Chapter 13: Disappearance

Glenn City, a coastal city in the Del Archipelago, located in the southeastern part of the Kingdom of Soth.

The scenery was pleasant, the pace of life was slow, and it was a good place for retirement.

Unfortunately, Harvey Michelson was not in this category.

‘When can I retire?’

‘It would be great if there was a profession where you get paid just for fishing.’

“Rose Street, Rose Street is here!”

The public carriage slowly came to a stop.
The coachman’s call came from the front of the carriage, interrupting the middle-aged man’s unrealistic and beautiful fantasy.

Harvey reached out to adjust the hat he was wearing, got up from his seat, and walked towards the exit.

Because it was a fixed route for the public carriage, and it was during working hours, the people who got off at this stop every day were quite consistent.

Like that old gentleman wearing glasses, with frosty white temples, who was taking out a golden pocket watch to check the time.
Harvey had been “commuting” with him for several years.

Although they didn’t know each other’s names, they were quite familiar.

Everyone was a cog and screw that kept Glenn City running normally.

No one could be an exception.

The Glenn Historical Site Preservation Society.

This was where Harvey Michelson worked.
It sounded like some kind of official organization, but in reality, the society was a completely private enterprise.

It mainly took on outsourced work from ancient site exploration teams.

Of course, all of them were “archaeological” actions that were officially approved, legal, and compliant.

However, this was all a front.

Secretly, the Glenn Historical Site Preservation Society was affiliated with the Church of Truth, an official organization named in the highest secret archives of the Kingdom of Soth.

It was a clandestine church institution that specialized in handling “occult” events that were gradually fading from public view in this era of high-speed industrial development.

Mm, it looked official but was actually private, and under the private skin was another official organization.

It was a good way to show the cultists the charm of nesting dolls.

Harvey walked up the steps and pushed open the company’s main door.

Before he could even remove his hat from his poor hair, a gust of fragrant wind blew over, and Mary’s anxious voice came.

“Manager, Manager!”

“You’re finally here.”

Harvey Michelson was overwhelmed by the girl’s momentum and subconsciously took a step back.

Then he held his cane horizontally between them and said soothingly, “Miss Wheeler, calm down. What happened? Tell me slowly, and I’ll handle it.”

Mary Wheeler seemed to realize her rudeness.

After taking a step back, she said with a worried face, “Someone from the church is here. They said there’s something important to deal with.”

“They’re waiting for you in the conference room now.”

‘Someone from the church?’

‘Did a cultist appear, or did they discover some “forbidden item” flowing into the market that needs to be contained?’
Harvey frowned, thinking.

Mary moved closer and whispered in his ear.

“Manager, the person who came isn’t Mr. Childe who usually contacts us, but the Bishop himself.”

Lance Macdonald, the Bishop of the Glenn City Church of Truth, the pinnacle of power!

In the conference room, a blond man in his fifties sat in the main seat.

He wore a long black robe with a white collar and a dark purple belt around his waist.

His eyes were deep-set, and his blue irises were staring at the documents in his hand, lost in thought.

Knock, knock, knock.

A knock came from the door.
Lance Macdonald’s brow relaxed slightly, and he moved his gaze from the police documents.

“Please come in.”

“Your Grace.”

Harvey closed the door after entering, then touched his forehead and chest, and laid his hand flat on his left shoulder.

“Truth above all.”

“Truth above all.”

Lance also stood up from his seat and responded to him.

After the greeting between believers was over, Lance sat back down and gestured with his hand.

“Manager Michelson, please have a seat.”

Harvey sat in the first seat on the right of the main seat, his heart growing heavier.
Bishop Lance had come alone, without even an attendant.

This alone could reflect the seriousness of the matter, or rather, the level of secrecy.

Lance Macdonald didn’t bother with pleasantries.

He pushed the documents in front of him towards Harvey Michelson and said in a heavy voice.

“This is an emergency request for help sent to the church by the Champagne Street Police Department early this morning.”

“It’s a mass disappearance case. From yesterday afternoon to evening, a total of seven victims have been confirmed.”

Lance paused here, then continued, “The church’s Covenanters have investigated. The victims’ location information and survival status have been concealed in the occult sense, possessing anti-divination properties.”

‘Missing persons.’

‘Yesterday alone, there were seven victims in the reported cases.’

‘And that’s a statistic compiled without even considering the cases of people living alone being discovered later, or workers with poor economic conditions, or homeless people.’

Harvey frowned and picked up the documents to look through them.

Rosie Moulton, female, eighteen years old, daughter of Glenn City Councilor, Viscount Ted Moulton, lost contact while visiting a friend on May 23rd.

Hannah Carter, female, nineteen years old, only daughter of well-known Glenn City merchant, Baron Newman Carter, lost contact while visiting a friend on May 23rd.

Hiss…

Harvey Michelson had a bit of a headache.
‘Why are the first two the king and queen?’

‘If anything happened to either of these two, wouldn’t Glenn City be turned upside down?’

The bell tolled.

Rosie opened her eyes.

The terrifying scene she had imagined did not become a reality.

She lit the candles and looked around.
The room was still empty, as if those maddening, painful whispers were just auditory hallucinations under high pressure.

The girl pursed her lips, her misty-blue eyes becoming more determined.

No matter what, she would absolutely not return to this room tonight.

Otherwise, when the bell tolled the next day, the one walking out of here would definitely not be “her.”

‘Could it be that this is the true purpose of the ritual?’

‘Five days.’

‘No matter who the three people who ultimately survive are, it doesn’t matter.’
She inexplicably felt a chill crawl up her spine, like invisible tentacles, cold and slimy.

Rosie shook off the extraneous thoughts in her mind, turned over, got out of bed, and quickly left, heading straight for the dining-room-like room from yesterday.
‘How is Hannah?’

Rosie considered herself an “early riser.”After all, the moment the bell rang, she ran out of the room without delay, more proactive than when the school bell rang for dismissal before holidays when she was a student.

But someone was still one step ahead of her.
In front of the dining room door stood two people.

One was Mr. Dennis Sandek.

He was Hannah’s bodyguard, and his room was closer to the dining room than Rosie’s.
It was reasonable for him to arrive before her.

But the other person who arrived was rather unexpected.

It was actually Hermann Rhys.

Rosie’s initial feeling of closeness towards this impolite and somewhat unreliable reporter was long gone.

To be honest, she even found him a bit annoying.
After all, this person’s gaze would drift towards her for no reason.

“Morning, Miss Rosie. Hmm, how did you sleep last night?”

Hiss, this intimate form of address, this ambiguous inquiry, it sounded strange no matter how you heard it.

‘Who’s so familiar with you?’

‘You’re deliberately teasing me, aren’t you?’