Pursuers

Behind him was a thin vagrant, draped from head to toe in dirty, tattered fabric. The person reeked, as if they had just been dug out of a garbage pile that had been rotting for weeks.

The ragged cloth and wrapping obscured any features. All one could see was a hand clutching a bedroll, while the other gripped a one-pound banknote, crumpled and tightly held, with one corner poking out from between the fingers.

Whether it was because they heard Lynch's warning, the vagrant turned and bolted without a backward glance.

Ragged vagrants were not an uncommon sight in Rhine City, but this person's stench exceeded the tolerance of the local gentlemen and ladies, drawing a chorus of curses from those nearby. Seeing the figure approach, the surrounding crowd instinctively shifted, creating a path for them while simultaneously blocking gaps in other directions.

It must be her. Maya.

I have finally found her.

Lynch felt a surge of excitement. He quickly scanned the surroundings and noticed that the stalkers from earlier were pushing through the pedestrians, chasing after the vagrant.

This is bad. She is about to be caught.

Lynch’s eyes darted around. Just then, a middle-aged woman was shoved over by one of the stalkers, and a man's howl erupted from that direction: "Ah! Why are you hitting people? Everyone look, someone is attacking people in public!"

People immediately swarmed over. Although the obstruction lasted only a second or two, it broke the perimeter. The vagrant slipped through the crowd like a sea snake, vanishing into the throng.

I cannot let this go. I have to follow and see.

Worried about potential ambushes, Lynch hugged little Martha tight and prepared to follow, but before he could take a step, he felt the little girl’s hands grip his shoulder firmly. She leaned toward his ear.

"That is not her."

Hmm? Lynch froze before he had even started.

"That is not the reporter sister. I do not recognize that person."

Lynch immediately realized that the banknote in the person's hand suggested they were likely just an ordinary vagrant hired temporarily as a decoy.

However, since she had already used a decoy to lure the stalkers away, the next step...

He looked around immediately, and sure enough, another thin figure dressed as a vagrant was hiding at the corner of a building, beckoning to him and Martha.

This one must be the real one, not just another vagrant.

He nudged Martha to signal her to identify the person, then Lynch looked toward the vagrants at the train station entrance.

Hmm? It seemed they had fled due to the commotion, and now they were nowhere to be seen.

Lynch frowned, not dwelling on it. Seeing little Martha nod excitedly, he checked his surroundings to ensure no one was watching, then walked quickly toward the corner of the building.

It was not so much a corner as a narrow, dark gap between two sections of the station building. It was barely half a meter wide, cluttered with debris, and filthy.

Lynch carried the girl along the street, walked right up to the gap, but walked straight past it, only to suddenly spin around and return after a few steps.

The square was still chaotic. The stalkers were chasing the fleeing decoy into the distance, and some confused blue uniforms were maintaining order in the square, but there was no sign of anyone tailing them.

This should be fine, right? Lynch had only learned this much about counter-surveillance from films. Although he still felt a bit uneasy, he gripped his cane and ducked into the gap.

A figure stood in the shadows of the crevice, petite and dressed in dirty, ragged clothing. A flat cap covered their eyes, and they were wrapped tightly in a scarf. They radiated the same stench of garbage, which effectively masked the smell of rot.

Seeing someone enter, the figure shrank back into the darkness before a female voice spoke: "Martha?"

"Reporter sister? Why do you look like this?" little Martha asked, her face full of confusion.

"Who is he?"

"This is Uncle Lynch, he..."

"Let us go first. We can talk after we leave. There is an ambush."

Lynch cut the two women's reunion short. He pressed against the entrance of the gap to listen, then poked his head out to look. The stalkers had already moved far away, and the square had returned to peace, but for some reason, Lynch still felt as if he were being watched.

"This way, if we go through here, it leads to the tracks. Follow me."

The reporter pulled her flat cap down to cover her face and headed deeper into the gap. Only after seeing Lynch follow closely with Martha did she whisper:

"Who exactly are you?"

"Someone who wants to help you. People have been chasing you for days... your problem is very serious and must be resolved as soon as possible."

