#I'm an aquarius I've agonized over this exact thing many a time

[kotoprotranslations]

EPISODE 7 LIGHT NOVEL Chapter 6-3 English Translation

“Sir!”

It was at that moment that a young man came jogging up to them. He wore the same uniform as the other staff members, but his hood was a different color than the rest. He must work in the research labs, Owl thought, up until Clemens waved at him and called, “Ah, Fossanova.”

“Fossanova?” Owl snapped his notebook shut, eyes wide, and whispered to Clemens, “Fossanova as in the director?”

“Correct. You’re well informed.”

“Of course I am, don’t insult Nick’s information network like that. The guy just took over as head of the facility, his name was easy enough to find.”

“... Well done, Nick,” Clemens murmured.

Fossanova rushed right up to Clemens, relief lining every inch of his face. “I’m so glad you came back, sir,” he said, grasping Clemens’ hand.

“Of course I did,” Clemens replied.

“There’s been no progress since you left, and I’ve frankly been at a loss on what to do. I’m truly grateful that you didn’t run away.” The corners of Fossanova’s mouth ticked up like he was joking, but that smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Clemens clapped the man on the shoulder. “I would never. I said I’d come right back, didn’t I?”

Fossanova’s eyes slid over to Owl and Elnora. He paused. He blinked for a moment. He turned back to Clemens. “Sir, erm, is he really...?” he asked doubtfully. “He’s, uh, rather young.”

“He is quite young,” agreed Clemens, “but he is also a state alchemist. Lord Tristan himself has given him his stamp of approval. He’s a detective by the name of Owl.”

Fossanova was silent for several seconds. “... Truly?” he eventually said, staring at Owl with renewed interest. “To receive a state certification at such a tender age is no small feat. Forgive me, I was certain an older, more experienced detective would be coming... I’m afraid you caught me off guard.” He stuck out his hand to Owl. “My name is Fossanova, Owl. I’m the person who asked for your services, and, as you’re already aware, I’m also the director of this facility.”

Owl observed Fossanova during that whole exchange, and honestly, he was just as surprised as the other. Fossanova didn’t possess the sort of dignified look of a hospital director. He’d expected that, though – according to the info Nick dug up, the man was only in his mid-twenties. He was a thin, nervous-looking man, with loose longish hair the color of gold leaf tucked behind his ears. Rather than a Gefinesse clergy, he looked more like a doctor... in fact, the air about him sort of resembled Jack’s, in a way.

Observations complete, Owl gripped the other man’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

“Likewise.”

Elnora chimed in, “And I’m his assistant, Elnora. Lovely to meet you as well.”

“Miss Elnora, yes, Mr. Clemens has mentioned you quite often.” Fossanova offered Elnora a handshake as well. “Let’s move to my rooms for the time being,” he urged. “There are rather too many eyes here.”

Owl shook his head, though, and demanded, “No, show me the body now, please, before anything else.”

“You wish to examine the body?” Fossanova asked, brows furrowed. “You can, of course, but are you not tired from the trip here?”

“I’m fine. I’m young, after all,” Owl stressed.

Fossanova’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “That makes two of us. Well, then, let’s go.” He turned and set off at a brisk walk.

As soon as they were walking, Elnora struck up a friendly conversation with Fossanova. “Ah, hey, Director!”

“Yes?”

“If you’re in charge around here, you can get your hands on a uniform, right?”

“Er... yes?”

“Then can you get one for me? This one’s too small ‘round the waist and chest.”

“Uh-huh....”

“I mean, just look at this! These clothes totally screw up my figure, and don’t you think the crest on the shoulders stands out way too much? They’re just indecent. What are they, roses? Ugh, so audacious, I don’t care for it at all. I’m meant to be the biggest, most beautiful flower on the block, so everyone else around me needs to be neat and trim by comparison. Like, let me see, what do you think of bluebells?”

Fossanova listened with wide eyes as Elnora prattled on with no regard for decorum. It didn’t matter who she was talking to, director or patient or anyone, Elnora spoke her mind. “My apologies, but all I can offer you here are the uniforms for female students,” he eventually answered with a strained smile. “There are very few here as lovely as you... well, there are very few women here in general, I should say.”

“Oh, my.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, just impressed. You sure know how to flatter a girl. You could use better material, though. Try adding something to it, like ‘you’re beauty incarnate’ or ‘you’re as lovely as a flower fairy.’” Elnora wriggled her shoulders captivatingly.

