Deep Sea Embers Chapter 367

Published at 5th of September 2023 12:00:55 PM

Chapter 367 The Legacy of Shelter

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com

The woman's eyes, inflamed with the hue of a deep and disturbed insomnia, seemed to contain a volatile cocktail of wild insanity and paralyzing terror. Although the soothing words of the gatekeeper had breathed a semblance of tranquility into her spirit, it had only been enough to pull her back from the precipice of a mental breakdown. Nevertheless, the whispering specter of fear that haunted her psyche could not be exorcised entirely.

This was a look that Agatha, the experienced gatekeeper, had encountered countless times. Thus, with an air of resolute calm, she locked eyes with the woman, managing to kindle some semblance of stability in her. Once the woman's trembling had noticeably lessened, Agatha pressed for more information. “The man you speak of is your deceased husband, correct? You claim that he returned to your home, despite having passed away several years prior.”

Upon hearing her confirmation, the woman's body responded with violent shudders. She bowed her head, and her hands grasped at her hair as if desperately attempting to anchor herself to reality, incapable of maintaining Agatha's probing gaze. “He came back… he came back… but I know it wasn't him…” echoed ominously from her lips, like a chilling chorus of dread.

Contorting her brows in concern, Agatha inquired further, “Can you recount how you managed to fend off this… entity? Can you detail the events of the encounter?”

While speaking, Agatha reached into her pocket and produced a small potion bottle. The cap was removed with a deft flick of her wrist, releasing a calming aroma that subtly perfumed the room.

The potion's soothing effects were almost immediate. The woman, who had been writhing in distress moments ago, now rested on the sofa with noticeably more peaceful respiration. As she lifted her head slightly, her gaze timidly peeking through her disheveled hair, she whispered, “I… I struck it from behind with a hammer. It fell down, but despite a significant indentation in its skull, it didn't perish. It tried to rise again… I panicked and kicked it into the bathroom, locking the door. It pounded on the door, emitting the most ghastly shrieks. It continued its horrible wails for nearly ten minutes in the early dawn before finally falling silent…”

She paused briefly, collecting her thoughts before continuing in a barely audible voice, “Later… when I cautiously cracked open the bathroom door… the creature had vanished…”

Agatha nodded in response, carefully cataloging the events in her mind. “And what about its arrival? Do you recall how this entity made its 'return'?”

“I… I don't know,” the woman responded, her voice trembling with pure terror, “It just materialized in the house! The doors were locked, but I heard strange noises in the living room. Emerging from the bedroom, I was met with the sight of… that thing… It was dressed in the clothing we buried my husband in, aimlessly wandering around the living room, producing sickening, squelching sounds as if it was filled with decaying, gelatinous matter…”

Agatha's facial expression swiftly morphed into one of stern seriousness. Just as she was about to respond, a guardian broke the tension with an update, “We've thoroughly inspected all entrances and exits of the premises. All doors and windows are intact with no signs of forced entry, and all windows appear to be locked from the inside.”

All the doors and windows of the house were securely shut, their locks completely intact, yet this deceptive entity had somehow manifested directly within the home's confines. This startlingly sudden appearance of the creature, devoid of any semblance of an open 'invasion' or 'attack,' heightened her sense of vigilance even further.

However, it was the unique aspects of this case that particularly piqued Agatha's interest today. She cast her gaze downwards, observing the woman slumped on the couch, still wrestling with her shaken nerves.

Agatha could vividly recall the past cases she had dealt with. The haunting incident at 42 Fireplace Street, where a folklorist was tormented by the revenant of death, and the case of the unsuspecting female apprentice, who suffered severe cognitive contamination, remained fresh in her memory. In such instances, the survivors were typically oblivious to the 'counterfeit' entities that haunted them.

The woman before Agatha, however, had identified the intruder. She had spotted the charade. Could it be that she had remained untouched by cognitive contamination?

“Madam,” Agatha began, choosing her words cautiously, “how did you conclude that this 'monster' was not your husband?”

“How could it possibly be him? My husband passed away years ago, and that… that monstrosity was all wrong, a mockery of his image. How could it ever be my husband?” The woman's agitation grew, her voice rising in pitch. “Furthermore… furthermore, it was heading towards my child… my child, who referred to the creature as 'Daddy.' He… he must have been manipulated by that abhorrent thing, he…”

“So, in your belief that the monster had influenced your child, you nearly strangled him?” Agatha asked, her brow creasing into a deep frown. “Were you aware of your actions at the time…”

“I didn't strangle him! I was merely attempting to pull him away, I didn't choke him!”

Her denial exploded from her like a gunshot, causing her to leap from the sofa as if preparing to assault the gatekeeper. The fear and madness that had haunted her bloodshot eyes flared up once again, obliterating all semblance of reason. The nearby guardians instantly moved to subdue the hysterical woman, but Agatha was quicker.

With a swift movement, Agatha raised her staff and delicately tapped the woman's forehead. The impact instantly rendered the woman unconscious.

