In the shadowed depths of the ravine, the cold drizzle finally began to taper off.

  At the site of the massacre, Dorothy sat on the ground, still gasping for air as she stared at Edrick’s lifeless body. It took her a long while before her frantically beating heart began to settle, and when she finally staggered to her feet—her limbs heavy, her bance uncertain—a sudden realization struck her.

  Wait— what happened to his dogs?

  The moment the thought crossed her mind, Dorothy’s fingers instinctively tightened around the revolver in her hands. In her memory, those two grotesque hunting hounds had only been blown away—not killed. And if they decided to rise again and avenge their fallen master, things would turn ugly fast.

  Caught up in the emotional turbulence of firing her first shot—her first kill—she’d completely overlooked this critical detail.

  Dorothy scanned her surroundings warily, eyes sharp, heart tense.

  In the flickering glow of a nearby ntern, she finally spotted the hounds. They y sprawled along the rocky riverbank, not far from where she stood—completely motionless. They weren’t even breathing. To all appearances, they were already corpses.

  Dead? That can’t be… Just from being blown back like that?

  Had the first word of Unrelenting Force—Fus—really been powerful enough to kill those monstrous beasts outright?

  Staring at the grotesque bodies, Dorothy’s heart was filled with suspicion. The hounds' twisted forms were unnerving to look at, and she had no desire to get any closer to confirm it.

  …Forget it for now. What’s more important is figuring out what to do next…

  Seeing that the immediate threat had passed, Dorothy exhaled deeply and sat back down. She picked up the bck parasol that had fallen nearby and opened it above her head to shield herself from the lingering drizzle.

  Her mind drifted.

  This world—so foreign, so antiquated, like something from the 19th century—was still a complete mystery to her. She had been reborn into the body of a young girl who should’ve died in a carriage accident, and now found herself utterly lost and alone.

  New world. New body. And no idea what to do.

  She thought for a while in silence, then eventually settled on a simple course of action:

  Follow the path the original Dorothy had pnned.

  ‘Go to the city… and find Dorothy’s older brother. After all, he’s the only family I have here—the only connection I can trust. That was this little girl’s final wish too…’

  Resting her chin on one hand, Dorothy tried to recall the memories she’d inherited. Her brother had been kind to her when they were younger, always protecting her. Going to him now seemed like the best option—no matter where you were, having a home came first.

  ‘My clothes are soaked… I’m freezing. I need to find a pce to change.’

  ‘If I remember right, the coachman mentioned a town nearby…’

  The cold bit at her skin, hunger gnawed at her stomach. Before she could think about finding her brother in the city, she needed to deal with her most immediate needs. Fortunately, she recalled from her conversation with the coachman that they were close to a town called Vulcan. The carriage had been heading that way before the attack.

  ‘Since the bandits had found a way down from the main road to this riverbank, there must be a path back up.’

  With that thought in mind, Dorothy rested a moment longer and prepared to move—only to suddenly freeze again as another critical issue came to mind.

  ‘I don’t have any money.’

  She needed food. A pce to rest. Dry clothes. But all of that cost money—and she didn’t have a single coin on her.

  Her journey to the city had originally been arranged by Aunt Hannah, who’d asked a merchant caravan to take her along. The money her brother had sent for travel and meals had all been given to the coachman to look after her. But now the caravan was destroyed, the coachman and the other passengers were dead, and the valuables she’d gathered from them had been used as bait—and were now resting at the bottom of the river, along with the bandits who chased them.

  That realization left Dorothy momentarily stunned.

  She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, then let her gaze drift toward the corpse lying not far away.

  ‘That guy… was the leader, right? Surely he has something useful on him…’

  Without hesitation, she picked up a nearby gas mp and walked briskly over to Edrick’s body. By now, she’d already gotten used to searching corpses—she’d done it earlier when collecting valuables to use as bait—so there was no fear in her movements.

  Carefully, she crouched beside the body and began rummaging through his belongings.

  One by one, she id them out on the ground:

  A dagger.

  A deck of pying cards.

  Several paper banknotes.

  A ring of keys…

  Dorothy tucked the useful items into her satchel. But after a moment’s thought, she frowned.

