The Second Day

“Relying purely on guesswork is pointless. Even if the city lord truly is the mastermind, the few of us can't do anything to him for now anyway—we can't even get close to him.”

Lynch paused in thought for a moment, his expression settling into calm.

“It’s only the second day, and we still have several days ahead of us. There’s no need to rush. Let's just focus on doing what we need to do at our own pace. Our actions today were conspicuous enough; whether Knight Terry is an accomplice or not, he will certainly report our presence to the city lord. Once he does, the lord’s stance will become clear from his reaction.”

Miss Diana asked, “Don't we need to test Knight Terry, or ask him to keep our actions a secret?”

“I considered that at first, but upon reflection, it’s pointless. Too many soldiers witnessed what we did, and it's very likely some of them answer directly to the city lord. We can’t keep all of them quiet. Asking Terry for discretion would achieve nothing other than revealing that we've caught onto the city lord’s suspicious behavior. It's better to let things run their natural course.”

Officer Natalie’s expression tightened. “Then what about those four soldiers just now...?”

“We actually don't need to worry about them, because they took the money and told the truth—assuming what they said really was the truth, of course,” Lynch said with a dry chuckle. “They won't go out of their way to tell Knight Terry or Steward Locke. Think about it—how would that even go? ‘Hey, look at me, I took a bribe and sold you out! Impressive, right?’ Hiss—stop pinching me!”

Dodging the officer’s fingers while sidestepping the count's daughter’s meaningful glare, Lynch feigned checking on the human-faced fruit planted the previous night and slipped to the other side of Judy, barely surviving the moment.

Nightingale and her peers had indeed selected the finest stock; all ten seeds from the previous night had already sprouted successfully.

Before maturing, the plant looked no different from an ordinary bush, except it grew at a terrifying speed and could not go a single day without being watered with human blood, or it would wither and die. Once fully grown and shaped into humanoid form, if it wasn't harvested within two hours, it would begin voraciously draining the blood and life force of nearby living beings until it eventually burst, scattering seeds in all directions.

At that stage, with a mother plant established, manual blood watering would no longer be needed; the mother plant would automatically channel blood to its offspring, expanding the reach of the human-faced fruit further and further until the entire area became a dead zone where only this single species could survive.

That, however, was a problem for later. For now, they were merely ten lovely little bushes.

Lynch bought a wooden bucket from a general store on the square, slit his palm to mix his blood into the water, and then, seizing a moment when no one was watching, personally watered the ten bushes with his own blood.

Eerily enough, the instant the bloody water touched the branches and leaves, the bushes began greedily sucking up the crimson liquid, reminiscent of the crazed vampires from legends back home. Moreover, as he watered them, Lynch felt an unsettling sense of kinship blossoming between himself and the plants, as if they were bound by blood—a sensation that sent a chill creeping down his spine.

This was his first time dealing with a pure occult organism. His throat tightened as he watched; true to their nature as occult entities, these things were genuinely sinister.

After watering all ten bushes, the four of them finally breathed a sigh of relief. All ten human-faced fruit plants were thriving, which meant the mission was progressing quite smoothly. Aside from the looming possibility that they might all die trapped inside, everything was going just fine.

“If we aren't telling Knight Terry, what about Dr. Sven?” Miss Diana asked thoughtfully, showing remarkably little interest in the prospect of them all dying here. “Her position shouldn't be as politically sensitive as Mr. Terry’s.”

“Yeah, I think she’s trustworthy, but there’s no rush to tell her tonight. I want to make that call after we meet that mad old man who curses everyone he sees,” Lynch pondered. “Dr. Sven only returned a month ago, and he showed up around the same time. I refuse to believe there isn't a connection. In any case, we can probe the old madman tonight to get some indirect context—call it a final safeguard. It won't be too late to tell her about the city lord tomorrow. It's getting late now anyway. Let's head to the woods and plant the last five seeds before the gates close, then head back to wait for her and tease out some information. Hopefully, no unexpected incidents occurred at the fortress barracks this afternoon.”

With their plan settled, the four wasted no more time. Setting the matter of the city lord aside for the moment, they headed straight toward the East Gate, where they had first entered the city.

The moment they reached the gate, they sensed something amiss in the air.

At least forty or fifty people had gathered outside the city walls. Judging by their attire, they were traveling outsiders. In addition to the friendly soldiers from yesterday who had warned them, several auxiliary soldiers had joined the watch. With stern expressions, they controlled passage through the gate, leading newcomers one by one into a small shed erected to the side.

The crowd outside grumbled and complained, constantly urging the guards to hurry, but under the threat of gleaming blades, none dared resist. They waited obediently in line outside the gate, though many frequently glanced nervously toward the east, as if terrified that something might overtake them from behind at any moment.

“What are they doing?”

The three ladies were somewhat puzzled, especially by the shed. Everyone emerging from it was adjusting their clothes—some of which were put on crookedly—making for quite a bizarre sight. Lynch, however, grasped what was happening at a glance.

“It’s what I suggested to Dr. Sven this morning: physical examinations. I imagine anyone bearing wounds won't be allowed in, or at least they’ll be quarantined on the spot and held for several hours before they can be released.”

He was slightly surprised by their efficiency—they really knew how to take a hint and run with it. When he approached a soldier with Terry’s badge to ask, sure enough, Dr. Sven had brought it to Knight Terry’s attention, and the procedure had been implemented across all four city gates.

So far, no bite wounds had been found, but several people bearing fresh scratches had been detained directly, ordered to wait six hours before being released.

There was a distinct feeling of an approaching storm. Lynch felt the tension in the air ratcheting up, but these measures were indispensable; as countless movies had proven, an XX crisis spread far too easily.

“Why are there so many people, though?” Officer Natalie asked, puzzled. “Weren't there barely any travelers entering yesterday?”

The answer came as no surprise: the ghouls had arrived.

This wasn't like the previous baseless rumors of ghouls or glimpses of distant silhouettes. This time, nearly everyone had seen them up close, haunting the surrounding area in significant numbers.

Although the creatures hadn't launched direct attacks, their grotesque appearance and foul stench had terrified travelers, sending them fleeing toward the nearest haven: the city.

All four realized that the three-day siege mentioned in the test was about to begin.

It was not an actual conventional siege, but a total blockade like this one, completely cutting off travel in and out until, three days later, the ghouls would assault the city, wiping it out in a matter of hours.

Still, the final day had not yet arrived, and the perimeter remained safe for now. The four proceeded according to their original plan, slipping into the woods through which they had arrived, and stealthily planted the remaining five seeds.

At Lynch’s urging, the three women each laid claim to one. In his words, hanging all four of their heads over the doorway of 221 would undoubtedly turn heads.

Officer Natalie had agreed, noting that it would also attract plenty of police. Still... on the rare occasion this guy decided to fool around, she might as well indulge him.

And so, each chose a plant, settling the matter. Yet just as the final seed was planted in the earth, an unmistakable stench of decay drifted into their nostrils.

All four gripped their weapons in an instant.

The odor was unmistakable: the putrid stench of a ghoul.

It was said to stem from a type of fungus, but its origin was irrelevant—what mattered was that a ghoul was nearby.

Sure enough, peering through the sparse trees, the four spotted two grotesque silhouettes wandering deep within the woods.

More than a day after entering the relic memory, the four had finally laid eyes on a real ghoul for the first time.