The Ministry's dungeon clearly reflected the value society placed upon criminals.

  Bare brick walls, appearing almost black in the sparse flicker of oil lamps, and a low ceiling supported by crude pillars formed a vast vault whose dimensions were difficult to perceive at first glance. The boundaries of this place dissolved into shadow, lending it an oppressive sense of confinement despite its substantial size. It felt as though one were deep underground. Only the steps of a short staircase separated the dungeon from the surface, but in the flickering darkness, one could feel the crushing weight of countless tons of cold stone pressing on the lungs.

  Semira often found breathing difficult down here—the stench of decay seeping like moist vapor from the ground didn't help. She walked down the long main corridor, narrow tunnels branching off at regular intervals. Akeno accompanied her, walking slightly ahead, openly expressing his disgust. He continually cast repulsed glances toward the rusty iron doors embedded in the tunnel walls. Behind each lay a grim, tiny cell. Each tunnel extended so deeply its end was lost in shadows.

  The stifling air was filled with faint moaning, indistinct murmuring, barely audible whimpers and pleas. Occasionally, screams echoed through the twilight, but the uneven walls swallowed the sounds like thick fog, leaving almost no echo behind. Semira hated the emptiness those echo-less screams left even more than the screams themselves.

  “It’s up ahead,” Akeno said, wrinkling his nose. He entered a tunnel to their left and walked past the rows of doors. Semira occasionally peeked through the narrow, barred windows set into each door, offering glimpses into the cells. Sometimes she spotted figures slumped in the darkness, and occasionally glazed eyes from gaunt, filthy faces returned her gaze. The sight always pierced her heart, but she refused to let it show. These people deserved their imprisonment; pity had no place here.

  With grim resolve, Semira suppressed the nagging doubts rising within her. She couldn't allow herself to be distracted.

  When the already faint light barely penetrated the darkness, Akeno stopped and pulled an iron key from his pocket.

  “They’re treating him like a dangerous criminal,” Semira remarked flatly.

  “That’s essentially what he is,” Akeno replied. “He attacked a Ministry agent.”

  “Hardly while in a clear state of mind. Besides, he hasn’t even been tried yet.” But Semira wasn't fooling herself. Everyone knew this was just another one of Senator Sargos's petty power plays. She felt hatred simmering within her for that detestable man, yet that was precisely his intention. Once she lost control, he won.

  Akeno unlocked the iron door, which creaked open nauseatingly. Semira stepped into the cell behind him and slowly looked around. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, revealing some details in the small room: a narrow wooden table and chair, a shelf embedded in the wall, and a low bed—little more than a primitive cot.

  Seated on it, hunched forward slightly, was the old man who had caused an enormous disturbance in the Ministry's reception hall the previous day. He had been stripped of everything but a stained shirt and tattered linen trousers, even his shoes. Beneath his ring of grey hair, a dark bruise had formed, and his wrists appeared raw as though from restraints. But strangely, he didn't resemble someone imprisoned in one of the Ministry dungeon's deepest, darkest cells. His posture was relaxed, hands dangling casually over his knees, and he leisurely lifted his head as Semira stopped before him.

  She studied him briefly before speaking. “I have some questions for you. Do you have a name?” Her tone was firm yet polite. She had no reason to mistreat him.

  Her investigations had uncovered nothing about his identity. She had to start from scratch.

  The faint light reflected in his eyes. He flashed her a toothless smile. It was as if he'd been waiting for her—as if she were here solely at his bidding.

  “Ah, there you are,” he said in a grandfatherly, raspy voice. “I wondered what was keeping you.” He chuckled. “Well, we'd better hurry, hadn't we?” Placing his hands on his thighs, he pushed himself upright with a groan. Then he clasped his hands behind his back and walked unsteadily toward the exit, his bare feet softly slapping against the cold stone floor. When he reached Akeno and the man made no effort to step aside, he stopped short. “Ah, my boy, it's kind of you to hold the door, but I can’t get through if you’re standing right there…” He tried slipping past Akeno, but the enforcer easily pushed him back into the cell.

  “Oh? Well, I never…” murmured the old man, looking confused. Akeno sighed and shot Semira an exasperated glance. Semira gently placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder, guiding him to turn toward her. Due to his stooped posture, she stood nearly two heads taller than him.

  “Oh, my dear girl, what—” he began, but Semira interrupted him.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  He squinted up at her, his empty gaze passing straight through her. “What? Well of course, my dear, you are—”

  “And do you know exactly where you are right now?”

  “I... well, yes, of course, I...” He faltered. For a moment his eyes darted about, searching her face for a familiar detail, a memory, and finally settled on the golden pin at her collar. His expression changed; his gaze sharpened, and his smile faded. He seemed to fully recognize the cell for the first time—the tight space, the darkness. He stiffened, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, his breath quickening. He slowly backed away from Semira. “Oh no...” he whispered, despair overtaking his expression. With trembling steps, he returned to his cot, sinking down and burying his face in his hands. “Oh no, oh no, oh no…”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Semira gave him a moment to collect himself. She almost regretted dragging him back into reality, away from wherever he'd believed himself to be. Anything was better than this place. But she needed the man lucid; she needed his memories.

  “Can you tell me what you saw two days ago?” she finally asked, crouching before him. She tried sounding stern, but the sight of this broken old man made suppressing all emotion difficult.

  “Careful, Semira,” Akeno warned. “This guy is unpredictable.”

  “It’s alright,” she reassured calmly. Maybe it was this gentleness that caused the old man to stop his murmuring. His gaze met hers, and this time, he saw her.

  “I... I didn’t do it!” he suddenly burst out. “It wasn’t me, do you hear? It was that devil! The devil, he—he…” He hugged his shoulders, shaking hysterically. “Why won’t anyone believe me? He stood right in front of me...”