“A... fairy?”

Next to her, a sour-faced Owl spoke up, rubbing salt in the wound. “I’m not fond of the color, either,” he said, picking at the chartreuse robes around his shoulders.

“Oh? I like this color, I think it’s lovely,” Elnora shot back.

“The color’s fine, it’s that I’ve only been seeing younger staff wearing it,” Owl explained. “It’s probably the color trainees wear. Do I look like a trainee to you?”

“Well, you look young enough. It means you don’t stand out.”

“... I don’t like it.”

“Oh, dear,” Clemens sighed, “and here I thought your mood had improved. Are you really going to go all surly on us again?”

“You drew on me while I was asleep and had me solve a pointless puzzle,” Owl bit back. “Why on Earth would I be in a good mood?”

“Ah, well, I suppose. I apologize for that. But that’s not the only reason, right? Perhaps you’re also just desperate to find Jack?”

Owl flinched. “I’m not –” he started, then willfully held his tongue with a scowl. “Yes, fine, I’m worried. The sooner we find him, the better.”

“As I thought.”

“But that’s not why I’m in a bad mood. I don’t like all that ‘fighting factions’ stuff.”

“Ah, that’s what you’re up in arms about?”

“Yeah.”

Clemens tipped his head with a crooked smile. “Well, I hadn’t expected you to be keen on it.” The young detective’s love of complex mysteries did not extend to complex interpersonal relationships and conflict. “I imagine you had many opportunities in your past to get involved with such groups.”

“I’m not saying they shouldn’t be formed. I think it’s good that they promote each other’s best qualities. But most factional disputes start because some people belittle the other side’s achievements or, worst-case scenario, ruin their work and kick ‘em when they’re down while they’re at it. That’s the part I don’t like.”

“... And yet such factions and social groups are held in quite high esteem in this country. Higher than any other, I might say.”

“That’s why I made sure all the alchemical recipes I made in college were accessible to everyone... though apparently those idiotic professors have been hogging some of them for themselves. I regret not setting those recipes to burn up after three days.”

“Yes, they do occasionally keep knowledge to themselves, don’t they?”

“And there are even people who don’t accept opposing factions at all and try to completely obliterate them.”

Clemens pursed his lips at that, his merriment fading slightly. Such a dark word, “obliterate.” “Quite the dangerous thing to speak into the world,” he said quietly.

“That was my childhood.”

“What?”

“My father... Tristan has a lot of enemies, and a child makes for a glaring weakness. There were plenty of fools around him who tried to use that.”

“Ahh.” Clemens heard what Owl left unsaid. State Alchemist Tristan, the man who stood at the pinnacle of his craft, probably had hordes of unwanted groups dogging his heels, and for every supporter there also had to be an opponent. Those opponents had to have seen Owl as a suitable target. “Were you by any chance ever kidnapped due to your relation to him?”

Owl rolled his eyes. “Of course not.”

“What?”

“Don’t underestimate our staff. If a bomb fell on us while one of his friends had me by the hand, or if they dragged me into a waiting carriage or something, they’d be consigned to a nightmare existence of constantly being stalked by predators unless they were forced to flee the country.”

Clemens thought back to the butler and maid he met at the McCreech estate. “... I see your point,” he agreed.

“But the fact remains that there’ll always be a target on my back. That’s why I hate all that fighting between parties,” Owl declared. “Why do they have to always be looking down on each other? It’s the same with knowledge, too, keeping it all for yourself just grinds progress to a halt. They’re just as stupid as the politicians who rant about enemies at our borders like it’s a good thing.”

“So that’s why you left Tristan’s house?” Clemens asked with a faint, wry smile.

“Not really. I wasn’t scared of being kidnapped or anything.”

“I figured. But Tristan is rather vital to the country – I would imagine the less weaknesses he has, the better.” Under his breath, he added, “There’s no way he didn’t drill into his boy that love is the greatest weakness of all....” Clemens poked Owl in the shoulder and teased, “You’ve got a surprisingly strong sense of filial piety, don’t you?”

Owl narrowed his eyes. “You want me to kick you again?”

Clemens immediately stepped away from Owl. “I would very much rather you didn’t.”

