At the end of the forest path stood a two-story cottage, looking very much like a woodland cabin out of a fairy tale. It was still daylight, making it hard to tell whether there was any light inside, but from the sound of it, the place was completely silent.
A moment later, a figure emerged in front of the wooden cabin's door.
Lynch dropped his lurking state and waved toward the female officer hidden among the trees.
A tall figure in menswear immediately hunched low, approaching along the blind spots of the windows.
“This should be where the photos were taken.” Officer Natalie signaled with her eyes, speaking only after confirming he had muted the surrounding sounds. “Look, that's where the shot was framed. The photography equipment was set up on that barbecue table over there—the angle matches perfectly.”
So it really was here.
It seemed that although the two journalists had a keen sense of danger, they weren't professional spies after all, leaving behind plenty of clues that made them easy to track down.
Or perhaps not quite that easy?
“I listened for a while and even used phantasmal sound to knock inside the room, but there hasn't been a sound. I suspect no one is inside, or... something has happened to her.”
“Did she never arrive, or did she already leave? But if she never arrived, the wheel ruts make no sense. There's no lingering mystery in the open area outside, right?”
“No reaction, but inside is hard to say.”
“Then let's go in and check. Be careful.”
After confirming through the opposite window that no traps were set behind the door, the female officer took out a hairpin, while Lynch drew his pistol.
While his marksmanship was a matter of pure luck, it was at least good enough to intimidate someone.
Once Lynch nodded to her, the female officer applied pressure with her fingers. With a soft click, the door was gently pushed open. With Lynch around, there was no need to worry about sound—in the female officer's words, it was an essential ability for criminal activity.
Lynch once again bravely guarded the female officer's rear, peeking over her shoulder into the room before the two crept inside cautiously.
Hiss... A foul stench of rot hit them, so pungent it stung their eyes.
Lynch covered his mouth and nose, exchanging nods with the female officer. Maya had definitely returned here, and she had stayed for quite some time.
In any case, finding her came first.
However, the cabin was merely an ordinary two-story building with six rooms in total, lacking even a proper basement—only a wine cellar. The two quickly searched upstairs and downstairs, yet turned up nothing.
There were plenty of traces showing someone had lived here recently.
Empty cans sat in the dining room, the messy bedding in the bedroom gave off a foul odor, and in the bathroom, the towels were speckled with bloodstains, as if skin had been rubbed raw and scraped against them.
Piles of books sat on the desk in the living room, all related to folklore and mythical tales.
“Looks like she realized where the problem came from too.” Officer Natalie closed a book with a sigh. “Unfortunately, while publicly distributed books sometimes do conceal the truth, figuring it out isn't something ordinary people can do.”
“There's something strange.” Lynch didn't touch anything on the desk, merely pointing at its surface. “The stationery is scattered around, which means she used it while reading over the past few days, and quite a few kinds at that. But there aren't any notes on the desk.”
“She left on her own and intentionally gathered up those notes to take with her.” The female officer caught Lynch's drift immediately. “Did she know we were coming?”
“No, we only just found this place, but the traces here show she left at least several hours ago. She couldn't have been hiding from us. Something we don't know about must have happened. Let's search again to see if we can find any clues, but try not to leave signs of rummaging in case she comes back.”
No sooner said than done. The two split up to search. Maya's activity area hadn't been large, as she spent most of her time flipping through mythological books. Lynch searched the second floor from top to bottom...
“Lynch,” the female officer called softly from downstairs. “Come look at this.”
Feeling a surge of hope, Lynch hurried down and found Officer Natalie back in the living room, staring blankly at an empty photo frame with a white backing in the bookcase.
“What is it? Do you know what photo used to be in here?”
Lynch was somewhat puzzled, but Officer Natalie gave him a strange backward glance and reached in to open the frame.
Watching Officer Natalie's movements, Lynch felt a shiver run through his body, his throat turning dry.
That wasn't an empty photo frame at all.
The frame's backing was white because a blank canvas was stretched across it.
It was no longer a photo frame—conceptually, it had become a blank oil painting.
An empty picture frame—him again?
What on earth does he want? Just how deeply involved in this affair is he?
Is Maya really just an ordinary person? What is her relationship with him? Could Donnie's death be connected to him as well?
“Wait, something's wrong.”
Questions swirled rapidly through Lynch's mind. Realizing something in a flash, he grabbed Officer Natalie's hand and pulled her back several paces away from the bookcase.
The female officer yielded without resistance, stepping back along with him, though she looked at him with confusion.
“Maya took all the important things with her, so why would she leave this behind?” Lynch kept a wary eye on the canvas, whispering, “I suspect there's something wrong with it—a deliberately laid trap. We'd better be careful.”
Officer Natalie considered it, then simply rested her hand on the hilt of her sword.
No matter what kind of trap it was, a single strike of the sword would eliminate any threat.
Yet before she could draw her sword, the blank canvas stretched across the backing suddenly shifted. Faint at first, colors gradually deepened and took shape upon the canvas.
Soon, the canvas transformed into a portrait of a person sitting upright. It depicted a young man in formal attire wearing a gentle smile, vividly lifelike upon the canvas.
In the next moment, an even more bizarre thing occurred.
The eyes in the portrait suddenly shifted on their own, turning toward Natalie and Lynch, and the figure's mouth opened and closed as if alive. A low chuckle drifted out from the painting.
“It is an honor to see you both again, Ms. Angel, Mr. Levive.”
The voice carried a relaxed, leisurely tone, as though chatting with old friends of many years.
“Who on earth are you?” Lynch's thoughts raced as he feigned ignorance. “Why are you targeting me, and why are you here?”
“Targeting you? Heh heh, Mr. Levive, I'm afraid you misunderstand. You are hardly worth targeting. You are merely an important prop of mine—as long as you do my bidding, that will suffice.”
“You think I'll work for you?”
“Do you think you haven't been?” The young man's chuckle was laced with mockery and malice.
Lynch pressed his lips together in silence. He had no interest in trading barbs with the viper lurking behind the scenes. After a moment's thought, he sneered, “Officer Natalie, help me destroy the canvas.”
As he spoke, he dashed to the window and looked outside.
Lynch trusted his own judgment. Unless the other party was a master of divination whose foresight was exaggeratedly precise, there was no way they could have known in advance that the two of them would appear here. That meant leaving the frame behind certainly wasn't intended for him and Officer Natalie. In that case, regardless of why the frame had been left, destroying it couldn't go wrong—at the very least, it would thoroughly disgust the person on the other end.
Moreover, since the other party had activated the frame just now, it was very likely that the person they actually intended to meet was about to arrive. This was why Lynch had rushed to the window immediately—and there, he caught sight of a scene that made his eyes blaze with fury.
Several people were emerging from the woods, approaching the cabin.
It was a group of hillmen, and leading them was an emaciated figure with hair as white as frost—the very elder hillman Lynch would never forget.
Rate on N.U.