  ‘Did I really search him thoroughly?’

  Feeling unconvinced, she crouched down once more and began to methodically recheck Edrick’s body.

  Her diligence paid off.

  After another few sweeps, she dug out a few additional coins, some rolled-up cigarettes, and a small matchbox. Just as she began to feel confident that she’d looted everything of value, she gnced down at Edrick’s suit and considered something else.

  ‘Hmm... this suit jacket looks pretty decent. I bet I could pawn it for some coin.’

  But as her fingers ran across the fabric, she suddenly paused.

  There was… something odd.

  In the lining of the jacket—hidden within the inner seams—she felt a strange, firm shape. Something like stiff paper.

  ‘Something hidden in the lining? That’s gotta be important… maybe even his secret stash!’

  Eyes lighting up with a flicker of greed and curiosity, Dorothy pulled out her knife without hesitation and sliced open the seam.

  From inside the hidden pocket, she retrieved two thick envelopes.

  ‘Letters? What kind of letter is so important it needs to be sewn into your clothes?’

  Disappointed that it wasn’t a bundle of cash, Dorothy frowned and opened one of the envelopes regardless, pulling out the folded paper within. She held it up to the flickering light of the gas mp and began to read.

  What she saw surprised her even more.

  The letter was written in Prittish, the common nguage of this kingdom—the Pritt Kingdom—and somehow, she could read it perfectly.

  ‘Wait a second. Didn’t I sacrifice all my knowledge of this nguage when I traded for the Dragon Language? How can I still read this?’

  The thought caught her completely off guard. As far as she’d understood, what was sacrificed was gone for good.

  But… was that really how it worked?

  ‘Maybe it’s because knowledge is really just information—something that can be copied. You don’t lose knowledge by teaching it to someone else, right? So maybe I didn’t give up the nguage exactly... I just exchanged the right to learn it in the future for the ability to use Dragon Language now?’

  With that theory, Dorothy let out a breath of relief.

  ‘Good. At least I don’t have to stumble around this world completely illiterate…’

  Her mood noticeably improved, she refocused on the letter.

  The handwriting was neat, the phrasing formal. A typical phonetic script, just as she remembered from the inherited memories.

  But the contents of the letter…

  That caught her completely off guard.

  . . . . . .

  To Mr. Edrick,

  We are honored to have received your correspondence.

  Based on your previous description, we can confirm that the extraordinary item in your possession is known as the Corpse Marionette Ring, a relic capable of animating freshly dead bodies. Using it on animal corpses was an astute decision. We trust it has served you well in asserting your presence in the town of Vulcan.

  That said, we advise discretion. Please take care not to draw the attention of the Serenity Bureau or the Church.

  Regarding your expressed desire to join our organization, we are delighted to hear it. As a gang leader who possesses an extraordinary item, your qualifications are undeniable. We believe your influence in Vulcan will allow our society’s reach to extend even farther.

  We welcome your intent to join us. However, there is one task we must ask you to complete first—a trial of sorts, a special kind of test.

  On the evening of April 8th, a caravan traveling the Violet Road toward Vulcan will be passing through. Aboard this caravan will be a white-haired girl, around thirteen years old, heading for Igwent.

  Capture her.

  Please do not misunderstand. Normally, our entry trials do not involve such acts of abduction. But this is an exceptional situation. The girl is… valuable to us.

  While we would typically handle the matter ourselves, recent activity from the Serenity Bureau has made things difficult. Reports indicate that Hunter squads have been spotted around Vulcan.

  Thus, we cannot afford to make a move ourselves. We are counting on you, Mr. Edrick, to handle this instead. So long as it resembles an ordinary kidnapping—nothing with extraordinary traces—then the Hunters will not interfere.

  Given your experience and precision, we are confident that you can make this look like just another job.

  Of course, we would never ask you to act under the guise of a “test” without compensation. A special reward has already been prepared for you upon completion—something that will propel you a great leap forward in the extraordinary realm. With it, you will hold considerable weight within our society.

  If you accept, send us a reply posthaste. We are certain a man of your vision will not squander this rare opportunity.

  May we soon share a feast at the same table and together savor the gifts of the Great Chalice of Blood.

  Zaztra_Vandesh