Eugene, Jeanne, and Elliot arrived at the crowded train station. For a moment, Jeanne observed her surroundings. Outside Gheena Locomotive Station, several homeless people were being driven away by security officers, while ragged street children helped passengers carry their luggage in exchange for small payments.
Jeanne quickly hurried after her two senior detectives as they walked inside.
The interior of Gheena Station was bustling—people from all walks of life passed by, their footsteps and faint announcements blending with the hissing of locomotives.
After spending several minutes in line to purchase tickets, they returned to the waiting area and waited for the train that would take them to the city of Rochefort.
About twenty minutes later, the train they had been waiting for finally arrived and stopped beside the platform.
Passengers who had been waiting in line crowded near the yellow safety line before quickly boarding the train cars as though they had discovered an oasis in the middle of a desert.
Inside the fairly crowded carriage, some passengers who failed to find seats were forced to stand. Jeanne and Elliot sat side by side while Eugene stood nearby, holding onto a hand grip.
The sound of announcements and escaping steam echoed through the carriage as the train began to move.
For a moment, Jeanne watched the other passengers, each occupied with their own business. Her gaze eventually settled on Eugene, who stood silently with his eyes fixed on the scenery beyond the window as the landscape continuously changed.
She wanted to ask whether ghosts were truly real. Part of her remained doubtful and unconvinced, yet her curiosity made her heart race. After all, this was her very first mission.
"How do you exorcise a ghost? What happens if we fail?" Jeanne wondered to herself.
She wanted to ask Elliot what he thought, but she remembered one of the rules Leo Tolstoy had told her about and decided to postpone her questions.
"Is something wrong, Jeanne?" Elliot asked, his eyes turning toward her. He had noticed the nervousness and unease on her face.
Jeanne gently shook her head.
"It's nothing..." she said before changing the subject. "I haven't seen Selena all day. Have you seen her, Mr. Elliot?"
"Just call me Elliot—no need to be so formal," Elliot chuckled.
Then he continued, "Besides, I'm younger than you." A moment later, he realized something. "Though I guess it's also rude of me to call you by your first name without asking permission first. But we're friends now, aren't we? So that's normal, right?"
Elliot flashed a wide smile while adjusting his crooked beret.
"Friends, huh..." Jeanne repeated inwardly.
For a brief moment, she remembered the time Selena had considered her a friend.
"Alright... Elliot," Jeanne replied politely without objection.
Returning to the topic, Elliot shrugged.
"Selena? Yeah, I haven't seen her since this morning either."
Both of them looked toward Eugene. Noticing their gazes, Eugene turned around with a smile before leaning slightly closer and lowering his voice.
"Selena has been assigned by the Director to temporarily assist the medical division in Saint-Laurent."
The Special Detective Organization was divided among several cities under the jurisdiction of both the Church and the Government of the Republic of Inggrasia. The Gheena Special Detective Team, for example, was led by Leo Tolstoy, while cities such as Saint-Avelin, Rochefort, and Saint-Laurent were overseen by different individuals.
Jeanne nodded.
"I see."
"By the way," Elliot added after understanding Eugene's explanation, "Selena is about to be promoted to Blue Glove rank. That's why she's working so hard."
"You shouldn't fall behind either! Let's work hard together!" Elliot declared enthusiastically.
His eyes sparkled with determination as he raised a hand high into the air. His voice was loud enough to draw the attention of several nearby passengers.
"A-Ah... I got a little too excited..." he admitted, scratching the back of his head with an awkward smile.
...
Some time later, they arrived in Rochefort.
After leaving the station, the three Special Detectives stood at the roadside. Eugene had already informed them that an acquaintance of his would pick them up and take them to their destination.
Jeanne's beautiful blue eyes wandered across the numerous skyscrapers surrounding them, though the city did not seem vastly different from the capital, Gheena.
However, Rochefort possessed a unique symbol of its own—a white monument standing three hundred feet tall.
From afar, the statue depicted a woman wearing a simple dress. In her left hand she carried a melting candle, while her right hand held a small dagger.
Her face appeared indistinct, yet somehow carried a powerful identity, creating a strangely ambiguous contrast.
"I'm still amazed by Rochefort's Statue of Liberty and what it represents about this nation's past... Marianne," Elliot said while tilting his head upward to admire the towering monument.
Jeanne followed his gaze. The reflection of Marianne's statue shimmered in her blue eyes as flocks of pigeons perched upon it.
This was not the first time she had seen the monument, yet she agreed with Elliot's words.
Screeech!
A large white van suddenly stopped by the roadside directly in front of them.
Its long, rigid frame and lack of aesthetic curves gave it a cold, utilitarian appearance—a vehicle designed more for function than beauty.
The driver's window slowly rolled down.
"Eugene Vidocq. You're still alive."
The speaker was a man who appeared to be in his early thirties. Wearing sunglasses and a formal suit, he greeted Eugene with unusual bluntness.
When his gaze shifted toward Jeanne, he lowered his sunglasses slightly and observed her for several moments.
"Who's the beautiful lady, Eugene?"
His tone was filled with curiosity and a strange sense of envy.
