Chapter 114

The library of the Kulnensi Marquisate could be described as a vault.  

Only family members or those with the lord’s permission were allowed entry, making it a repository for the territory’s important documents.  

Thus, the records of migrants from two years ago were sure to be there.  

‘Do you wish to examine the list of migrants from two years ago?’ 

The Marquis of Kulnensi repeated the question with a reluctant expression.  

‘It’s for an investigation related to the recent monster crisis. While we’re at it, if there are any documents pertaining to the monster incidents from that time, I’d like to see those as well.’

After much hesitation, the Marquis of Kulnensi handed over library access permits to the group.  

His displeasure was evident; had there been a valid reason to refuse, he likely would have done so.  

And so, they arrived at the library.  

As expected, the library contained a dedicated space for storing the territory’s documents.  

The Marquis’s aide, after opening the door to that room, rummaged around for a while before returning with an armful of papers.  

“These are the records of those who migrated to the Marquisate two years ago. And this is the report on the monster incidents from that time.”  

“That’s quite a lot.”  

“Yes. Over two thousand people migrated to the Marquisate during that period.”  

“About four thousand people migrated to the Astrea Empire’s territories back then, didn’t they?”  

Six thousand migrants in total. How many people had died during that time?  

Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands.  

The sheer number was difficult to fathom, and a sigh escaped despite themselves.  

Having completed his task of delivering the documents, the aide promptly ushered them out of the room and locked the door securely.  

His firm stance, as if to declare that no further access would be granted, carried a suspicious undertone.  

The blatant “we’re hiding something” attitude made Shaterian narrow her eyes meaningfully.  

It was human nature, after all—what was hidden made one want to uncover it, and what was uncovered made one want to hide it.  

For now, however, the priority was to find someone from Masetike’s hometown. The rest could wait.  

The group found a spot to sit and divided the documents among themselves for review.  

Shaterian began by examining the refugee records.  

The investigator at the time had clearly been careless, as the handwriting was messy, and the reports were in complete disarray.  

Another sigh escaped her lips.  

She often thought about how convenient it would be to have a computer during moments like this.  

‘Ctrl+F would be so useful right now.’  

If only she could input the village name and find it instantly.  

Or, at the very least, an Excel sheet would make things easier to navigate.  

“There’s a clear disparity here.”  

While reviewing the refugee records, Orgon frowned, clearly displeased.  

The aide, standing nearby, looked flustered.  

“It was an unavoidable decision. At the time, the Marquisate was in no condition to accept all refugees.”  

This was true.  

The records revealed that the Marquisate had been suffering from a severe drought for three years, resulting in devastating crop failures.  

With food supplies being imported at exorbitant prices, the Marquisate’s situation had grown increasingly dire.  

Managing the existing population was already challenging, let alone taking in refugees.  

Although the territory’s conditions had suddenly improved afterward, by then, many of the refugees had already scattered.  

Shaterian calmly turned the pages, searching for survivors from Mortre Village, Masetike’s hometown.  

It took some time, but she eventually found what she was looking for.  

‘The village matches, and as expected, he’s a merchant.’  

She examined the refugee application, confirming the man’s portrait and residence.  

‘Address: 13-4, Fifth Street.’  

Committing the address to memory, Shaterian looked up at the aide.  

“How far is Fifth Street from here?”  

“Fifth Street…?”  

The aide wrinkled his nose, clearly reluctant to answer.  

Eventually, he explained begrudgingly, as though he had no choice.  

“Fifth Street is just beyond the plaza, right after leaving the Marquis’s residence.”  

The relatively close distance made Shaterian nod in acknowledgment.  

Though time had passed while reviewing the documents, it seemed possible to visit Fifth Street before their dinner meeting with the Marquis.  

Having decided to investigate, the group quickly boarded a carriage.  

They passed through the long road leading out of the Marquis’s residence, winding through alleys that led further inward.  

As the carriage ventured deeper, the atmosphere of the streets changed rapidly.  

The number of people dwindled, and dilapidated buildings became more frequent until only decrepit structures lined the area where the carriage finally stopped.  

“You’ll need to walk from here.”  

At the coachman’s words, the group disembarked.  

Fifth Street

Creak—  

A rusty sign, partially detached, swayed faintly in the breeze.  

The desolate street was devoid of people.  

