The next day was Saturday.
By the time Ryan woke up, the church bell had already chimed six times. Outside the window, the sky was a dull gray, and a light drizzle tapped against the attic glass.
He lay in bed, staring blankly for a few seconds. He still had no clue about the woman in the black dress from last night. However, at least for now, she didn't seem to harbor any ill intent—she hadn't attacked, nor had she left any warning signs.
Deciding to temporarily put the matter aside, Ryan got up to wash, changed into his archive uniform, choked down a couple of bites of black bread, and headed out.
On Saturdays, the archive only opened for half a day, but they were still paid for a full day. No one in their right mind would turn down free money.
The morning streets of the East End were already starting to bustle. Milk vendors pushed their wooden carts past, bakeries were just opening their doors, and the scent of coal smoke mingled with the aroma of freshly baked bread in the air.
On the street corner, a paperboy was clutching a thick stack of morning papers and shouting at the top of his lungs, “Morning paper! Murder at East Port! Body found in East Port warehouse!”
Ryan's footsteps suddenly halted. East Port? He immediately turned to look.
The paperboy was still shouting with all his might, “New developments in the East Port serial disappearances! Police seal off the docks overnight! Latest news!”
Ryan's eyes narrowed slightly. He walked straight over. “I'll take one.”
“One penny, sir.”
Ryan handed over the coin and took the newspaper, which still smelled faintly of fresh ink.
The most prominent spot on the front page featured a bold headline:
【Suspected Serial Murder Scene Discovered in Abandoned East Port Warehouse】
Below it was a blurry photograph showing several police officers standing outside a cordon, with the warehouse clearly visible in the background.
Ryan's heart skipped a beat. Jonathan moved that fast?
He flipped the paper open as he walked. The article wasn't very long, but the gist of it was:
Following an anonymous tip, the police department had discovered a large amount of blood and what appeared to be human tissue residue inside an abandoned warehouse in East Port. The scene was described as extremely gruesome. Suspecting a connection to the recent disappearances, the police had cordoned off the area for investigation.
In the latter half of the article, the reporter had interviewed nearby residents. Some claimed they had frequently heard strange noises over the past few weeks, while others said they had seen suspicious figures entering the warehouse late at night. One person even swore they had seen a “dead man.”
Of course, the reporter had dismissed that last claim as the ramblings of a drunkard.
The corner of Ryan's mouth twitched. A dead man? In a way, they weren't wrong at all.
Flipping to the second page, there was a follow-up report.
The total number of missing persons in East Port over the past two months had reached twenty-one, most of whom were dockworkers.
The police department had previously suspected a human trafficking ring, but with the discovery of the warehouse, the direction of the investigation was likely to shift.
Ryan's pace gradually slowed. Twenty-one people... that was even more than he had expected.
How many people had that ghoul actually eaten? Or were there more than one? And what about those semi-transformed?
The moment these thoughts surfaced, Ryan immediately suppressed them. He couldn't let his mind wander down that path.
He had already set a rule for himself: record the problems, but do not actively seek the answers. Otherwise, he would eventually succumb to curiosity and run back to East Port, only to end up dead without even knowing how.
With that in mind, Ryan refolded the newspaper and continued toward the archive.
Along the way, many people were discussing the events at East Port.
A coffee stall owner claimed it was a cult sacrifice, a cart-puller insisted it was a gang war, and some swore the docks were haunted.
Various theories flew wild, each teller speaking with absolute certainty, as if they had witnessed it with their own eyes.
Ryan lost interest after listening to a few exchanges. Ordinary people would never guess that sometimes, the most absurd explanation was actually the closest to the truth.
Half an hour later, the Central Archive appeared at the end of the street. The grayish-black building stood silently in the rain, with quite a few clerks already streaming in and out of the entrance.
Ryan tucked the newspaper away, pulled down the brim of his hat, and walked toward the entrance.
