The Bizarre Detective Agency

Chapter 395: The "Safe" Cellar

“God, if you exist, please, save us...” Oliver whispered, kneeling before the pulpit with his eyes closed.

In the church's deep red glow, a long runner stretched toward the pulpit. The rows of empty pews on either side felt both deserted and yet crowded with unseen observers.

Having recited every prayer he knew, Oliver cautiously opened his eyes. Through the shattered windows, the sky was a bloody crimson, streaked with drifting dark clouds.

The prayers hadn't helped.

With a bitter smile, Oliver got to his feet and began dragging the pews to the door, barricading the entrance. He also hauled over the corpse of a night demon that resembled a giant bat.

Once the door was barricaded, Oliver began to search for the entrance to the cellar. He had no idea where it was, so he simply started checking everywhere.

The search didn't take long. Oliver found an oil lamp beneath the pulpit. It was low on kerosene, but there was enough to last a few hours. By its light, he spotted a metal handle on the wall to the left of the pulpit.

It revealed a dark, ominous entrance to the cellar. Below, not a glimmer of light could be seen.

Could it really be empty down there?

Oliver pushed the stone door open, leaving a gap just wide enough to slip through. If there was a monster inside, he could quickly retreat and slam it shut.Lamp in hand, Oliver silently descended the long stone staircase and cautiously peered around the corner.

The cellar lay before him.

The sight of bloodstains and scattered clothes put Oliver on edge. He froze, surveying the area for several minutes.

Nothing moved in the empty, silent cellar.

Steeling himself, Oliver stepped out from behind the corner. The lamp's flame wavered for a moment, then grew steady again.

Bookshelves, a table, racks, a wardrobe, a bed, bloodstains, clothes—nothing in the cellar seemed out of the ordinary.

And no sign of life.

The blood had long since dried. Oliver had no idea where it had come from, nor where the people had gone. But for now, he was relatively safe.

Carrying the lamp, Oliver circled the cellar, examining the items left behind. He found mostly clothes and toys, along with a strange statuette shaped like a humanoid beetle. There was no food or water.

He did, however, find a supply of kerosene in the wardrobe—enough to last him quite a while in the cellar.

As his nerves settled, Oliver caught a whiff of his own stench. It didn't bother him; he'd endured far worse.

He picked out a serviceable set of clothes from the scattered garments, changed, and sat on the hard bed. Exhausted from the sleepless night, he couldn't help but groan as his muscles relaxed.

Fatigue and drowsiness washed over him, and his mind grew foggy. He wanted to lie down, but felt like he was forgetting something.

Oliver was simply too tired. All he knew was that he had refilled the lamp and was no longer in immediate danger. And even if he was, he no longer cared. At this point, not even death itself could keep him from sleeping.

He struggled onto the bed, found a comfortable position, and was asleep in moments.

The oil lamp illuminated a small section of the cellar, while the rest of the space was swallowed by darkness.

Several hours later, Oliver awoke to an aching pain all over his body.

The light of the lamp was comforting.

The cellar had no windows, so Oliver guessed that dawn must be near.

When would help arrive?

Did JoJo know what had happened in Tenebrae?

Oliver lost himself in speculation in the silence of the cellar.

Gradually, the faint, barely perceptible whistle of wind reached him.

Oliver froze, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. He eventually decided it was coming from behind the bookshelf.

Where was the wind coming from?

Oliver didn't understand. He set the lamp on a small table by the entrance, walked over to the bookshelf, and pressed his ear to the wall.

The whistling of wind seeping through a crack grew more distinct.

Could there be another space behind the bookshelf?

Oliver noticed that the bookshelf wasn't fixed in place. Guessing what it meant, he moved to the side and began to push.

A scraping sound echoed as the legs of the bookshelf grated against the stone floor. Oliver felt a cold draft wafting from the growing gap between it and the wall.

What in the world is back there...?

Oliver kept pushing the bookshelf, and a dark passageway was revealed before him.

A smell of swamp mud and rot emanated from the passageway.

How could there be another passage here?

Oliver instinctively wanted to back away from the dark, unknown tunnel. But just then, something lunged at him from behind.

Oliver flinched, but before he could even turn, a sharp pain shot through his shoulder.

“Ah!” Oliver cried out, shaking off his attacker. He looked in horror at his assailant and froze in disbelief.

It was a little boy.

“Are you out of your mind, kid?!” Oliver cursed. He twisted his head to look at his shoulder and saw a shard of bone protruding from the wound. In the next instant, his rage gave way to chilling horror.

Before Oliver's very eyes, the boy tore off his own skin.

Oliver's hair stood on end. Raw terror filled his eyes. Without a second thought, he plunged into the dark passageway where the cold draft was coming from.

The darkness swallowed him.

...

The bookshelf was back in place, concealing the passage to the Shadow Swamp.

The smell of swamp mud and the whistling wind had vanished. Silence and calm settled over the cellar once more.

“Maybe the townspeople escaped into the swamp...” Frank muttered, clinging to a sliver of hope.

JoJo found the can of kerosene by the small table with the lamp and topped it up. The flame flickered, then burned steadily once more.

Setting the can down, JoJo glanced at Lu Li, who was surveying the cellar.

Belongings and clothes lay scattered on the stone floor. Several lamps had been knocked over; the spilled kerosene had soaked into the stone and was now almost dry. Footprints were visible on the floor, leading toward the exit.

Dark red stains of dried blood were splattered everywhere. Their origin was a mystery. There were no bodies, not even fragments of flesh, as if someone had sanitized the scene.

The tracks near the bookshelf and the entrance were obscured by dust and blurred by drafts. It was impossible to determine whether the people had gone back upstairs or fled into the tunnel. One could only guess that someone had escaped through the passage behind the bookshelf.

In any case, whoever had been hiding in the church cellar had left in a hurry, as if something had happened.

And once again, they had lost the trail.

Unless Lu Li decided to go through the tunnel into the Shadow Swamp.

“Let’s rest for a bit,” JoJo said, her voice laced with disappointment. She sat down by the lamp, hugging her knees.

The police station, the other cellar, now the church—this was their third dead end. JoJo was beginning to lose hope.

She looked up, wondering what Lu Li would do next. But he simply walked back up the stairs, closed the stone door, and came back down into the cellar.