Photographs

“Those people are as annoying as mosquitoes in the night. We ought to drag them all to the club bar and feed them to the lizards.”

Having retreated to the entrance of the alley, the two peered back inside from a distance. Officer Natalie's expression was grim as she spoke resentfully:

“Looks like you were right, Lynch. They're actually hauling away the furniture. Those bastards would stop at nothing to undermine our operation just to spite us. Good thing I listened to your warning and didn't wait for the Hall of Order's notice, or all we'd have found would be an empty room. I didn't expect you to be so familiar with their style. Did you deal with departments like this back when you were a detective?”

The classic routine of the NYPD and the FBI—seen it plenty on TV. This barely qualifies as petty squabbling.

Lynch smiled and shook his head, though a hint of doubt crept into his expression. “I'm concerned about something else, though. How did they know?”

“I didn't expect them to be so shameless. I wasn't careful about secrecy when mobilizing the police force to canvas Donnie's residence, so they must have caught wind of it.”

“No, that's not what I mean. Think about what he just said,” Lynch lowered his voice. “They want to haul away all the furniture so we won't find anything else.”

The female officer's expression tightened. “Meaning they already know what we found yesterday?”

“Right. Otherwise, they wouldn't have phrased it like that. But not even Editor-in-Chief Donald knows about the note we found yesterday—only the two of us know. I'm certain I haven't told a soul. Did you mention it to anyone?”

“Definitely not. I haven't even reported it to Victor,” the female officer speculated. “Looks like they have their own special ways of tracking our progress.”

“There are strange methods like that?”

“Do any of the three abilities you've mastered strike you as normal? In the world of the occult, bizarre abilities are always hard to guard against, so learning our progress isn't difficult.” Officer Natalie sighed. “It seems we can't assume we've shaken them off. There's no telling when they'll catch up again. We have to pick up the pace and not give them another chance to ruin our investigation. I refuse to let someone like Grant—who uses mystery to disrupt order—get away with this. Fortunately, we secured these items, especially the photographs you found. Do you think Donnie died because of them?”

“Yeah, there's a strong possibility. Editor-in-Chief Donald confirmed that Donnie had nothing to do with Maya's report. In theory, Maya's disappearance shouldn't have affected him. That's why he still went to the newspaper office on the thirteenth, completely normal. But on the evening of the thirteenth, he received the photographs, and on the fifteenth, he was dead. You told me there are no coincidences in the occult world. The only thing linking the two is these photographs.”

“Then that's it. These items are the key evidence.” The female officer let out a soft breath. “With them, we've at least seized the initiative. Come on, let's head back to the Scarecrow Club first and see what secrets are hidden in those photographs.”

As they spoke, the two turned a corner past the street onto a main thoroughfare and hailed an open-top hired carriage, heading straight for the Scarecrow Club. Naturally, the fare was paid by the decadent public servant earning ten pounds a month.

“Do we need special equipment to view the documents?” Only after climbing into the carriage did Lynch discreetly activate Phantasmal Sound, asking in a hushed whisper out of the coachman's earshot, “Why do we have to go back to the club?”

“Not really. Deciphering mystery documents only requires a quiet environment. There's no need to worry about the documents affecting ordinary people; as long as they don't look at them, mystery documents pose no danger to them.”

“Then why do we still have to go back before looking?”

“Because after viewing the documents, we might become dangerous to ordinary people.”

“Huh?”

“Listen, Lynch. Unknown mystery documents are often extremely dangerous because we have to read them to find out just how dangerous they are. Although our minds as Soul Severers have a relatively high resistance to mystery, it only mitigates the psychic shock rather than eliminating it entirely. Under that shock, our emotions could spin out of control and cloud our consciousness—what mystery hunters call temporary madness—which could lead to harming innocent bystanders. If one mistakenly reads an annihilation grade or even manifestation grade mystery document, they might directly twist and lose control, which would be an outright catastrophe for the ordinary people around them.”

A chill crept into Lynch's heart as he listened.

“That's why whether official or secret societies, most occult organizations have designated locations and procedures for deciphering mystery documents. I'll explain the exact procedure in detail once we arrive.”

The designated facility Officer Natalie mentioned was, of course, located within the Scarecrow Club.

At ten-thirty in the morning, the two traversed the deserted club bar and went directly down into the basement.

The underground remained unchanged: several long corridors radiated a lingering gloom and oppression. Following the right-hand corridor all the way down, a massive metal door resembling an airtight door from his homeland stood at the very end.