  “What exactly did you see?” Semira asked.

  “He stood right there, and—and the screams! They were so loud, but I couldn’t hear them! I shouted—I could hear it in my head—but nobody was there, and the screams—!”

  “Calm yourself,” Semira said, but the old man pressed his hands against his ears, curling inward.

  “And those eyes! He turned to me, and those eyes...” He raised his head, staring in horror at the ceiling.

  “What did he look like, this... devil?” Semira asked carefully. The old man continued staring upward as if he hadn’t heard her. His breath grew ragged, his lips silently forming words. Slowly, his gaze returned to her, and raw panic filled his eyes.

  “What if he finds me? If he finds me... he’ll rip my chest open, just like he did to the other one! I—I have to get out! I have to leave now!” He abruptly leapt up and darted past Semira with agility she never would have expected from him. Desperately, he threw himself against Akeno, trying to shove him out of the doorway. But Akeno, apparently anticipating this, seized the old man by the collar, effortlessly lifted him from the ground, and pressed him against the cell wall.

  “Didn’t you hear her question? Answer her!” Akeno hissed.

  The old man gripped Akeno’s wrists, his legs flailing uselessly, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the cell's exit. Semira stepped beside her subordinate, folding her arms across her chest. “No one is going to find you here,” she said quietly. “This is the safest place in the entire city. Outsiders cannot access these cells.” Yet the old man appeared not to hear her, continuing futilely to twist in Akeno’s grip. Semira watched him a moment longer, then touched Akeno’s shoulder. “That’s enough for now. Let’s return later—I’ve heard enough.”

  She turned and stepped past Akeno, leaving the cell.

  “They’re here,” the old man rasped.

  Semira stopped. “What did you say?”

  “They’re here... they’re here! Among us! Can’t you see them? Can’t you see...?” He stopped struggling, all strength seeming to drain from his frail body. Akeno carefully released him, and he slid slowly down the cell wall until he sat limply on the floor.

  “Who are you talking about? Who’s here?” Semira asked, kneeling in front of him.

  No answer.

  “I can help you get out of here. Talk to me, and I’ll get you out!”

  The old man sat silently, staring at the cold stones between his feet, the spark of clarity now extinguished in his eyes.

  Semira rose with a sigh and left the cell.

  Lost in thought, she walked along the tunnel, listening as Akeno locked the iron door behind them.

  “By the pillars, what's wrong with that man?” Akeno grumbled, catching up with her. “Can’t make sense of such incoherent babbling…”

  “Hm,” Semira murmured. “I think he genuinely saw something. Something unusual.”

  “You’re not actually buying his cloud devil story, are you?” Akeno asked incredulously.

  “Of course not. But it matches other reports we’ve received.” Over the past two days, sightings of a man with glowing eyes had multiplied. What was going on?

  Akeno shrugged. “I just hope we get something clearer from him soon.”

  Something in his tone made Semira pause. “What do you mean?”

  He rubbed thoughtfully at the stubble on his chin. “I think we were being watched—or rather, eavesdropped upon.”

  “Sargos’s people?” Semira asked.

  “Maybe. Either way, we should pay the old man another visit soon.”

  Semira nodded. Over time, she had learned to trust Akeno’s instincts.

  They reached the dungeon entrance. Two guards stood on either side of a heavy gate, looking bored until Semira and Akeno emerged from the shadows, at which point they immediately snapped to attention. The gate was silently unlocked. Semira paused and asked one guard, “Did anyone else enter the dungeon before us?”

  The guard stared straight ahead. “No one has entered in the past several hours. However, a prisoner was removed this morning. Should I check the records for the names of the enforcers responsible?”

  “No need,” Semira said, moving on. If someone down here could eavesdrop on them, bypassing official records would hardly pose a challenge.

  The staircase, with another gate at the top, led them directly into the Ministry's grand hall.

  “So what now?” asked Akeno, his gaze routinely scanning their surroundings.

  Semira considered this carefully. Fear and superstition led people to see monsters of their childhood in every shadow. But how could so many different reports share one identical detail? Those glowing eyes... And there was something else the old man had said—two things, actually.

  First, he'd mentioned how the victim’s chest had been “ripped open.” On one hand, that matched the narrative of the cloud devils. On the other, it was an odd choice of words if the victim had, as suspected, been stabbed or pierced by a weapon. Would an eyewitness describe such a wound as "ripped open," or was the old man merely being dramatic? Semira felt certain she was overlooking something important.

  But the other detail troubled her more. “They’re among us,” he'd said. They. Plural.

  Everything up to now pointed to a single, independent perpetrator. But what if there were multiple attackers?

  “For now, try to gather more information on these strange sightings,” she finally instructed Akeno. “Interview eyewitnesses again—maybe a pattern will emerge. Pay special attention to any differences in their descriptions.”

  Akeno nodded, excused himself without further comment, and left the building.

  Semira turned toward the staircase. Her office held piles of reports relating to these bizarre incidents. Maybe they would contain hints pointing to an organized group.

  As she approached the stairs, she spotted her mother waiting at the bottom. Semira rolled her eyes, already formulating a speech about how she had no time for her right now—until she noticed the distraught look on the woman's face. Her mother’s eyes were red, her powdered cheeks smeared as if she'd been crying. She nervously shifted from foot to foot, wringing her hands anxiously.

  As soon as she saw Semira, she rushed over, calling out with a trembling voice, “Semira! Oh Semira, it's terrible!”

  Semira halted, gripping her mother’s shoulders. “Mother? By the pillars, what happened?”

  “It’s Salome! She—she’s...!”