However, as he passed the duty registry, his footsteps suddenly faltered. A new notice had been posted on the bulletin board at some point.
【Due to the requirements of the investigation into the major case at East Port, effective immediately, a portion of the clerks will be drafted to assist the police department in organizing the missing persons archives. The roster of names will be announced this afternoon.】
Ryan stared at the notice. He stood in silence for two seconds, then slowly closed his eyes, with only one thought remaining in his mind.
“Dammit.”
“It couldn't be that much of a coincidence, could it?”
...
Around two in the afternoon, the work in the archive was drawing to a close.
Since Saturdays were only half-days, many clerks had already begun tidying up their desks. Some returned files to the cabinets, some took off their oversleeves, and others discussed which pub they would visit tonight.
Outside, the rain continued to fall. Dull gray light filtered through the high windows into the hall, which smelled of paper and ink.
Ryan sat at his desk, still holding the newspaper he had bought that morning.
He had read the East Port article several times. Eleven missing people, an abandoned warehouse, a large amount of blood, and a police lockdown... On the surface, it seemed like a standard criminal case, but Ryan knew things were far from that simple. At the very least, the ghoul was real.
Just then, footsteps echoed from the direction of the second-floor offices. Many people instinctively looked up.
Alvin walked down the stairs with a few documents in hand. His expression was much the same as usual, though slightly more solemn.
After reaching the center of the hall, he tapped the desk lightly.
“May I have your attention, everyone.”
The noisy hall gradually fell silent as everyone turned to look.
Alvin opened the documents and got straight to the point.
“We have just received a notice. Due to the needs of the East Port disappearance investigation, the police department has requested access to certain historical files from our archive.”
Whispers broke out across the hall. Clearly, many had already read today's paper.
“Is it that case where they found the bodies?” someone asked.
Alvin nodded. “More or less. The number of missing persons is quite large, so they require dedicated staff to help organize the records. The director has decided to temporarily form a task force to handle this matter.”
With that, he looked down at the roster and began calling names.
“Simon.”
In the corner, Simon looked up from sorting his files. “Understood,” he replied.
Then, Alvin continued calling names: “George. Martha. Ben. Green.”
Name after name was called, all of them veteran employees of the archive.
Ryan had assumed this had nothing to do with him, but in the next second, Alvin spoke again.
“Ryan Harold.”
The hall fell quiet for a brief moment.
Ryan looked up. “Me?”
“Yes,” Alvin nodded. “The director personally designated you.”
As soon as those words left his mouth, quite a few eyes turned toward Ryan.
After all, Ryan hadn't been a formal clerk for very long. Strictly speaking, he was still a newcomer. This kind of task shouldn't have fallen to him.
Even Ryan himself was caught off guard.
Alvin offered no further explanation, simply continuing:
“Starting Monday morning, you will be responsible for organizing all files related to East Port over the past three months. This includes missing person registries, death records, population migration logs, and dockworker profiles.”
“All materials will be sent to Sorting Room Three. Is that clear?”
The group nodded one after another. “Understood.”
Once the announcement was over, the hall bustled with chatter again. Many viewed this as an opportunity to make a good impression.
After all, being personally selected by the director was a form of recognition.
Some even went out of their way to congratulate Ryan.
“Nice luck. You just became a formal clerk and you're already on a special task force. You'll probably get promoted even faster now.”
Ryan merely offered a polite smile, completely unable to share their enthusiasm. Unlike the others, he knew for a fact that there were real monsters in East Port—and he had nearly died there just a few days ago.
While everyone was chatting, Simon suddenly stood up from his corner and walked past Ryan with a stack of files.
As their shoulders brushed, he murmured casually, “Stop courting death.”
With that, Simon walked straight out of the hall, leaving Ryan standing there in a daze.
Outside, the sound of the rain grew heavier. Ryan looked down at the newspaper on his desk, his gaze falling once more upon the blurry photograph of the East Port warehouse.
Rate on N.U.