“She's terrified,” muttered the short-haired female captain, shaking her head in sympathy. “These kinds of incidents are far too overwhelming for ordinary people…”

“No, it's not simply terror; it's a distinct form of mental contamination,” Agatha corrected, shaking her head and furrowing her brows. “She's teetering on the edge of temporary insanity, preserving only the most basic communicative capabilities. She hasn't suffered cognitive or memory interference. Although the exact reason remains unknown, she was able to discern the 'counterfeit' nature of the entity. However, this 'revelation of truth' has proven traumatic for her.”

While speaking, she cast a glance around the humble dwelling. “Where is the child?”

“The child has been relocated to a secure location for the time being. After experiencing such trauma and a near-suffocation, he may not be in a state to endure questioning.”

“Understood,” Agatha commanded, “Maintain a separation between the mother and child for the time being. Ensure they receive appropriate care and psychological therapy, with particular emphasis on the child. Offer him utmost comfort. Should they recall any information of importance, ensure that it is immediately relayed to me.”

“Acknowledged, Gatekeeper.”

With a curt nod of approval, Agatha ambled through the living room towards the modestly sized bathroom.

The floor area surrounding the showerhead was littered with indicators left behind by the guardians during their evidence collection. The so-called counterfeit had been confined within this bathroom, yet all it had left behind was a specimen barely the size of a test tube.

This peculiarity struck her as highly unusual.

While the nature of these counterfeits remained shrouded in mystery and their origins unknown, one fact was undeniable: they consisted of a quantifiable amount of physical substance. Even upon disintegration, this physical mass wouldn't simply evaporate into nothingness.

Her brow creased in contemplation, and Agatha paced the narrow confines of the bathroom. Suddenly, she halted, her gaze fixed intently on a particular corner.

Nestled within that corner was a rust-encrusted entrance to a drainpipe.

She quickly approached the drain, tapping the worn-out cast-iron grate with the end of her tin staff while scrutinizing the murky abyss within.

The engulfing darkness within the drainpipe seemed to veil the truth.

“You've got to be kidding me… Damn it!” Agatha suddenly gasped, a chilling realization washing over her, causing a frigid shudder to course through her veins.

“Evacuate this building immediately; relocate all the residents to nearby churches and public shelters,” she briskly returned to the living room, rattling off instructions with fervent urgency. “Get in touch with the local municipality, close down this building… no, seal off all auxiliary pipelines connected to this building, encompassing the sewage and water supply lines. Additionally, dispatch a team to the closest wastewater treatment facility and thoroughly inspect the sedimentation tanks and filters!”

The team captain was taken aback by the flurry of orders but offered no resistance. Her inherent obedience to the chain of command had her springing into action immediately. “Understood, Gatekeeper!”

After delivering the directives, Agatha's attention was once again drawn to the unconscious woman sprawled on the sofa.

What was it that had allowed this woman to remain unaffected by cognitive and memory interferences, enabling her to discern the true nature of the “counterfeit”?

Even at this moment, this lingering query continued to plague Agatha's mind.

Just then, a guardian who had been diligently scouring other rooms for clues rushed into the living room – a small object clutched in his hand.

“Gatekeeper! We've found this!”

Agatha swiftly turned her attention towards the voice, and her eyes landed on a small, time-worn plaster figurine held in the guardian's grasp.

It was an unmistakable effigy of the Frost Queen in profile.

“A representation of the Frost Queen?” a few of the guardians in the room murmured among themselves, “Quite unexpected to find something like this here.”

Agatha's expression hardened as she moved towards the guardian and accepted the mid-bust statue of the queen, which stood approximately ten centimeters tall. She carefully scrutinized the detailed craftsmanship.

“…It's a genuine artifact from that era, identifiable by a distinct anti-counterfeiting mark located at the base of the sculpture,” she made a swift judgment, then glanced up, “Where was this found?”

“Within a concealed compartment in a deep wall cabinet,” the guardian who had unearthed the statue of the queen promptly reported, “Alongside it were coins and a commemorative album from the era of the queen. It would appear… that someone has been secretly cherishing the memories of the Frost Queen.”

Agatha fell silent for a moment, her gaze focused on the plaster figurine clutched in her hand.

The Frost Queen… even after half a century, the residents of the city-state still harbored a concealed reverence for the queen. This didn't surprise Agatha.

That period represented a time of glory, an era dominated by a formidable queen—fifty years was not sufficient to obliterate all traces of her reign from the city-state. Many from the older generation who had lived through that period, as well as their children, were still significantly influenced by it.

Indeed, the queen still had a smattering of adherents among the populace. Half a century ago, such covert acts of remembrance could have resulted in a public hanging, but today, fifty years later, the restrictions against such practices had been noticeably relaxed. Throughout her tenure as the gatekeeper, Agatha had encountered such instances more than once.

In most cases, if the people were simply indulging in the “collecting of memorabilia,” the guardians and sheriffs of today would seldom take strict action. At times, they would opt to turn a blind eye or merely offer a verbal warning.

The inhabitants of this household had only collected a statue of the queen, a handful of coins, and a booklet. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't a major concern.

However, in light of the recent anomalies that had occurred within this household, Agatha couldn't shake off a nagging suspicion.

The individual embroiled in this incident hadn't been subjected to cognitive interference but had instead seen through the truth of the “counterfeit”. Could it be… that this incident was somehow tied to the queen's memorabilia present here?

Chapter end