2026-11-10 21:45:36Wait three days... would there even be time left by then?
He hadn't expected the friendly bandaged woman to refuse to act. Sick with worry over the hospital, Cassius gritted his teeth, bowed his head, and tried begging one more time:
"If you'd be willing to act, then I could..."
"I'm sorry. This isn't a matter of price."
Cutting Cassius off, the bandage-covered woman shook her head and said, looking sorry:
"The reason I've lasted six safe years in the Oddity Cleanup Bureau is precisely that I never act when I'm not certain.
"I do sympathize with what you're going through, but I have my reasons for never staking my neck lightly. I hope you can understand my decision."
"..."
Understand? Of course I understand — what else could I do about it, honestly? Drag you over there by force?
Hearing that refusal with no room for argument, Cassius's hand slipped open, limp, and a pale gray of despair slowly crept into his eyes.
Cold as it sounded, she had a point — she wasn't obligated to risk her neck for his sake. But then... what about Mira?
Right now he could still choose to go back to the hospital and get Mira out early, before that "runaway Contaminated" made its big move.
But if what that nurse said was true, then stopping her treatment and taking Mira out now would leave her bedridden for the rest of her life — probably unable to manage even simple housework like washing and cooking.
These past years, being a drag on the family because of her lungs had already caused Mira enormous pain. With a nature gentle and sweet on the surface but stubborn as bedrock underneath — if she ever concluded she'd become a downright "dead weight," then...
'Hey, kid — don't you dare welch on our deal!'
Just as Cassius was weighing the two choices back and forth, hesitating over whether to pull Mira out, the Soot Bishop in his arms twisted its neck uncomfortably and reminded him, a little worried:
'We had a deal: yours truly finds your person, you buy yours truly cigarettes! Well, I've found your person. If she won't lift a finger, that's her business — but the cigarettes you owe me are still owed down to the very last one!'
"..."
Oh, right — there's still this piece of work!
As if he'd just caught sight of a life raft drifting past, Cassius's eyes flashed; gripping the goat head, he blurted out, desperation all over his face:
"What about you? Can you settle this business? If you can pull it off, then as long as I'm working at the Oddity Cleanup Bureau, I'll buy you a pack of 'Old Crows' every single week!"
Tch... this routine again... just how much rope have I handed this kid?
At Cassius's offer, a flush of irritation crossed the Soot Bishop's face.
Kid! You don't seriously think yours truly tracked down your person for the cigarettes' sake, do you? I — a grand and glorious demon — short one pack of bargain-bin smokes that go for a shilling and six pence?
Let me tell you something! If that red-haired broad hadn't taken a shine to you, forget one lousy pack of smokes — you could get on your knees right now and beg me to take your soul off your hands, and I still couldn't be bothered. You get me?
'Three packs, minimum!'
"Deal!"
Damn it! I asked too low!
Mouth twisting in annoyance, the Soot Bishop silently cursed itself for having no spine, then sighed mournfully and burrowed harder into Cassius's arms.
Sigh... what can I say — the stuff's just my one weakness.
Besides, looking like this — all goat head, no body — I don't even qualify to go robbing anyone. Odds are I wouldn't get the money, and I'd get stewed in a pot instead, leaving me without even the cash for a pack of smokes.
Damn it! Just thinking about it fries my brain! That red-haired broad isn't even poor, but the second her weekly pay lands, she swaps every last penny of it — every fucking penny — for horse piss, and she won't spend half a penny on yours truly!
Once yours truly smokes a few more packs and saves up the strength for a comeback, I'm going to smash every last tavern in Smoke City! The perfume factories with booze in them get smashed along with the rest! We'll see if that damn broad can find a single hair left to drink!
Even as it silently fumed, the Soot Bishop gathered what little strength it had left, pressed a demon's mark onto Cassius's chest, and voluntarily granted him the right to "use" it.
At the same moment, that familiar noise sounded in Cassius's ears once more.
*bzzt*
[First-time acquisition of a usable anomalous object: the Hidden Trait of the variant badge "[Level-1 Certified Materialist]" (Crimson) has activated]
[Level-1 Certified Materialist (Crimson Variant, No Further Upgrades): ...]
