Control of wind and metal? Each path represents a single element? Or is there some hidden meaning behind this arrangement… He noted mentally. It hasn’t been long since he had joined the Ministry, yet he had already learned of three different paths.

  “Can you control all the iron in a human body?” He blurted out subconsciously, carried away by curiosity.

  Hearing this, Captain Ottis shook his head,” No, of course not.”

  It would be terrifying if you could. Ulrich expected as much. After all, when he had awakened and possessed the Shadowmancer rune, his control over shadow was limited.

  At the same time, he recalled certain knowledge regarding divination. However, Ulrich didn’t want to give the impression that he knew too much, so he deliberately revealed doubts as he raised a question,” Are you going to perform a divination using this drop of blood?”

  This question caught Ottis Owen off guard. He stared at Ulrich, perhaps to rest his gray eyes, or to observe the young man’s expression, either way, it had Ulrich sweating.

  “You know more than I thought.” He praised with an earnest voice, then shook his head,” Unfortunately, we cannot perform divination using this blood.”

  “Why?”

  Is it because it’s too little clues, or informations?

  “Because our only Seer died four months ago.”

  You can’t just throw a bomb at me out of nowhere. I’m asking about your favorite food, not if you killed someone last night!

  This sentence shocked Ulrich, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to response.

  Captain Ottis didn’t seem to notice Ulrich's reaction and continued expressionlessly,” We’ve been trying to request another for Seer from Lunden, but it would take months to get a response from here.”

  Seer? Not ‘Divination Expert’? He noted the ‘title’ in his heart.

  At the same time, Captain Ottis changed the topic and asked, “Did you and Victor interview the victim’s family?”

  Ulrich wanted to ask about the previous matter, but that would seem impolite, as it implicated the matter of a deceased 'Seer'.

  “No, I left to inform you as soon as possible. As for Victor… He gave me this address and instructions,” He said, pulling out a piece of paper from his coat pocket.

  Captain Ottis glanced at it, then turned toward the address written on the paper before taking a step forward. However, Ulrich stopped him.

  “What about this thing?” He pointed at the spiky ball in the air, not knowing what to do with it. Was he supposed to hold it in his hand and carry it around? Place it in a special container?

  “Oh, I almost forgot, sorry,” He said absentmindedly, before turning his head.

  Captain, you are too careless… Once again, he can’t help but feel like he has joined a rather unreliable organization. Unfortunately, what’s done is done.

  At this moment, Captain Ottis took out a silver ring-shaped brooch. At the center of the brooch, there was a circular shape carved out, leaving behind an empty space. He raised the brooch forward, letting it touch the pulsing spiky ball.

  Immediately, it reacted violently, as if it came to live, twitching and pulsing with fervent effort. Ultimately, its struggle was hopeless as it was pulled onto the brooch, filling the empty space at the center.

  “Done.” He said with a satisfied smile and walked away, leaving Ulrich behind.

  You carry that around on your person? Isn’t that… too unsanitary? Helpless, he could only follow his Captain to Manfredi Francis's address.

  After an eight-minute walk through the alley, Captain Ottis and Ulrich arrived at their destination—a shabby building that was Manfredi Francis's residence.

  The structure appeared worn and neglected, its exterior suggesting years of weathering and minimal maintenance. Even by Ulrich’s standard of poverty in the Southern District, this building was barely passable compared to his metal shack.

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  They stood in front of the almost fallen door. Captain Ottis took the lead and tapped on the door, producing three long knocks.

  “Who’s there?” A voice came, followed by a series of deep footsteps.

  “Special Inspector from Cartwright Security.”

  The door creaked open slowly, revealing a man who had to steady himself against the door frame. Manfredi Francis squinted at them through the dim light, his eyes taking a moment to focus. When he finally recognized the two ‘Inspectors’ at the door and the badge in Captain Ottis's hand, something flickered across his gaunt features—hope, or perhaps dread.

  "Albert?" The name subconsciously escaped his cracked lips before he could stop himself, his voice hoarse and thick.

  Captain Ottis shook his head gently. "We're here to ask you some questions about your son, Mr. Francis. May we come in?"

  The man's shoulders sagged, and he stepped back without a word, nearly stumbling over his own feet. As Ulrich followed the Captain inside, a wave of stale air hit him—the sharp, sour smell of cheap gin mixed with unwashed linens and chamber pots that hadn't been cleaned in days.

