The black crystal, condensed from the Mist Walker's final reserves of energy, cast an ominous glow from the ground.
The three figures formed a delicate, tense triangle on that eerie stage, facing one another in silence.
Barton stared intently at Lin Jie—and at the diary in Lin Jie's hands, which belonged to his companion Karl and was more familiar to him than anything.
Lin Jie's declaration—"I know far more than you think"—had struck deep.
As an elite I.A.R.C. investigator accustomed to being in control, Barton hadn't felt this way in a long time: led around by the nose by an "amateur."
"Curious, aren't you?" Lin Jie met Barton's gaze, his tone surprisingly calm.
He didn't rush to explain. Instead, he slowly crouched and picked up the black crystal, which still held a trace of warmth.
The moment his fingers touched it, an intensely pure afterimage of hatred and fear ran through his fingertips, making him frown.
This was the spoils of battle.
"Spiritual materials" imbued with supernatural power, obtained by hunting UMAs.
Seeing how practiced Lin Jie was, Barton's gaze grew more penetrating.
He waved a hand, signaling to Marcus, who was still on guard beside him, that he could relax a little.
"I think before we discuss who you are, you should explain how you were able to understand Karl's diary." Barton's voice broke the silence. He had chosen the most direct and crucial question.
He had emphasized the word "understand," clearly unconvinced that Lin Jie could decipher encrypted Germanic Ancient Script in such a short time.
"I couldn't understand it." Lin Jie's answer once again took Barton by surprise.
He admitted it frankly, then raised the diary and turned to the page with the sketch of the "Mist Walker."
"I didn't need to understand every word. I only needed to understand these." He pointed to the UMA's distorted shape in the drawing and the symbols beside it that he could recognize: a simple sketch of a building representing "city," a moon representing "night," and the skull, marked repeatedly, representing "danger."
"I saw what it looked like and memorized the unique symbols beside the drawing. Then"—Lin Jie looked up, his gaze shifting to the filthy rooftops—"I went to the places where it had appeared and used my own methods to sense and verify things. Once the facts matched the drawing perfectly, the truth naturally came to light."
The half-truth of an explanation was practically airtight.
He had cleverly packaged his incredible Afterimage ability as an extraordinary knack for observation and association, based on "intuition" and "on-site investigation."
It explained how he had identified the UMA's true nature while perfectly concealing his greatest secret.
Marcus was completely lost, convinced that this Oriental kid was just putting on airs.
But Barton understood.
He understood the chilling way of thinking behind Lin Jie's words.
It was a kind of logic that completely discarded common sense, worked backward from the result, and dared to experiment at the risk of one's own life—mad, yet efficient.
In some ways, this mindset was more frightening than that of the I.A.R.C.'s most brilliant intelligence analysts.
"Remarkable intuition." Barton finally nodded slowly, grudgingly accepting the explanation. He immediately followed up with another question. "What about the weakness of the 'Mirror'? As far as I know, Karl's diary doesn't clearly mention it. Did you 'sense' it, or...?"
"I guessed." Lin Jie's answer was just as flawless.
"The thing's essence is an animated shadow, the opposite of light. So the thing that counters it best must also be related to light. Ordinary firelight can drive it away, but it can't truly harm it."
"I bet that a purer, more concentrated light could inflict fundamental damage. And the simplest, cheapest tool for producing that kind of light is a mirror."
It was an answer grounded in basic physics and logical deduction.
Barton knew the truth couldn't be that simple, but he couldn't find a single flaw to challenge.
Silence fell once more.
This time, Barton was weighing things up, thinking.
He had initially regarded Lin Jie as a murderer who had "killed his companion Karl and stolen the Association's property."
But everything that had happened that night had shattered that assumption.
A real murderer, when pursued, would have fled far away. He wouldn't have gone back into the lion's den to investigate a Town Rank UMA that even they found troublesome.
An ordinary thief couldn't possibly have such a cool head and meticulous plans, let alone find a fatal weakness in a life-or-death fight with a UMA—one the Association hadn't even recorded.
Most importantly, someone who had killed an I.A.R.C. agent should have shown fear, hatred, or despair when they appeared. Instead, Lin Jie was calm and composed, and seemed almost eager to speak with them as equals.
Lin Jie's behavior didn't fit the profile of a "murderer" at all.
"One last question." Barton looked at Lin Jie and asked, enunciating each word. "What exactly happened aboard the Sea Witch? Karl... how did he die?"
That was the heart of the matter.
Lin Jie understood that this was his best chance to clear himself of all suspicion.
He didn't embellish. In an exceptionally calm, objective tone, he recounted everything that had happened aboard the ship.
From the eerie singing to the Deep Sea Resentful Woman's assault; from Karl's brave fight to his final stand; and then how Lin Jie had fought to survive against all odds and made it out alive.
His account was plain, but the vividness of someone who had been there gave it real weight.
In particular, his description of the Deep Sea Resentful Woman's form and methods of attack matched the I.A.R.C.'s internal records exactly. Those details could never have been fabricated.
When Lin Jie finished, even Marcus, who had been openly hostile toward him, had lost much of the suspicion and hatred on his face. What remained was a complicated silence.
He believed him.
When faced with an assault by a UMA of that level, death in battle was an entirely plausible outcome for any I.A.R.C. investigator.
Karl hadn't died because of a conspiracy. He had died fulfilling a hunter's fate.
Barton let out a long breath, which turned to white mist in London's cold night air.
He took off his hat and gave Lin Jie—the young man he had once regarded as prey and a murderer—a solemn tip of the brim.
"It seems we misunderstood you, sir." Barton's voice carried an apologetic note.
"On behalf of the International Association for Research and Containment of Anomalous Phenomena, I apologize for pursuing you. And thank you for identifying the real killer of London's citizens and preserving Karl's belongings."
At that moment, Lin Jie knew he had won.
With his wits and courage, he had turned himself from a "target" into a "cooperator" worthy of a salute from an elite investigator.
The greatest threat hanging over him had finally passed.
The immense sense of security and achievement he felt after stepping safely away from the edge of a knife was worth more than any amount of money.
"Then..." Lin Jie's mood had eased as well. He lifted the German diary in his hand. "Can we talk about who owns it—and... the 'reward' for my help with this case?"
Barton took one look at his expression, which had switched in an instant like a little fox's, and first blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter.
He put his hat back on, once again looking shrewd and capable.
"Of course. But before that, I'd still like to know..." Barton's eyes glittered with irrepressible curiosity. "Who exactly are you?"
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