[Worn Effect: ...]
[Advancement Path: ...]
[Hidden Trait: badge slots +1. Current number of slots: 4. Total anomalous objects required to open the next slot: 2]
With the mechanical chime, the virtual panel — previously just three slots — scrolled, and a fourth slot quietly appeared, a goat-head-shaped teal badge already seated in it ahead of schedule.
[You have gained use of the anomalous object "the Soot Crozier" and successfully activated the Bronze-grade badge [Acquaintance of the Soot]]
[Acquaintance of the Soot] (Bronze): After completing a filthy, low-down transaction, and agreeing to perform one extremely wicked sacrifice every week from now on, you have won the favor of a high-ranking demon]
[Worn Effect: affinity rises with anomalous objects bearing the "Ruin" tag; while slightly lowering the cost of use, it greatly strengthens the effects]
[Advancement Path: without Hesper Marlowe, the Soot Crozier's previous owner, ever finding out, complete ten of the agreed-upon evil sacrifices in private, and this badge will automatically advance to the Silver badge [The Bishop's Debtor]. Current progress: 1/10]
[Hidden Trait (no need to wear): your soul has picked up a faint demonic aura, making you more likely to attract the attention of certain evil beings]
[Your Contamination has increased]
[Contamination: 0.1]
...
'Sss... you little brat... you actually suit yours truly's taste just fine!'
Lying in Cassius's arms — bony things, a little hard on the goat — and feeling that duck-to-water ease, the Soot Bishop couldn't help tilting its head back and marveling:
'Back there, in a spot like that, you still kept yourself from putting a knife in that fatso from the Department of Roads. Yours truly figured you for one of those strong-morals types and assumed we'd never get along.
'But going by this compatibility of ours, you're obviously no good person! Not quite evil-villain grade, maybe, but you're definitely not carrying anything good in that gut — you've done your share of conning and swindling in your day, haven't you?'
"..."
The high compatibility is the badge's doing, thank you very much — I've been a law-abiding citizen both lifetimes, okay?
Though his long-standing sterling character had just been slandered out of nowhere, Cassius still had a functioning brain, and naturally wasn't about to confess his cheat to a demon.
And after holding the babbling goat head a moment and testing things out, Cassius discovered, to his utter delight, that he seemed to have temporarily gained the ability to peer into souls.
Centered on the goat head in his hands, within a radius of roughly two kilometers, thousands of faint, wavering "little flames" suddenly lit up.
Hatred, betrayal, mockery, envy, rage... countless dark, cold, malicious thoughts — burning into the soul like flame all the same — drifted into view before Cassius's eyes like ghostly blue phosphor-fire swaying through a graveyard at midnight, scattered star by star.
The moment he focused his attention on one, he could see straight through layer upon layer of concrete and brick, directly beholding the searing malice held in those "little flames."
Cassius even had a marvelous premonition: that if he just reached a "hand" over and gave a gentle flick, these cold, venomous fires would surge in an instant — burning the host's reason clean away and smoking those once-merely-ash-gray souls a black ten shades darker than charcoal!
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0017 He Really Does Deserve the Stew
You're fucking overdue for the stew, is what you are! Using every last ounce of strength he had, Cassius clamped the Soot Bishop's mouth shut, stuffing its torrent of filth right back down its throat. Then he looked up at the red-haired woman — still smiling sweetly — scratched the back of his head, and said, more than a little awkward: "So, um... Director, my sister got badly shaken up yesterday, and she's still laid up in the hospital. If there's nothing else, could I take the afternoon off?" "Mm-hm, go on! You just finished a cleanup job that dangerous — you've earned some rest." She approved the leave with a smile, and waited until he'd hurried out with the squirming goat head tucked under his arm. Then the faint smile slid off the red-haired woman's face. She laced her fingers together, leaned back to stare up at the aging ceiling, and sank into thought. Something was off... She'd veiled Cassius's memory — made him temporarily forget everything about t
