2026-11-11 11:27:37You'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 the Oddity Cleanup Bureau's work. So after his badge threw him a warning, how had he known to come to the Bureau for help?
And just now she'd deliberately let a little charm leak out. Judging by his face, it had landed — yet his behavior stayed perfectly normal, as if he hadn't lost a single memory. Why?
At that thought, one of her eyebrows arched slightly, and she recalled a small detail she'd overlooked before.
Yesterday afternoon, when the little guy had come running over, hoping to join the Oddity Cleanup Bureau on the strength of his own "anomaly," he hadn't blurted out his ability right away. There'd been the smallest beat of hesitation first — and only then had he said his ability was forcibly extracting information...
"Heh. Interesting."
The corners of her mouth curled up a hair. The red-haired woman took the quill from the inkwell, slid open a drawer, pulled out Cassius's file, found [Intel Acquisition] in the ability column, and drew a tiny question mark beside it with her pen.
Such a careful little thing just what secrets are you hiding in there, hmm?
...
[You have encountered a special existence beyond understanding. Variant badge "[Level-1 Certified Materialist] (Crimson)" activated. Your boundary of cognition has been expanded, and you have obtained partial information on this being]
[Name: Love Unremembered (Forgetting, Whispering)]
[Appearance: No physical form]
[Ability: When anyone develops feelings of "love" toward the host — fondness, doting, adoration, and the like — the host of this anomalous object gains the power to veil memory, and may temporarily blot out a small, recent stretch of the other party's memory]
[Cost: Of the three supreme loves — a parent's love, a child's love, a partner's love — the host will never be able to receive even one. Should anyone develop a corresponding supreme love for the host of this anomalous object, they will instantly lose every memory of that love]
[File: This anomalous object is held by Hesper Marlowe, Director of the Oddity Cleanup Bureau's House of Buer branch. She has no parents, no partner, and no children, and thus it is impossible to determine which of the supreme loves she actually lost.
The object's last recorded use was in the Frostfall Market incident of 1814.
Disguising herself as a singer, House of Buer branch Director Hesper Marlowe broadcast songs on a massive scale over the public address system, winning the adoration of vast numbers of moonfolk — and blotted out the memories of over seventy thousand people in one stroke, thoroughly crushing the moonfolk's descent scheme]
[Assessment: An extraordinarily formidable ability — but the price it demands is heavy indeed]
[Contamination: 7]
[Through your own observation and deduction, you have gained extensive intelligence on "Love Unremembered." Variant badge "[Level-1 Certified Materialist] (Crimson)" activated.
Having grasped the rules by which "Love Unremembered" operates, your resistance to this anomalous object has greatly increased; you are now able to block influence of ordinary intensity]
...
So that was it...
Reading the new anomalous-object intel that had popped up the moment the red-haired woman took his right hand, Cassius — standing in the doorway of the Director's office — nodded with sudden understanding.
No wonder he'd forgotten all about the Bureau's work — those memories had been temporarily veiled.
By the "rules" the Soot Bishop had laid out for him, the more "truths" a person knew, the likelier anomalies were to come knocking. The Director had veiled those memories for now, presumably worried he'd run into danger before he could protect himself.
But his heart hadn't moved much at the time, so the effect on him was slight — and then his badge had heated up in warning, handing him what amounted to a "reminder" from the runaway Contaminated. That was what broke the seal and gave him his memories back.
Still, she could have just TOLD him all this, right? Why did she have to...
"Cassius?"
A soft voice calling his name broke his train of thought. He lifted his head toward it — and the sight hit his eyes like a flash of light. A tall beauty in a beige skirt suit stood at the far end of the corridor, smiling at him with gentle warmth.
Unlike the pretty, dangerous red-haired Director, this tall beauty's loveliness carried no edge at all. Her figure was long and slender, yet far from lacking a woman's soft fullness.
Skin so fair it seemed steeped in moonlight, making you want, from the bottom of your heart, to get just a little closer...
"Thank you for yesterday."
The gentle-tempered woman seemed to know Cassius well. She said hello, then drifted over light on her feet, folder cradled in her arms, and stopped in front of him with a smile:
"Are you done talking with the Director? I'd like to hand in the report from my other solo mission — is it all right to go in now?"
"..."
Yesterday, solo mission, knows me... wait, are you the bandaged— no, wait! You're AGNES?!
The gap between yesterday's reliable veteran — beaked mask, bandages head to toe — and the gentle-faced tall beauty in front of him was just a bit much to bridge on short notice. It took Cassius a beat, and then he hurried out of the doorway, saying, a little sheepish:
"It's fine! Totally fine! The Director and I just finished up. Sorry for blocking your way."
"No trouble at all."
Agnes, her looks explosively upgraded by the change of outfit, gave a small laugh, then said, a touch abashed:
"So — I'll be heading out on another mission in a few days. When I get back... could I ask you for a favor?
"Don't worry — I can guarantee you won't be in any danger whatsoever. It might just be a little tiring..."
"It's fine, it's fine!"
Cassius went serious on the spot and promised, meaning every word:
"You risked everything to save my sister yesterday. So no matter how tired, no matter how hard it gets — when the time comes, I'll give it everything I have!"
"Heh — then let me thank you in advance!"
The corners of her soft, delicate lips curved up. One more smile for Cassius, and the bandaged woman — Agnes — pushed open the door and stepped into the Director's office.
Watching her graceful figure disappear through the door, Cassius clicked his tongue quietly to himself.
Well, great. If it weren't for the voice, I wouldn't have dared recognize her! What a night-and-day difference! And if...
"'If only the bedbugs in my mattress all looked like her — go ahead and bite, bite me to death, I won't make a sound'... that's what you were thinking, right, kid?"
"..."
Catching the utterly done look Cassius gave it, the Soot Bishop split its lips into a grin and chuckled darkly:
"Heh, yours truly advises you to keep it in your pants — the woman's got kids, several years old already! You've got no shot give up early and save yourself the heartache!"
His face flushed a mortified beet-red.
Who said anything about a shot... I was just knocked sideways by the contrast between her and yesterday, okay? It took me a second to recognize her! Why does your brain always go straight there?
Also — with a rotten, punchable mouth like yours, how have you survived this long without somebody beating you to death? On the strength of how good the soup tastes once you're stewed?
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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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