“Not a bad person from a certain perspective.”
Even after returning to Dr. Sven’s house, Lynch was still mulling over those words.
They were loaded with meaning.
If she wasn't a bad person from a certain perspective, did that imply that when viewed from another, she was?
The four of them had pondered it the entire way back, analyzing virtually every possibility, yet none dared guess the doctor’s true thoughts. Still less did they know what attitude they ought to adopt toward her. It wasn't until Dr. Sven’s front door came into view that Lynch finally made up his mind.
It seemed Dr. Sven had already returned. A light was on in the second-floor study, where the flickering glow of an oil lamp cast her silhouette against the window—hazy and indistinct, lending her a distinctly enigmatic air.
They walked straight in through the front door. The clattering commotion alerted Dr. Sven in the study, and before long, the good doctor came downstairs on her own.
By this point, she had changed into loose, fluffy pajamas and wore a soft cap on her head. The pom-pom atop the cap dangled to one side, bobbing with every step as she descended the stairs. She didn’t look in the least like a woman in her thirties.
Still less did she look like a ghoul.
“You're back. Did you go out for drinks? A tavern really is about the only place to pass the time in Noran.” The doctor looked somewhat worn out, showing none of the heroic swagger with which she had pummeled those youngsters yesterday. Smiling, she said, “If you ever want to kill time while I'm out, feel free to sit in my study. I don't have many books, but there's enough to keep you occupied.”
Give me a break. If we accidentally pull out a copy of the Necronomicon, we might be staying here forever.
Although Lynch snarked inwardly, he showed none of it on his face, merely asking in an offhand manner, “How's the research going? Did you discover anything?”
“I did.”
“Oh... wait, already?” Lynch’s interest was instantly piqued. “What did you find?”
“Someone used the authority of Mordiggian, the King of Ghouls, as a template, then applied certain arcane concoctions to give the disease the traits of replication and proliferation, turning it into a plague. Fortunately, the concoction's efficacy is rather mediocre. So while it's extremely infectious—virtually a hundred percent transmission rate—the method of transmission is fairly limited. An open wound is required. If it could spread through respiration or even abstract concepts, the consequences would be horrifying. In just a few years, the entire world might have ended up infected.”
Right, that would be an XX Crisis.
At this point, Lynch couldn't help but genuinely admire the female doctor. Relying only on the rudimentary occult knowledge of the Third Age, she had managed to piece together so much information in just a single afternoon. And judging by the standards of the Fifth Age, her analysis was essentially accurate. She truly lived up to her reputation as a scientific talent that major cities fought over.
However, Lynch also noticed that as she spoke, Dr. Sven looked somewhat uneasy, as though weighed down by some worry. After hesitating for a moment, he asked point-blank, “Isn't that wonderful progress? Why do you still look so worried?”
Dr. Sven managed a faint smile at first, but upon meeting Lynch's earnest gaze, she sighed. “We talked about this yesterday. The King of Ghouls is worshipped by many ghouls, but virtually no humans revere him.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning this incident must involve ghouls. Mortals couldn't possibly pull this off on their own.”
“Isn't that obvious? There are so many ghouls coming and going out there,” Lynch said, playing dumb. “They can't all be here to attend a banquet. Who knows? Maybe a few of them are scheming alongside humans behind the scenes.”
“They...” Dr. Sven hesitated for a second, then shook her head. “Perhaps. But the point is, there's no benefit in this for ghouls either. If bitten, even ghouls risk turning into mindless mad ghouls. That's why I can't fathom why any of them would team up with humans to do something like this.”
A sudden flash of inspiration struck Lynch, and the pieces fell into place: “So, they know a plague broke out here that could affect even them, and they're planning to move in and purge the area to guarantee their own safety?”
“Huh?” Dr. Sven blinked, staring at Lynch, momentarily at a loss for words.
“Oh, it's nothing. We just happened upon two ghouls having a private meeting while taking a stroll outside the city this afternoon, so I made an educated guess.”
Lynch offered a casual explanation as if it were nothing, but mid-sentence, his tone abruptly shifted:
“You saw us back then too, didn't you?”
