"So, what is it that you wanted me to help you with?"
The woman's expression hardened at my question. Her yellow eyes reflected a subtle emotion: anger or sadness? "I know why you were looking at us with those…lustful eyes—I mean, eye." She spoke; her tone was much calmer than before, if you subtract the hidden sass behind the last part. "You are looking into the second generation of victims, no? The ones brainwashed by Ritair?"
Her statement piqued my interest. Sure, but by no means was my investigation a secret, nor was it impossible that the public might know a thing or two about it, but she called it the second generation.
"Have you experienced the first generation? And by that I mean—"
"Treated them?" She interrupted me to finish my sentence. "Those who know of the first know that all victims were either killed by the church or ended themselves on the order of the man behind it all."
The woman stood up from her chair and put on a white lab coat. Unlike the part of the room where it was found, it was clean without a stain to be seen. She walked over to the medical side of the room, her footsteps echoing softly off the pristine floor.
She leaned over the medical bed, her hands tapping it softly as if calling me over to sit down. Her yellow eyes remained glued to me, masking whatever she truly thought of me. "I never introduced myself," she said as I approached her. "My name is Mira, Doctor Mira. Former resident of the Lower Layer, and the owner of this back alley clinic that treats scumbags like yourself."
I sat down, letting her introduction settle for a moment. I smiled at her, speaking as pleasantly as I could. "Scumbag? How charming of you."
She gently pushed me down with a hand on my chest. Mira tilted her head a little as she pulled off the eye patch that stuck loosely to my face, thanks to Hanna. "The one I wish to charm is my dear Hanna. Men like you can rot in hell with those looks you love to give us."
"I can't blame you for thinking that way," I said as she pressed against the burns on my eye. "You two are very attractive, but don't you think it's kind of harsh to view us all the same?"
Mira pulled back. "Considering that you were looking at our chests a few moments ago, kinda hard not to."
"I—"
"Had a reason?" She interrupted me once again. "I know, but after the fate my Hanna had to endure, trust is no longer something I am willing to give." She went to the other side of the room and pulled over a chair that looked like it had been repaired so many times that the original was no longer there. She sat down next to me, crossing her legs. "That eye of yours was already treated by someone skilled. Why did you come here?"
She asked that like I chose to come here.
"Your one-sided lover pulled me out of the trash pile."
She glared at me when I said that.
"But she looked suspicious, so I opted to play along with her game of doctor. Didn't think she would lead me to an actual doctor."
"You thought she was gonna take you to a love hotel and dress up for you? Dirty creep."
"Where did I even mention anything remotely close to that?" I said, trying to keep my anger in check.
She looked at me with a devious glint in her eyes. Was she doing this on purpose? As if reading my thoughts, her grin widened, and she leaned forward.
"You asked me about how I can help you, but wouldn't you like to hear a story?"
She gave me no chance to reply as she leaned back, the grin on her face vanishing.
"There was once a young girl, one so naïve and smart that she survived on her own in the Lower Rings for a long time before a shady doctor found her. She had gloomy eyes that lacked any sign of life. The doctor took her in, and that girl took an interest in her work. Years passed, and despite the meaningless sweet talk of all the men that came through the doors, all of their lustful thoughts; their desires to do both women at the same time; she still yearned for something. She wanted to feel something meaningful, a chance to bear a little version of her. The girl and the doctor fought, and she ran off into the night."
Mira paused. Was this story about her? That was a meaningless question. Who else could it be about?
"Later that night, she came back, blood dripping from her chest, staining her favorite clothes. She reeked of a man's seed. That doctor cursed herself for letting her leave, but she also told herself it wasn't her fault. She fought that pain, that guilt. Whenever a man bears their filthy gaze upon her, the doctor can't help but think, 'I wanted to be the one.' Ever since that night, she would leave periodically, right after the evening chime of the PA system. She would mutter the name Ritair over and over and leave for the night. She would return in the morning, smelling like that man. Each time that doctor would toss out her undergarments and pretend that everything was fine. But deep down, that doctor was reaching the point where her rage was boiling over."
Mira's expression stiffened for a second before turning to me. Her once unreadable eyes were now silently pleading with me. She clutched her chest and took a deep breath, then resumed her story.
"That was until one man came to visit. A man with a metal arm and a buff build. He smelled of booze. The doctor aimed her weapon at him, but he shrugged it off as if it were another day. He handed the doctor a small object and told her to show this to a man whose will had been shattered and who had a wounded eye. He told her, 'Help him, and he will put an end to the second seat of the cult'."
I had a lot to unpack, but there was some information in there that might help me.
First, there were the lifeless eyes. She said she had had those since the day she found her, meaning that her gaze had been a red herring. But they drew suspicion that led me here.
Then there was her yearning for something more. This could be chalked up to something normal and meaningless, but there was a connection to be seen.
Claire claimed Ritair was there when Anya couldn't.
Kelly, while we suffered the psychological attacks of that void spawn, reacted differently from the rest of us.
Muller hid his pain, clutching his metal arm.
Sara wept for her ill-fated mother.
Rinne…well, she was unaffected.
And I, desiring to end it all.
We each desired something. But Kelly looked emotionless at the moment as she watched Muller and me assess the female guards we accessed to determine if they were brainwashed.
"I suppose everyone is the same." Those were the words she muttered.
At the moment, I was confused, but now I understand.
All three girls who were brainwashed shared a desire for something more.
"So," I nodded. The nod was for myself, as I understood where this investigation was heading. Mira looked at me, her eyes shining with a curious look after a long silence. "Does this doctor believe that man will save her beloved?"
Mira smiled. "If such a prince charming existed, then I would be willing to give them my trust. But—"
But? I tilted my head at her sudden interjection at something that should have been a smooth ending. Her expression darkened as she leaned forward. She spoke in a low tone, as if being secretive for some reason when there was no one else here.
"Is the church really to be trusted?"
"Are you asking that because it was a man who came to you—I mean the doctor in that story?"
"No, it's because whenever the doctor asked the girl about what happened, she would speak about Ritair in a good way. She would say that he is trying to change the city from within. Ridding the loneliness that plagues the human soul."
"…"
The more I hear about Ritair, the more confused I get about him. Hanna's words should be taken as the ramblings of a man who's rewritten her brain. But I don't fully believe that to be the case.
Ritair is the second seat, their first knight. Yet the seventh seat, the second knight, is actively headhunting him and his girls. During the attack on City Hall, he beat us to the punch in killing our main target.
The cult worships the void spawn, so what meaning was there for him in killing the very subject they saw as divine?