Shadows Beneath the Ruins (Part 1)
Clara lips were pressed tightly together.
Moisture shimmered faintly in her eyes.
She was trying with everything she had not to cry.
The closer she came to the place connected to those forgotten memories...
The stronger the pressure inside her heart became.
Victor didn’t comment.
He simply asked,
"So..."
"Where’s the old man?"
Clara couldn’t bring herself to answer immediately.
Instead...
She slowly raised a trembling hand.
Her finger pointed toward the empty stall.
"...There."
Victor quietly walked forward.
Each step was measured.
Each movement carried deliberate caution.
The stall showed no signs of recent activity.
He crouched beside it.
His fingers lightly brushed across the weathered wooden counter.
Dust.
Faint traces of dried fish scales.
Old rope.
Nothing unusual.
No lingering curse.
No spiritual residue.
No mana signature.
It was...
Too clean.
Victor slowly stood.
His gaze swept across the surrounding shops.
Several merchants were busy serving customers.
An elderly woman arranged vegetables.
A baker removed fresh bread from an oven.
Life continued as though nothing had ever happened.
Victor approached the nearest merchant.
"I have a question."
The middle-aged man looked up politely.
"Of course."
Victor gestured toward the empty stall.
"Who usually sells fish there?"
The merchant frowned.
His smile gradually disappeared.
He looked at the stall.
Then back at Victor.
"...Fish?"
Victor nodded.
"The old man who owns that stall."
The merchant remained silent.
Several seconds passed.
Finally...
He scratched his head.
"...Strange."
"I..."
"I actually can’t remember."
Victor thanked him and walked toward another nearby shopkeeper.
The answer was exactly the same.
Then another.
And another.
Every single person reacted similarly.
Confusion.
Long silence.
Then...
"I don’t remember."
Victor stopped asking questions.
He quietly looked back toward the abandoned stall.
His golden eyes reflected neither surprise nor disappointment.
Only interest.
Interesting...
Someone didn’t merely erase their own identity.
They erased everyone else’s ability to remember it.
He glanced toward Clara.
Unlike everyone else...
She still retained fragments.
Small pieces.
Broken memories.
Enough to point them in the right direction.
Only someone with unusually strong mental resistance...
Or someone emotionally connected to the event...
Could preserve remnants of those memories.
Victor folded his arms.
"So that’s how it is..."
His gaze lingered on the empty stall.
Whoever had orchestrated this...
Was far more meticulous than he had first imagined.
Victor remained standing before the abandoned fish stall.
His gaze slowly swept across the surrounding street.
Although the city had begun to return to life, the scars of the undead invasion were impossible to ignore.
Entire buildings still stood half-collapsed.
Fresh wooden supports held up cracked walls that threatened to fall at any moment.
Burn marks stained the stone roads where flames had once consumed countless undead.
Workers carried timber and broken bricks from one side of the street to another while soldiers maintained constant patrols.
Several homes had become nothing more than piles of rubble.
Families quietly sorted through the remains of their lives.
Some searched for belongings.
Others simply stood in silence before the ruins of homes they could never rebuild exactly as they had been.
Small memorials decorated with white flowers rested along the roadside.
The names of those who had died during the invasion had been carefully carved into simple wooden boards.
The city was alive...
But its wounds were still fresh.
The lingering sorrow in the air mixed with the smell of dust, smoke, and freshly cut wood.
Victor quietly observed everything.
If someone wanted to disappear...
There couldn’t have been a better opportunity.
The chaos created by the undead attack would have hidden almost any movement.
Clara slowly approached him.
"Did... you find anything?"
Victor shook his head.
"No."
"The stall itself is clean."
"There isn’t even a trace of residual curse energy."
Clara looked toward the empty stall.
"It really was him..."
Victor didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he closed his eyes for a brief moment.
His spiritual perception expanded naturally.
The flow of mana throughout the damaged district entered his awareness.
Broken buildings.
Repair crews.
Passing adventurers.
Citizens.
Nothing unusual...
Then—
A faint ripple.
Extremely weak.
Barely noticeable.
Victor’s eyes opened instantly.
Hmm?
A thread of mana had lightly brushed against his spiritual perception.
It lasted less than a heartbeat.
Almost like someone had cautiously reached out...
Only to immediately pull back.
Victor slowly turned toward the direction where he had sensed it.
There was no one.
Only damaged rooftops overlooking the street.
Children carrying buckets of water.
Workers rebuilding shattered walls.
Everything appeared completely normal.
Then...
The mana fluctuation vanished.
As though it had never existed.
Victor remained perfectly still.
Inside his mind, however, countless possibilities rapidly connected.
That wasn’t random.
Someone deliberately probed me.
His lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile.
Interesting...
So you’ve been watching us this entire time.
He didn’t pursue the source.
Instead, he calmly continued observing the surroundings.
The moment you realized I noticed...
You immediately withdrew.
Excellent discipline.
Victor folded his arms.
Another assassin.
Unlike Gian...
This one specializes in curses.
A troublesome combination.
Rather than annoyance...
A spark of anticipation appeared in his golden eyes.
His smile widened ever so slightly.
"So many rats..."
He murmured quietly enough that only Clara could hear.
"It seems it’s finally time to flush them all out."
Clara looked at him in confusion.
"...Rats?"
Victor simply smiled.
"You’ll understand soon enough."
He gave no further explanation on this topic.
Far away...
Several streets from the abandoned fish stall...
A lone figure stumbled into a deserted alley hidden between two damaged warehouses.
The old fisherman collapsed against the cold stone wall.
"Haa..."
"Haa..."
His breathing was ragged.
Sweat soaked his worn clothes.
His entire body trembled uncontrollably.
He pressed one hand tightly against his chest as though trying to calm his racing heart.
"What..."
"...the hell..."
His breathing gradually steadied, but the fear in his eyes only deepened.
"What the hell was that...?"
His voice shook.
"That man..."
"...can’t possibly be human."
"He’s a monster wearing human skin."
Even now...
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