She is not an investigator.

Since their last operation with the Special Investigations Division, Iglesias has become somewhat of a familiar face at the local police station. If she's just asking for information, she shouldn't be kicked out.

"So my next task is to watch over the house?"

Momokawa rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek lightly while displaying a somewhat bored expression.

She probably still wanted to catch up with Igris more, but she also felt that going out with Igris was not a good idea.

"I would be very grateful if I could."

"Of course I won't refuse. Go early and come back early... Also, be careful."

Igris nodded, turned and left the office.

It was already afternoon, and even in this season, the streets were still exceptionally bright and not too cold.

Igris liked spring, because it was relatively warmer than summer, but not unbearably hot.

She's quite sensitive to heat, just as much as she's sensitive to cold.

With spring not far from summer, Igoris had to consider whether or not she should wear a skirt.

But let her worry about that kind of thing in the future.

"Hey, miss, don't rush off. Would you like to see if I can sell myself?"

She had only walked for less than half a minute when a homeless man in tattered clothes suddenly stopped Igris by the roadside.

The homeless man looked to be in his thirties or forties, with a stubble beard and a receding hairline. His clothes were dirty, but Igris didn't smell anything strange. He was covered by a rug with a bunch of random little things on it.

"Setting up stalls is not allowed here."

"Oh, those people are too lazy to care about me. Anyway, I'll just go somewhere else after I get kicked out. How about it? Want to take a look? Don't underestimate these things. Maybe you'll get lucky and find some treasures."

Igris frowned. Although she wanted to leave immediately or simply find a police officer to come and kick him out, she also remembered a sentence she had heard before.

The Book of Secrets and the Secret Treasures are always drawn to each other.

"...Then let's take a look."

"Hehe, alright, let's see if you know your stuff, Miss. All these items are the same price, no bargaining. Take whichever one you like, it's only five silver dollars. But you can't return it, and you can only buy one. Think carefully before you buy."

There was definitely something fishy going on.

Although the price is a bit high, it's unreasonable to only buy one when you're homeless and doing business. After all, the more you buy, the more you earn. Since you've already reached the point of homelessness, you certainly won't let go of such an opportunity to make more money.

Could you recommend one for me?

"Of course not. These kinds of things only make sense if you choose and buy them yourself. If I choose for you, and you regret it, wouldn't you blame me for choosing for you?"

Seeing this, Igris said nothing more and simply turned her attention to the various small objects that looked like trash.

Many of these items are difficult to explain their specific purpose, and some even look like parts that have been salvaged from somewhere, completely meaningless.

Igris looked for a long time but couldn't see anything that was truly worth spending five silver dollars on.

Finally, her gaze fell on a key.

This key is not silver; it's even a broken key. Its bronze appearance gives it an antique and heavy look, but as a key, it's clearly no longer of any use.

“…I want this one.”

"Have you made up your mind? If you are determined, you can take it, but you must remember that once you have made your choice, you cannot go back on your word."

"No, this is fine."

Igris had no idea why she was spending five silver dollars on a key that seemed completely overpriced, nor why she was buying it and not something else.

There was no strong intuition, no flashing images, and no sudden burst of inspiration; she simply picked up the key and chose it.

Perhaps what she chose is not important; it might not be this key, or she might not have stopped at all, but none of that matters.

What is truly important seems to be something no one can clearly say.

thump—

A dull bell tolled from the void, drawing Igris's attention into the distance.

Her gaze seemed to begin to drift, to become dizzy, to move away from her eye sockets, and to wander in other directions.

But the next moment, she returned to the same spot once again.

The homeless man and the stall in front of her had disappeared, and the bell seemed never to have rung. Only now, she held a key in her hand.

The Bizarre Stage Play – The Book of Secrets: Chapter Sixteen, The Beast Girl

“…Strange thing.”

Igris put the key in her pocket. These strange and bizarre things happened to her often, and she had almost gotten used to it and no longer found it particularly incredible.

In contrast, she now cares more about the truth.

The truth of everything.

What is this key, where did it come from, what are that stall and that homeless man, and what are those hidden treasures?

What exactly is the secret?

