HFfC : CH 16: The Intersection

"Thank you for your time," Morhan said politely to Erwin's neighbor, closing her notepad. They had confirmed his residence, but he was, as Forim had said, not in.

Morhan sighed, a cloud of frustrated breath in the cool afternoon air. "Shall we continue our own investigation for now? I have a feeling this Erwin guy is out there doing the same thing—retracing Elisa's last steps."

"Yeah," Celvise agreed, looking up and down the street. "Given the timing, there's a high chance he took the case from Elisa's parents. It's the most recent disappearance."

"Let's go," Morhan decided. "We need to speak with the parents anyway. It's long overdue." With that, the two detectives got back into their rune-car and drove toward the baker's small home in the lower-income district.

…

While the Watchers were still in the early stages of their official investigation, Erwin was miles ahead. He had already spent hours physically walking the routes of not just Elisa, but of all the missing children from the Theocracy refugee community. He configured their paths, their school schedules, their after-school activities, all the data points he had gathered.

Then, alone in the quiet of the Animus Hub, a breakthrough.

He had manifested a large, detailed map of the city on the floor. He traced each child's path home from their respective schools with a glowing line of light. They were all different. Different schools, different neighborhoods, different times of day. It seemed random, unconnected. But it wasn't. As he stared at the tangled web of lines, a single, undeniable pattern emerged.

There was one place. A single, unremarkable intersection of two busy streets, where a small park met a commercial road. Every single child's route, despite their different origins and destinations, crossed this exact spot.

It hit him with the force of a physical blow. This was it. This had to be the abduction point.

Erwin's consciousness snapped back to his physical body. He didn't waste a second. He burst out of his boarding house room and began to run, his long coat flying out behind him as he sprinted through the city streets, heading for the intersection.

As he ran, a dark blue Watcher patrol car sped past him, going the other direction. Inside, Morhan and Celvise were focused on their destination, a map glowing on their dashboard. They didn't see the blond man running with a desperate urgency. And Erwin, his mind entirely consumed by the chase, didn't even notice the official vehicle or the two detectives who were now, unknowingly, searching for him as well as the missing child.

…

Erwin arrived at the intersection, his heart pounding not from the run, but from the thrill of the chase. He forced himself to calm down, to push aside the adrenaline and let the cold, analytical mind take over. The sun was already beginning its descent, casting long, distorted shadows across the small park and the adjacent street.

He began to observe. The detective in him took over, cataloging every detail. The intersection was strangely sparse for a crossing of two major roads. The way the buildings were angled, combined with the thick canopy of the park's old trees, created numerous blind spots. It was a place designed by accident to be unseen. He realized with a chilling certainty that this was a perfect abduction point. A child could be snatched in the brief moment they were obscured from view from either end of the street.

His eyes scanned the area, searching for the focal point, the place where the action would have happened. And then he saw it. A small, dark alley tucked between a bakery and a closed-down tailor's shop. It was dark enough to be overlooked by a casual passerby, and narrow enough that a carriage couldn't pass through, making it a pedestrian-only route. A perfect place to drag someone unseen.

He walked to the mouth of the alley, his eyes scanning the ground. He knelt, his gaze sweeping over the cobblestones and the grimy brick walls. And there it was. A tiny, dark red speck on the side of the wall, almost at ground level, just inside the alley's entrance. A single drop of dried blood.

Erwin closed his eyes. In the Animus Hub, the high-resolution memory of the bloodstain appeared on his investigation board. He connected a glowing red thread from it to the map of the intersection. As he did this, his real body remained kneeling and still, his eyes closed in concentration. He was so focused that he didn't hear the soft, approaching footsteps behind him.

A sudden, jarring yank pulled Erwin's consciousness back to the real world. He opened his eyes to see two women standing over him—a human and an elf, both in the practical attire of the Watchers.

The human introduced herself, her voice firm but not unkind. "I'm Detective Morhan Valerius. Watchers, Detective Division."

The elf smiled, a hint of professional curiosity in her eyes. "I'm Detective Celvise Kaelen, also a detective. You're a hard man to find, Mr. Smith."

Erwin sighed, pushing himself to his feet. The game was up. "I'm Erwin Smith," he said. "Is there something you need, Detectives?"

"Not much," Celvise replied. "We've just been noticing your actions. From what we hear, you've been making quite a name for yourself."

