Lorne gently pushed open the Door, and it let out a faint creak.
He slipped inside, closing the Door behind him to ensure it wouldn't make too much noise.
Lachi was already crouching in the room, the tip of her tail swaying slightly, her eyes glowing an eerie green in the dim light.
"Is this a piano?" Lorne looked at the items in the room.
There was no dust accumulation, suggesting it was frequently used.
The room was filled with the scent of old paper and rust. The bookshelves were crammed with yellowed notebooks, some with cracked spines revealing densely handwritten text inside.
"This is Hermes," Lorne recognized the script on the books.
"This person is definitely more than just a casual occult enthusiast."
Lorne continued further inside, arriving at a desk.
Upon seeing the items on the desk, his brows immediately furrowed—the paper was covered in bizarre runes, with scribbled notes beside them detailing the steps of some ritual, the handwriting wild, as if the writer was in an extremely agitated state.
"Magic…" Lorne murmured softly, the paper feeling unusually cold to the touch.
"Resurrection… ritual…"
"Yes, this is definitely genuine black magic," Lorne was utterly convinced, looking at the contents on the paper.
Lachi suddenly jumped onto the desk, her paws batting at a glass bottle.
Lorne approached for a closer look; the bottle contained a dark red liquid, with a strange shimmer on its surface, as if sealed by some power.
"Blood?"
Under the crimson moonlight, Lorne observed through the glass; the liquid was too viscous to be ordinary blood, instead appearing to subtly squirm as if alive.
"So, is this indeed a cultist researching black magic?"
"Did I just stumble into a Demoness's lair?"
Having confirmed that this house was problematic, Lorne had no intention of staying longer.
He quickly and gently moved forward, picked up Lachi, fearing she might leave any traces, and then retreated step by step.
His footsteps were light; he walked a step, then paused, afraid of accidentally touching something strange.
"Phew…" Seeing the Door so close, he suddenly let out a sigh of relief.
Before leaving, he uneasily turned back for another look, and only after confirming there were no traces did he open the Door and slowly back out.
Holding Lachi, Lorne ran quickly under the crimson moonlight; despite having just left the house of a suspicious cultist, he seemed to feel little fear. And for some reason, he felt a strange excitement.
Tonight's experience was somewhat thrilling and coincidental, but Lorne knew he might have the lead he needed for a report.
…
…
Azure Hotel
Klein examined the sign in front of him.
He used his precious half-day off to come to this hotel.
These past two days, he had gotten the person's name from his sister—Lorne Disonke.
Although his divination failed to directly pinpoint the other party's location.
He did, however, get a clue about this hotel from some of the divination scenes.
"No matter what, even if his target isn't me, for my sister's sake, I must find him and clearly ask about his intentions…" Klein pushed open the hotel's wooden Door, and the brass bell on the Door jingled.
Behind the front desk sat a young lady, who was looking down, flipping through a newspaper, and slowly raised her head upon hearing the sound.
"Hello, sir, are you here to stay?" Seeing a guest, the front desk was quite enthusiastic.
Klein approached the counter, leaning his elbows on the wooden surface, his expression serious.
"Hello, madam, I'm looking for someone."
"His name is Lorne Disonke."
"Around 20 years old, brown hair, about…" He raised his hand and gestured.
The front desk narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips: "I'm very sorry, sir, we cannot disclose guest information."
Klein said nothing, slowly reaching his right hand into his inner pocket. The front desk's gaze followed his hand until she saw him pull out a police badge, its metal surface glinting coldly under the dim yellow light.
"I'm just conducting a routine investigation; I hope you'll cooperate," Klein pressed the badge onto the counter with a soft 'click'.
The front desk swallowed, her eyes flickering, her fingers unconsciously rubbing together.
"…Alright," After a moment, the front desk chose to compromise. She turned and pulled out a yellowed, curled-at-the-edges registration book from a drawer.
Flipping through a few pages, her finger stopped on a certain line, "Second floor, the innermost room, but he hasn't been back for several days."
Klein put away his police badge, casually pulled a banknote from his pocket, and placed it on the counter, his voice very low.
"Thank you, this is for the investigation."
The front desk stared at the banknote, hesitated for two seconds, then finally covered it with her hand and nodded.
Although Nighthawks all held police identities and theoretically had law enforcement authority, his actions today were his own private conduct.
Therefore, Klein chose to bribe the front desk to some extent.
He turned and walked towards the stairs, his shoes making dull thuds on the old floorboards.
Upon reaching the Door of that room, Klein seemed to hesitate whether to open it.
"Should I divine again?" After a moment of thought, he made up his mind, inserted the key, and opened the Door.
Due to the other party's particularity, he dared not divine directly, fearing he might be noticed.
After pushing open the Door, Klein pulled out his pistol, pointing it straight ahead, fearing an ambush.
But just as the front desk had said, there was no movement in the room at all.
Looking at the empty room, he seemed to have a bad premonition.
…
Klein, who found no clues in the hotel, was somewhat disappointed.
"Perhaps I can write to Mr. Azik and ask for some advice."
Klein thought of his experienced and secretive teacher.
As he pondered, he inadvertently glanced around and found the surrounding environment somewhat familiar.
"Wait, I think I've seen that red chimney somewhere before!" He felt that the surrounding scenery seemed similar to what he had seen when divining the Eliot kidnapping case.
However, just then.
"Help!"
A cry for help interrupted his thoughts.
Looking at the commotion in the distance, Klein instinctively rushed over.
…
Circus.
"That woman named Shelun has been investigated; she's a Demoness," the Magician explained his investigation results to his subordinate.
"A Demoness, that Demoness…"
"I actually, that day, was… by a… a man…" The Clown was somewhat distraught, almost throwing up directly.
"Physiologically speaking, she is already a female," the Magician comforted his subordinate.
But this remark seemed to have the opposite effect; the Clown appeared to become even more distraught.
"Sigh!" The Magician sighed, glancing at his subordinate.
"Prepare yourselves, we're going to act."