When evil gods hold a meeting in my head

Richard pulled Rosalie toward the police line, the path beneath their feet gradually changing from a dirt road to a gravel road. As they walked, the wind blew in from the sea, brushing against their cheeks, carrying a salty, damp scent.

At that moment, the gray-blue seawater in the distance shimmered in the sunlight, and several ship masts stood there... When the two were about ten steps away from the rope, a patrolman in a black uniform raised his hand, signaling them to stop:

"stop!"

Richard was yelled at and stopped.

The patrolman approached; he looked to be in his thirties, with a tanned, dark red face and deep-set eyes that held a sharp gaze. He gripped a gun, muzzle down, but ready to be raised at any moment.

He didn't draw his gun immediately, but instead pulled out the short black stick tucked into his waistband: "Who are you?"

What should he say? Telling the truth was definitely out of the question; the police wouldn't let him in… After hesitating for a long time, Richard said, “We’ve been selling oysters here with my uncle, but we got lost a few days ago and wandered out of the harbor. We have to go back to find him now.”

The inspector stared at him for a moment: "Your uncle? What's his name?"

Richard was taken aback for a moment.

He had no idea what the uncle selling oysters was called, so he just made one up: "Ross."

The inspector remained silent for a long time before suddenly chuckling, "Heh, to tell you the truth, a group of people just tried to get in, using the exact same excuse as you, even the same uncle's name."

Upon hearing this, Richard scratched his head awkwardly.

The inspector added, "Besides, the people inside are trying to escape, and you're in such a hurry to squeeze in? Aren't you just asking for death?"

"What exactly happened inside?" Richard asked.

The patrolman glanced at him, took a step back, and tightened his grip on his gun: "Don't ask questions you shouldn't ask. A blockade is a blockade. Back off immediately!"

Richard stood still, looking behind the police line.

The road stretched into the distance, flanked by extremely low houses, some made of wooden planks, others with corrugated iron roofs... They were crammed together, leaning precariously. Most of the houses had fishing nets and baskets piled up in front of them, the baskets filled with lively, jumping fish. A few kilometers further on was the dock, where several boats could be seen floating on the sea...

He vaguely remembered... Bis North Port was at the northernmost part of Metz City, but to get there, one had to go to South Port first to take a boat... From there, the route would circle half the city, but it was still much faster than a carriage.

The shipping industry has developed rapidly in recent years, and ships are being built faster and faster. It takes half a day to travel by boat from the South Port to the North Port. Horse-drawn carriages also have to take a long detour by land, which would take at least two more days.

Two days may not seem like a long time, but Rosalie can't wait that long... Some insects can turn a normal person into an idiot in just a few days... And Rosalie has been back from Bis North Port for a day now, or maybe two?

Richard didn't know, but he certainly couldn't delay any longer. He turned to the patrolman and said, "I have to go in."

The inspector's eyes widened, and he raised his gun slightly, his vigilance towards Richard suddenly increasing.

Richard didn't back down; instead, he raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

Purple mist welled up from the ring, lingering and melodious, almost invisible under the strong sunlight, and drifted toward the inspector, entering his nose.

The inspector's gaze shifted, suddenly changing from wariness to confusion. His eyes rolled back, as if he had lost consciousness, and he stood unsteadily, about to fall to the ground...

Richard looked him in the eyes and said, "I'm a senior inspector from the Patrol Department, ordered to enter the danger zone to observe the situation. You should recognize me; we met in the Patrol Department before... Not long ago, we were colleagues of the same rank..."

"Yes, is that true...?"

"Of course! Have you forgotten? We even had coffee together! The other day, the daffodils on your desk were almost dead, and I was the one who watered them and kept them alive!"

These everyday details gradually straightened the inspector's back. He gripped his gun tightly, a hint of respect for his superior displayed on his face, and he shouted, "I understand, sir!"

He immediately stepped aside to make way for Richard and Rosalie so they could pass...

Richard, pulling Rosalie along, calmly crossed the police line and looked down... Behind them was a paved downhill road, worn smooth and uneven from being trodden day and night. Low houses began to appear on both sides of the road; some had their doors open, dark and gloomy, while others had their doors closed, their windows boarded up. Scattered on the ground were broken baskets, tattered nets, and empty bottles, tumbling about in the wind.

There wasn't a single person there.

Richard slowed his pace and listened carefully. Apart from the sounds of the wind and the waves, there was nothing. It was too quiet.

He pulled Rosalie along. Rosalie walked slowly, but didn't stop to run away. She just followed him, step by step, her footsteps crunching on the pebbles.

A fork in the road appeared ahead. The left led to the docks, while the right led to a denser area of ​​houses. Richard hesitated for a moment, then took the left.

After walking for a while, he suddenly stopped. The air here seemed a bit off... It smelled very fishy. But it wasn't the smell of the sea; it was a different kind of pungent, foul odor, like something rotten.

"Could it be a corpse..." He sniffed and looked to the side.

A person lay face down at the base of the wall, wrapped in a dusty gray robe. A tree was embroidered on the back of the robe, its branches spreading out and its roots embedded in the soil.

It seemed to be a member of the Church of the Natural Forest... and he was already dead, his body stiff and rigid, like an iron rod!

Richard slowly walked over, squatted down, and took a look. The man's face was pale, his eyes were open, staring at the sky, but there was no light. There were no wounds on his body, but there was dried blood at the corner of his mouth, dark red and black.

The cause of death is unknown...

Richard stood up and looked around. The alley was empty; there was no one there. But the stench grew stronger, emanating from all directions. It seemed as if every alley around him was filled with corpses. This smell weighed heavily on Richard's heart, making it hard for him to breathe…

It was an indescribable sense of responsibility and oppression... Rosalie stood behind him, grinning foolishly, like an innocent child, completely unaware that she might be about to die... She was pitifully lost... And when she looked at the corpse, her face was expressionless, showing neither fear nor curiosity.

"I really hope we find that damn Puta soon. I'll feel so guilty if the bug isn't removed from the landlady's body..."

Richard had no choice but to pull her along and continue walking. He didn't know what Putat's purpose was in sending a letter to Rosalie...