"This won’t take long," said Wichasha, the Hupa chief, as he held the red cloth above Meirin’s head.
’Huh...?’
Meirin, who had squeezed her eyes shut, cautiously peeked them open. She had expected him to strangle her or blindfold her, but instead, he draped the cloth over her shoulders. It settled around her, falling just below her chest. It was just an apron, red with a cartoon carrot printed on it.
’Ehh???’
A dining table was suddenly slid in front of her. A massive, steaming roasted turkey was set down, followed by an array of fried dishes and mushroom soup.
"I command you to untie her," Wichasha ordered.
A burly man stepped behind her and cut the ropes binding her hands. The ones on her legs and waist, however, remained.
’Click!’
Dick, still dazed from the neurotoxin, was placed in another chair, and a similar feast was laid out before him.
"Please, eat comfortably!" the men declared, bowing deeply.
The atmosphere in the room shifted. The unfamiliar but clear sound of flutes and drums—what must have been traditional Hupa instruments—began to play. Two shirtless men flanked her, gently fanning her with large leaves.
Meirin stared, dumbfounded, before finally erupting. "What the hell do you think you’re doing!"
"We have one condition," Wichasha stated calmly. "That you two remain here for just one day."
"Um..."
"We will not harm you or threaten your safety. Our methods may be clumsy, but we will do our best to make you comfortable during your stay."
Meirin let out a derisive snort. "This is some next-level insanity. It doesn’t matter if you feed us or fan us, this is still a kidnapping! Did you really think you could imprison people like this and get away with it?"
"I know," Wichasha said, nodding as he approached. The sight of his rippling muscles and prominently displayed nipples made Meirin look away in disgust. "We have kidnapped Kizen students. It is our duty to accept the consequences. However, we have merely stated our demand. As long as you do not attempt to escape, we will not threaten your safety, I say."
Meirin crossed her arms. Her expression remained cold and cynical, but she was at least willing to talk. "Fine. Let’s hear it. Why are you keeping us here?"
Wichasha held up a hand. "I will answer that question. But first, I ask that you eat. The food is getting cold."
In the distance, she saw two muscular men in red aprons stirring pots. When they caught her eye, they gave her a thumbs-up. "We worked hard to prepare..."
"Go die, you perverts," Meirin snapped.
The two chefs hung their heads in dejection.
"Eura and Hake are soft-hearted," Wichasha said with a sigh.
"I don’t give a damn! And why should I eat anything made by those nipple freaks? You could have poisoned it!"
"If we intended to poison you, we would have already forced it upon you, I say. But that is not our way."
"I don’t care what you say, I’m not eating a single bi—!"
Right on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly. Meirin’s face burned with humiliation. ’Aaaargh, this is so mortifying! Why now, of all times?!’
Wichasha gave a knowing smile. "It appears you have not eaten since you woke this morning, I point out."
"... Ugh!" Her face twisted with a mixture of shame and fury.
"I will say it again: we are not the kind of trash who would tamper with food. If you do not eat it, it will be thrown away. The choice is yours."
"Um..."
Meirin was torn. Of course, she shouldn’t eat food given to her by kidnappers. But... this was just her being stubborn. And he was right; if they wanted to poison her, they would have done it already. As a captive, she had no real choice. The best strategy was to play along, act docile, and then, when they let their guard down, strike.
This was a purely tactical decision, she told herself. It definitely wasn’t because she was starving.
Lost in thought, Meirin finally picked up her fork and gently pressed it into the flesh of the enormous turkey before her. The fork sank into the tender meat as if it were cheese, releasing a gush of savory juices. She broke off a piece, lifted it to her lips, and took a bite.
Her pupils dilated.
’Damn it all. My pride is taking a hit, but this is fucking delicious. It’s just like that barbecue I had at Professor Hongfeng’s house last semester.’
The fork in her hand trembled as she silently tore off another piece. Wichasha nodded, a hint of a smile on his face.
"I’m glad it suits your taste."
"Oh, shut up!" she snapped. "But it ’is’ delicious!"
At her words, the two men in aprons who had prepared the meal beamed and slapped their hands together in a high-five. Wichasha’s smile widened with satisfaction.
"Eura and Hakeh are suckers for a compliment."
"I don’t need to know that!"
The sky was growing darker. Simon and Kamibarez ran through the streets, pushing themselves until their limbs ached and their lungs burned.
"Let’s split up," Simon suggested, catching his breath. "We’ll cover more ground that way."
Kamibarez nodded in agreement. "That’s a good idea! But how will we let each other know if we find them?"
"Just a moment."
Simon opened his Subspace and retrieved the lantern-making kits from the previous day. There were still two left. Having made them several times already, he assembled them with practiced ease. After quickly finishing both, he handed one to Kamibarez.
"We still have some time before the Thousand Lights festival begins. Whoever finds them first will release their lantern. And..."
