Ding-ling-ling—
A clear doorbell echoed through the tavern.
When the wooden door of the Pujis’ Home was pushed open, Bianca was hurrying by carrying a stack of freshly washed goblets. She accidentally bumped into someone, cried out, and fell onto the floor; the goblets in her hands nearly slipped.
“Sorry, guest! I didn’t mean to!” Bianca rubbed her reddened forehead and apologized repeatedly, feeling as if she had just run into a steel plate.
“Are you all right?” a gentle voice said; the newcomer helped her up and stroked her head.
When Bianca looked up she only caught a tall silhouette and inwardly wondered whether the guest was wearing armor beneath his robe.
Dylan, who was checking accounts behind the counter, noticed the shadow blocking the light and immediately broke into a smile. “Norris, little brother! What wind blew you up here?”
Norris, in human form, leaned against the counter and smiled tiredly. “I asked the Boss for leave. Sometimes you have to come up top and walk around, or I’ll almost forget I’m a—”
Norris didn’t finish, but Dylan plainly understood.
Seeing Norris’s deep dark circles, he guessed how hard the work had been down below.
“Now that you’re up, relax properly. I’ll put you in a top-grade room on the second floor — with a little balcony so you can lie in the sun!”
“Thanks!”
Ding-ling-ling—
The bell rang again. This time a familiar adventuring party came in.
“Hi, Bianca!” Veyra greeted the shop girl first, then approached the counter. “Brother Dylan, do you still have that ‘Windspeaker Brew’? The effect was amazing last time — I want a few more bottles.”
Sirian, the beautiful elf beside her, nodded in agreement. “Your elven potions are the most authentic in the entire Mushroom City; I haven’t even seen some of these back home. I’m curious which fellow clan alchemist came to make a living nearby.”
Dylan naturally kept that “trade secret” to himself. He quickly set the bottles of “Windspeaker Brew” in front of Veyra, and Veyra paid on the spot.
Phylline stepped forward, happily tucking the potions into the pouch at her waist — the brews were for her bowman.
After a few more minutes of small talk, Veyra and the others left.
Dylan then noticed Norris still standing by the counter.
“Oh! I almost forgot to take you to your room. Come on, come on!” Dylan grabbed the keys and led Norris upstairs.
Norris stared at the closed door for a long while before, slightly dazed, following at Dylan’s urging.
After Dylan returned behind the counter, Bianca quietly leaned in and asked in a low voice, “Boss… who was that just now?”
“Norris? Sort of… a friend of mine,” Dylan replied.
“Oh, the boss’s friend…” Bianca nodded and slipped back into the kitchen.
Dylan glanced at his small shopgirl with mild curiosity, and thought of Norris’s appearance — the Norris he knew from the miner days had been thin. Now Norris appeared as a robust, tall, handsome young man in his human guise.
He shook his head and chuckled at how easily young girls like Bianca could be fooled.
But it was none of his business; Dylan figured youth was like that. Besides… maybe it wasn’t possible anyway…
…
That day the Pujis’ Home was particularly lively. After seeing off several customers who’d purchased potions, Dylan was unexpectedly visited by an official delegation.
At first Dylan’s heart tightened; he wondered whether some captured demon spy had betrayed him.
Then he thought, if that were the case, the Boss would have warned him in advance.
Suppressing his unease, Dylan switched back to the hospitable smile of an innkeeper and hurried to greet them.
He soon realized they weren’t there for him.
Soralin of the Judgement Wing brought several government officials and displayed a set of portrait sketches to Dylan.
“Excuse me, have you seen any of the people in these pictures?” she asked.
Dylan looked carefully and shook his head. “They haven’t been to my shop, at least.”
He wasn’t lying — he really didn’t recognize any of the faces.
“Sir, may I ask what this is about?” Dylan probed.
Soralin and the others made no attempt to hide the matter.
“It’s a disappearance case,” one of them explained. “These are recent missing residents. If you have any leads, report them to the City Lord’s Office. If the information is valid, the reward will be substantial.”
“Understood! I’ll keep an eye out!” Dylan bowed and smiled again as Soralin and her team departed the Pujis’ Home.
After they left, Dylan’s smile faded and he sat back at the counter. He recalled the gang of bullies who had come to Bianca’s place earlier; although those men weren’t among the missing, Dylan still wondered whether the disappearances had any connection to the Boss.
…
With the Fishsail Port adopting Mordu's Puji Master management rules, the city’s public security had significantly improved, and the Judgement Wing’s policing mission there had concluded.
Soralin’s new assignment was to assist Fahl in investigating a string of disappearances within Mordu.
Fahl worried the matter might involve demons or a cult, and had specially invited the Church to participate in the investigation.
Soralin repeatedly emphasized that within areas covered by the Mycelium Carpet it was difficult for her to use her [Truth Sight] ([真理视界]), but she still took the task on with the attitude of “something is better than nothing — it might help!”
She could only do her best.
However, effort did not always equal results.
After days of door-to-door inquiries, although many residents recognized the portraits, no one knew where the missing people had gone.
The only clear clue was that the missing were almost all scoundrels and rascals.
Those who provided tips were either past victims of these people’s bullying or had merely heard of their misdeeds.
This made Soralin suspect whether some zealot committed to extreme justice was “protecting” Mordu’s peace in his or her own way.
There were precedents for this, though the previous case had been handled poorly and was quickly exposed by the authorities.
Of course, the cult hypothesis could not be ruled out either; preying on society’s outcasts was a common cult tactic.
The possibility of direct demon involvement seemed least likely. After all, if one intended to abduct people, one would operate along borderlands — traveling deep into human territory just to snatch random civilians would be pointless.
In any case, the case had to be investigated, and Soralin was frustrated by the lack of progress.
But this case wasn’t her only headache.
After finishing questioning one household, she suddenly stopped in the street and, as if sensing something, looked toward the narrow gap between two houses.
Sure enough, a puji emitting seven-colored illusory light stood in the crevice, gently swaying its enticing body.
Soralin struggled to suppress the surge of excitement and silently stared at the dreamlike creature until it turned and vanished around the corner, never uttering a word.
She had seen this scene too many times. No matter whether teammates, friends, or even superiors searched with her, they always came up empty.
That prismatic puji seemed never to have existed. Over time, not only had others stopped believing, but she herself began to wonder whether she was merely oversensitive to pujis.
After the puji disappeared, Soralin took a deep breath to steady herself and resumed her seemingly futile inquiries.
Unexpectedly, this round of asking produced a potentially useful lead.
A blacksmith suddenly remembered seeing one of the missing late one night; the man had drunkenly muttered, “Tomorrow I’ll go look for fun in the northern ruins.”