The Dead Tide Is Coming

The sharp alarm of the instrument cut through the silence.

Several nun caregivers who had been on standby at the nurse station immediately pushed open the door and entered the patient room.

After a series of methodical checks, the alarm was silenced, and the room returned to a quiet state.

“Want to go in and see her?” Cecil turned to Elias, who was still standing in the corridor, and suggested.

Hearing this, Elias felt as if his feet were nailed to the floor.

He stood there dazed, his mood—which had briefly lightened after successfully resolving the issue of the pendulum’s ownership—plummeting instantly.

“Better not.” Elias shook his head, his voice sounding somewhat dry.

He walked to the door of the room and peered through the small, narrow glass window.

His gaze passed through the busy caregivers.

He saw Charlotte lying on the bed, her eyes open but glazed with confusion.

She looked at the unfamiliar surroundings and the caregivers in their monastic habits, her gaze filled with the helplessness and bewilderment of someone who had just woken up.

She seemed to be asking the caregivers where she was; he could see their lips moving.

Just as Charlotte turned her gaze and was about to look toward the door, Elias jerked back.

Like a thief caught in the act, he scrambled to avoid his sister’s sight.

At this moment, the nameless sense of contradiction in Elias’s heart reached its peak.

It was as if two distinct forces were tearing at the depths of his soul.

Originally, he had been adamant about not letting Charlotte step into this supernatural world filled with madness and despair.

Even if this world had gods and power, in his eyes, it was more like a cursed abyss.

He only wanted his sister to be like any ordinary girl, studying and graduating peacefully from Galloway Women’s College.

However, man proposes, but God disposes.

He never expected that Charlotte and Victoria would chase him all the way to the Lily of the Valley Convent in that manner.

Actually, if he thought about it calmly, he should have realized it long ago.

Given the extraordinary sensitivity to spiritual bodies Charlotte had displayed before, as long as he stayed in Hope County for even one day, and as long as Ms. Cecil, an agent of the Seventh Agency, remained in this city investigating supernatural cases, Charlotte would eventually encounter some kind of supernatural event, whether by choice or by force.

But he had been clinging to wishful thinking.

He had felt that as long as he settled the matters in Hope County quickly, he could return to Moon Bay to report, and Cecil would return to Landon.

Then, this mess would no longer affect Charlotte.

But he was wrong. Dead wrong.

What had happened tonight was like a heavy hammer, completely shattering the self-hypnosis Elias had maintained.

He had always told himself: I am just a transmigrator. Arthur and Charlotte are not my real family. As long as I fulfill the obligations I promised the original owner—sending some money every month and not actively bringing trouble to them—that would be enough.

But the problem was that while memories could deceive and logic could be a facade, the body’s instincts and emotions could not lie.

The feelings Arthur and Charlotte had for him were real. The hugs when they met, that heartfelt concern... no matter how much he, as Jiang Huan, denied it in his mind, he could truly feel that blood-is-thicker-than-water bond.

This was the sincerity that many people in his previous life spent their entire lives searching for in that cold steel jungle. A sincerity called family.

Subconsciously, he had begun to treat these two with sincerity as well.

That was why he had fought so hard to keep Charlotte outside the doors of the supernatural world.

And the result? Precisely because of his concealment and self-righteous protection, tonight’s tragedy had been precipitated.

It had led to him having to personally pour that spirit vision potion down her throat to save her life.

He had personally pushed her into the abyss known as the supernatural.

The cycle of cause and effect was nothing more than this.

Therefore, when Cecil invited him to see Charlotte, he hesitated and retreated.

For a moment, he didn't know what face to show his sister now that she was awake.

Should he walk in and tell her, “Hi, Charlotte, actually I’ve been lying to you. I’m actually a transcendent, and I deal with monsters every day. But I did it to protect you, so to save your life, I just forced you to drink a potion that will let you see ghosts. Welcome to the truly mad side of this world”?

That would be too cruel.

For an ordinary girl who had just been pulled back from the brink of death, it would be no different from a second mental murder.

So, if possible, he wanted to wait.

Wait until he had thought of a gentle enough lie, or until he had processed all of this himself.

“I’m leaving now,” Elias said, leaning against the cold wall, his voice raspy.

He turned away somewhat awkwardly and walked toward the exit of the corridor, his steps slightly unsteady.

“Hey!” Cecil called out to him from behind. She looked at his lonely back and frowned slightly. “Have you thought this through? You worked so hard to save her, are you really not going in to see her?”

Elias stopped in the shadows of the corridor exit. “No.”

He didn't look back, only waving his hand tiredly. “Remember to keep your promise.”

“I said that as long as you don’t harm this country, I will protect your family,” Cecil’s voice came from behind, filled with unwavering determination.

“I will also do my best to help you,” Elias replied in a low voice.

“Good.” Cecil’s response was curt, without any unnecessary words.

Elias took a deep breath and prepared to leave. But before going, he couldn't help himself. He hesitated for a moment and turned his head. The dim yellow lights of the corridor hit his face, casting it in half-light and half-shadow. “About Finn...” Elias’s voice was very low, tinged with guilt. “I’m sorry.”

He was referring to the fact that he had to use Finn’s body to blow up the mountain of flesh.

“That wasn't your responsibility,” Cecil’s voice echoed in the empty corridor, calm and restrained. “As investigators of the Seventh Agency, we are prepared for any outcome from the day we swear our oaths. He died in the line of duty.”

Elias nodded silently, said no more, and turned to disappear at the end of the long corridor.

...

Inside the room, Charlotte leaned against the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

As her consciousness gradually cleared, she felt as if she had missed something extremely important.

Faced with the caregiver currently taking her temperature, her mind was still filled with confusion and a sense of trance.

She struggled to piece together the fragmented images in her mind.

She only remembered that she and Victoria had been infected by some kind of dark green gas outside the Lily of the Valley Convent.

Then... as she tried to save Victoria, who was lying in a pool of blood, her vision began to blur.

In the final second before completely losing consciousness, she seemed to see her mother.

The mother who had died of illness in her childhood memories was right there in front of her.

Then, she had lost consciousness, falling into a bottomless darkness.

Until she was woken up once again by that familiar and gentle voice.

“Mama...” she murmured in her dream.

In the dream, “Mama” took her hand and led her to a strange place.

She stood before a massive network she had seen in her dreams before, one that emitted a faint blue glow.

That network was boundless, and every thread flowed with a mysterious power.

In the center of the network sat a massive tower, around which all the blue threads seemed to be arranged.

“Mama” stopped, turned her head, and her blurred face wore a compassionate smile.

She gently stroked Charlotte’s hair and told her, “The time has come. Go, my child.”

As those words fell, Charlotte felt as if she had passed through a water membrane.

Then, she arrived directly inside this tower.

The interior was magnificent and vast, with walls covered in runes she couldn't understand.

Tiers of stairs spiraled toward the very top of the tower.

In the center of the hall lay countless ancient parchment scrolls and books as thick as bricks.

The air was filled with a peculiar scent. It was like a library.

While Charlotte was looking around in a daze, a raspy, unpleasant voice—like nails scratching a blackboard—abruptly sounded from behind her.

“Here! Here.”

Charlotte jumped. She looked toward the source of the voice.

At the top of a row of towering bookshelves, she realized it wasn't a person.

It was a pitch-black crow with ruffled feathers.

It was perched on a ruined silver candlestick that looked like it might tip over at any moment.

The crow stared down at her, its black eyes flashing with an eerie light.

It opened its sharp beak and, in that bone-chilling voice, repeated the same words over and over.

“The Dead Tide is coming!”

“The Dead Tide is coming!”