Erwin didn't have time for pleasantries. "Look," he said, his voice cutting and urgent. "I know I'm just a private citizen in your kingdom's eyes, but I have a strong lead on the missing child case. We need to make this an official investigation, now. I don't care about formalities, so I'll ask you directly. Do you want to help?"

Morhan, realizing the gravity of the situation and not wanting to complicate it further, made a decision. Her partner was already on the same page. Celvise had her transponder in hand. "Control, this is Detective Celvise, badge seven-one-four. We're entering the Third Alleyway off Opal Street, possible Code 5 in progress. Requesting a patrol unit for backup."

The three of them entered the alley, forced to go single file due to its narrowness. Erwin took the lead, his eyes scanning every inch of the passage. He pointed out scuff marks on the wall, a dropped button from a child's coat—the subtle signs of a struggle. His deductions impressed the two detectives; from the state of the dried blood, he was able to give them a rough estimate of when the child was taken.

They came across several splits in the alley, a confusing maze of back passages. But Erwin, his mind working at an incredible pace, saw the trail. He pointed them down a path, and they went further and further into the city's dark, forgotten underbelly than either of the two detectives had expected to go that day.

…

Back at Café LeBlanc, the last of the celebratory "month anniversary" customers had departed, leaving a happy mess and a full cash box in their wake. Soma flipped the sign on the door to 'CLOSED'.

Zero pulled off his veiled hat, let out a long groan, and stretched his arms high above his head. "That was a good day, huh?" he said, a weary but satisfied smile on his face.

"So," Soma said, a triumphant, smug look in his eye. "A 'month anniversary' is a thing now, isn't it?"

Zero let out a defeated sigh. "Fine," he conceded. "As long as it keeps bringing in money like that, you can call it whatever you want. Hehehehe."

Soma smiled. "Anyway, what's the final tally?"

Zero walked over to the old cash register and checked the holographic screen. The number glowed with a satisfying light: 2076 Gacha Points.

"We can celebrate with an 11-pull right now!" Soma said excitedly.

"No," Zero said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Let's wait. We open the packs together, when Erwin and Sebas are here." He sighed then, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face.

"What is it?" Soma asked.

"It's just a shame," Zero lamented. "All those Sols that Sebas is going to be... acquiring... from the Vipers' operations. None of it can be converted into Gacha points. Only money earned directly through the café."

Soma laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Well, at least with Sebas around, we won't have to worry about our real-world finances. Though I doubt it will be what you'd call 'legal money'."

Zero steeled himself, his practical side taking over. "Yes, you're right. Sooner or later, I'll need actual money for the clones who need to branch out and establish themselves. Let's focus our 'slow living' on this café, and let our more ambitious selves run the world."

"Alright, alright," Soma said, grabbing the wooden vote box from the counter. "Shall we count the votes, then? I'll bet you it's the lasagna that's going to win a spot on the fixed menu."

"Okay," Zero countered, a competitive glint in his eye. "Then I'll bet it's the Pork Katsu Curry."

The two of them sat down at a table, emptied the box of its folded paper slips, and began to count, their friendly argument filling the quiet, peaceful café.

…

Erwin stopped. The trail of subtle clues—a scuff mark here, a dropped button there—ended abruptly in a small, forgotten clearing at the heart of the alleyway maze. Before them stood a dilapidated, windowless hut, looking as though it might collapse in the next strong wind.

"I think it's that hut," Erwin said, his voice low. He looked at the two detectives. "Do you require a search warrant to enter?"

Morhan and Celvise looked at each other, then back at him, completely baffled by the question. "A what?" Morhan asked. "We're Watchers. We just enter if we need to investigate."

Erwin's mind wanted to facepalm. Of course. These Watchers didn't have or need warrants. The very concept of such a legal protection probably didn't exist here. Well, he thought grimly, I guess their broken system makes it faster to save these kids.

The two detectives pried open the flimsy wooden door. The hut was small and completely empty. Not a single piece of furniture, not a single scrap of trash.

"It's too empty," Morhan said, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of her sidearm. "It's clean."

"Let me investigate," Erwin said, his voice taking on a tone of command. "You two will act as witnesses, to ensure I do not alter a potential crime scene."

Morhan and Celvise were once again taken aback. There was no official procedure for having one officer witness another to prevent evidence tampering. The very idea was foreign. But this strange man's confidence was infectious. They just nodded.