Next, Simon pulled Dick’s music box from his pocket. It was the same one he had used to distract the zombies in Deathland, which Dick had later modified specifically for that purpose. He had proudly called it his "latest hit" while they were drinking the night before, gifting one to each of them.
"Whoever finds them first will release the lantern and hang the music box from it. The sound will be our signal."
"Okay!"
With their plan set, the two split up, scouring every corner of Langestin and questioning anyone they passed.
’So many men in robes walked away, but there are strangely few witnesses,’ Simon mused. ’They must be somewhere close to the clock tower inn. A hidden place, away from prying eyes.’
He began to focus his search on the city’s narrow, maze-like alleys.
’Huh, isn’t that the old woman from before?’
As he entered a slum alley crowded with rickety shacks, he saw her—the woman with eyes of pure white and a face half-twisted into a grotesque mask. It was the same crone who had been muttering about a spirit of disease when he and Kamibarez had passed by earlier. She was prostrated on the ground, whispering to herself.
Simon approached cautiously. "Um, excuse me."
She continued to mumble strange words before her head snapped up. "The rats are gone."
"Pardon?"
"All the rats in the city have vanished. The bugs, the crows... all of them."
Simon crouched down to her level. "Why would they disappear?"
"They have answered the call of the Spirit of Disease," she rasped, her voice suddenly sharpening into a shriek. "The spirit is angry! Tonight, another will die in this city!"
’Another murder?’ Simon’s expression grew grim.
"Do you know where I might find this Spirit of Disease?"
"The spirit is—!"
She broke off with a sudden gasp, clamping her mouth shut.
"It’s here! It’s here! The spirit has come!" the old woman shrieked before scrambling into her shack and slamming the door with a loud bang.
Simon stood his ground, watching as the swarm rushed toward him.
They had approached with such frightening speed that he’d braced himself for them to crawl over him, but the insects parted around him, a river of chitin and legs that flowed precisely around his form before continuing on. He followed them, keeping a slight distance.
’Where are they going?’
The swarm led him deeper into the increasingly narrow and dark alleys.
Startled, Simon spun around. The wall of a wooden house shattered outward, and a wave of black rats surged from within, lifting him off his feet. With the force of a torrent, the swarm carried him down the alley before flinging him through the air.
"Whoa."
He landed nimbly on his feet. The rats scattered into the shadows, and Simon took in his surroundings. He was in the deepest part of the slums, a dark hollow filled with semi-basement buildings. He had been deposited directly in front of a tavern.
’Are they telling me to go in?’
Steeling himself, Simon pushed open the tavern door and stepped inside.
"Excuse me... Ugh!"
The pungent stench of stale liquor assaulted him. Several patrons were sprawled across the tables and floor, lost in a drunken stupor. The man who appeared to be the owner was passed out behind the bar, his face a blotchy red. Amid the motionless bodies, a single figure sat upright in the center of the room.
It was a woman, and she was chugging alcohol from an entire keg, holding it aloft with one hand as if it weighed nothing. Her throat bobbed rhythmically. Her legs were spread wide, her bare feet propped up on the table.
’Who... Who is she?’
He thought he had met every eccentric character the world had to offer during his time at Kizen, but none of them compared to this woman. Her grayish-brown hair was a spiky, tangled mess, and two pointed ears, like an animal’s, poked out from within it. She was draped in what could barely be called clothing—a collection of rags wound around her body like bandages, covered in grime and stains.
What on earth was she? How long had it been since she’d last washed? She seemed more like a wild beast than a person, like a feral child from a fairy tale, raised by wolves and now all grown up. A wildling, in the truest sense of the word.
Yet, she didn’t carry the unpleasant odor of the unwashed. Instead, a sharp, dangerous chemical smell stung his nostrils.
"You."
Having finally drained the keg, she slammed it onto the floor and grinned. Her teeth were jagged and triangular, like a shark’s.
"You’re the brat named Simon Polentia. Right?"
’She knows me.’ Simon’s posture tensed.
"Who are you?"
"Rude. Answering a question with a question?" she sneered.
She casually extended a hand, and a crow swooped down, dropping a bottle of liquor into her waiting grasp. She popped the cork with her bare thumb and immediately brought it to her lips.
She drank in silence. After effortlessly finishing the bottle, she let out a satisfied roar and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
’Come to think of it...’ Simon’s eyes narrowed. ’She looks vaguely familiar.’
"Anyway, you’re a Kizen first-year, right?"
"Ah, yes! That’s correct."
She rested an arm on the armrest of her chair and chuckled.
"Then you know Hongfeng? I’m her twin sister."
Simon’s eyes widened. ’No wonder she looked familiar!’ Her aura, clothes, and speech were utterly different, but their facial features were undeniably similar. She was like a feral version of Hongfeng.
"Th-Then what is Hongfeng’s sister doing here...?"
"My name is Byulya Toon Soqum Marlat." Her shark-like teeth glinted as she grinned. "No point in hiding it now, is there? I’m the new Venomology professor at Kizen!"

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