The sound of the creaking sign only added to the eerie atmosphere.  

The aide’s earlier reluctance to reveal the location now made perfect sense.  

Neighborhoods like this, where the poor congregated, were often the parts of a territory that its rulers wished to hide—or even cut away entirely. 

The group quickly located 13-4 Fifth Street.  

They arrived at a crumbling brick house with a peeling wooden door. Shaterian knocked.  

“Is anyone home?”  

No sound came from within.  

Knock, knock.  

“Mr. Millinen. We’d like to speak with you briefly.”  

Again, there was no response.  

Knock, knock.  

“Mr. Millinen?”  

With no signs of life inside, Shaterian gave up knocking and turned to leave.  

It was then that the door of the neighboring house creaked open.  

Peeking out from the gap was a child with faded brown hair.  

“Mister isn’t home.”  

Sensing that the child might know something, Shaterian crouched to meet his eye level.  

“Do you know where he went?”  

“No. But he said he was going to meet a friend!”  

“A friend…?”  

“Yes! He said it was a friend from where he used to live.”  

“…How long has he been gone?”  

“Hmm… Five nights? No, maybe six!”  

“I see. Thank you. Here, buy yourself something nice.”  

She patted the child’s head approvingly and handed him a gold coin from her pocket.  

“Thank you!”  

The child’s face lit up as he ran back inside, calling for his mother.  

“Well, where do we look now…?”  

A small sigh escaped as she pondered the missing man’s whereabouts.  

As a merchant, it was possible he had left temporarily to travel elsewhere, but the child’s words lingered in her mind.  

A friend from where he used to live could only mean one person: Masetike.  

If Millinen had gone to meet Masetike and hadn’t returned after several days, where could he have gone?  

“Should we check with the Security Force?”  

She wondered aloud, thinking they might have received a missing person report.  

Orgon shook his head.  

“With no close ties here, it’s unlikely anyone would have reported him missing. And even if they did, given the state of things, it doesn’t seem like the investigation would have been thorough.”  

Shaterian agreed. The treatment of the poor in the Kulnensi Marquisate was appalling, no matter how one looked at it.  

Had the aide overheard their conversation, he would have been outraged. Fortunately, he had claimed to be too busy to accompany them.  

“Still, it’s worth checking. If nothing else, we might find unidentified bodies.”  

Orgon, too, seemed to consider the possibility of Millinen’s death.  

If Millinen had indeed met Masetike and come to harm, the chances of finding his body were slim.  

If death was inevitable, then at the very least, it would be preferable to die in an accident.

With that thought in mind, Shaterian arrived at the Security Force headquarters.

It was there that she and her group heard rumors—cases of disappearances had been occurring frequently within the Marquisate.

“Disappearances are common?”

“…….”

The soldier, realizing too late that he had spoken carelessly, stiffened in alarm.

It was undoubtedly a mistake to reveal such matters of the territory to outsiders.

Shaterian merely shrugged.

“But that’s the kind of thing one could hear just by visiting a tavern late at night.”

With thirty people already missing, there was no way the townspeople wouldn’t know about it.

There was no point in trying to hide the disappearances themselves.

“How many people are currently missing?”

“Around… thirty.”

“Has anyone’s body been found?”

“We haven’t been able to locate most of them… I can’t provide any further details.”

Though the soldier quickly clamped his mouth shut, Shaterian had already gleaned enough from what little he had said.

If he had said “most,” that meant at least a few bodies had been discovered.

That suggested those whose bodies had been found were likely unrelated to the disappearances.

Because the missing persons cases in the Kulnensi Marquisate—at least the ones Shaterian was investigating—were undoubtedly connected to dark sorcery.

There was still much she wanted to know, but the soldier had no intention of revealing more.

Pressing further would only result in him evading the questions under the guise of an ongoing investigation.

If only this were the capital.

There, a report would have reached the knight order before she even had to step foot in the Security Force headquarters, allowing her to obtain information with ease.

“Would it be wise to seek the Marquis’ cooperation?”

As they left the Security Force headquarters, Shaterian posed the question to Orgon.

Orgon, looking deep in thought, eventually answered with a troubled expression.

“I’m not sure… Given the circumstances, thirty people have disappeared, yet everything is too quiet. At this point, it’s enough to suspect that the Marquis himself is involved.”