Before returning to Serefis, Ronald carefully tucked the notes into his jacket pocket.
He had already verified that this notebook was problem-free.
There were no traces of magic, nor any interference from magical power.
It was simply a work record, akin to a diary, penned by the researcher named Or during his lab work.
Beneath the starry sky, the fishing village on the coast appeared within view.
Everything from afar to nearby looked just as it had when he left.
By the time Ronald returned inside Serefis, it was already past midnight.
Many fishermen, preparing to go out to sea, were getting ready for work.
The fishermen were still worried about the mythical hunters appearing to rip them open and take their lives.
But they had no choice.
If they didn’t go out to fish, not to mention their own household finances, Serefis, a fishing village reliant on the fishing industry and located right next to Berenwich, would inevitably decline.
If it were to come to that.
It wouldn’t be too bad if there weren’t many, but if hundreds of impoverished people with nothing flooded into Berenwich, a tourist city, in an instant...
Living in this environment.
The villagers of Serefis certainly knew what fate awaited them.
So from the beginning, the outcome was inevitable.
Regardless of whether the investigator’s actions were successful or not, unless the townsfolk were killed to the point of being unable to survive, people would not leave.
The fishing life had to continue.
For the residents here, it was just that simple and direct.
A gentle southwest breeze blew from afar, and Ronald quietly made his way into the village.
Breathing in the salty sea breeze, he returned to the only church in Serefis.
After nearly a whole day’s work, Ronald planned to rest for a while.
When returning to Berenwich, maintaining a fully energized state was what he desired.
Otherwise, with Berenwich’s current situation, there was always the possibility that someone might suddenly throw an explosive corpse in front of him.
There wouldn’t always be something to use as a shield.
Without disturbing anyone, Ronald climbed over the church’s courtyard wall.
Since he had informed them before leaving, he didn’t need to wake up the sleeping priest and simply found an unused room to rest in.
The church had recently hosted three investigators, so everything was already prepared.
Lying on the bed, he lastly obscured the black fog at the entrance of the room.
Before falling asleep, Ronald felt the notebook in his pocket.
The somewhat damp pages pressed against his body, making him uncomfortable.
But maintaining that state, he closed his eyes and gradually fell asleep.
It was a very ordinary night.
No one disturbed Ronald, and he managed to get quite a good rest.
When he woke up the next day, the priest had already finished his work in the chapel and was resting on a chair.
Seeing Ronald emerging from the porch, he immediately waved:
"How was your rest yesterday?"
"Not bad," Ronald nodded.
He wasn’t in a rush to leave, but intended to chat with the priest for a moment before departing.
Just like chatting between friends, he nonchalantly sat next to the priest:
"Mr. Conni, I would like to understand some things."
The priest immediately nodded:
"Before the initial fisherman’s family was murdered, did you know of anyone else experiencing similar circumstances?"
A thoughtful expression appeared on the priest’s face, but it soon turned into a bitter smile.
"Honestly, I’m not so sure about that."
"Although Selifus is just a small place with around a hundred people, most of the residents are troubled by poverty. However, due to its proximity to Berenwich, there is still some population movement."
"It’s possible that there were other victims before."
"But even if there were, I didn’t know about it."
Ronald was silent for two seconds before he asked the question he truly wanted to know.
"So, about the perpetrator of this incident, how much do you know about him?"
Upon hearing this question, the priest’s expression instantly grew complex.
After a moment of silence, he spoke reluctantly,
"That boy is called Or..."
"About a year ago, he arrived in Selifus by ferry, claiming he intended to survey the coastal conditions near Berenwich and then create detailed maps of the coastline to present to the queen. He was no different from other mysterious figures."
"At first, his character appeared benevolent, and he even liked to play with the village children."
"I truly did not notice anything unusual."
"If it weren’t for Mr. Willard’s keenness in identifying him, I probably wouldn’t have guessed such a person he could be until the day I was victimized..."
Dutiful in his responsibility to monitor the movements of those involved in the mysterious side,
the priest was very honest in his description to Ronald the ’investigator,’ with no intention to conceal his own thoughts.
And this outcome also confirmed what Ronald had read in his notes.
—This fellow named Or was indeed a good person at first.
Only through subsequent research into the Magic Book did he degrade into what he is today.
So, the question arises.
Where is the Magic Book, which mainly serves as a decryption tool and leads one to mental degradation, currently stored?
Was it taken away by Mr. Willard and the others, or is it still hidden within this fishing village of Selifus?
Ronald was more inclined to believe the latter.
The church is ultimately an agency under the queen’s management of the mysterious side, with regular submission of written records of the mysterious side as its formal duty.
If an investigator had retrieved a Magic Book,
regardless of whether the item was an original, they should have briefed the church members and archived the information.
Yet, when Willard and the other two investigators left yesterday afternoon, they didn’t mention this.
it seemed they merely treated it as a normal event where a dark magician attacked innocent people.
Thinking this, Ronald asked,
"So where did this man named Or live before?"
Immediately, the priest gave a bitter smile and shook his head:
"Mr. Willard and the others have already checked there, and they didn’t find anything."
"There were no external influences from any books, nor was he forced by anyone; it was all Or’s own doing."
Faced with such an answer, Ronald considered whether to show the priest his notes.
They didn’t involve any secrets, and he didn’t mind letting the priest have a look.
However, just then, urgent footsteps sounded from outside.
A little boy in burlap clothing ran breathlessly into the church, shouting in distress:
"At the seaside... someone has been murdered again at the seaside!"