“Eight years ago, four members of the Jenkins Family ventured into the depths of the Turbid, including Ashley’s mother—Loran Jenkins, who was ten months pregnant… In the end, only two returned alive: the old butler Lesterdieu and the infant in swaddling clothes… Rewind one year from that, according to investigations, in a certain Isolated Land, a pregnant woman was brutally cut open, and her fetus vanished without a trace. Eyewitnesses spotted members of the Jenkins Family lurking nearby…”
Letisia recounted some of the discoveries from her pursuit of the Jenkins Family remnants.
This was a dark and mysterious family that had made a living from crime for generations. They were no ordinary bandits or thieves—nearly every family member possessed extraordinary abilities. All of them were villains.
It was worth noting that, even among madmen, one armed with a submachine gun and one without were worlds apart in destructive power.
Unlike the sand bandits and robbers roaming the wilderness, the Jenkins Family held legitimate status in the city-state. They confessed to their crimes, stood trial, hired lawyers for defense, but never repented. Once released from prison, they resumed their offenses.
Though spat upon by most, there were still those who colluded with them, scum rising to the surface.
However, Union City’s patience had finally worn thin. People opened their eyes and saw the Jenkins Family for what they truly were—a cancer parasitizing the rule of law.
They enjoyed the city-state’s safety guarantees and infrastructure while refusing to curb their vile and shadowy nature. It was utterly insatiable, like the one person in a huddled group who kept farting nonstop.
Safety, stability, confidence, and connection were the creed of the survivors on this wasteland—and their bottom line.
Of course, rules were paramount; they formed the foundational logic upholding all of Union City. Thus, the Tribunal gathered and submitted sufficient evidence before obtaining approval for the arrest from the Dive Team’s Hundred People Assembly.
Afterward, Letisia swiftly assembled an investigation team, followed by the pursuit and trials.
As the investigation deepened, Letisia discovered that the Jenkins Family’s evident evils were merely the tip of the iceberg. Deeper darkness lurked in the family’s history, like filth hidden in the folds of a carpet’s shag.
This was why she paid such close attention to Ashley.
—
The interrogation of that day had ended, but it was merely the beginning of a protracted battle.
On the way back to her cell, Ashley mentally reviewed the entire interrogation process, pondering if she had revealed any flaws.
She hadn’t intended to provoke Amber. In interrogation psychology, this was a method for establishing personas. Once a persona was set, people tended to act in ways consistent with it—both the interrogator and the interrogated needed one.
So, Ashley seized an opportunity to saddle the other with a “little class monitor” persona, then beat her over the head with it.
Sorry, she said inwardly. This wasn’t the real her. She’d apologize if the chance arose—especially for that line, “You’re jealous of my beauty.” It was so embarrassing her toes curled; she really wanted to bash her head in.
Creak—
The iron bars swung open before her. The room for detaining suspects was reasonably clean and hygienic—no odors or crawling bugs.
Though only six square meters, it was equipped with a bed, a table, and a flush toilet.
Ashley even found a book under the bedding.
Typically, books smuggled in by prisoners were manuals on bodyweight fitness, fighting techniques, or spellcasting materials. But the one she found was a fairy tale collection.
A rainbow arched over green meadows, where a little crocodile and a little giraffe held hands and danced and sang.
This prisoner must have been out of their mind.
She hooked her big toe into her shoe heel and kicked off her shoe, then peeled off her sock with her fingertips, freeing her snowy, soft little foot. She clambered onto the bed with a rustle, turned around, pressed her back against the wall, picked up the book, and read a bit of the bedtime story.
Sleepiness washed over her.
She tossed the book aside.
Her arms crossed in front of her knees, hugging her small body.
Her gaze fell upon her pair of slender feet.
She hadn’t really looked at them properly before.
The toes were delicate, the skin snowy and tender, veins faintly visible beneath, sinking into the bedding where they looked small and pitiable.
You’ve had it rough, huh, you little things carrying me around all bouncy and lively.
Who am I?
I am me…
Her silky hair cascaded from her lowered little head, veiling her expression.
The night was eerily quiet. From other cells came sobs, someone grinding their teeth, someone hawking phlegm. No loud noises, but the fragmented sounds kept everything restless.
Those with frayed nerves might struggle to sleep, but Ashley’s had been tempered like steel wire. Her head tilted, and she slipped into dreamland.
…
…
Crimson flames licked the firewood, crackling and popping.
Firelight filtered through the wrought-iron grate of the fireplace, casting slender, eerie shadows across the worn floorboards.
The faint warmth couldn’t dispel the old house’s chill, dampness, and scent of decay.
The woman lay on the bed, a thin blanket covering her legs, revealing their bony, elongated outlines.
She looked even more haggard, her swollen belly like a stone weighing down her body.
The hem of her nightgown hung loose, exposing a twisted, dark red scar like an earthworm at her navel.
The loli sprawled at the bedside was the only normal element in this grim scene.
Her snow-blue curls resembled rain-faded violets or a solitary jellyfish in the deep sea.
She extended a little finger timidly, placing it on the scar, and asked:
“Aunt Loran, did you used to have a child? Was it a boy or a girl?”
The woman lowered her lash-veiled eyes and murmured darkly, “Have you heard of ‘virgin pregnancy’?”
“I heard the priest talk about it at Mass. The Virgin Mary got pregnant by divine inspiration while still a virgin and gave birth to Jesus.” The gap-toothed loli’s speech whistled through her missing tooth, but her account was concise.
“The truth was nothing like that.” The woman shook her head gently.
The loli’s mouth parted slightly.
“That night, the devil sliced open Mary’s belly and stuffed a demon seed inside.”
The woman’s emotions gradually heightened, her voice turning low and raspy. She grinned, the firelight glinting off her small, sharp teeth with a chilling sheen.
“It was the most twisted and perverse creation in the world—hope, despair, purity, filth, blessing, curse… all fused together. It defiled all that was holy, mocked all authority, denied all meaning. The dark moon rose, the sky split into a void chasm—that was heaven’s wound—and then blood gushed forth…”
The loli lay at the bedside, head cocked as she listened. She seemed casual, her attention drifting now and then to fiddle with her fingers, but she committed it all to memory.
…
…
Whenever she saw Little Cousin’s face in her dreams, Ashley felt an overwhelming sense of peace, even in the darkest, most oppressive ones.
Years had passed since they’d parted, but she clearly remembered the fateful fairy tale Little Cousin had told her at the bedside.
Perhaps because she’d flipped through the fairy tale book before bed, she dreamed once more of Little Cousin reciting that story in her childish, milky voice.
“Little Raccoon Is a Bad Friend”
One day, Little Raccoon invited his friend Little White Rabbit on an outing.
Little Raccoon said, “Dear Rabbit friend, I’ll take you to a great place—the scenery there is amazing.”
Little White Rabbit said, “Okay, okay!”
They passed through the woods, waded a stream, crossed a meadow. Ahead lay a cave, and when they reached the entrance, the Big Bad Wolf jumped out.
It turned out Little Raccoon meant to betray his friend for money—as long as he brought the little animal, the Big Bad Wolf would give him a handsome reward.
But Little White Rabbit reacted faster. “This is the first one—there’ll be more later. Give me the bounty, Mr. Big Bad Wolf.”
Before Little Raccoon could speak, the Big Bad Wolf bit him to death.