Erwin stepped inside, his eyes scanning every inch of the small space. He didn't touch anything. He just looked, his mind a whirlwind of deduction. Then he saw it. A slight, almost imperceptible bump in the rough-hewn floorboards. He knelt.

"There are strange symbols on this," he said.

Celvise knelt beside him. She saw the faint, arcane markings carved into the wood. Her face went pale. "Shit," she whispered. "This is more serious than I thought."

She reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a small, treated piece of parchment. She carefully placed it over the bump. The paper instantly smoldered, then burst into a flash of smokeless, green flame. In the fire's afterglow, a complex circle of glowing runic patterns appeared on the floor, and the clear outline of a hidden trapdoor became visible.

Erwin didn't hesitate. He pried open the heavy door. A sudden, pungent smell, the cloying, sweet scent of decay, struck them like a physical blow.

"Fuck," Morhan swore, stumbling back. Celvise covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve.

Erwin didn't hesitate. He jumped down into the darkness below.

The moment his feet hit the damp earth of the cellar, he saw them. Lined against the far wall were several small, lifeless bodies. The missing children. Erwin's chest tightened, a cold, crushing weight settling in his gut. His fingertips went numb. "No..." he muttered, the word a choked whisper.

Then, amidst the still, motionless figures, he saw it. A flicker of movement.

A single girl, Elisa, was barely breathing. She was weak, her small frame trembling, but her eyes were open, just barely conscious.

Erwin rushed forward, scooping her fragile body into his arms. Her pulse was faint, a tiny flutter against his fingertips, but she was alive. Without wasting another second, he bolted for the exit.

"Morhan! Celvise!" he yelled as he burst out of the hut. "Secure this location! I'm taking her to the hospital!"

Morhan snapped out of her horrified shock. "Go! We've got this!"

Celvise was already on her crystal transponder, her voice rapid but clear. "Control, this is Celvise, seven-one-four! We have found the missing children, repeat, we have found them! Code 10-54! We have one survivor, a child, Code 10-45 critical, being rushed to the nearest hospital by Private Detective Erwin Smith! Requesting immediate backup and a forensics team to our location!"

The radio crackled with a response, but Erwin was already gone, sprinting through the dark, labyrinthine alleys, his coat billowing behind him like the wings of a vengeful angel. As he ran, the small, frail weight in his arms the only thing in his universe, he muttered, "Stay with me, kid. You're going to make it."

…

The cold night enveloped the Kingdom of Averidane, a silent witness to a dozen different dramas playing out at once.

At the very same moment that Erwin, sprinting through the dark alleys, was whispering, "Stay with me, kid," to the fragile, dying girl in his arms…

Sebas was in the newly established, underground headquarters of the Vipers. Above ground, it was a simple noodle shop, a perfect, unassuming front. He had chosen this location for its proximity to the red-light district, where he had already begun laying the groundwork for his grand plan: a multi-storied establishment in the Eastern style, where information, not just pleasure, would be the most valuable commodity.

And in the warm, cozy loft of Café LeBlanc, Zero and Soma were laughing, their friendly argument about the vote count a perfect picture of peace and contentment as they happily sipped their coffee.

But the Animus Hub, the shared space of their consciousness, did not respect distance or mood.

The raw, unfiltered horror of Erwin's discovery—the high-tension sprint through the alleys, the crushing weight of the lifeless children, the suffocating stench of decay, the oppressive darkness of that hidden underground room—did not stay with him alone. It surged through the red strings that connected their souls, a psychic shockwave that slammed into each of them with the force of a physical blow.

In the middle of his triumphant vote-counting, Soma's face went slack. The joyful numbers on the paper blurred. He saw it all. He saw the bodies. He smelled the rot. A violent, visceral wave of nausea churned in his stomach. He dropped the papers, scrambled from his chair, and rushed to the bathroom, the sound of him vomiting echoing through the suddenly silent café.

Zero, who had been laughing a second before, went deathly pale. He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white, trying to hold his ground as the horrific images flooded his mind. The feeling of the child's frail, trembling body in his—in Erwin's—arms was so real it made his own arms ache.

And in the underground headquarters, Sebas, who had been calmly giving orders to the terrified Viper executives, suddenly went rigid. The placid, serene mask he wore did not crack, but his eyes went cold and distant. He was there, in that cellar, seeing what Erwin saw. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the meeting, leaving his new, confused subordinates staring after him, a silent, murderous fury now radiating from him in palpable waves.