0016 Don't Tell Me There's Another Twist?
"Heh. YOU can forget about forgiveness — but the new hire's off the hook, absolutely!" Giving Cassius a once-over that was almost admiring, the red-haired woman's sharp edge softened a touch, and she said, warmth in her voice: "Cassius, don't sweat the intel. You reported the Contaminated the moment you spotted him, you won over that troublesome demon, and you got it to lead you to Agnes. "Then, when Agnes got pinned down, you took out the mission target with one shot and got her out — and along the way you saved a few hundred people from losing too much of their life force. "For a rookie who joined the Oddity Cleanup Bureau only hours ago? More than good enough. As for the intel — that was just an accident nobody could have prevented." "No, hold on! Yours truly pulled off a feat here too! Do you HAVE to play favorites this hard?" Before Cassius could answer, the Soot Bishop — inflamed by the brutally lopsided treatment — burst out: "HE was the one who
0015 The Reward
"Send it to the kitchen to be stewed." Under the Soot Bishop's stare of maximum possible shock, the red-haired woman closed the case file marked [Bellfounder Memorial Hospital Incident], then picked up the goat head, tossed it to Cassius at the desk, and instructed, perfectly breezy: "We share a kitchen with the Police Department. After you drop this thing off, tell their head chef it's goat-head soup this time — same requirements as the last few rounds. "No ginger, no onion — extra rosemary and juniper. Double the dark ale to cut the gaminess, plus a pinch of white pepper and a splash of that Worcestershire sauce shipped in from the East. We're adding a special dish for the branch at lunch today. Off you go." "Wa... wait a minute! You bastard!" It had pulled off a genuine feat of merit, and this was its reward. The Soot Bishop's rage shot straight up past its brows as it lay in Cassius's arms, arguing its case on the merits: "Hes... you stinking woman! Thi
0014 Turning It Back Around (2-in-1)
MIRA!!! The moment the frail girl dropped, Cassius — watching through his scope from the building diagonally opposite — went cold from the inside out, like he'd fallen through ice. His brain hadn't even gotten as far as the concept of death. His consciousness just blanked. His heart felt clamped in a huge invisible fist, the blood supply to his whole body seemingly cut on the spot, and his hands and feet went stiff and numb, frozen solid. The whole world went dead quiet in that instant. Everything in it froze on one small, pale face — thin lips pressed tight, falling, helpless — and the only thing left that Cassius could do was watch, powerless, as his sister tumbled from on high, despair brimming in her eyes! "BOOM!!!" An ear-splitting roar rolled down most of the street. Hard on its heels came the wide crackle of shattering glass, and the low, grating shriek of metal warping under monstrous force. More than half the hospital's windows blew out from the sh
0013 A Sharp Turn for the Worse
Fresh off earning his new badge, Cassius split from the bandaged woman and, without a moment's rest, hauled the "sniper rifle" at a run into the department store diagonally opposite the hospital, making a beeline for the shooting spot he'd picked out — while across the road, Bellfounder Memorial Hospital had already turned into a picture straight out of hell. In the ground-floor lobby, which should have been buzzing with foot traffic, most of the crowd had been swallowed down into the cold tile. The patients, too weak to move, didn't have a prayer of pulling themselves free — all they could do was thrust their arms helplessly up toward the ceiling. Look anywhere you liked, and the whole lobby seemed like concrete mixed through with countless people writhing and struggling in agony — arms shot up desperately on every side, jutting out at every height, groping and clenching without stop. It was a living fresco of hell. Perhaps because of the carpeting — no direct contact
0012 Your Art Style's All Wrong, Isn't It?
Just as Bellfounder Memorial Hospital — something having gone wrong inside it — began devouring its patients bit by bit, Cassius, who had arrived nearby, felt a stab of pain in his eyes, and found the whole world before him going black. "Wait! Don't go in yet!" "What is it?" The bandaged woman, arm caught, turned back in puzzlement — and was startled to find that, as if blinded by some searing light, both Cassius and the Soot Bishop in his arms had their eyes clamped shut, tears even streaming from the corners of Cassius's eyes. "This hospital is alive!" Gazing up at the black flames towering skyward in his soul sight, Cassius — whose "eyes" had been scorched by their glare — explained through a burning, stinging pain, still gripping the bandaged woman's arm: "Just now — the instant you started to walk in — it was like it got some kind of signal. Suddenly it had a soul of its own, and... it's about as strong as several hundred ordinary souls!" The entir
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