you think this place is a bit unsuitable as a cat bed? Let's make a deal—get it to come down, or talk to it and make its tail behave. How about not whipping my face constantly?”

“I can't help it either. Azzy is merely my friend, and he has a mind of his own,” the countess's voice echoed eerie and uncanny from the cat. “He likes playing with you, and he's having a wonderful time. Besides, a cat's tail is such a rebellious thing that even the cat itself can't control it. What am I supposed to do?”

The issue was that Lynch wasn't happy. Playing with a cat was fine, but having an evil god's gaze potentially pop out at any second made it not fun at all. Expressionless, Lynch sighed and suddenly snapped his teeth toward the tail swinging in front of him.

Snap! Missed. Snap! Missed again.

Lynch simply reached up, grabbed the wriggling tail with his hands, and bit down.

“Meow!”

Another barrage of paw slaps sent Lynch scuttling around with his arms covering his head. Only then did the black cat hop onto the bed in satisfaction, strutting over to lie on the pillow before letting out a yawn. At the same time, the outline of an elegant, dignified lady surfaced around the black cat once again.

Mortals bitten by an evil god were surely numerous, but he had to be the first mortal to bite an evil god back.

Although he didn't know what there was to be proud of, Lynch still felt a strong sense of pride.

“You do not need to be so nervous, Mr. Detective. Azzy is usually just a cat—at most a slightly clever one. Neither I nor that presence will gaze through him frequently.”

Huh? Is that so? ...Then I can rest easy. Lynch began rolling up his pajama sleeves, glaring at the black cat with a sinister grin.

“However, because he has hosted that presence's gaze, his physical attributes are far greater than those of a normal cat. They are roughly equivalent to a rank three authority Soul Severer.”

???

His sinister grin instantly turned into a sycophantic smile. Lynch quickly took several steps back, putting distance between himself and this little ancestor, and said with a solemn face: “Does Your Ladyship have any instructions for visiting late at night?”

He sounded calm, but inside he was panicking. Could Bastet, the cat god, have found out that I secretly borrowed her supreme will, and now she's come to settle the score?

Even though it had been unintentional, he really was in the wrong.

“I am here to bring you trouble, Mr. Detective.” The countess's faint, airy voice drifted from the phantom figure, causing the temperature in the entire bedroom to drop several degrees. “Do your actions... mean you hold the promise of an apostle of the Great Old Ones in contempt?”

Huh? What did this woman mean? It didn't sound like she was here to collect a debt, but how had he held her in contempt?

Wait, he had completely forgotten!

Only then did Lynch remember that when he first received Cat's Favor, this strange countess had entrusted him to thwart the plot of Mordiggian, the King of Ghouls, promising in return to help him retrieve a piece of Red Moon Memories.

Afterward, he had been entirely occupied with jumping around testing out his new abilities, completely forgetting about this commission. He hadn't expected her to come knocking on his door personally, giving him quite a fright.

【There is no need to worry, Lynch. The supreme will you acquired was far too weak to affect her. It is practically negligible, to the point where she cannot even perceive it.】

'Thank you. This is clearly good news, so why does hearing you say it make me want to cry?'

Lynch sighed and shook his head vigorously at the black cat:

“No, I really didn't forget. Wait, whether I forgot or not isn't the point. Ahem, wasn't I recovering from a broken leg? Mrs. Nightingale can vouch for me. As soon as I healed, I had to prepare for today's banquet. I've been busy non-stop and haven't had a chance to visit you.” Having finally salvaged the situation, Lynch exhaled in relief and forced a warm smile. “Has Your Ladyship already found it?”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“Holy mysteries belonging to the Red Moon line are extremely scarce, making them troublesome to track down. Furthermore, you acted too quickly, leaving insufficient time. My late-night visit today is merely to inform you that the Elegant Cat has witnessed your dedication. Her apostle has not forgotten the promise; it simply requires a bit more time.”

Lynch paused. Setting aside his smile, he stood up, straightened his messy pajamas, and bowed with a hand over his chest toward the woman's phantom silhouette.

Regardless of one's identity, a trustworthy person who honored their word deserved respect.

“The Lady Cat's blessing has indeed been an immense help to me. Please convey my heartfelt respects to her. As for Lady Red Moon's memories, I like cats, and I trust the honor of a cat's apostle. I believe you will do your utmost to fulfill your word, so simply give it to me whenever you obtain it. There is no rush.”

