The Bizarre Detective Agency

Chapter 357: The Truth

The maids summoned by the butler were cleaning the basement. At a time like this, only the most trusted and courageous among them could be here.

“For lunch, we have steak and mashed potatoes. What will you have to drink?”

“Milk or juice,” Lu Li answered.

The head maid, crouching beside Lu Li, turned to Petra. He ordered, “Wine. And a bottle of rum.”

When the maid had gone, Lu Li glanced at Petra.

“It’s for Vincent. He loved rum,” Petra said, gesturing with his handless arm toward the long black table, which had been cobbled together from several smaller ones.

Sara had not yet returned to the basement. She would most likely only appear in the evening.

This gave them time to rest and think. The relatively clean surroundings and the promise of a hearty meal—it wasn't all bad.

Except, of course, for the fact that three of them were chained to a wall, missing their legs, bleeding, and suffering from their wounds.

“Will anyone come to save us?” the Baroness asked, staring at her missing legs. Her once beautiful, long limbs now looked horrendous.Petra sighed heavily. “We aren’t the main characters, so no.”

And they couldn't save themselves.

...

“Did you hear? Rola returned... He went mad and started biting everyone, as if he couldn’t feel any pain. An entire squad of armored guards couldn’t stop him. In the end, they had to cut off his head, and only then did he die...”

“Eh? Who’s Rola?”

“A servant. He used to wait on Lady Sara.”

“The lady’s servant? Gods... Is the lady alright?”

“Another servant, one Rola wounded, managed to get back to the house and report it. The lady is fine.”

Sara sat on a bench in the garden. Nearby, two maids were whispering. Sara listened in silence, a growing sense of unease creeping over her.

She had just come from the dungeons, where Rola’s body lay. On the pretext that he had been her servant, she had managed to see him. The wounds were horrific, but there was no blood. His skin had taken on a deathly blue hue. The captain of the guard was bewildered. A veteran of many wars, he had seen countless corpses, but this one had clearly been dead for a very long time.

“Why did it turn out like this? What was the mistake?!” Sara was certain she had followed the instructions in the Book of the Dead precisely. But all she had managed to do was make a dead body move. She hadn’t resurrected him, hadn’t brought back his soul.

Once again, snippets of the maids’ conversation reached her.

“Horrible... Has the head of the family not come?”

“The viscount’s brother has returned. They’re in the study; they don’t know about it yet.”

“Uncle Andrew?”

Sara remembered her Uncle Andrew, the one who had given her the Book of the Dead. Perhaps he would know what to do!

Gathering her skirts, Sara ran toward the house. The two maids watched her go, surprised. Sara paid them no mind. She flew up the stairs. Her etiquette teacher was coming down to meet her. The stern woman stopped, expecting Sara to curtsy politely as usual. But Sara swept right past her.

“Uncle Andrew!” Sara burst through the door to the viscount’s study and exclaimed breathlessly. “Sara, did your etiquette teacher not teach you to knock before entering?” the Viscount scowled. “And how dare you appear in such a state? Get out...”

“It’s alright, she came to see me,” Andrew said, calming the viscount’s anger and giving Sara a meaningful smile. “May we speak alone?”

“This is my house, and Sara is my daughter,” the viscount said to his brother, his voice low and stern.

“I am also a member of this family, and Sara is my niece,” Andrew replied, meeting his brother’s gaze.

“...Not for long. I need to speak with Sara,” the viscount said after a pause, finally nodding and averting his eyes from his daughter.

The door closed as the viscount left. Andrew looked at Sara, his words carrying a hidden meaning. “It’s been a while, niece. You’ve changed a great deal.”

Sara ignored the implication that Andrew had noticed something. She took a step forward and demanded, “Why didn’t it work? The resurrection ritual from the Book of the Dead doesn’t work!”

“Doesn’t work?” Andrew tilted his head. Under Sara’s watchful eyes, he walked over to the balcony and held out his hand. As if by magic, a beautiful butterfly landed on his finger. Andrew smiled gently, but then his fingers clenched. The butterfly had no time to escape. Its beauty faded.

Then Sara watched as Andrew wiped the pollen from his fingers, pulled familiar ingredients from his pocket, laid them out, and muttered an incantation. The light around them seemed to warp for a moment, and then everything returned to normal. The butterfly in Andrew’s palm came back to life.

The butterfly, still bearing the damage from the moment of its death, flapped its tattered wings and flew away.

“What doesn’t work?” Andrew turned to her, still smiling

Sara had seen Andrew’s smile many times, but now, for some reason, it seemed repellent. It was as if madness, coldness, and chaos were hiding within it.

“It can’t resurrect Adam,” Sara said.

“Were you the one who made that servant attack everyone a few hours ago?” Andrew asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Sara admitted after a moment of silence.

Andrew asked Sara for the Book of the Dead. Sara brought it to him. Andrew took the book, opened it to the last page, and pointed to a single line: “Do not use human bodies for experiments.” “Because this Book of the Dead cannot resurrect people,” Andrew said.

Sara stared at the line in disbelief. She had read the Book of the Dead dozens of times but had never noticed those words...

“But you told me...”

“You broke the rules, so I’m taking the Book of the Dead back. Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret,” Andrew said, a mocking tone now lacing his smile. “I hear you’re getting married soon? I’ll be sure to attend.”

Andrew turned to leave the study, but Sara blocked his path and pleaded, “Uncle Andrew, can’t you help me? I just want to resurrect Adam...”

“No one can resurrect the dead. Not even I. And you... ghh... ghk...”

His words were cut short as a strangled gasp escaped his throat.

Sara’s dagger was buried in Andrew’s throat.

Without pulling the dagger out, Sara clamped her other hand—the one holding a handkerchief—tightly over Andrew’s throat to keep the blood from staining the carpet. With a cold gaze, she shoved Andrew toward the railing, and then pushed him hard...

The bloody dagger was wrenched free. Andrew fell from the balcony.