In an instant, dead silence fell over the living room of Dr. Sven’s home. The air seemed to freeze solid.
No one uttered a word. The two ladies kept their heads bowed, their grips tightening on their rapier and folding fan, while the remaining companion's expression snapped into sharp focus. Yet Lynch placed a calming hand on each of the two women's arms, continuing in an unhurried, measured tone:
“We've dealt with our fair share of ghouls in the past, so we know quite a bit about them. We ended up recognizing you by accident.” The lie rolled off Lynch's tongue with practiced ease. “I asked you once before, and now I'll ask you again, Dr. Sven: do you genuinely want to resolve this crisis? If you have other intentions, we can leave at any time and won't interfere in your affairs.”
Dr. Sven remained silent for a long while before countering, “Just who on earth are you people?”
Countless thoughts raced through Lynch’s mind in an instant, quickly coalescing into a coherent cover story:
“The truth is, we have nothing to do with what's happening here. We came for an entirely different matter, one that has nothing to do with either humans or ghouls. That is precisely why you can trust us.”
“Still about selling grain?”
“The Necronomicon.”
Dr. Sven froze with her mouth slightly open, though an expression of dawn-breaking clarity soon crept across her face.
“So you see, we only want to help you in exchange for the whereabouts of the Necronomicon. Our stance aligns entirely with yours. As for what happens to this city, we couldn't care less—it all depends on where you stand. That's why we asked you that question from the very beginning, and our actions have matched your answer every step of the way. We only wanted to confirm it one more time after discovering your identity, just to be safe. We have no other motives.”
It was a completely airtight narrative, half-true and half-fabricated, yet far more plausible than the pure truth. One look at Dr. Sven’s expression made it clear she had bought it hook, line, and sinker. She let out a long, quiet sigh and murmured:
“I genuinely want to resolve it. On one hand, this is my hometown. It holds my memories, and I don't want to see it ruined. On the other... it's just as I said. Other ghouls are definitely involved in this, and very likely members of my own tribe. That's why I feel obligated to put an end to this crisis once and for all. Otherwise, a plague this dangerous won't just threaten our tribe; once it spreads, the fallout could be utterly catastrophic.”
“And how thorough is 'once and for all'?”
Dr. Sven pressed her lips together, saying nothing.
Lynch understood completely.
In historical records, she had probably intended the exact same thing. When she discovered the plague in the city had spiraled completely out of control, she had directly summoned her fellow ghouls to execute a total purge of the city—just like the purging of Stratholme from his past life.
And that purge had included herself.
No wonder the mad old man had offered that assessment: from a certain perspective, she wasn't a bad person.
“So our options are: stop the mastermind behind the curtain from escalating things, find a cure through your research, or... the end is near, and everyone must die!”
Hearing Lynch imitate the mad old man's tone, Dr. Sven's lips curved slightly upward despite the weight on her mind:
“Honestly, it was only after hearing him shouting out there that I realized something was amiss, which was why I suggested the city lord send for help. I never expected my fears to actually come true. Since we've laid our cards on the table, I'll be straightforward: I can agree to your terms. If you genuinely help me, I will tell you everything I know about the Necronomicon once this is over.”
“That's exactly what I was hoping for.”
“Phew, that's a relief. Actually, I spent all afternoon researching a cure.”
“Can it be cured?” Lynch pressed. The striking resemblance to the situation in his own era made him instinctively care about the medicine.
“It's too early to say. We should know the results by tomorrow, and perhaps find a method of treatment. But we have too little information right now, so I can't be certain. To be sure, we first need to know who is behind it all, and who introduced the authority of the King of Ghouls—in other words, the key ghoul involved. Those two pieces of information are vital.”
“Why didn't you say so earlier?” Lynch sighed. “The city lord.”
“Huh?”
“I said, the mastermind is very likely the city lord. We just deduced that this afternoon. Well? Given how fast we work, partnering with us isn't a bad deal, is it?”
Dr. Sven was left dumbfounded.
Rate on N.U.