The black cat's green vertical pupils stared intently at Lynch with an almost human expression. It remained unclear in what capacity she watched him for a long moment before Countess Hathaway's voice finally spoke: “I accept your goodwill. However, the Master of Cats has never liked owing favors to mortals. How about I pay you a portion of the interest first?”

“Hmm?” Lynch furrowed his brows in confusion.

“According to reliable intelligence, an old rival of yours arrived in Rhine City a few days ago. Given his habits, he should have already greeted you just a few days ago.”

Instantly, an ominous premonition washed over Lynch. He recalled the stranger who had inexplicably appeared downstairs five days ago. That person's behavior back then had clearly been a greeting—except that the fellow had been unlucky enough to run into Lynch during a power breakthrough, resulting in Lynch casually swatting him back.

“Though... an old rival? Who?”

“An apostle of the Ancient Flicker.” Clear amusement laced the phantom woman's voice. “They seem to harbor deep affection for you.”

So it's them. Well, that affection is certainly deep indeed.

Lynch opened his mouth, unable to find any words. Thinking back carefully, that evil god was actually quite pitiful.

It wanted to consume a sacrifice, only for the sacrifice to run away while all the cultists conducting the ritual died. It left a mark and held the sacrifice while sleeping, waiting to feast a month later—only to be met by a random evil god crashing in, leaving both sides severely wounded while the sacrifice ran away again.

When it finally recovered and tried furiously to seek revenge, its key figure was counter-killed on the spot.

Reflecting on the Ancient Flicker's track record, Lynch felt a sting of pity for it.

It seemed its believers still hadn't given up—or rather, the entity itself remained unwilling to accept defeat and had come knocking again. What kind of bad luck would strike it this time?

“Listen closely to what I said. It is an apostle of the Ancient Flicker.”

“An apostle, not a believer?” Lynch finally realized the subtle difference between the two terms. “Wait, you referred to yourself as an apostle of the Elegant Cat earlier?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So a so-called apostle is a believer whose body can manifest the will of an evil... Great Old One at any time?”

“Not quite. What you described is a manifestation vessel, an extremely rare existence. Moreover, even a manifestation vessel cannot host a Great Old One's will at all times. An apostle is merely a mortal who enjoys a Great Old One's deep favor, though they are far stronger than an ordinary Soul Severer.”

Countess Hathaway offered a detailed explanation this time:

“The one who entered the city this time is an apostle of the Ancient Flicker. I doubt he came to catch up with you, so exercise caution. Do not let my efforts to retrieve the holy mystery be in vain because there is no one left to receive it. So, is this interest sufficient to buy an extension?”

“Of course.” Lynch bowed deeply, feeling genuinely grateful in his heart. Whether one could obtain such intelligence in advance often meant the difference between life and death. After a moment's thought, however, Lynch cheekily pressed further, “There is one more thing. May I ask if you know anything about Princess Chloe of Salter's ruby, Flaming Red Lips? What would I need to pay in exchange?”

“Nothing, because I know nothing about it.”

The black cat suddenly leaped up, stepping on Lynch's shoulder to propel itself onto the windowsill before settling down lazily:

“I actually do not know much about the news circulating in noble social circles. I suggest you go to the Black Cat Theater and find its owner, Jefferson.”

“You mean the one who...” Lynch made a wriggling motion with his arms to mimic tentacles.

“Yes, the apostle of the King in Yellow, master of the Night City. The theater is the place with the best access to information in high society; he might know the answer to your question. Worry not, he harbors no ill will toward you. Besides, the King in Yellow only enjoys watching the show; he has no interest in taking the stage.”

“I understand. I shall go. I look forward to your good news then.”

Lynch smiled, waved at the black cat, and watched it merge into the night. He stood frozen for a long while before letting out a long sigh.

Circumstances are truly beyond my control. Another enemy has come knocking. I hope it won't interfere with my investigation into the Flaming Red Lips incident.

I'll deal with whatever comes my way. Tomorrow, I'll discuss this with Miss Valente, then pay a visit to Chieftain Nikolai of the hillmen. If possible, I should resolve Chairman Grant and the sewer ghouls first. If I can break through via Chairman Grant, I might be able to learn whether Flaming Red Lips is related to the railway project.

Formulating plans in his heart, Lynch once again immersed himself in the crimson moonlight, gradually falling into a deep sleep.