“What kind of ghost was that?”
Ashley frowned and pulled back a bit farther.
Though it looked like a shadow, the fact that it fit inside a snail shell meant it had a physical form.
She fetched a glass bottle, aligned the shell’s opening, and gave it a light tap. A lump of black substance dropped out.
The thing resembled a sea cucumber with eyes, slowly wriggling inside the bottle.
The inspector carefully stepped aside. He had undergone training and knew better than to get too close to these eerie things as an ordinary person.
Amber obediently stood beyond the warning line. Though she shared a close relationship with Ashley, she had no desire to undermine the chain of command and wouldn’t enter the scene without orders.
Senya, unable to contain her eagerness to show off, crossed the yellow line without permission and walked up to Ashley’s side.
“The incident happened at two in the morning, and only seven hours have passed. We should immediately pursue the Egret House boss!”
“Inspector Chasel is already handling that,” Ashley replied. “The police are thoroughly searching all ships leaving Card Court Town. Beyond the city walls lies open wilderness with few places to hide. Anyone leaving town would be spotted by the sentries on the clock tower.”
The inspector nodded repeatedly. He had initially been wary of the blue-haired loli’s youth, but her words aligned perfectly with his own thoughts and actions, fostering an inexplicable sense of rapport that greatly boosted his trust in her.
Senya was momentarily at a loss for words, realizing she had overstepped.
Ashley pondered briefly before speculating, “If we can’t find her in town, there are two possibilities: either accomplices are hiding her, or she’s in disguise. I lean toward the former. Inspector Chasel said nothing suspicious was found at the Egret House boss’s lodgings. So where did she store the black shadows she stripped from the diners’ brains?”
“How do you know this stuff was stripped from brains?” Senya asked, puzzled.
“Look—her ability is dissipating.”
Ashley picked up an uneaten salt-baked snail. The snail meat and seasonings filling the shell gradually faded and vanished, leaving only the empty shell.
“The shadow substance only exists in shells that the diners ate from. Uneaten baked snails have nothing but the illusory manifestation of the supernatural power. Clearly, once the manifestation enters the body, it displaces the brain and forces out some kind of substance. This is likely an ability for excreting personality.”
“I think you’re right. After dissipation, only ordinary snail shells remain, which matches the traits of a supernatural ability,” Roy said as he leaned in to observe, voicing his agreement.
Senya, who had intended to compete, was left speechless by how quickly Ashley had gathered information and reasoned it out. Still, a trace of unwillingness lingered in her heart.
Senya had been transferred from Vortax and knew nothing of this highly controversial loli’s many exploits; otherwise, she wouldn’t have entertained such thoughts.
“If the enemy’s ability directly manifested food, there’d be no need for snail shells as carriers. I suspect this power requires a ‘container’ to activate.”
Ashley’s eyes sharpened as she declared loudly, “Commit this order to memory! From now on, absolutely no consuming food from vessels! All food and water entering the mouth must first be measured for supernatural fluctuations!”
The four team members straightened up, nodding solemnly.
Ashley walked to the bar counter, her gaze falling on two overlapping Spade A metal badges.
She picked them up and rubbed them between her fingers, producing a crisp clacking sound.
She remembered that during the hunt for the Shriek Devil Crow, two guys with numbered badges had ambushed her. They had even killed children, sniping from afar with ruthless precision—clear evidence of the organization’s brutal style.
Judging by the card rank, Spade A had to be a high-ranking member.
This non-familial organization, united by an unknown purpose, was known as the Secret Alliance.
The snail shells from the restaurant were collected, yielding a total of thirty-two portions of shadow substance in eight different colors.
The red ones were the most active, darting about like little fish in their bottles, while the black ones remained the most inert, always slowly wriggling.
Ashley stared at the glass bottles, lost in thought.
“Hit a wall? Tell us about it,” Amber said, noticing her prolonged silence.
“These ‘personality excretions’ aren’t manifestations of her ability, so the trail ends here… I’ve never heard of a power this incomplete, like processing half-finished goods,” Ashley said with a frown.
“Maybe an ancient relic?”
“Relics are all documented. A new relic appearing would mean the tech to create them has been salvaged—and that would be even more absurd,” Ashley replied with a smile.
“That’s true…”
“Perhaps we don’t understand this world well enough yet. Some counterintuitive abilities might emerge.”
Ashley left the scene and stood on the street for a while, watching the bustling crowds as her mind raced.
Typically, a venue run by a high-ranking Secret Alliance member served as a base.
Egret House had been open for three years, and as a senior cadre, Spade A couldn’t have stayed there the whole time. At minimum, someone rotated shifts with her to keep the base operational, plus a scout for vigilance and intelligence—meaning at least three accomplices.
That scout might even be embedded in the police station. Any officer who joined within the last three years was suspect.
Raised in an extremely vicious family, Ashley had absorbed criminal psychology from birth—far beyond what a half-baked novice like Senya could match.
She then considered that Card Court Town spanned only two or three blocks, and no one matching the body type had been found yet. She was likely hiding in one of the flower boats along the shore.
But those places were packed like sardine cans, with depraved parties where it was impossible to tell whose head or feet belonged to whom amid the piles of flesh—making searches difficult.
The Star Chain couldn’t make out faces; it wasn’t street surveillance. In crowds, blending in was like a fish in the sea.
Ashley wasn’t in a hurry. Spotting the metal badge had made her realize her opponent was a secret organization; she wouldn’t act rashly without sufficient intel.
By evening, though no leads had surfaced, wanted posters with Spade A’s likeness were already posted everywhere.
The town’s walls were lit by spaced-out lamps; scaling them would surely be spotted.
The Seventh Group checked into an inn.
Purchased food was laid out on a large oilcloth, juices mingling in a sopping mess.
Only after measuring for supernatural fluctuations did they begin eating.
Is the captain being too cautious? Senya grumbled inwardly. That woman couldn’t even escape the police pursuit—how could she possibly attack the Tribunal’s investigation team? This isn’t caution; it’s paranoia.
“Does the captain mean the enemy might launch a night raid? Should we all hole up in one room and take turns on watch?” Senya’s tone carried a hint of sarcasm.
“No—everyone in separate rooms, spread out,” Ashley shook her head.
She sketched a 3D diagram of the inn on paper, selecting five non-adjacent rooms across floors and assigning them to the team members one by one.
After dinner, Senya took her key and entered her room.
The furnishings were simple: a vanity and chest of drawers to the right of the entrance, a bed farther in, a leather trunk at the foot for luggage, and a large brown circular wool rug under the bed.
Competitive spirit flaring again, Senya decided to rise two hours early and investigate the town alone.
With her abilities and experience, she was sure to uncover something—and she wouldn’t let a younger girl look down on her.
Early to bed for an early rise; Senya wasted no time, tied up her hair, lay down, and quickly fell asleep.
…
In the dead of night, Senya woke in a daze. She checked her pocket watch; it was still early for the set alarm.
Her lower abdomen felt bloated. She lit the candlestick, picked it up, and headed for the bathroom on that floor.
The door creaked shut behind her. Senya froze, glancing back in confusion. She hadn’t even reached for it yet. The long, shrill sound sent an inexplicable chill down her spine.
The candlelight dimmed, casting a pallid glow that drained color from everything, as if it weren’t the mortal realm. The wooden floor and walls, aged and decayed, cracked and warped, with countless illusory, indifferent eyes peering from the fissures.
