The Bizarre Detective Agency

Chapter 657: The Descent of Silence

Silence was set to fall in the coming days.

Turning on the radio only yielded intermittent warnings from Khimfast.

But Watcher's Cliff was fully prepared.

...

Khimfast, too, had completed its preparations.

The hustle and bustle that had filled the city only days before had died down considerably, a testament to the constant warnings issued by the mayor's office.

Everyone knew the Third Calamity was upon them. When the church bells began to toll, they had to be silent.

Strangers arrived in Khimfast during those days, distinct from the local refugees.

They had journeyed from the Main Continent, sent by city leaders and mayors to experience the effects of Silence firsthand. Their mission was to carry that knowledge back to their own cities, as yet untouched by the Calamity.

"—The eastern cities were hit two days ago. The situation is dire... besides Silence, there are other evil spirits to fear..." The voices of the city official and the visiting representatives faded on the wind as they walked along the wooden wall on the outskirts of Khimfast.Sergio hoisted the last sandbag and placed it at the base of the wall to reinforce it.

A city official with a clipboard approached and signed off on the work. Catching his breath, Sergio lowered his head and walked back to join the other laborers.

"—See that? We're the ones who built this wall," some of the workers declared, pointing with pride at the long wooden fortification.

Sergio watched with a pang of envy as a young worker managed a smile. What were the rest of them, now jobless, supposed to do?

He took a long drink from his flask, emptying half of it. Then he soaked the towel slung over his shoulder and wiped himself down. He'd have to put his shirt back on soon; his wife would nag him if his clothes got too filthy.

One of the workers he'd befriended while building the wall approached him and asked what he planned to do next. The man was a refugee from Sentry Post. For someone like him, losing a job was far more terrifying than it was for a local like Sergio.

"—I'm heading to the port," Sergio replied. The chill from the water on his skin prompted him to pull on an undershirt, followed by his button-up.

The worker stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Are you crazy?! You're going to work with those monstrous fish?!"

His shouting drew the attention of the other workers.

"—If I don't work, we don't eat," Sergio said, his expression hardening as if carved from stone.

After collecting his wages, Sergio first went home for a wooden basin, then crossed the city to a hiring station the port had set up in the western district. They told him he could start the next day, and if he arrived by six in the morning, he could catch a ride on one of their wagons.

Leaving the hiring station, Sergio stopped by a market saturated with the stench of fish and spent his entire day's wages on minced fish.

As wheat grew scarcer, black bread, once a staple for the poor, had become a luxury even the middle class could no longer afford.

The minced fish was an unappetizing sight—a homogenous paste of various fish ground together so thoroughly that one couldn't even find the bones. There were rumors that some of the fish even had limbs or extra mouths. The better catches were, of course, reserved for canning or sold to the nobility.

Yet it tasted surprisingly good, and the price was next to nothing. A day's wages could buy a full pound of it—and it was meat, after all!

If the fishy smell was too strong, people mixed the paste with mashed potatoes. Cooking it was simple, even without a proper stove: just form the mixture into patties, place them on any hot surface, and soon they would brown, releasing an appetizing aroma of fish and potato.

Fish patties, they said, had become the most popular meal in all of Khimfast.

The vendor took his money and scooped out exactly a pound of the paste with a measuring ladle, releasing a thick, fishy odor. He dumped the contents into the basin Sergio held out and scraped the ladle clean.

Dusk was falling.

Sergio tore his gaze from the sky and carried the basin home.

"—You bought so much again..." his wife murmured, emerging from the other room with their sleeping child in her arms.

"—You need the meat to keep up your strength," Sergio replied, setting the basin down in the kitchen and covering it with a lid. They didn't own a cat, but the mice would surely catch the scent.

"—Little Grey is only eight months old..." his wife chided gently. "We still had two patties left from yesterday... Buy whole fish tomorrow. We can dry it."

Sergio shook his head. "The work on the wall is done. I'm starting at the port tomorrow."

The color drained from his wife's face. "But... it's dangerous there..."

"—Don't listen to old wives' tales. The port is safe," Sergio cut in, trying to quell her anxiety. "I was watching by the west gate the other day. Everyone who went in came back out."

So that was why he had been coming home late, she realized. She didn't argue, but simply asked him to be careful.

Outside, the streetlamps began to flicker to life. His wife handed the baby to him and went into the kitchen to start on dinner.

Half an hour later, they sat at their modest table, sharing news from the day. It was mostly his wife who spoke.

She told him how their neighbor, Aunt Maria, had improved her fish patty recipe by adding crushed dried leaves for flavor. She talked about Rock, who had fought with his parents again, this time over wanting to become a sailor. And about Mrs. Daisy, who was pregnant, and how her husband had gotten angry for some reason and even struck her...

Sergio listened in silence, only occasionally taking a bite of his patty.

The peaceful quiet was shattered by the distant tolling of a bell.

"—What's going on...?" his wife trailed off mid-story about a Mrs. Fenne, frowning as she looked out the window, her expression clouded with confusion.

But then another bell began to ring from somewhere else, then a third, and a fourth. A frantic, chaotic peal of bells washed over Khimfast.

The infant in her arms startled awake and began to wail.

"—It's the Calamity," Sergio cried, jumping to his feet so fast he knocked his chair over. "Keep Grey quiet."

His wife, terrified, tried to soothe the infant, but the baby only cried louder. "He's frightened!"

Just then, the cacophony of bells outside abruptly ceased, leaving only a fading echo.

Sergio knew what that meant. He desperately started making faces at his son—it was the one thing that always calmed Grey down.

It worked. The crying subsided. The baby stared, his wide, curious eyes fixed on the parade of distorted faces his father was making.

His wife, clutching the baby, was frozen in terror. Opposite her, the father continued to pull silent, exaggerated faces. In the stillness of the room, the sight was simultaneously grotesque and tender.

"Giggle..." Suddenly, Grey laughed.

An icy dread seized Sergio. Reflected in his wide, bloodshot eyes was his wife... clutching an empty blanket.

"—My boy—" Her cry was cut short. Across from him was an empty chair, as if she had never been there at all.

The ridiculous expression froze on Sergio's face. He didn't move. Tears just streamed from his eyes.

The last echo of the bells faded into the night.

The entire city sank into a dead silence. There was no chaos, no panic.

Because death and fear spread in silence.