In the time everyone spent chatting, Fossanova guided everyone down a back road and to a simple one-story stone building set a little way apart from the main plaza. Owl took one look at the semicircular arched windows and the undecorated exterior and murmured, “This building looks fairly new.”

“Only on the outside,” Fossanova replied, having overheard. “It was apparently destroyed during the war, so when they rebuilt it they decided to model it after a Namuron citadel.” He unlocked the wooden door and opened it for everyone.

The first thing that immediately stood out when they stepped inside was the altar against the eastern wall. Not only was it decorated with flowers, the shelves and floor around it were also littered with burning candles that coated the area with a warm reddish glow. The blue ceiling tiles above depicted an impressive mosaic of the night sky, complete with several constellations, while the blue floor tiles below were painted to look like ocean waves. Three students stood crowded around the altar, but when they saw them approaching they hurriedly straightened, each with tense looks on their faces. “Director!” they called.

Fossanova glanced at each of them in turn. Distress flashed across his face for a brief instant, but he spoke appreciatively. “... Ahh. It was your turns to pray. Good work.” He crossed the room toward a lattice door on the other end without further ado.

“Director!” One of the students rushed up, though, to peer up at him with concern. She was a cute girl, with a short reddish bob and doleful, droopy eyes. One hand reached out toward Fossanova’s arm. “Are you feeling well? I’ve been horribly worried.”

Fossanova held up a finger. “Hold your tongue of private matters, lest the flames of repose in your soul die out” he instructed. “Continue your prayers.”

The girl apologetically withdrew back to the altar.

Fossanova unlocked the lattice door and ushered Owl’s group inside. Inside was a flight of stairs leading underground. “The morgue is down here,” he told them, lighting a lamp and passing it to Owl.

A morgue. A place where dead bodies lay enshrined. A place that all medical facilities were sure to have.

Cold air twined around their ankles as they descended the stone steps into the deep darkness.

“So hey, that girl by the altar just now....”

“Yes?”

“... No, I guess I was just wondering if it was used for funeral ceremonies.” Rather than echoing off the walls around them, Elnora’s voice seemed to be sucked into the gaps between the stones, leaving no proof she spoke at all.

“It is,” Fossanova answered. “We always keep the altar lit to provide prayers for those who have passed away in our facility. The students here take two-hour shifts at night to stand watch.”

“Interesting.” Elnora pressed her hand to her mouth, not that it did anything to hide her giggle. “Ah, but it seems like a sweet way to pass the time.”

Fossanova squinted at her, befuddled. “Sweet? What do you...?”

“Oh, you know,” she tittered. “I caught a whiff of something sugary coming from them... jam, maybe?”

“Jam?” Fossanova repeated blankly.

“Perhaps it was a Bakewell tart? Either way, those kids have been eating sweets in secret.” Elnora shrugged, playful smile still dancing on her lips. “I understand, though, having to pray for even two hours locked up in a morgue may as well be purgatory for young people. They’d lose it if they didn’t have something like sweets to distract themselves.”

“Are... are you truly saying they’ve been eating sweets up there?”

“Oh, yes, I can tell. My nose is very sharp, especially when it comes to sugary delights.”

Fossanova tilted his head up to the ceiling and sighed. “... I see.” His head then bent forward, sagging under an invisible weight. “I’m sorry you bore witness to something so embarrassing. We usually tell our students quite firmly that those who learn medicine must not be prideful and must treat even the dead with proper respect, and yet....”

“That’s a wonderful lesson to impart to them, but I don’t think they’re really trying to disobey you or anything,” Elnora pointed out. “And I don’t think they’re being disrespectful, either. It’s just that, a person that’s not living? That’s kind of horrifying in its own right, just the idea that someone’s not alive anymore. It’s easy to avoid it, but you need a lot of love in your heart to pay proper respects. I sure couldn’t.~”

Fossanova... really had no response to her easygoing, almost aloof demeanor, so all he could do was blankly mumble, “... Uh-huh....” He tilted his head toward Clemens and whispered, “She’s got a rather... frank way of looking at things.”

Clemens nodded with a commiserating half-shrug. “You’re not wrong. But she can provide salvation precisely because that’s who she is.”

“Exactly,” Elnora declared, inserting herself right into their conversation. “If you ever feel like your faith is wavering, come to me anytime. Heaven doesn’t save a single soul at the end of the day, but if you come to me, I’ll let you worship me completely all you want. I use methods you wouldn’t even dream of... to show you real salvation.” She tipped Fossanova a beguiling wink. “Okay?”