Lynch explained the events of the past few days using the simplest language possible while following the reporter through the dim gap. Looking down, he saw little Martha huddled in his arms, her bright blue eyes blinking up at him, her face filled with surprise and admiration. He pinched her cheek affectionately and leaned against the exit of the gap, peering outside with the reporter:

"I came today to contact you and arrange a place to meet and talk in detail. Believe me, I really want to help you, but not now. I must take little Martha back first. You should know how bizarre this is; for an ordinary person, it is fatal. Martha, be quiet. Think about your mother. Leave the rest to me; I promise I will do my best to help your reporter sister."

The reporter was clearly hesitant, but after looking at little Martha, she nodded: "Follow me. I will tell you where to find me."

Outside was the other side of the station, with four long platforms holding several cargo trains loaded to the brim. Workers were sweating profusely as they shoveled coal into the carriages. Seven or eight long railway tracks extended from the platforms, stretching off into the distance.

There were many workers moving about, but the reporter waved at Lynch, quietly avoiding the workers' gaze as she slipped through the connections between the carriages. She then followed a rusty set of tracks deep into the station. In a desolate, empty area, several abandoned carriages covered in weeds lay scattered about.

A carriage graveyard, where the train station dumped its discarded stock.

"Vagrants stay here at night, but there are few people during the day. I have been living here for the past two days since I left the cabin. It should be safe."

The reporter looked back once more. Behind them were the open railway tracks, and the environment was completely visible. Confirming that no one was tailing them, she let out a sigh of relief and was the first to duck into one of the carriages.

The long carriage felt much more luxurious than the ones from his past life, filled with booth seats made of long sofas, some of which showed signs of having been lived in.

"I do not know why you want to help me, just as I do not know what has happened to me. But I know you must have an objective, and I can probably guess some of it. Listen, I inadvertently spied on Grant from the House of Commons conspiring with a group of monsters. They mentioned a strange name, called Mor... well, I will not mention it for now. Regardless, I assume you are looking for me because of this. You are right, I do know the details, but I cannot explain it in a few sentences. If you want the full intelligence, you must return to help me through this predicament after you send her away."

"Why not go to the police? With your profession, you should know that besides the Rangers, there are also the Watchers. Do you not trust them?"

The reporter did not answer, merely pointing at Martha. Disregarding Martha's protests, Lynch instinctively covered the little girl's eyes. Only then did the reporter lift her cap and pull down her scarf.

Her features were unrecognizable. Her eyes were murky and dark red, and the skin on her face had turned into something resembling rubber. Her mouth was split to the corners of her ears, revealing shark-like, sharp teeth inside. It was bone-chilling to behold.

Fortunately, he had seen the photos earlier, so Lynch did not suffer a mental breakdown, but he still felt a chill in his heart and sighed softly.

The reporter pulled her scarf back up, led the two through the long carriage, and jumped off from the other end. The three circled through the messy, abandoned carriages and quickly arrived under the outer wall of the train station. Once they climbed over the wall, they were out of the station grounds, and directly across from them was a normal street in the Cross District.

"You must come back to help me after you send her away," the reporter's voice suddenly turned choked with sobs. "I do not want to be like this forever. Even if I am to die, I want to change back before I do."

"I will return. I promise."

"Mm..."

However, before the words had faded, a jarring sound of metal grinding against metal suddenly came from behind them. The sound was a bit distant, seemingly coming from where the reporter had just been hiding.

The three of them immediately hid behind the nearest abandoned carriage to carefully observe. On top of the metal carriage, four sharp claws suddenly protruded. Like a hot knife cutting through butter, the claws easily sliced open the metal shell, traced a circle along the exterior, and ripped the carriage in two.

Behind the carriage stood a humanoid monster nearly three meters tall, almost identical to the ones in the photos. The monster was draped in torn, tattered clothing, and behind it followed several vagrants—the very ones who had disappeared from the station entrance earlier. Some of their bodies had already begun to swell, with sharp claws sprouting from their hands.

These monsters surrounded the empty carriage, letting out low, angry roars.

Damn it, the ghouls followed us here too.