Pulling the door cord, no sound of a chime could be heard from within. Before long, however, the peephole slid open. A gaze lingered over Officer Natalie's face for a moment, followed by the clanking and scraping of metal within the door.

After a full minute of creaks and groans, the heavy door slowly swung inward.

Behind the door lay an even deeper corridor, with a monocled, middle-aged man standing in the doorway.

Around forty years old, frail in build, he wore a shirt with suspender trousers and had a pipe dangling from his mouth. His complexion was an unhealthy pale, his eyes heavily bloodshot with dark circles beneath them.

Lynch immediately felt a kinship toward him. Night-owl homebodies truly were drawn to one another!

“Mr. Klin.” The female officer tipped her top hat and bowed. “Pardon the intrusion, but we need to read some documents.”

Behind the swirling smoke, two eyes sharp as daggers fixed upon Lynch's face.

Lynch's inspiration gave no warning, indicating that this man was merely an early-stage Soul Severer below rank three authority. Yet facing his gaze, Lynch felt as if he were being seen through from the inside out.

“A very ordinary soul. Nothing special to look at.”

Mr. Klin's words sent a tremor through Lynch's heart. He only now realized that his soul had been peeked into. Fortunately, Lady Luna's will hadn't been discovered; otherwise, he might have been branded a monstrosity or landed in serious trouble.

【No need to worry about that, Lynch.】

‘He can't see you?’

【Indeed. Just like those two Great Old Ones.】

‘An evil god is no different from a mortal?’

【Is there a difference?】

‘None at all. I like that answer.’

Relieved completely, Lynch offered Mr. Klin a calm smile.

“Still, your mental resilience is shockingly high. No wonder you could live this long with such high inspiration and somehow not go mad.”

Lynch mentally scoffed. Sorry to disappoint you.

“Come on in. I'm the archivist; you can call me Mr. Klin. I specialize in cleaning up the aftermath and collecting the corpses of readers. My methods can be a bit rough, so I hope you won't mind when the time comes.”

“Thank you, but I don't think that will be necessary.” Lynch remained deadpan.

“Hm. With your willpower, you really don't need to go out of your way to avoid reading mystery documents. Some people have pitifully low willpower and can't even touch them. Yet most of the people I clean up after are professionals with high willpower. Do you know why?”

“The ones who drown are always the ones who can swim?”

“Clever. Good that you understand.”

Klin cleared the doorway, locked the iron door again, and handed each of them a cigarette before pointing toward the room nearest to the entrance:

“Remember, every single mystery document is exceptionally hazardous—even those intended for ability instruction cannot be taken lightly. I know you need to understand their contents, but I warn you: every piece of information on them, down to a single line, is imbued with bizarre and twisting power. Never delve too deeply into them; mystery lurks within, poised at any moment to drag you into hell.”

Lynch swallowed hard and nodded obediently.

“Same old rules: monitor each other, and only one person reads at a time. If you notice anything off with your partner, interrupt them immediately, exit the reading room, finish the cigarette, and wait at least seven days before attempting a second reading.”

“Does it have to be that long of an interval?”

“I just finished redecorating the reading room. Care to guess why?”

As he spoke, he turned on the gas lamp inside the reading room for them. “I'll be in the archives. I hope I won't have to clean up after you. Good luck.”

Click. The door shut.

Inside was a very quiet room featuring a soft sofa and delicate incense, creating a bright and pleasantly comfortable ambiance.

“Klin's words can be harsh, so don't take it to heart. He doesn't mean any harm; he's just not used to socializing.”

“I don't mind at all. In fact, I quite like him. You can tell at a glance that he's a dedicated specialist who puts all his focus into his field. I admire people like that.”

“Yeah. While his strength is average—about on par with mine—he is an expert in occultism,” the female officer explained. “He's the most specialized occultist in the Watchers' Rhine branch, renowned throughout the Kingdom of Lande for his mastery over mystery documents. The mystery documents he's deciphered could fill an entire library room. He created all the rules, so we'd better obey them without question.”

“Right, I promise.”

“Good. Let's begin, then. I'll read first.”

The female officer sat down adeptly, emptied the contents of the evidence bag onto the coffee table, and reached out for the photographs. But the moment her fingers touched them, Lynch held her hand back.

“I know you're brave, Lynch, but this isn't the time to compete. There really is great danger. I have experience with this kind of thing while you don't, and I know how to handle it while you don't. That makes me far more suited to read it, while you provide support.”

“True, but if I suddenly go mad, you can subdue me and knock some sense into me. If you suddenly go mad, you'll probably beat me to death.”