…

Just as Erwin was about to burst out of the alleyway and back onto the main street, a dark figure dropped from a rooftop, landing silently before him. It was Sebas.

"Excuse me, Young Master Erwin," the butler said, his voice a calm anchor in the storm of Erwin's focused panic. He reached out, placing a single, white-gloved palm on Elisa's forehead. A gentle, warm light emanated from his hand as he activated his 'Healing Palm' technique.

As he worked, Elisa's shallow, ragged breathing became deeper, more prominent. The faint tremor in her small body subsided. But after a moment, Sebas shook his head, a flicker of frustration in his otherwise placid eyes.

"I cannot heal her completely," he stated. "My main card is not that of a dedicated healer. I have stabilized her, but she will need proper medical attention. There is no longer any immediate danger of her expiring." He looked at Erwin. "Go to the hospital, Young Master."

"You take her," Erwin countered, his mind racing. "You're much faster than I am."

Sebas shook his head firmly. "No can do, Young Master. My role is to assist you from the shadows. The moment I am exposed as anything more than a simple butler, my usefulness to all of you is compromised."

Erwin gritted his teeth, accepting the cold, hard logic. He nodded once, then started to run again, his long legs eating up the ground as he burst out of the alley and sprinted down the main street.

On the way to the hospital, his desperate flight began to attract attention. People recognized the girl, the baker's missing daughter. They recognized the stern, blond man from the stories that had been circulating. The gossip, the legend, was being forged in real-time. A freelance photographer, hearing the commotion, snapped a single, perfect picture: the determined detective, his sharp features set in a grim expression, the dying child held protectively in his arms, his long coat fluttering behind him like a hero's cape.

He arrived at the hospital and didn't bother with the door handle, simply banging it open with his shoulder. "Emergency!" he roared into the brightly lit reception area. "Someone get a healer!"

Nurses and physicians rushed over, their professional calm taking over as they carefully took the girl from his arms, immediately checking her pulse and breathing. One of them, a middle-aged halfling woman with a kind but no-nonsense face, turned to him. "What happened to her?"

Erwin shook his head, his own exhaustion finally catching up to him. "She was kidnapped. I don't know the full details. I found her in an underground chamber beneath an old hut."

The nurse's face darkened with a grim understanding. "We will do everything we can," she promised. "Are you her guardian?"

"No," Erwin said, already jotting down Elisa's parents' information on a piece of scrap paper from his pocket. "Contact her parents." He handed the note to the nurse, then turned to leave, his voice ringing with a cold, unwavering conviction.

"I have an investigation to return to."

…

Erwin arrived back at the alleyway to find its entrance already blocked off by a hastily erected Watcher cordon. Morhan and Celvise, their faces grim in the harsh glare of the magitech lamps, waved him over.

"Did you let anyone touch the scene?" Erwin asked immediately, his voice sharp.

"Not yet," Morhan replied. "The clean-up team just arrived. We were about to begin the investigation."

Erwin took a step forward, positioning himself between them and the hut. "With all due respect, Detectives," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument, "I cannot let you or your team touch anything inside that hut."

"Why is that, Erwin?" Celvise asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Because," Erwin said, "I need to trace back the fingerprints."

From behind him, a new, skeptical voice cut in. "Fingerprints? What nonsense are you talking about?" It was Detective Sergeant Lomare, who had just arrived on the scene.

Erwin didn't turn to face him. "I cannot let you touch anything," he repeated. "And even when you do, I want every officer to wear some form of gloves to avoid leaving a mark."

"Are you questioning the cleanliness of our crime scenes, private detective?" Lomare scoffed. "This isn't the first one we've processed."

Erwin sighed, finally turning to face the Sergeant. "Tell me, how do you currently determine who was present at a crime scene?"

Lomare sighed, exasperated, but answered. "Witnesses, footprints, items left behind. All the basic stuff."

Erwin nodded. "Right. But what if I told you there's something even more foolproof?"

The three detectives exchanged glances. Erwin held up his own gloved hand. "Look at your fingertips. See those tiny ridges?"

Celvise inspected her own hand, squinting in the dim light. "Yeah?"

"Those ridges are unique to every individual," Erwin explained, his voice taking on the tone of a lecturer. "No two people in the world, not even identical twins, have the same pattern."