Igris knew far too little about this; even now, she didn't even know the word.

The Book of Secrets and the Secret Treasures are mutually attracted, so could the key in her hand be the so-called Secret Treasure?

But Igris couldn't figure out its specific use, and after obtaining it, nothing particularly strange seemed to happen.

Even the voice in her mind didn't ring out, so she doubted whether this thing was related to the secret treasure.

Normally, if there were any connection, the voice would have rang out and brought Igris more information.

Perhaps Igris should go to the Special Investigations Department to deal with her situation and the things that have happened to her.

In any case, these people are undoubtedly the more professional ones when it comes to these special matters.

…………

"Just as wild beasts chase the scent of blood, just as hunters pursue their prey, this attraction can cross wilderness, cross ice fields, and transcend the constraints of time and space, drawing every being forward."

"..."

“I know you’re curious about my name and my identity. But that’s alright, Miss Beast. You don’t need to know those things. As I’ve shown, my identity is etched on this gun and this outfit.”

This is a village outside the city of Biyanka.

It's a small, nameless village that the locals call Dead Eye, a very dangerous place.

Most people living in Biyanka generally avoid approaching this village, whether they are humans or witches.

Unlike the order and peace of Byanka, life here is chaotic and wild. As a western village, it has always had some unique traditions and customs that only the West has.

For example... cowboys.

Witches and cowboys are always topics that must be discussed in the West.

If we say that the current college witches are victims who have been cleansed of their stigma, stripped of their wildness, and stripped of their ambition and fangs.

So the cowboy of today is completely stigmatized, full of savagery and chaos, and an extreme worshipper of force.

In the small town of Dead Eye, wealth, power, and law—none of it matters.

Here, the only thing that can give you identity is the gun in your hand.

Of course, the town wasn't really beyond redemption; at least in Dead Eye, there was always a fairly responsible and powerful sheriff.

“Now, Miss Beast, tell me, did you come here to chase your prey, or are you preparing to launch a hunt against those weaker than you, against… my townspeople?”

The sheriff, named Wade, was currently holding his gun holster at his waist, staring intently at the strangely dressed girl in front of him.

The first impression this girl gives others is probably the red stains that can never be washed off her body, and the understated danger.

She was quiet and hard to spot, but once noticed, no one could ignore this girl who seemed born to hunt.

Even the most foolish person, upon seeing her eyes, would feel their heart pounding, their fear rising, and would prepare for a crisis.

“I had no...malicious intent.”

"Of course, you can be without it, and you'd better not be. But the others here might not think so, not to mention those restless young men... The scent of a wild beast isn't so easy to hide. You'd better leave here quickly, or I won't mind sending you away."

Sheriff Wade patted the gun at his waist and stroked his neatly trimmed mustache.

He was the town's protector and the only guarantee that the cowboys wouldn't cause trouble here, but in any case, letting such a dangerous person stroll around town was not a good idea.

"I'm leaving... I'm sorry."

"It looks like you need help?"

Upon hearing this, Wade relaxed his guard and casually adjusted his hat.

"Tell me about it. As the sheriff, I always stand on the side of justice. Maybe I can help you."

"…I'm looking for…"

She hesitated for a moment, then shook her head, probably unsure of what she was looking for, but the scorpion-like tail kept pointing in one direction.

What's there?

"That direction?"

Wade stroked his chin, pondered for a moment, and then spoke.

"The sea, and Bayanka, you're planning to go to Bayanka? No way, I managed to spot you in a place like this. The people there won't let you in; they're cowards."

As he spoke, he stroked his beard and muttered a complaint under his breath.

"They won't even let me in, what bad luck."

"..."

She lowered her head, looking at her paws, then at her tail.

It took her almost half a year to get here. Nothing could stop her; she could go anywhere she wanted.

The problem is, she doesn't know why she's doing this.

All she remembered was being trapped in the black mud in her final moments.

They lay on her body, as if gnawing at her flesh, constantly devouring her and assimilating her.

She felt fear and cold, so she returned to the now-empty office, to her own room, and fell into a deep sleep from which she never woke up.

But she woke up; someone woke her up before those people found her.