The passerby of a rat ran along the ceiling, skittering through long, old, rusted pipes, brushing dust loose from above. The fragile, hollow wood clicked beneath its hurried steps. Clutched in its mouth was a sheet—thin, worn.
A piece of it slipped free.
It fell from the rafters, sliding past narrow holes in the wood lining the ceiling, drifting down through the stale air—
—and dropped.
It landed squarely on Percy's forehead.
He jerked awake with a sharp breath, fear snapping through him. His head turned quickly, eyes darting, trying to grasp the shape of the room around him. The familiar presence of the room made him take a calm breath.
A tiny speck of dust fell from the ceiling, touching his shoulder. He twisted his body, a little bit of fear showing on his face.
With a twist of his lips and an arched eyebrow, he said in a drowsy voice,
"Who is there?"
Realizing there was no one there with him, it had just been a bad dream.
"Oh… that is all just—" he stopped, then turned.
His eyes moved around the room, skimming over the falling shadows of old wood. They settled on a cupboard. Resting close to it was a pile of garbage.
The raw, rancid smell of trash, gathered for a long time, twisted the air in the room.
He drew in a breath. The air cut through his nose like a razor blade, sharp and stale with the past.
But he had no choice. He moved closer to the cupboard, legs and hands pushing aside the garbage. Finally, he grabbed the handle.
A tiny crack echoed as he opened it. Inside, there was only a carelessly folded white top and a vest.
Changing out of the officer uniform, he put on the white top and then the vest.
In the middle of the cupboard was a mirror, placed on the wood.
He glanced at the dusty glass. His reflection showed a young man with brown hair and dark eyes.
"Quite handsome, Percy," he said in a playful tone.
Truly, now he wanted to know more—but he had other things to do. He had to figure out where he had been dropped. His focus was more on the wasted manuscript and the scattered memories he had traced to this timeline, but he was unable to locate the mechanism. Something was wrong.
Wasting all the spirituality he had, and the manuscripts he had collected over years, just to transfer his consciousness into the body of a dead officer, was still unsettling to him.
He moved closer to the door, turned the handle, and walked outside.
The nauseating feeling told him he had lost something more than just spirituality—or even the mechanism. It made him feel… strange.
If the main spirituality he had before had been 100%, then his current level was only 10%.
Orin Morvane spoke in a twisted, serious voice—
Moving outside, his leg slightly shifted something. Gazing down to see what he had kicked by mistake, he noticed it was a revolver.
Adjusting his body slightly, he bent to pick up the gun. With a movement of his fingers, he opened the cylinder of the revolver—there were no bullets. It was empty.
Placing a hand into his pocket, he checked the trousers of the uniform he was still wearing, the front and the back pockets. Finally, he found one last bullet.
Placing the bullet into the cylinder, he twisted it twice, then tucked it behind his back, using the white top to cover the gun.
"Maybe this will be useful in the near future."
He walked outside, turning to his right-hand side, then to his left, passing a narrowing corner.
His left hand rested on his shin as he kept wondering about the mechanism.
Since he was bound to the mechanism, it was unsettling not to have received any information from it after transforming into the body of the dead officer.
Usually, the mechanism was always the one pushing him to find the manuscript pieces immediately.
This was a serious one—something that, to himself, could cost a court of spirituality to the mechanism.
But anyway, he had to find the ingredients to create a summoning ritual.
Taking a right turn after escaping the narrowing corner, across from him was a store.
Using the memories of Percy to track the clock store, he crossed to the other side and walked inside.
His eyes shifted to the things he wanted, picking a broken wristwatch from the table. He walked closer to the lady who was standing across, away from the long table.
The lady looked at him and said,
"Percy, I see you came into my store today."
Responding in a respectful tone,
"I trust you had a pleasant morning."
The lady looked at him, then shook her head.
"Well, would you be taking the watch?"
He looked at the lady, then at the watch. Speaking in a clear voice, he said, "Yes, I will be taking it."
Checking Percy's pocket, he found two pieces of coin, then handed them over to the lady.
Stepping out of the shop, he turned across, then passed the narrow corner once again.
Finally getting away from the narrow path, he heard a voice screaming the name "Percy."
Turning to his right, he saw a young man running straight at him. He looked confused, since he had not seen this one in Percy's memories.
Waving and jumping, shouting, "Percy! Percy! Percy! Percy!" The young man ran and hugged him.
Orin Morvane was confused for a moment, but then a memory surfaced—this was a friend of Percy, both of them in the police together.
Orin Morvane replied in a familiar tone, then said, "Klaus, how are you?"
A fragmented memory of Percy showed this was the way both of them usually greeted each other.
Releasing his hand from Percy's body, Klaus stepped back.
Giving a brief space for Orin to properly look at him, he stood dressed in a dark, tailored coat that hugged his shoulders, gold braids glinting in the light. His trousers were straight and sharp, a stripe running down each leg. A tall shako crowned his head, white gloves and polished boots completing the figure.
Before any words could be spoken, Klaus interrupted Orin.
"We have been summoned by the Black Crows officers."
Orin Morvane's gaze stayed fixed on him, waiting to hear what he would say next.
Continuing in a serious tone, Klaus said, "Four—or more—three officers died in the church located in the low side district of Iron Gate City."
Orin's eyebrow twitched slightly upward.
Responding, he said, "Oh… so what are we going to do this time?" Using the same tone Percy usually used to reply to others, he added, "Stand there and wait for them to do what they have to do."
Klaus outlined his words, then said, "Yes, that is right."
Orin Morvane was not intrigued by the information Klaus had just shared. His curiosity was more about the Black Crows—his objective was to get closer to them and restore his spirituality—that was all that was running through his mind.
Shifting his hand and putting the watch in his pocket, he turned back and smiled, bending his head slightly.
Just a standby officer, living the life of an officer, following the real officers to clean the real problem—he traced exactly the same words Percy had in his mind.