Endless Poisonous Influence

Silence.

Still silence.

An awkward silence permeated the room, making the spacious ward feel strangely cramped.

Looking back into Emma's pale golden eyes, which shimmered even in the dim light of the room, Horn asked in confusion.

"My eyes have been like this since birth, is there a problem, Miss Moore?"

Shaking off the inexplicable sense of déjà vu in her mind, Emma shook her head and denied it.

"Of course not, Mr. Horn. If I couldn't tell the difference between natural red and infection-induced red, I wouldn't be worthy of walking the path known as the Enlightenment."

Clapping her hands lightly to dispel the lingering awkwardness, Emma continued her explanation:

"Back to the Blood Thirst Period. At this stage, the patient's mind is already twisted, and the information received by their senses is not necessarily real. They will involuntarily crave food, or even the flesh and blood of the living. In a moment of daze, they might mistake a living person for a delicacy, or view a conversation as a hunt."

"In recorded instances, some people, while having lost their sanity, have even devoured their own children in their sleep, only to be horrified when they regained clarity after their hunger was sated, walking to the police station with blood on their lips to report the crime..."

Describing the horrific reality with a blank expression, Emma said calmly:

"Furthermore, due to the concentration of the spirituality of [Blood] at this stage, the infected will unconsciously use it to strengthen their bodies during the hunt. Even a young child might be able to kill an adult male, which adds many difficulties to our investigations."

"Among those who realize something is wrong with themselves, some go to clinics for check-ups or pray at churches, and are then sent here to [Sacred Heart Hospital] to receive treatment from the dean—who is also the local head of the Prevention and Suppression Bureau, Frank Mills."

"Others isolate themselves in fear, hiding in some dark corner. Their end is either going mad during repeated bouts of hunger or perishing in agony."

"Worse still, some see it as a gift. They even intend to use the name of the [Blood Cup Cult] to accomplish something. You have seen their outcome: pathetic and oblivious, twisted into blood-thirsty beasts, convenient puppets while alive, and convenient sacrifices once dead."

Listening to Emma's account, Horn swallowed hard, a chill running down his back.

He realized once again that these transcendents, in their essence, were no longer human.

Having finished explaining the severity of the situation, Emma offered some comfort:

"Fortunately, the vast majority of patients lose their sanity completely and suffer a mental breakdown, becoming beasts, before the final stage. Only a very few 'Qualified Ones' can grow through consumption, possess the ability to infect others, and become [Blood Thirsters]."

"Therefore, after we dismantled the Hound Bar, which was a major hub of infection, the situation has been largely brought under control. You can just rest easy and wait to be discharged."

With a confident smile, Emma patted her chest and guaranteed with certainty:

""Let the Creatures of the Night remain only in the night, so that the Creatures of the Day may walk in the day." This is one of the tenets of the Prevention and Suppression Bureau."

"The transcendent belongs to the transcendent, and the mortal belongs to the mortal. Night-walking monsters have no place under the light of day, and we are not the only ones maintaining this law."

"Rest assured, with Miss Veronica on the case, the priest of the [Blood Cup Cult] won't be able to hide for much longer. Perhaps by the day you are discharged, he will have already been ground to dust."

Watching Emma, who was deliberately putting on a fierce expression and mimicking the act of scattering ashes, Horn was infected by her optimism and began to laugh.

Indeed, he wasn't a savior. If the sky fell, there were taller people to hold it up; what was there to fear?

"Oh, right, and there's the bounty for Jim Belloc. It was a bit scattered, so I rounded it up for you."

Seemingly remembering something, Emma pulled a dark wallet from her jacket pocket, shook out a gold coin imprinted with the profile of the King of Avalon, George V, and handed it to Horn.

"Here, take it."

Taking the heavy Florin gold coin with pleasant surprise, Horn suddenly felt that this trip had not been in vain.

Belloc, you died well!

With this gold coin, Horn could at least purchase three more popular high-level formulas on the market, buy a large batch of materials, and use the [Flame of Destiny] to refine them until his efficiency soared, earning ten years' worth of income in one. He could achieve financial freedom directly with this startup capital.

And then what?

Watching Horn, who had suddenly become lost in thought while staring at the coin, Emma explained:

"The Blood Cup Cult has always had a bounty on them at the Prevention and Suppression Bureau, and there are rewards for clearing out their collaborators as well. This is your bounty, keep it."

Although she didn't know why Miss Veronica had attributed the head of the [Thug] Belloc to the youth before her, Emma decided to suppress her curiosity and not delve too deeply.

Otherwise, it might easily turn into a story suitable for publication in the Kael-Isum Review.

"Alright, since you're fine, get some good rest."

Patting Horn on the shoulder, Emma closed the door on her way out, leaving the quiet to the youth lost in thought on the hospital bed.

Thus, there was a long silence.

On the workbench in his consciousness, the graying of [Restlessness] accelerated by another fraction. On the card, the tapping of fingers became more frequent, with a pitch-black hue flickering upon it.

Leaving the ward, Emma did not go far. Instead, she crossed a street and entered the Birmingham Police Station.

Relying on her credentials from the Prevention and Suppression Bureau, she passed through without hindrance and entered the interrogation room. The ease she had shown in front of Horn had vanished, replaced by a heavy sense of responsibility.

"The [Blood Cup Cult] is about to be ground to dust"—that is what she said, but the real world could not be like a fairy tale, ending once "the prince and princess lived happily ever after."

Even if the mastermind was eliminated, the poison remained. Those infected would not be cured out of thin air and return to their daily lives.

One more successful prevention could mean one less family tragedy.

With pupils as bright as sparks, feeling the [Candle Bearer] shining ever brighter, the Second Seal was no longer far away. Emma Moore suddenly understood why her senior on the path of Enlightenment, her uncle, the [Enlightenment Detective] Douglas Moore, had sent her to Birmingham.

Illumination is the inherent nature of the Candle's creed, and pointing the way for others is the very duty of illumination.

And a candle must always burn something in order to shine.

Looking at the pot-bellied sheriff before her, who was handcuffed to his seat and bound from head to toe, Emma sat opposite him. Ignoring the barrage of curses and pleas, she neatly laid out a full set of sharp surgical instruments she had taken from Sacred Heart Hospital onto the table.

"Sheriff Miller, could you tell me more about the conditions of those victims?"

"I... ugh, ugh, ugh... roar—"

Staring into the scarlet pupils of Turner Miller that were clouded with chaos, a thirst for knowledge devoid of any mercy flowed within Emma's eyes.

"Don't worry, I understand your rules. If I want to know, I have to come into your head and find it myself."

"Right?"