“Yes, yes, very funny.” Fossanova twisted away and tromped down the stairs.

Clemens patted Elnora’s shoulder as he passed her. “Go easy on the teasing, Elnora.”

Elnora’s smile widened. “He’s got such a pure heart. I didn’t expect that from someone you know. He’s just adorable.”

The group descended the stairs single file until they finally came upon another door, this one made of half-rusted metal. Fossanova pushed this door open, revealing a long corridor on the other side. Even colder air blasted their faces as they stepped through the doorway.

Owl paused right as he was about to start walking down the corridor, raising the lamp up to get a better view of the stone walls. “There’s alchemy engraved in these,” he commented. He gently ran his hand along the sigils carved into the rock. “... Ice-based alchemy.”

“You’re correct. We store bodies down here, so we need to keep the temperature low,” explained Fossanova. “Ice alchemy is quite handy for preserving cadavers. Though I’m afraid I couldn’t say more – I’m hopeless with these kinds of things.”

“These look pretty old.”

“They are. They’ve been here since the facility was first established.”

Owl studied the sigils for a moment. “Would you mind if I jotted these down?” he eventually asked.

“Huh?” Fossanova blinked. “Oh, no, please, by all means. As I understand it, they’re simple formulas one could find anywhere....”

“No, they look simple, but one of these has water and air properties mixed in. Extremely rare.”

“Er... is it?”

Clemens smiled wryly when Fossanova glanced at him. “Let him do as he likes,” he advised with a shrug. “He’s the type who can’t hold back when something’s caught his interest.”

“I want to ask Tristan his opinion on this,” Owl said as he took careful notes of the sigils.

“Really?” Clemens peeked at his notes with an uncertain frown. “These are rather old, aren’t they? And combining attributes like this is a recent development – researchers are still hard at work on the subject. Alchemists only managed it thanks to sophisticated alchemical tools, so would it not be impossible for an alchemist this far in the past to have succeeded?”

“Which is why I want to ask Tristan. And it might help Ritz, too.”

“Ritz?”

“You know she Demonized, right?”

“Yes, I heard about what happened during that Demon Parade incident.”

“... You ‘heard’ about it?” Owl squinted at him for a moment. He swore he saw Clemens there back then... but he chose to hold his tongue for now. “When she Demonized, she became Leviathan and could manipulate water. But that’s odd, because Ritz is a Libra; by all rights, her element should’ve been air.”

“You’re referring to controlling elements through alchemy, though. She wasn’t using alchemy to control water, she was using the power she gained by becoming a Demon.”

“Right, but it’s still your inner ‘magic’ you’re drawing on whether you’re a Demon or an alchemist, and that’s something you have from the start. Your inclination toward a certain property should still have a considerable effect. Nick’s an Aries like me and his attribute’s fire – you know that lightning he’s always got crackling around him? That’s where that comes from. And Ralph’s a Libra, which is why his claws are always wreathed in rushing wind. You’re an Aquarius, by the way, water sign, and you control blood, which is a liquid... ahh, right, and Mrs. Eliza is a Capricorn, that’s an earth sign, and she looked like a rose blooming out of the ground and was summoning all those thorny vines.”

“Now that you mention it, you have a point.”

“But when Krinos turned Ritz into a Demon, she had the property of water. My guess is that’s what that angel specialized in, and that’s why all those other people turned into merpeople. But when I think back now, Ritz wasn’t just controlling water, she was also controlling ice, meaning she was using her inherent element of air with the water. Or, not really air, she was probably manipulating the atmospheric pressure around her.”

“You can turn water into ice by changing the atmosphere around you?”

“Yeah. If you place water at normal temperature in a vacuum, the boiling point drops to below zero degrees. Boiling water vaporizes, which robs it of all its heat, which instantly freezes it. Put simply, Ritz combined several elements at the same time without using any tools or –”

“Okay, I get it!” Clemens snapped his fingers in front of Owl’s face before he got too fired up and lost in his own explanation. Owl froze like Clemens had poured a bucket of water on him instead. “... I understand you want to help her, Owl,” Clemens continued a bit more gently. “Believe me, I do. But just stop for now. Save the explanation for later, take your notes, and let’s move on.”

