"Alright," Ivy said, "explain to me what you mean by 'died naturally.'"
She felt a headache coming on.
She crouched beside the dead man and examined him carefully.
There were abrasions on his arms. According to Ethan, those were caused when the wolf-chicken dragged him back to the cabin.
But that didn't explain the massive bleeding.
The suspect, Ethan, had dragged out a small chair and sat to the side, calmly eating the milk and bread Ivy had brought. He split half of it with Miss Chloe, who watched eagerly.
Ethan explained, "It means this man was walking along the road, suddenly vomited blood, collapsed, and died. Very natural."
According to Miss Chloe, the man was already dead before she reached him.
Ethan had to admit—he'd mocked Society devotees in his heart yesterday, calling them cold-blooded lunatics.
But everything had two sides.
If you were truly innocent, even the clumsiest testimony would be met with a fierce determination to prove your innocence.
Truth above all.
That was the creed of every follower of the God of Truth.
Ivy seemed to think of something. She rolled the corpse onto its back, then pulled the dagger she carried from inside her coat.
"You," she said, "help me."
Ethan felt a chill crawl up his spine. "Help… with what?"
"Cut his stomach open."
"That's… not great."
"He's already dead. Finding the truth at least lets him die with purpose."
"I mean I'm eating breakfast."
Ethan shook the bread in his hand.
To Ivy, this excuse was incomprehensible. She stared at him suspiciously, as if she genuinely didn't understand why those two things conflicted.
So Ethan clarified, "Blood will splash on my bread."
"Pretend it's cherry jam."
Her serious eyes. Her utterly matter-of-fact tone.
Ethan had been about to scold her—then something struck him, and a wave of disgust rolled through his stomach.
"…You've tasted it?"
"That's normal. Back at the Society, we often had to stay with corpses all day. Blood tastes a lot like cherry jam. As for brain tissue, you can treat it as—"
"Stop. Enough!"
This girl was absolutely not normal.
Ethan meant that sincerely.
He felt like his bread already stank of iron and gore.
Ivy noticed him dragging his chair back a full meter. She gave him a look of pure disdain.
"Useless."
Then she drove the dagger straight into the corpse's swollen belly and drew it down in one clean slice.
Blood erupted like a fountain, splattering her entire face crimson.
"See?" Ivy said flatly. "I warned you."
Ethan picked up his chair again and retreated another three meters with tactical calm.
He also silently thought that this man wasn't normal either—because normally, when you cut open a belly, blood didn't spray like a geyser.
Ethan expected Ivy to scream or curse.
Instead, she simply wiped the blood out of her eyes with her sleeve, calmly pulled the wound open with both hands, stared for a moment, then shoved her hand inside and stirred.
Ethan's appetite died on the spot. His face twisted so hard it looked painful. He handed the few bites of bread he'd taken to Miss Chloe.
Miss Chloe accepted it without hesitation. Judging by how she swallowed it whole, she even seemed to think this was a decent side dish.
"The organs are melted," Ivy said. "Most likely witchcraft. Fine. You didn't kill him."
She turned her blood-smeared face toward Ethan.
For a moment, she looked like a genuine serial killer.
She even corrected him, as if she were giving a lesson.
"But your defense just now was terrible. If you'd run into someone who doesn't like digging for details, you would've talked yourself into prison. Don't say that kind of thing again."
"You're wise beyond your years, my lady!"
The tuft of blond hair on Ivy's head moved like a human finger, stabbing toward Ethan with authority.
As if it was scolding him too.
No brown-nosing. Hurry up and finish your milk.
"Already did."
"Then come help. Move him into the cabin where the ground is flat."
Ethan glanced at the corpse from a safe distance.
The man's eyes were wide open, enough to tell Ethan he'd suffered terribly in his final moments. And with the mangled gore in his abdomen…
"Miss Chloe," Ethan called, "help me out, will you?"
He immediately summoned outside assistance.
Ivy gave him a look that clearly said hopeless.
Miss Chloe worked quickly, as always—and she was strong. In less than a minute, she dragged the body into the cabin.
The only issue was finesse.
Blood smeared everywhere, making Ethan's new "home" look even more like a crime scene.
Ivy was already moving on. She used the corpse as the center point, drew a circle around it, then filled the space inside with symbols Ethan couldn't read.
Ethan, the onlooker, felt genuine worry.
At first, the crime scene looked like he and Miss Chloe had robbed and murdered a passerby.
With Ivy's arrival, it now looked like a cultist sacrifice site.
"Sheriff Ivy," Ethan said carefully, "I have something to say, though I'm not sure if I should."
Without looking back, Ivy answered, "You shouldn't."
"I still think I should, just to confirm—are we… not evil god cultists?"
"Cult sacrifice rites aren't drawn like this." Ivy didn't bother elaborating. "This is to make him speak."
"Make the dead speak?"
Ivy was done explaining.
She completed the final rune, then pulled out a palm-sized parchment scroll from inside her coat. She murmured a chant, her eyes sharpening, and slapped the scroll onto the corpse's forehead.
The entire body lit with a faint green glow.
An invisible force lifted it upright.
A low, hollow resonance filled the cabin, turning it into a haunted house.
Ivy asked, "Who killed you?"
"W-Water… wrong… careful… everyone's dead… must warn Creek—Creekwood…"
Thud.
The force vanished. The corpse collapsed again.
Ivy's brow furrowed deeper. After thinking for a long time, she murmured, "Someone cursed him through the water source."
Then she looked at Ethan. "Where did you find him?"
"On the road."
"Then he came from Riverside Town."
Ethan could tell Ivy was thinking hard.
He even noticed steam rising from the top of her head, like she was overheating.
But Miss Chloe suddenly grew restless. She flapped her wings and warned them urgently.
"Goo-goo… goo-goo-goo!"
Footsteps sounded outside, approaching fast.
Ivy didn't react.
"Hide first!"
At Ethan's command, Miss Chloe immediately tucked herself behind the cabinet, adopting the posture of an executioner waiting with an axe.
Ethan's heart climbed into his throat.
He stood behind the door, waiting as the chaotic steps stopped right outside.
There was more than one person.
Through the door, he heard the sound of swords being drawn.
Then a familiar voice cracked into the cabin like thunder.
"Don't move! We're Creekwood Town's guard—You… Sheriff? Wait—Sheriff Ivy?!"
The shout cut off.
The burly man who had kicked the door open froze when he saw Ivy.
Pulled out of her thoughts, Ivy finally snapped back. She lifted her head, studied the guard captain for a moment, then stood.
She seemed to have completely forgotten she was drenched in blood.
She strode toward him like a ghost crawling out of hell—
And the big man actually stumbled back a few steps.
"Perfect timing," Ivy said.
She asked, "Did you see anyone suspicious on the way here?"
Every single guard looked like they'd been struck by lightning.
They exchanged glances, silently confirming what they all thought.
Then—
A dozen fingers pointed at Ivy at the same time.
Including the tuft of blond hair on her own head.
"Mr. Ethan."
Ivy looked like she was about to develop high blood pressure at a tender age.
With everyone pointing at her, she swiftly identified the primary target to strike and snarled, "If you point at me again, I'll hit you!"
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