Ambush

Lynch didn't want to put little Martha in danger; he only intended to figure out how she used the message board.

Having been entrusted by Officer Natalie, Lynch had no intention of letting Martha contact Maya at this time; it was simply too dangerous. But with children, forcibly stopping them was useless; he had to use a roundabout approach.

He planned to take little Martha home after she used the message board, then return to leave Maya a message using Donnie's cipher, inviting her to meet and talk.

If Maya agreed to meet, that would be ideal. If not, by using little Martha's contact method, Maya would naturally deem Martha unreliable and cease contact with her. This way, little Martha's safety would be guaranteed regardless, and she wouldn't be involved in such dangerous affairs again.

His plan was well-conceived, but the stench of decay disrupted it.

A very typical ghoul scent.

Was it sewer ghouls? Hillmen ghouls? Or Maya?

With a little analysis, Lynch concluded it wasn't the former two.

The message board was right next to the station square, only six or seven hundred meters from the Watchers' Scarecrow Club. The idle Soul Severer officers almost daily went to the square to buy coffee and pastries to pass the time. Unless the Watchers and the ghouls had reached some agreement, ghouls wouldn't dare to openly stake out the square.

And the chances of the Watchers being compromised... Lynch had never doubted the Watchers; at least, he didn't believe Officer Natalie would deceive him so thoroughly.

Therefore, the one who left the scent was likely Maya herself, unfamiliar with the mystery world.

And this ghoul scent was exceptionally clear; for it to be so noticeable in a densely populated outdoor area, it clearly hadn't been left long.

At most, it was from last night or this morning.

It wasn't even impossible that the person was still nearby.

Perhaps this was the closest he'd been to the female reporter.

Lynch took a deep breath, bent down, and picked up little Martha. Regardless, the little one's safety came first.

Shielding the little girl in his arms, Lynch stood outside the crowd around the message board, like a traveler waiting to leave a message. Surrounded by others with the same intention, he used this as cover to scan his surroundings.

The environment was chaotic.

Foul waste steam billowed from the roadside sewers, and the roar of passing trains echoed from the long, dark tunnels, like the growl of a monster.

Not far away was the train station entrance, with a constant flow of passengers entering and exiting. People dragged their suitcases over the stone bricks at the station's threshold.

On one side of the entrance was an open-air rest area, where many well-dressed gentlemen and ladies rested at round tables. Around the rest area were several stalls selling coffee and pastries, with long queues stretching out of sight.

Several vagrants leaned against the station wall, sunbathing and picking lice, their dirty luggage piled beside them, looking quite at ease.

On the other side of the entrance was the message board, surrounded by a large, bustling, noisy crowd.

Everything was as it usually was every day.

No, he couldn't find anyone.

Without professional training and a specific target, it was difficult to find a suspicious person among the countless faces around him.

Lynch felt a bit irritable, but then he reconsidered. She had been in hiding, and her sudden appearance in a crowded place like the train station likely meant she was there to check the message board. This implied she was also waiting for someone to contact her. Given that she had previously sent photos via little Martha, the person she hoped to connect with was probably Martha, expecting a reply or further assistance.

Then I shouldn't rush. If she's not nearby, I'll stick to the original plan. If she is, and Martha and I aren't disguised, she'll definitely see us. I might not recognize her, but she'll recognize Martha and shouldn't miss this opportunity.

I just need to wait for her to contact me.

Lynch took a deep breath to calm his thoughts, then slowly squeezed into the crowd around the message board with the girl in his arms. Only when surrounded by people did Lynch lean in and whisper to her.

“Listen, I know you want to contact your reporter sister, but she's in serious trouble lately. Remember, you shouldn't be in danger when leaving a message, but if anything unexpected happens, hold onto me tightly. Never let go of me, and don't run away. I'll do my best to protect you. If we really get separated, go straight to the Scarecrow Club and find Aunt Natalie, understand?”

Little Martha nodded, seemingly understanding yet not quite.

Lynch patted her head, then squeezed with her to the message board, watching her pick up a piece of chalk and begin to write her message.

As Martha wrote, Lynch continued to scan his surroundings. As he watched, he suddenly realized something was off.

Someone was watching this place, and there were quite a few of them.

At the coffee tables, two gentlemen held their coffee cups, not taking a single sip, yet their gazes occasionally drifted over. Their eyes were unfocused, with no clear target, likely watching the entire vicinity of the message board.

Next to the station entrance, an odd-job porter was smoking in the shade, but he rolled and lit a cigarette without taking a single puff, letting it burn down while furtively watching the message board.

And a hired carriage waiting for customers not far away—the coachman had already refused two sets of inquiries, his hat pulled low to obscure his eyes, but his face remained turned toward them.

These people definitely had something going on. The more Lynch watched, the more alarmed he became. Fortunately, his and Martha's actions were no different from anyone else's, not drawing attention, which reassured him slightly.

Were they staking it out? Who were they?

They were all human, with no ghoul characteristics, and mostly ordinary people. Were they setting up such an overt stakeout right on the Watchers' doorstep?

Hmph, they were probably Rangers and Hall of Order police.

Lynch realized he had overlooked something: if he could smell the stench of decay, others certainly could too. If he could link it to Maya, others would naturally make the connection even more easily. The Rangers were already looking for Maya, so it wasn't strange for them to track her by scent.

No, if Maya fell into their hands and they handed her over to the ghouls, that would be trouble.

Scratch, scratch.

The sound of chalk stopped.

He looked closely and saw that after some scribbling, a line of text had been added to the message board.

“XYZ: 6 pies, 8:00.”

The inexplicable message, inconspicuous among the board full of notes, suggested that the female reporter was always this cautious, even with her informants.

“Don't make a strange face, write another sentence,” Lynch whispered. “Ambush, flee.”

Little Martha's body stiffened abruptly, her breathing quickened, but she maintained her innocent expression. She turned back to the blackboard, erased the final 8:00, changed it to 24:00, and added three exclamation marks.

Just as she was making the changes, Lynch suddenly caught another stench.

It wasn't the smell of decaying flesh, but a very murky odor, like that of a garbage heap and a sewer.

Then, he felt something touching his pocket from behind, unable to discern if someone was pickpocketing him or slipping something in.

Lynch instantly realized: only stench could mask stench.

The only way for a person reeking of decay to go unnoticed was to blend in with things that already smelled foul.

Like the dirty, disheveled vagrants.

He glanced towards the station entrance. Unbeknownst to him, the number of vagrants had dwindled, and the person behind him suddenly stopped moving.

Because little Martha had finished her edits.

“Flee quickly, go to the Scarecrow Club for help.”

Lynch whispered without a trace, and the movement behind him ceased abruptly. Then, the sound of someone leaving echoed, and the few watchers nearby also made their move, converging on them.