Owl took a breath and gathered himself. “... You’re right,” he murmured with a nod. He shut his mouth, finished taking his notes, and pressed on with the others.

It wasn’t long before Elnora gave a full body shiver. “It is freezing down here. Hey, Owl, light a fire,” she demanded.

“I’m not a fireplace.”

“But a lady is asking. C’mon, hurry up.”

Owl hesitated for a moment longer, but eventually sighed and snapped his gloved fingers, performing his Wave Molecule transmutation. Golden light flared to life around his fingertip, spinning into a circular array that sparked a tiny flame in its center. In the dark of the underground corridor, the space around him shone as bright as the sun. He picked up some broken brick fragments by his feet and blew the golden circle on them, causing them to start shining just as brilliantly. “Here,” he said, holding them out to Elnora.

“What’re these?”

“Heated stones like the ones they use in the East... or something similar, anyway.”

“Heated stones?” Elnora gingerly grabbed them. “Oh!” she gasped as the glowing fragments slowly began to warm her hands. “These are impressive. They’re so nice and warm, and they’re not cooling down, either! They’re staying the perfect temperature.”

“Oh? Owl, you learned how to imbue your alchemy into objects? Impressive indeed.” Clemens’ eyebrows climbed up his face. “Isn’t that quite difficult, though?”

“Imbuing alchemy into objects?” Elnora echoed, eyes sparkling. “Wait, can you imbue alchemy into people? That’d be super useful. I want to summon fire like Owl does.” She wrapped the pieces of brick in a handkerchief and stuffed them in her chest.

Owl, however, shook his head, unmoved by their compliments. “Unfortunately, no, I can’t imbue people with alchemy. You need to decipher their element and ‘circulate’ it through their body, but as a fire element I’m pretty bad at that. You’d be better off asking a water or an air for that. Tristan’s earth, so he couldn’t teach it to me well.”

“So there are things you’re both bad at,” Clemens hummed. “You managed those rocks just now fine, though.”

“Because they’re inorganic. It’s relatively easier to unilaterally shove my power into something. I can’t use it for long, though. A client came by the office recently and used a card imbued with alchemy on Nick, and I tried copying them, but even with practice it was really difficult and didn’t end up working out that well anyway. He seemed to be good at circulating his property, so he was probably a water or air type.”

“‘He?’”

“The client. Called himself Louis. He was looking for his foster parent.”

Clemens fell silent. His eyes darted away. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but it looked like he might have mouthed someone’s name. Owl frowned at the priest’s reaction – he had the pained look of a man who’d just been bitten by an unknown snake – and he opened his mouth to ask.

“I should have expected as much from Mr. Clemens’ acquaintance,” Fossanova declared. Owl shut his mouth again. “I will admit to some small doubt at first, given your age... but you possess a superb wealth of knowledge about alchemy. I’d almost like to ask you to give a lecture on medical alchemy like Mr. Clemens.”

“You teach medical alchemy here?” Owl asked, interest piqued.

“Oh, yes. My father... the previous director was a Black Rose Disease specialist. He was researching a possible form of treatment that combined traditional medication with alchemy.”

“With alchemy? I saw the news about medicinal treatment in the paper, but this is the first I’m hearing of alchemy being involved.”

“There are many out here in the countryside who are afraid of alchemy, so we haven’t made it public knowledge just yet. But with the Black Rose Disease spreading at its current rate, we decided to pour all our efforts into researching a cure and started providing treatment free of charge several years ago... though none of them could overcome the illness inside them. I respected the previous director quite deeply for that.”

Owl’s head tilted. “You say that like you don’t respect him anymore,” he commented, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Fossanova’s face tightened for a moment, but it soon smoothed out into yet another gentle smile. “I still do, of course. I simply meant that he didn’t manage to find the cure before he left.... He’s currently convalescing in the suburbs.”

“He’s not receiving treatment here?”

“... No, he is not. Now, we’ve arrived – the morgue is just ahead.”

Yet another door stood at the end of the long corridor. Fossanova opened it and ushered everyone through. The group proceeded through a wide room of stone, empty save for the rows of beds... except they weren’t beds, they were wooden pedestals with white sheets draped over them. It went without saying what lay underneath those sheets.

