Chapter 43: The Crow

Roxi felt the unfamiliar warmth from the small hand and grew somewhat uneasy.

She quickly freed herself from the grip of the large hand and changed the subject:

“All right, Mr. Accomplice.”

“Now it’s time to introduce this so-called Secret Contract Holder to me.”

Hermann didn’t mind.

He picked up the coat that had fallen to the floor and dusted it off as he replied:

“A Secret Contract Holder, huh.”

“It’s all about secrecy and contracts.”

“I already mentioned it to you back at the ancient castle.”

Roxi furrowed her brow slightly.

“Secrecy? Contracts?”

“Yes.”

Hermann sat back down on the sofa and crossed his legs.

“It’s about extracting the secret power from spiritual materials and then controlling it through a contract ritual for one’s own use.”

“The former is the tool, the latter is the method of use.”

Roxi looked somewhat confused but continued to ask:

“What happens if you only extract the secret power but don’t complete the contract ritual?”

Hermann took a sip of coffee and leisurely said:

“What do you think would happen if you threw a revolver to a monkey?”

He put down the cup and looked at Roxi.

“Like Hanna Carter that day.”

“Her body mutated—that was a sign of losing control.”

“When her mind breaks down, she’ll become a monstrous fusion of flesh and spiritual energy with no humanity left.”

“Why would Hanna lose control if she completed the contract ritual?”

Hermann shrugged. “Completing the ritual greatly reduces the risk of losing control but doesn’t eliminate it.”

A faint smirk appeared on his lips, tinged with self-mockery:

“Every Secret Contract Holder is a potential lunatic.”

“The only difference is whether they’ve gone mad or not.”

“Especially those who worship the Evil God—they’re all a little off in the head and prone to losing control.”

Roxi fell silent, her eyes lowered as if trying to process the information.

“All right, Miss Morton.”

“Let’s leave the topic of Secret Contract Holders there for now.”

He stood up from the sofa, slinging his coat over his shoulders.

“If you plan on entering the Official Organization,”

“it’s better to stay a blank slate for now.”

Mentioning this, Roxi grew curious and asked:

“During the interrogation that day, your identity as a Secret Contract Holder wasn’t discovered?”

Hermann pinched his chin. “That painting behind Mr. Michelson that day was probably a ‘Relic’.”

“Relic?”

Roxi frowned again.

“All right, my dear blank slate,” he said, “you’ll learn about these system things after you join the Official Organization.”

“To put it simply, they’re items with all kinds of abilities.”

“And the result was that my identity as a wild Secret Contract Holder was exposed.”

“But because of some other reasons, and since I never used my Secret Contract Holder powers to harm society, Mr. Michelson generously let me go.”

Roxi frowned in dissatisfaction and reminded him:

“What other reasons?”

“Accomplice, we’re accomplices.”

“This matter concerns my Family Secret.”

“Only the family has the right to know.”

“Miss Morton, do you want to hear more?”

“Hmm, by the way, since detective work isn’t very stable,”

“my current income is about ten Sovereigns a month.”

“No bad habits.”

Roxi blinked. “??? You’re giving up on working hard, huh?”

She pursed her lips but didn’t press the topic further. Instead, she said:

“So the Church lets you, a Secret Contract Holder, wander around outside without any supervision?”

“No. They gave me two options.”

“One: be recruited and join Mr. Michelson’s department as Official Personnel.”

“Two: work as an Undercover Agent, keeping tabs on the Gray Zone and assisting Official Personnel when necessary.”

“Hm, the second option even comes with a financial subsidy.”

Roxi suddenly understood—it was basically going undercover.

Thinking about it, she was kind of an ‘Evil God worshipper’ herself.

Together, they could play a game of undercover agents.

“What will you choose? Official Personnel or Undercover Agent?”

Hermann raised a hand and pointed at his own face.

“Do you think someone who intends to assassinate a Noble of the Kingdom”

“would hang around right under the Official Organization’s nose?”

Hard to say—he was practically walking into a trap.

“And besides, this works out well.”

“One of us in the open, one in the shadows—more channels to gather information.”

Having learned almost everything she wanted, Roxi glanced at the great detective Hermann and his good partner Peanut, then spoke:

“Mr. Hughes, I have a favor to ask.”

“Go ahead, Miss Morton.”

Roxi lowered her eyes and slowly said:

“Help me investigate Hanna Carter.”

“Including everyone she has been in contact with recently.”

Caw—

The rough, hoarse voice of a crow echoed across the rooftop.

Morning light filtered through stained-glass windows, casting mottled patterns on the floor.

In a spacious room knelt several figures wearing hooded cloaks.

Their hands were clasped to their chests, faces hidden in shadows, only pale lips moving in murmured chants.

Directly before them stood a blurred, genderless humanoid statue.

Beneath the statue was an altar.

On it lay a young woman, her hands and feet bound, mouth gagged with cloth.

She struggled relentlessly, her green eyes filled with fear and panic.

Step, step, step.

Footsteps echoed through the vast room.

An elderly man with frosted temples, glasses perched on his nose, and clad in a black cassock with red trim approached the altar.

He pulled out a golden pocket watch to check the time, then raised his hand, tracing his middle finger from his forehead down his nose to his jaw.

“Ancestor of the bloodline, stronger than blood, quieter than death.”

“You are the mad sower, the embodiment of disaster, the origin of chaos and destruction.”

“Please savor this foolish and pitiful wail.”

With that, he bent down and opened his mouth, revealing two unusually sharp teeth, and bit into the woman’s delicate neck.

Her struggling gradually slowed and then ceased.

Her eyes lost their spark, her body grew cold, leaving only breath—a living corpse.

Rudolf Harrison stood upright and picked up a dagger beside the altar.

With no emotion, as if pruning a plant, he sliced across the woman’s neck.

Pff—

Blood blossomed like a flower, splattering with vibrant color.

Time passed slowly, like the woman’s blood soaking the altar.

“Merciful Lord,”

“please forgive her sins.”

Rudolf raised an arm, slashing his own wrist and letting his blood flow onto the wound on the woman’s neck.

Caw—

Another sharp sound pierced the air.

The crow returned.

The woman on the altar began to move.

Rudolf untied the ropes binding her hands and feet, calmly watching her.

“May the Lord bless you.”

The woman’s pale lips murmured the words.

“May the Lord bless you.”

She then bowed her head and knelt before the statue, praying devoutly.