Morhan raised an eyebrow. "What are you saying?"

"Fingerprints," Erwin stated simply. "Everyone leaves behind a unique, invisible pattern whenever they touch a smooth surface. If we can find these 'prints' on objects within the crime scene, we might be able to identify exactly who was there."

Lomare's eyes widened slightly, the incredible implication dawning on him. "Are you saying… we could find the killer just by checking these… 'fingerprints'?"

"Exactly," Erwin confirmed.

Celvise frowned. "That sounds incredibly useful, but how do we compare them? It's not like we have a record of everyone's prints."

Erwin crossed his arms. "We don't need the whole city's prints. I already have a list of potential suspects—specifically, the staff at Limstar Academy, Pinecrest Public, and the other schools connected to the previous victims. It will be a long, tedious process of collection and comparison, but it is far more foolproof and direct than any other method."

Morhan's expression hardened. "You think someone at one of the schools is involved?"

Erwin nodded gravely. "The missing children all shared a common path home that intersected at a single point. The timing of their disappearances aligns perfectly with their respective school dismissal hours. Whoever is behind this had inside knowledge of their movements."

Lomare exhaled slowly. "Damn… This could be huge."

Celvise smirked, a look of grudging respect on her face. "And here I thought you were just a rumor."

Erwin chuckled dryly. "You still think I'm just playing detective?"

Celvise shook her head. "No," she admitted. "I think you're actually onto something."

"Alright," Morhan said, adjusting her own standard-issue night leather gloves. "Let's do this properly."

Lomare turned to the surrounding officers and the newly arrived forensics team. "No one steps foot inside that crime scene except for the three of us and Mr. Smith!" he shouted. "We're going to collect every trace of evidence and every single one of these... 'fingerprints'... we can find. Bag everything!"

The officers saluted. "Yes, sir!"

Erwin took a deep breath, looking at his own gloved hand. 'If only they had latex or rubber gloves,' he muttered to himself. 'Well, I suppose fabric will have to do.'

…

Sebas arrived back at the café just as Soma was finishing the cleanup from their impromptu anniversary celebration. The butler's presence was a calm, steadying anchor in the emotionally turbulent room. Soma offered a weak smile, his face still pale, the aftereffects of the shared trauma lingering. Zero, still gripping the counter, looked up, a silent question in his eyes.

"Young Master Erwin is alright," Sebas reported, his voice even. "My theory is that the stress of the discovery was so acute that the experience was forcibly transferred through the Animus Hub."

"How is... she?" Zero asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"She will be alright," Sebas reassured them. "And with this act, Young Master Erwin's fame among the populace will only grow. He is now a hero in their eyes."

"Still pragmatic as ever, huh?" Zero said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Well, I guess the cards really do influence a lot of our personalities."

"For now, I think we should remain vigilant," Soma interjected, his voice serious. "There's no way we can handle these kinds of psychic bursts on a regular basis. If one of us is under too much stress, it could explode and affect all of us."

"You're right," Zero agreed, a grim look on his face. "We need to familiarize ourselves with the Hub, learn to control it." His expression then shifted, a spark of their old Gacha-fueled excitement returning. "And speaking of more control… and more clones… let's roll two 11-pulls tonight."

Soma's face lit up, the horror of the past hour momentarily forgotten. "Let's go! I'll take a bath first to clear my head!" He then ran upstairs to the bathroom.

Sebas walked over to the counter, his eyes falling on the scattered pile of paper slips. "What is this, Master?"

"It's the vote for our fixed menu," Zero explained, a genuine smile returning to his face. "The winner, believe it or not, was the breakfast pancakes."

Sebas nodded, then his expression turned more serious. He looked at Zero. "I believe your earlier suspicions were correct, Master."

"What are you talking about?"

"About the cards, and their influence over our personalities," Sebas clarified. "In a way, it is simply a matter of nature versus nurture. These cards gave us memories, skills, techniques, Ki—all things that are now a fundamental part of our nature. We are all different integers, but the source, the prime number from which we are all derived, will always be you. Because I am you." He looked at Zero, his gaze steady and reassuring. "You have nothing to worry about."

A look of profound relief washed over Zero's face. "Thank you, Sebas," he said quietly. "I was just... worried. To what extent these cards might change you."

Sebas simply smiled as Zero prepared him a calming drink, the unspoken worries of their strange, shared existence momentarily put to rest.