“There were two bodies discovered on the grounds.” Fossanova headed further into the room. “This one here,” he said, stopping by one of the pedestals, “was found at the base of the cliff. The autopsy revealed traces of electrocution and an injury to the head.”

“That must be Daniel, then.”

“... Yes. It was some time before his body was found, so we have been unable to determine which of the two directly caused his death. The clothes he was wearing at the time and all of his belongings are over there.”

Fossanova lifted the sheet, revealing the body of the man he and Clemens had stood over in that rainy forest several days ago. Owl approached and examined it from head to toe. “Yeah, this could’ve been death by electrocution or a fall,” he mumbled to himself.

Fossanova’s gaze slid from the body to the ground. when he heard that. “... This was an accident, right?” he asked.

Unfortunately for him, Owl shook his head. “I’m not a coroner,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I’m only remarking on what I see here. The body has the sort of feathered burn marks that often show up on corpses that have been struck by a lightning bolt, which is likely what electrocuted him. But these injuries are severe; lightning didn’t cause those. Without looking into the circumstances of his death and where he died, I wouldn’t be able to say anything definitive about what actually caused his death.”

“Oh... is that so....” Fossanova’s head drooped.

Owl watched him with a vague sense of unease. Did he want Owl to say it was an accident? The detective’s eyes flicked to the neighboring pedestal. He reached out and lifted that sheet, revealing an elderly woman beneath. Down the line he went, checking body after body. To his relief, none of them were Jack’s. “So which one of these is the second body you mentioned?” he asked.

Fossanova’s head lifted. “None of them,” he answered, glancing to the corner of the room. The wall over there was bare, save for something leaning against the stones.

Owl tilted his head curiously. Whatever it was, it stood a little taller than himself, draped in a sheet like everything else. The vague shape underneath looked like it might be an old carpet someone left in storage, but....

“I couldn’t enshrine him supine like the others, so I had to set him up against the wall like this....”

Fossanova strode up to the object and pulled the sheet off.

“Since this is the state he’s in....”

“Huh?”

“If I try to lay him out flat, he rolls and falls to the floor.”

The thing under the sheet... was a far cry from “human.”

Owl had seen and experienced all sorts of things, but this was a new one.

For several seconds, everyone stood in stunned silence. The thing standing there just looked so... ghastly.

“How... in the world did it get like...?”

“I don’t know. He was in this state when we found him in the ruins of the mill.”

“That’s....” Owl slowly approached it. His monocled eye narrowed. “... Run through by a spear? No....” he muttered to himself. “And this is human? It’s real?”

“It’s real,” Fossanova confirmed. “The flesh has been decomposing. This was Luca Capanet, a neurological researcher here at the institute. He was at work the day before we found him like this, healthy and lively as anything from what I understand.”

The thing propped up against the wall was a corpse... but not just any corpse. Several gigantic stone protrusions lanced the body, spiky and jagged and numerous. They looked eerily reminiscent of lightning, as if someone had crystallized several bolts and shot them directly into the body.

“... It’s like looking at a shrike’s prey,” Owl commented, drawing closer to the body’s face to get a better look. He paused. “He wasn’t stabbed,” he realized. “... Are these coming out of him?”

He drew his fingers along the spot where stone met flesh. The way the flesh stretched around the stone, it looked as though they’d burst from the corpse. “The stone’s growing out of the body....” Owl grabbed one of the spires and pulled, but it didn’t budge. However it had happened, the stone was basically glued to the body. “Yeah, I can see how you couldn’t lay it out flat,” he muttered off-handedly to Fossanova. With spikes of unremovable rock in it? Not a chance. The pointed ends of the stone kept the body propped upright against the wall, as well, making it look like it was vaguely hovering in midair.

It was a gruesome sight. The dead man’s clothes had all been charred, and the body itself covered in soot. Half of the face was gone, destroyed by one of the stone lightning spires.

Ow tilted his head, gazing at the spiky rock. “... I wonder....” He reached out and wiped some of the soot from the stone. The actual rock underneath was a dark gray... well, grayish, mixed with dark blue and purple, and translucent like a gemstone. “... Not red...” Owl murmured. “So it’s not that, then?” His eyes wandered back to the perfect fusion of skin and stone, utterly befuddled. How did organic and inorganic material combine like that? He was hard-pressed to describe the sight, and he was staring right at it.

“What do you think killed him?” Clemens asked from behind him.