The female officer paused, slowly pulling her hand back. “Fine, you read them. Remember to pause every minute; I'll keep track of the time for you.”

“Okay.”

Lynch closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and swiftly picked up the stack of documents.

It was a thick stack of newly developed photographs, all in black and white. Their clarity was atrocious by Lynch's standards, but at least the scenery was distinguishable. They were numbered in neat, delicate feminine handwriting.

The first few were merely landscape shots, likely taken in a mountainous area. Through the sparse vegetation, rolling mountain ranges could be seen in the distance.

Two people appeared in these initial photos.

One was a pretty young girl dressed in lightweight, practical attire, a relaxed smile on her face indicating she was in good spirits. The other was a middle-aged man dressed like a hillman, his expression simple and dull, likely serving as a guide.

After a few shots, however, a massive cave appeared in the photos. People no longer showed up after that; the next several photographs depicted the interior of the cavern. Deep and rugged, the environment must have been pitch-black, with outlines only faintly illuminated under the glaring illumination of an old-fashioned flashbulb.

Rock walls, mushrooms, gravel, a dark shadow.

Hm?

Having already flipped past the photo, Lynch turned back to it.

He seemed to catch sight of a vague dark shadow lurking in a corner of the cavern.

Leaning in to inspect it closely, it genuinely looked like a twisted humanoid figure. Blackened and virtually blending into its surroundings, only the teeth bared in its gaping mouth and two eyes reflected light in the black-and-white scene.

Was this thing human?

Lynch quickly flipped through the preceding and following photos—nothing in the one before, and nothing in the one after.

It was hard to tell whether it was an optical illusion caused by the angle or if it simply hadn't been captured in the frame.

Then again, the photos weren't a continuous sequence. If something really was there, missing it in the shots was completely normal.

“One minute. Stop.”

“Wait a second, don't cut me off right here.”

Lynch blurted out instinctively, but reason immediately took over. Slapping himself across the cheek, he covered the photographs back up.

“How is it? Feeling anything?”

“Hard to say. I haven't found anything special yet; I just saw something strange before being interrupted.” Lynch rubbed his cheeks, trying his best to stay alert. “I did notice something rather odd, though.”

“Hm?”

“The photos are indeed compelling, but I didn't experience the sensation of reading a mystery document like you described. I can certainly sense heavy mysterious filth emanating from the documents, but I didn't feel that bizarre, terrifyingly twisted psychic impact seeping through lines and imagery. It's like...” Lynch hesitated for a long time before finding the right words. “It's like I'm looking at an ordinary document tainted with mystery, rather than a genuine mystery document. I don't know if that's just in my head.”

【It isn't. What you are looking at are simply ordinary documents tainted with dense mysterious filth. The documents themselves possess no inherent mystery; they are merely steeped in excessive filth.】

‘Why is that?’

Silence.

“Are you sure? Let me see; you keep watch over me.”

The female officer pulled the photographs over and flipped through them one by one. Lynch carefully monitored his pocket watch to keep time, but as the one-minute mark approached, Officer Natalie looked up on her own before he could give a reminder.

“You're right. They seem like ordinary documents. But simply being tainted with mysterious filth shouldn't have caused Donnie to die so quickly. Why is this? Did we find the wrong thing?”

“Probably not. The mysterious filth on them is far too concentrated—stronger than any mystery relic I've ever seen. There's definitely something wrong with these items; we just haven't found the crucial point yet.”

“Indeed. Still, let's be careful and continue deciphering them as if they were mystery documents. Go ahead.”

“Right.”

Lynch quickly flipped back to the previous number.

The next several photos also showed tunnels, but signs of human activity were now evident. Implements of wood, stone, and even metal were scattered throughout the cave, suggesting a sizable group of people had lived here long-term and in an orderly fashion.

Whew. Looks like this must be a base for some group, perhaps the hillmen. Then that dark shadow earlier must be...

Just as Lynch breathed a sigh of relief, his hand flipped to the next photo—and an enormous face filled the frame.

As if someone had held the camera right up to their face, it took up nearly the entire photograph.

Utterly twisted, utterly hideous, utterly ferocious.

It was a face virtually impossible to describe in words.

The moment he saw that face, Lynch felt an instinctive surge of visceral revulsion. His stomach churned violently, just like the first time he had seen Drunken Peter's corpse. Clutching his mouth as wave after wave of dry heaves racked him, only a single thought occupied his mind:

What on earth is this thing?