The voice rang out in the Medium's Hall, traveled down the long, narrow corridor, and reached Sheriff Lark's ears.
The sheriff stopped and turned. Bathed in bright sunlight, his face was solemn, his eyes hawklike as he looked toward Arthur, who stood shrouded in shadow in the hall at the far end of the corridor, yet wore a smile.
Light and shadow intertwined as their gazes met.
Solemnity clashed with a smile.
At some point, a moisture-laden breeze had swept into South Los and slipped onto Kirk Street. Carrying the distinctive saltiness of seawater, it stirred the sheriff's coat, passed the crimson painting, and lifted the tips of Arthur's hair, as though a bloom of blood had blossomed between them.
"Was there something else?"
Sheriff Lark spoke coldly.
Arthur did not answer immediately. The young medium tilted his head as if listening.
Seeing this, the reporter Scott's eyes lit up.
"Mediumship!"
He cried out in surprise.
But he immediately realized his outburst was inappropriate and clapped a hand over his mouth.
His voice, however, had already reached everyone present.
Fontel and Wiggins, who had been hired to come here, looked at Arthur with fear, yet also a trace of irrepressible curiosity.
Malinda Julius Caesar, meanwhile, was utterly captivated by Arthur at that moment.
Her lovely blue eyes were full of scrutiny.
Only Lark, who had been watching Arthur all along, reacted differently.
A sinister chill flickered in the sheriff's eyes. His stiff face no longer showed mere solemnity, but an inexplicable coldness, and his words were downright rude.
"You fraud from Creados, what trick are you playing now?"
Arthur continued to turn a deaf ear to him.
As he listened, he sometimes nodded and sometimes frowned.
Finally, he let out a sigh.
"So that's what happened!"
Sadness and sympathy appeared on Arthur's face. His voice grew low as he asked the empty space beside him, "You want me to help you?"
"But..."
"All right. As you wish!"
With those words, Arthur rose, walked to the bookcase, took the Spirit Board from its side, and placed it on the desk.
Since the Spirit Board was rectangular, Arthur moved the firearm that had been within reach to the far side of the desk, farther away from him, leaving it roughly parallel to the board.
The Spirit Board was made entirely of wood. It was fairly large, but less than a centimeter thick. Without the ten digits from zero to nine, the letters of the alphabet, and the two answers "yes" and "no" written on it, it would have looked like nothing more than a thin sheet of wood.
Besides the Spirit Board itself, the set also included a matching triangular planchette.
With the Spirit Board flat on the desk and the planchette resting on top, Arthur sat behind the desk, looked at the board, and murmured softly-
"Eternal Monster, Heir of the Rebellious Bloodline, architect of the Twilight of the Gods, one held in awe by the Northern Gods, master of the Blade of Chaos, wielder of the Leviathan Axe, Credos..."
This was an incantation Old Charlie had made up, though not a complete one. Originally, it had contained only basic phrases like "Eternal Monster" and "Twilight of the Gods."
Naturally, the idea had been to make the name Credos more famous and lend greater prestige to the family business.
And Arthur?
After inheriting his predecessor's memories, he had felt phrases like "Eternal Monster" and "Twilight of the Gods" were far too monotonous.
So he had added a few more titles based on those two.
Judging by the scene before him, the effect was excellent.
Scott and the other two men were thoroughly awed by the invocation. Surprise appeared on Malinda Julius Caesar's face for the first time, followed by an even more searching gaze.
As for Sheriff Lark, he seemed to maintain his sneer, but his neck shifted stiffly.
Then his unease reached its peak.
Because-
Screech!
Amid a grating scrape, the planchette on the Spirit Board moved.
It moved wildly, without any pattern.
Arthur seemed affected as well, his whole body trembling nonstop.
"Stop!"
"I'm trying to help you!"
Arthur, who had been gentle throughout, now spoke sternly, his eyes narrowing slightly.
In the skill list, [Intimidation] began to flash and took effect.
Everyone flinched. By the time they recovered, the planchette had stopped darting about and once again rested quietly in the center of the Spirit Board.
It was as though everything that had just happened had been an illusion.
But they knew it had been no illusion.
Instinctively, those who had been gathering closer first looked at the planchette on the Spirit Board, then gradually shifted their gazes to Arthur.
Under their watchful eyes, Arthur spoke.
"Tell us, who are you?"
No sooner had Arthur finished speaking than the Spirit Board moved again.
Letters were linked together, one after another.
Names were read aloud by the onlookers, one after another.
"Myron, Ark, Jorles, Miller, Bruno..."
Name after name came from Scott's mouth as he bent forward and craned his neck, afraid of missing even the smallest detail.
Fontel and Wiggins, the two witnesses invited by Dokule, instantly drew sharp breaths.
Because they knew those names.
They belonged to people murdered by the Axe Murderer. Both men had seen them in the newspapers.
And Scott had just used the word "Mediumship."
Could it be?
A suspicion arose in both men's minds.
Mr. Arthur Credos was using his ability to communicate with spirits to hunt down the killer!
The young reporter Scott looked at Arthur with immense anticipation.
Miss Caesar and Sheriff Lark stared fixedly at Arthur without blinking.
The latter, in particular, had unconsciously closed his hand around his sword hilt.
"Although you told me just now, I need you to tell everyone here again: why have you come?"
Screech, screech.
The planchette slid across the Spirit Board once more.
Each movement produced a grating scrape.
Yet everyone present-the reporter, the wealthy young man, the man from the streets, the exceptionally wealthy lady, and even the sheriff-ignored the sound. Their eyes followed the planchette, and Fontel, the wealthy young man, read out the words just as Scott had earlier-
"For revenge!"
"To expose the murderer who killed us!"
"He is..."
"Enough! Stop this ridiculous trickery!"
Sheriff Lark shouted, cutting Fontel off.
The rude interruption immediately irritated Fontel, and the wealthy young man retorted.
"Sheriff Lark, aren't you being rather discourteous?"
"Or could it be..."
"That you have some connection to the Axe Murderer?"
Fontel's words were anything but polite.
The police might have been called "blue devils" and "bloodthirsty killers," but those names came mostly from powerless commoners. In the eyes of the wealthy and powerful, these supposed "blue devils" and "bloodthirsty killers" were merely "blue-coated dogs" or "good hunting hounds."
A privileged class existed in every age.
And in South Los, or even across the entire East Coast?
It was simply more obvious.
Sheriff Lark ignored him, partly because he truly did not want a confrontation with Fontel, and partly because the planchette on the Spirit Board had not stopped.
Amid the scraping squeaks, a name was spelled out-
Lark!
Sheriff Lark!
At once, the entire Medium's Hall fell deathly silent.
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