The priest sounded way too calm – he must’ve already seen the body. Owl turned to glare at him. Yet again, he’d had failed to share pertinent information.

Thankfully, Clemens answered his unspoken question, though he sounded perfectly unaffected. “If I’d told you beforehand, I might have poisoned your mind with my own opinions. You needed to form your own thoughts first.” He drew close to Owl and murmured in his ear, “I thought he might have been halfway to transforming into a Demon when he died from shock or the like, but he it turns out he wasn’t infected.”

“... I see.” Owl turned back to the body to continue his inspection. “I don’t have a clue how he died or how this all got fused to his body... but he was probably murdered.”

“Murdered, hm....”

“Yeah. It’s faint, but I can see traces of alchemy around the body. Whatever killed him, it was probably some kind of alchemy... but still, it’s a little odd.”

“You’re saying the killer was an alchemist? Can alchemy do that to a person?” Clemens gestured to the rocky spikes.

“Theoretically, anything’s possible... but this is all hypothetical. Mixing two completely different properties like this would be extraordinarily difficult.”

“Even for you?”

“Even for me. You must’ve heard what happened when I tried to make pudding.”

“Ahh... right, that... I heard that it looked perfect, but that the flavor was uniquely... unique.”

“And that was a relatively simple dessert. Mixing a human with an inorganic substance....”

“So, he couldn’t withstand the fusion and died of shock, then?”

“No, we don’t know if this happened before or after he died. We can’t rule out the possibility that he died from something completely different and someone tried to use his body for whatever this was.”

They had to account for everything... except Clemens shook his head and asserted, “No, he was still alive.”

“And how can you tell?”

“Simple. He was still alive when the stable hand found him. He even managed to say a few words.”

“Really? What did he say?”

“‘The first. Not here.’”

“‘Not here’...? What did he mean? And what was ‘first’?” Elnora, who had been listening quietly for a while, cocked her head. “And if it’s ‘not here,’ then where?”

“I don’t know. I honestly wouldn’t even be able to hazard a guess,” Clemens replied.

“... Hm.”

Owl listened to their chatter as he rooted through the dead man’s burnt clothes. He stilled when his fingers brushed against something hard. “Hm? Hey, this guy was carrying something on him. Maybe it’s in his inner pocket...?”

“Huh?”

Owl patted down the clothes till he found the pocket and dug around inside. “Yeah, there’s something here,” he reported as he pulled out a piece of a mirror. He frowned and dug around some more, but there was only the one fragment. “Why’s there only one?” he wondered, holding it up to the lamp. It looked like a regular old mirror, but on closer inspection, there were tiny letters engraved on the back. “An alchemical formula...? No, this is....” He started, then thrust it toward Clemens. “Your turn, Clemens.”

“My what now?”

“This is the same ancient language from the McCreech estate and Teos Island.”

“What?” Clemens grabbed the mirror piece and traced his finger over the letters on the back. “... You’re right, this does appear to be the same language.”

“What’s it say? Read it out for me.”

“I can’t. This is probably the middle of a sentence. Without the first part, I can’t translate it.”

“You can’t deduce it just with what you’ve got there?””

“Don’t be absurd. I can’t deduce it.”

“This is why I said you should teach me how to decode it!” Owl snatched the mirror out of Clemens’ hand with a click of his tongue. Useless priest. He grabbed his notebook and snapped it open to a page littered with complex characters, glancing between it and the mirror. “... This word here is ‘liar,’ isn’t it?” he checked with Clemens. Apparently the detective had been making notes on his own time to try and decode the language.

“You’re definitely Tristan’s son,” Clemens remarked, completely ignoring the question. “You both go about things the exact same way.”

“Now is not the time for that. Just answer the question.”

“Ah, well, yes, I suppose you could say that’s an accurate guess based on the context given.”

“‘Liar,’ huh....” Owl considered the mirror, his mind awhirl.

However, he didn’t get the chance to pursue his train of thought long.

Thundering footsteps echoed in the wide empty space of the morgue, heralding the arrival of someone who was quite clearly in a hurry. One of the young men they’d seen by the altar before burst through the doorway and shouted, “Director! Something terrible’s happened!”

Fossanova whirled around. “What is it?!”

“S-Someone else died...! Th-They told me to come get you...!!”

Owl rushed past the trembling young man without another word.

original written by Nagaya Kawaji here