"We're just going on a simple investigation," Mary said as the vehicle came to a stop.
She gestured toward the warehouse district beyond the windshield.
"At a warehouse near the docks."
I didn't say anything.
I was more interested in what I thought we were actually doing.
Mary glanced at me.
"You read the investigation file, right?"
"Yes."
She pointed toward the eastern side of the street.
"Then look at that man."
I followed her gaze.
A man was loitering near the corner, approaching people at irregular intervals and asking for money.
I probably wouldn't have noticed anything unusual if I had been alone.
But now that Mary had drawn my attention to him, I began watching.
He moved from one person to another.
Asked for money.
Moved on.
Asked someone else.
But there was a pattern to it.
He never wandered very far from the warehouse.
He kept returning to the same points.
Every few minutes, his eyes went toward the building.
"I think he's—"
"Are you even listening to me?"
Mary's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
"Yes."
I straightened.
"What did you say?"
An awkward smile crawled onto my face.
Mary sighed.
"That man."
She pointed again.
"The beggar."
"Yes. Yes, I'm with you."
"He's likely a guard."
She paused.
"Which means something is happening in that warehouse, just as the information we were given suggested."
She looked toward another building across the street.
"Then again, he could just be a decoy."
My heart began making far more noise than it had any right to.
"Calm down."
I turned toward her.
"How did you know I was panicking?"
"I can vaguely read a person's emotional state."
She said it so casually that I almost bumped my arm against the door.
"Isn't that like mind reading?"
"No."
She shook her head.
"Not at all. I can't read someone's thoughts. Only their emotional state."
She adjusted her position.
"It can look like mind reading if I'm good enough at interpreting what I'm sensing, but that's still not the same thing."
I looked back through the window.
The sun was particularly active today.
Bright.
Clear.
Hot enough that even sitting inside the vehicle was becoming uncomfortable.
"Are you like..."
I stopped.
I wasn't sure how to phrase the question.
"Hmm."
I tried again.
"Are you like Sadako and me?"
Mary looked at me.
"A cult?"
"Yes."
Then I blinked.
"No."
I stared at her.
"That isn't what I meant."
She smiled faintly.
"That's the term."
"Cult?"
"Yes. You could say you're a cultist yourself."
I stared at her.
"That doesn't sound right."
"Why?"
"If I remember correctly, cultists are rather frowned upon."
"Well, yes."
Mary looked back toward the warehouse.
"But would you blame Sadako for what happened to her?"
I opened my mouth.
Then stopped.
"I..."
I didn't know what answer she was looking for.
Mary didn't wait.
"No."
Her voice was calm.
"She wasn't at fault. It was an accident."
I nodded slowly.
"The eldritch beings involved—the Bloodied Eclipse, for example—aren't really something you'd describe as gods. At least not gods with the kind of agency or personality humans are familiar with."
She took a drink from her bottle.
"They're closer to natural phenomena that people happen to interact with, encourage, invoke, or become involved with."
She looked at me.
"When you hear the word cultist, you probably picture fanatics in robes chanting around a fire."
I nodded.
"Those people exist."
She shrugged.
"But they're the louder bunch."
I looked at her.
"A doctor could be a cultist. A banker. A cook. A teacher."
She tapped one finger against the bottle.
"Anyone can be classified as a cultist simply because they've interacted with an eldritch material or phenomenon."
She paused.
"Sometimes intentionally. Sometimes accidentally."
"And that doesn't make them evil."
"No."
She looked back toward the street.
"It just makes them someone who has crossed a particular boundary."
I sat quietly.
The thought had never occurred to me.
I had always imagined the word as something belonging to people who had deliberately sought out the strange things.
Not ordinary people.
Not doctors.
Not teachers.
Not me.
"I am a cultist?"
The words came out quietly.
Mary nodded.
"Technically."
I stared at the warehouse.
"Has Sadako had the same thought?"
I suddenly wondered what she would think of the word.
Then another thought followed.
I was even more thankful that Nicholas had encouraged me to follow my own path.
"Hmm..."
I was about to ask another question when Mary raised a hand.
"Someone's coming."
At almost the exact same moment, a man appeared beside the vehicle.
"Good morning, ladies."
His voice was deep and rough.
"Is everything all right?"
I froze.
Mary said nothing.
The man glanced at the vehicle.
"I noticed you've been parked here for a while. Are you waiting for someone?"
I looked at Mary.
She looked completely calm.
"Yes," she said. "We're waiting for a friend. Seems he's running late."
The man looked at me.
He attempted a smile.
I shifted slightly in my seat.
I wasn't sure whether I was afraid we'd been caught or simply afraid that we'd been caught.
"I just thought you might need some assistance."
He looked over the vehicle once more.
"But it seems you and your vehicle are fine."
He gave a small nod.
"Sorry for bothering you."
Then he walked away.
He returned to a bench I hadn't noticed before and sat down with several other people.
I watched them.
Then looked at Mary.
"Should we leave?"
"If we leave now, we'll appear suspicious."
I glanced toward the group.
"I'm pretty sure we're already plenty suspicious."
Mary ignored that.
"Let's have lunch at that restaurant."
She pointed toward a small ramen shop farther down the street.
"And we can use their phone to contact Nicholas."
I exhaled.
Mary seemed to have everything under control.
---
"Good morning, sir."
We took our seats.
"Two bowls of ramen, please."
The restaurant was quiet.
Only a few groups occupied the scattered tables, and the smell of spices, meat, and noodles drifted lazily through the room.
Our food arrived.
We began eating.
"We probably shouldn't have brought the vehicle," Mary said.
I nodded.
"And he most likely doesn't have a phone we can use."
"So what do we do?"
"Give me a moment."
She put down her chopsticks.
"I want to use the restroom."
She stood.
I watched her go.
Then, remembering something, I called after her.
"Can I make use of your bathroom?"
She didn't turn around.
The question had apparently arrived too late.
I looked toward the window.
"I have to keep an eye on the vehicle."
I returned to my ramen.
A few minutes passed.
Her food was getting cold.
"Her food is going to get soggy."
I stared at the bowl.
Then at the door.
Then back at the bowl.
I took another bite.
"You're really bad at this."
I nearly choked.
I looked around.
The voice had come from one of the nearby tables.
A man was looking in my direction.
"What?"
He laughed.
"Nothing."
He returned to his food.
I wasn't sure what exactly I had done badly.
I continued eating.
After a while, another thought wandered into my mind.
I wondered what it felt like for Mary to be a foreigner here.
I paused.
It was such a random thought that I almost laughed at myself.
Before I could think about it any further, I noticed movement outside.
Someone was approaching the vehicle.
I immediately turned toward the window.
They passed by.
Nothing happened.
"Oh."
I relaxed.
"Still eating?"
Mary's voice came from beside me.
I turned.
She had returned.
"You took a while."
"I know."
She sat down and picked up her chopsticks.
"Nicholas should be here when he gets my message."
I stared at her.
"How were you able to send a message?"
She glanced at me.
I had apparently missed something.
"Later."
She began eating.
I returned to my ramen.
"I suppose we'll just be hanging around until then."
"Probably."
"To make sure nothing goes awry?"
Mary nodded.
"Exactly."
She took another bite.
Outside, the sun continued to beat down on the docks.
The warehouse remained where it was.
The beggar remained gone.
And whatever was happening inside had not yet decided to reveal itself.