Jeanne felt uncomfortable beneath his intense stare. She folded her arms tightly against herself as though trying to hide from his gaze.
"I don't like this man," Jeanne thought.
"I'll answer that if you let us inside first, Jamesh Poe," Eugene replied.
A few seconds later, the van's sliding door opened.
The three detectives climbed aboard, and soon the vehicle began moving.
"Is she the new member of the Special Detectives?" Poe asked while occasionally glancing at the rear-view mirror.
"Yes. She's our newest member," Eugene answered casually from the front passenger seat.
"Uncle Jamesh, why do you keep looking at the rear-view mirror?" Elliot asked innocently.
Screech!
The van suddenly came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road, nearly sending Jeanne and Elliot tumbling forward.
Poe turned around and stared at Elliot.
"Uncle? I'm still young! I'm only nineteen years old, you know!"
"S-Sorry... I thought you were older than Eugene. Turns out we're almost the same age, hehe..."
Elliot scratched his cheek and laughed awkwardly.
Seeing Poe's annoyed expression, Eugene burst out laughing and patted the young man's shoulder.
"Elliot thought you were in your thirties, but honestly, he isn't completely wrong... Your face looks way older than it should, Poe."
Poe snorted irritably. After hearing a car horn from behind, he stepped on the accelerator and continued driving.
Jeanne could only sigh after witnessing the small chaos inside the vehicle.
"Are all Special Detectives this eccentric?" she wondered.
"By the way, Eugene... who exactly is Mr Jamesh?" Elliot asked.
"He's a mafia member," Eugene answered bluntly.
Jeanne and Elliot exchanged silent glances.
"M-Mafia?" Elliot's voice stiffened.
His nose twitched slightly as he remembered that he had just been scolded by a mafia member moments earlier.
Jeanne's jaw tightened as well.
"H-He's mafia?" she thought. "I thought he was a Special Detective from Rochefort..."
"What is your name, Miss?" Jamesh Poe asked in a flirtatious tone.
"Jeanne... Jeanne Weels."
"I see. That's a beautiful name. Does that bastard Eugene flirt with you every day?"
"I-I don't think so..." Jeanne answered quietly.
"I still don't believe he's actually nineteen," she thought inwardly.
"If you're free tomorrow, would you like to have dinner with me?"
Poe smiled confidently, his grin reflected in the rear-view mirror.
"No... I'm busy, sorry."
"Heh... you're pretty cold," Poe laughed at the rejection without seeming offended.
...
Several minutes later, the van came to a stop by the roadside in front of an inn.
They stepped out.
"Thanks, Poe. Sorry for troubling you," Eugene said while leaning against the driver's door.
"No need to worry about it."
Afterward, the white van drove away.
"Is this the place?" Jeanne asked as she examined the old, gloomy two-story inn.
The paint on its walls had begun to peel away, and an oppressive atmosphere hung heavily over the building.
She found herself appreciating her previous apartment a little more. At least it had not felt this depressing.
Eugene nodded.
"Let's go inside."
They followed him into the inn.
The old wooden door creaked loudly as it opened.
Inside the lobby, a little girl who appeared to be around seven years old sat behind the reception desk as though she were filling in for the innkeeper.
She had jet-black hair tied into a ponytail and wore a simple light-blue dress adorned with ruffles across the chest.
Upon noticing their arrival, the girl turned toward them and jumped down from her chair.
A moment later, however, her tiny figure vanished completely behind the reception desk, which was far taller than she was.
Soon afterward, the sound of wood scraping echoed through the lobby.
The three detectives watched curiously.
The little girl had dragged over a wooden block and climbed onto it.
Now tall enough to be seen, she greeted them warmly.
"Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon, miss."
Her smile was innocent and polite.
The three approached the reception desk.
Eugene returned her smile.
"Good afternoon, young lady."
He lightly tapped the counter.
"Are you the one who requested ghost-exorcism services?" he asked gently.
"Ghost exorcism?" Jeanne thought.
Noticing her confusion, Elliot leaned closer and whispered,
"It's just a cover story."
He winked and flashed a mischievous grin.
Jeanne nodded in understanding.
The little girl fell silent for a moment after hearing Eugene's question.
She stared at the aged lobby ceiling while tapping a finger against her chin as though trying to recall something.
"Oh, that!"
She nodded.
"My grandmother was the one who requested it."
The innocent little girl climbed down from the wooden block, stepped out from behind the desk, and approached them.
"My name is Gishka Herra," she introduced herself politely. "Please follow me."
She led them toward a room.
They climbed worn wooden stairs and passed through dim corridors.
Jeanne felt the air in the hallway was noticeably colder than it had been downstairs.
Before long, they arrived in front of a room with a tightly shut door.
At first glance, it looked like nothing more than an ordinary wooden door. Its edges, however, had been riddled with holes from termites.
Jeanne's eyes traced the number attached to it.
"Room Number Six..."
Her eyebrows rose slightly.
She could not identify what felt strange about the room.
To her, the door looked perfectly ordinary.
Jeanne found herself wondering what would happen if she looked inside.
For some reason, she felt as though someone was standing directly behind that door...
Watching them.