  Manfredi shuffled toward a rickety chair, his movements unsteady. His shirt, yellowed at the collar and stained down the front, hung loose on a frame that had clearly lost weight recently—or perhaps had never carried much weight to begin with.

  "When did you last see Albert?" Captain Ottis inquired, his tone measured and professional. He didn’t let the interior and appearance of Manfredi affect his attitude and manner of speaking.

  Manfredi's trembling hand reached for a bottle on the nearby table—half-empty. At the same time, Ulrich didn’t stop him. In this scenario, it was best to leave the ‘talking’ to the expert.

  "Three days passed. He went out to... to fetch some gin and meat." His words slurred slightly at the edges, and he rubbed at his stubbled jaw, the rasping sound loud in the cramped room.

  "Never came back."

  "Had anyone threatened you recently? Any disputes with neighbors, or debts you couldn't pay?" Captain Ottis continued, pulling out a small notebook. On the top of the page, he wrote “July 5th”, marking it as the date that Albert went missing.

  The question made Manfredi's bloodshot eyes dart to the side. He licked his lips—a nervous habit, or perhaps they were simply dry.

  "No more than usual. Everyone's got debts 'round here." He paused, then added quickly, perhaps too quickly, "I work at the docks when they'll have me. Loading crates and barrels. Honest work, I swore to the Mother above.”

  "When they have you?" Captain Ottis interjected, catching the phrasing.

  Manfredi's jaw tightened, and he finally reached for that bottle, taking a quick swig before answering, "Sometimes I... I'm not well in the mornings. But I'm a good worker when I'm there."

  Captain Ottis exchanged a glance with Ulrich before pressing on. "Did Albert have any friends? Anyone he spent time with? Places he liked to go?"

  The man's face crunched slightly, and he wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. His fingernails, Ulrich observed, were rimmed with grime, and there were old calluses on his palms—evidence of dock work, at least when he was sober enough to show up.

  "He's a good boy. Kept to himself mostly. Helped me when..." He trailed off, taking another drink. "He didn't deserve this."

  "We need you to think carefully, Mr. Francis," Captain Ottis smiled amiably, hoping to ease the distraught man into recalling the specific details.

  "Anyone who might have watched your home? Followed Albert? Even someone who seemed friendly but perhaps too interested in your son?"

  “No, n-not that am aware of.”

  Captain Ottis's hand moved, jotting down notes on his notebook, before putting it back into his pocket.

  Their interaction was mostly passive. Ulrich noticed that Captain Ottis seemed only to guide the conversation, not lead it. He let Manfredi spoke only when he ‘felt’ the need to, and occasionally, change the direction of the conversation with a question, or by expressing his doubts.

  Just from watching this interaction play out, Ulrich was able to learn quite a lot. By the time they finished, Captain Ottis and Ulrich found themselves standing outside again.

  “What do you think?” He asked, pulling out the churchwarden, then slowly lit it up before taking a puff of smoke.

  Ulrich didn’t answer immediately and deeply thought about the matter of Albert’s kidnapping case.

  Clearly, Manfredi cares deeply about his son, enough that his disappearance caused the man to enter such a disheveled state. At the same time, there was the matter of debts. Since everyone around this part owes a debt, he can’t possibly be a target for the debt collectors.

  After a minute passed, Ulrich let out a deep sigh and resigned,” I can’t think of the reason why Albert would be targeted in particular…”

  Captain Ottis expected this response and quickly reminded Ulrich,” Did you notice that the mastermind has yet to make a demand of any sort?”

  Don’t tell me… Immediately, Ulrich was enlightened, “You mean to think… They are trafficking humans? This is the only scenario where someone will not make demands and target people like Manfredi Francis, who cannot ‘fight’ back. Albert is also only ten years old, which makes it easier to ‘train’ them.”

  “Very likely, this is not exactly an uncommon case. This also happened in the outer district of Portsmouth, where the Union influence is almost nonexistent.

  “You may not know this, but the number of cases involving missing ‘bodies’ in Portsmouth is more than you can imagine.”

  However, he seemed to harbor his own doubts as he whispered lowly,” Even then, why involve a Weaver? Or did we get it wrong, and that the snowflake was just some foreign substance?”

  They waited at the end of the street. After about twenty minutes, Victor appeared from around the corner of a lamp post. He noticed that Ulrich and Captain Ottis seemed to have finished interviewing Manfredi Francis.

  "Did you interview the other two victims' related families?" Captain Ottis asked, putting out the churchwarden's flame.