Madness

"Miss Chloe is a Wolf Chicken, but she looks more like a chicken, so I think 'Chicken Farmer' suits you perfectly."

Ivy analyzed the situation earnestly. The Golden Hair on her head split into three strands once again. She crossed her arms and nodded repeatedly, clearly in complete agreement with her own words.

But that hastily thought-up codename and sloppy introduction both made it sound like he was being treated as cannon fodder. Ethan imagined himself at headquarters someday, surrounded by colleagues whose codenames were all incredibly cool. When they looked his way, he'd have to answer, "I'm a chicken farmer."

Just thinking about it made his scalp tingle.

"Can I change my codename?"

"Yes. When you get promoted or transferred, you can submit a request to headquarters. The approval process takes about a week to half a month."

Ivy's explanation finally made Ethan feel a little better, but at the same time, a familiar feeling returned.

Late at night, and his boss had suddenly announced they needed to work overtime.

He hadn't expected the Containment Bureau to assign work so quickly. They'd given them a job the very day their identity cards arrived. Fortunately, it sounded like the work was in town and didn't seem dangerous.

Ethan packed his tool bag, changed into his work clothes, and brought along the "Exorcism Agent" and "Blocker." Naturally, he didn't forget the detector, either. This was the first anomalous case he'd handled, after all, and it held great significance in his career. He was still full of anticipation. Someday, it would become a story he could tell his grandchildren while lounging at home in retirement.

The food was hardtack. From what Ethan had observed, it was the instant noodles of this era: easy to store and filling. Apart from being dry and awful to eat, it had practically no drawbacks.

Marshall's mansion was close by. A Great Banker like him naturally lived in Brookwood Town's most prosperous district, just like the rich Ivy.

When Ethan walked in, chewing on hardtack, he was greeted by the sight of an extravagant candlelit dinner.

A candle sat on the dining table in the living room. An entire roast turkey rested on the table, its aroma wafting through the room. Ethan couldn't help glancing over. The main dish was cinnamon pie, accompanied by a fruit and vegetable salad.

He took a fierce bite of his hardtack.

He tried to quench his thirst by imagining plums, hypnotizing himself into believing that what he was chewing was a turkey leg. At least it was nearly as hard as the bone.

Marshall wasn't there. He didn't seem to have much of an appetite. He'd taken only one bite of cinnamon pie and torn a small piece of meat from the turkey leg before wasting the rest of the extravagant candlelit dinner.

Ethan suddenly thought of something and hurriedly turned to Miss Chloe, who had followed them inside.

The turkey was about the same size as her, and they were members of the same family, too. The scene on the table must have looked like something out of a horror movie to her.

"Don't look at the table, Miss Chloe..."

At Ethan's call, Chloe snapped out of her daze. She craned her neck and swallowed the drool that was about to run out of her mouth with an audible gulp. Then she straightened up awkwardly, doing her best to maintain a lady's poise.

Miss Chloe wanted meat.

"You're investigators from the Containment Bureau, right? The master's been in very poor condition these past two days."

A worried maid greeted them, her voice urgent. "The master hasn't eaten properly for two days, and he hasn't gone to work at the bank, either. He's become very strange."

"Could you tell us more?"

Ethan pulled out a notebook and quickly slipped into work mode.

"The master, um... suddenly started laughing a lot. He laughs in a really scary way, so he locked himself in his room and hasn't come out."

"When did this start?"

Ethan wrote "likes to laugh" beneath Marshall's name on the first page of his notebook. If it was serious enough to alert the Containment Bureau in Gear City and make them come work overtime in the middle of the night, then it had to be more than just an abnormality involving someone who "likes to laugh."

Marshall was backed by the Lofik Consortium and handled all the banking business in Brookwood Town. If he couldn't work, it would have a huge impact on the bank.

"It was yesterday morning. The master went to collect a house, and when he came back, he was like this."

He'd likely been affected by a Cursed Object while collecting the house. The Blocker should work.

A professional Containment Bureau investigator had to be bold enough to make a judgment!

There was no need for a thorough investigation. The Gear City branch had assigned them the case, which meant it was most likely related to a Cursed Object.

Ivy had been about to speak, but seeing how quickly Ethan had gotten into the swing of things, she smiled faintly. This was exactly the kind of assistant she wanted. Every great detective needed one.

After completing his notes and analysis, Ethan asked, "Could you take us to see him?"

He took out the detector and left it running.

The needle was in the blue range, which meant Marshall hadn't accidentally brought a Cursed Object home.

"Please, follow me."

The maid hurriedly led the two of them and one chicken to the bedroom. The door was tightly shut, and not a sound came from inside. She knocked. "Master, the Containment Bureau investigators are here."

"Come in."

When he heard Marshall's voice from inside, Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. The banker was still alive. They hadn't arrived to find nothing but a cold corpse in the room.

Marshall was dressed formally in the bedroom, doing his best to maintain his dignity. But his pale complexion and messy hair made it clear he'd had a miserable couple of days. When they entered, he was sitting at the desk with a vacant stare, holding a Parchment Book. He hadn't even noticed that he was holding it upside down.

After Marshall signaled to her with his eyes, the maid bowed to everyone and left the room.

"Mr. Marshall, I'm an investigator from the Containment Bureau. My name is Chicken—"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I hadn't even finished speaking!

Ethan's introduction was drowned out by a burst of intense laughter. He thought Mr. Marshall was incredibly rude. He could've at least waited until Ethan had said the words "Chicken Farmer" before laughing.

"I'm sorry, I just—hahahaha—!"

The scene in the bedroom was bizarre. Marshall's face was pale, and his features were twisted with guilt and anguish, yet he was laughing so hard he doubled over and couldn't stop. He curled up, slapping the desk over and over.

After laughing for a while, he shakily picked up a pen and wrote "Help me" on the title page of the book he was holding upside down.

"Don't panic. We're professionals."

Though he had a little more work experience now, Ethan calmly knew what to do. This wasn't actually much of a problem at all. He pulled a glass jar of black liquid from his tool bag. Ominous bubbles churned inside it.

"This is the 'Feel-Good Mental Blocker 2.0.' It can effectively dispel the effects of most Cursed Objects."

Ethan unscrewed the lid in front of Marshall. The room was instantly filled with a powerful fishy stench.

Marshall's pupils contracted. He and his chair shot several meters backward. Even as he continued laughing uncontrollably, he mustered all his strength to shout, "I won't drink it! I'd rather die!"

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