Chapter 93: Infiltration (4)
Reinhard removed the crow mask, tucking it back into his bag before emerging from the alley. His pace remained casual as he navigated through streets that were still filled with nightlife.
He saw couples walking arm in arm, groups of friends laughing, and street performers performing as people walked past.
The northeast area of Phane City approached gradually.
The architecture shifted, becoming more refined. Buildings here were taller with elaborate stonework. There were gardens in front of some residences, visible behind decorative iron fencing.
Even the cobblestones seemed cleaner, more carefully maintained.
The Bolner Storage building in this district matched its surroundings, as it was constructed of finer stone, its windows larger and more numerous than the eastern facility.
Reinhard found another alley, changed back into his black suit and mask, then summoned Mimir for reconnaissance.
The process repeated, the crow scouting, identifying patterns, and finding the administrative office on the third floor.
When workers approached the entrance, Reinhard used Drasil Step to slip inside during slow time. Then navigated through the warehouse using the same combination of stealth and time manipulation that had proven effective before.
The third-floor office was larger than the previous one and far better furnished. The desk was polished mahogany rather than worn oak, while the filing cabinets were newer, their surfaces gleaming.
Reinhard moved behind the desk, pulling open drawers.
The files showed similar patterns with recruitment records listing vulnerable populations, shipping manifests documenting massive deliveries to Mekhko Research Center, and revenue calculations showing substantial profits.
But the entries here included names that made Reinhard pause. He recognized some noble and merchant names that were brought up by others in the Inns.
These people were wealthy and aren’t poor, so he was surprised they would join, but then again, maybe they dislike their family.
Reinhard’s brows furrowed as he processed the implications. Were these families erasing their members’ histories? Cutting ties to avoid association?
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen families discarding children who’d brought shame or proven an inconvenience, rewriting records to pretend they’d never existed.
Reinhard continued searching, his hands moving methodically through papers. Then his fingers brushed something beneath the file folders, and to his surprise, they were letters.
Reinhard extracted them carefully, unfolding the first to read.
The handwriting was neat. The letter was addressed to the building’s manager from someone identified only as "M. Researcher, Mekhko Center Seven."
We require additional workers for the expansion project. The previous group couldn’t handle the harsh treatment and, unfortunately, had to be retired. Please send replacements at your earliest convenience.
Reinhard furrowed his brow. "Why do I get the feeling the meaning is different... Could they mean being indoctrinated into the Sinners? And those who failed were killed? Or does it really mean working on the farm, and the farm itself might be different than what it’s led to believe?"
His mind pulled up memories of the gang operations he’d witnessed or participated in during darker times.
Special herb gardens that members maintained, masked as innocent farming, but actually cultivating plants used for drugs or poisons.
One boss had owned an entire farm dedicated to such cultivation, the operation disguised as legitimate agriculture.
The next letter continued the thread.
Progress remains steady, but breakthroughs require resources, specifically more test subjects. The current batch shows promise, but we need larger sample sizes to confirm results.
Another letter, dated two weeks later.
Regarding your son’s condition, our research into regenerative treatments advances daily. The more assistance you provide, the faster we can develop medicine to cure your child. Every worker sent brings us closer to success.
Reinhard sighed, the sound carrying resignation and anger in equal measure. "And there it is. The best motivation and way to pull someone in." He then frowned. "Still, can sending more people really help with medicine breakthroughs? Unless they’re experimenting? It did call the people sent as test subjects, but that wouldn’t automatically mean experimenting on them."
Reinhard forced the speculation aside, refocusing on the remaining letters. One envelope bore the Hope Salvation Clinic seal, leading his frown to deepen as he extracted the letter inside.
The handwriting was different and carried a warmth that official correspondence typically lacked.
Dear Manager Harrison,
I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to inquire about how the workers you’ve sent to various positions are managing. Several have visited the clinic recently with complaints of joint pain and exhaustion.
Please remind them they’re welcome to schedule check-ups at any time. If their work involves heavy physical labor, I strongly recommend you provide open leave policies that allow them to seek medical attention without fear of losing wages.
Additionally, I’m formally requesting that you implement health benefits for your workers. Pushing through pain leads to accidents that could be prevented with proper rest and treatment.
With hope for their well-being,Dr. Martha Valkyrie
Reinhard’s grip on the letter tightened slightly while his expression softened despite himself. "You really are a good doctor..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "But it’s because you’re so good that it makes people like me have a hard time accepting... If only we’d met you earlier..."
The words hung in the empty office, confession to no one.
Reinhard shook his head sharply, a physical dismissal of sentiment. He refolded the letters precisely, returning them to their position beneath the files.
Everything was replaced exactly as found, his memory guiding perfect restoration.
The window opened soundlessly.
Reinhard climbed through, used Drasil Step to descend safely, and disappeared into the night toward his next target.
The northwest storage building was the largest yet, as it was four stories rather than three, occupying two full blocks.
Its location served the docks, which would explain the increased size. Ships would offload cargo here for distribution throughout the city.
The infiltration repeated with Mimir scouting, Reinhard entered during slow time, and navigating through the warehouse led to the fourth-floor administrative section.
This office was clearly the primary facility. Maps covered one wall, marking locations throughout the continent, and a large ledger sat on the desk, bound in leather with gilt edging.
Reinhard opened drawers, finding files similar to previous locations such as recruitment, shipping, and revenue.
Then, a file marked differently had a red bar rather than the standard blue.
He pulled it free, opening it across the desk surface.
It displayed images of phantom Beasts rendered in detailed painting. With lines pointing to specific body parts, numbers accompanied each image and were written boldly beneath.
The first showed a wyvern-like creature, wings spread, mouth agape, with the number 320 printed below.
Reinhard flipped pages, finding more beasts, and each had a corresponding number.
A werefang with the number 240, something resembling a massive serpent with the number 420, and a bird with six wings had the number 275.
"Classification system?" Reinhard muttered, studying the anatomical notes. "Or maybe reports documenting Phantasm Beast body parts..."
The lines pointing to various sections suggested the latter, perhaps documenting what components were needed for something.
"But I feel like there’s more to this... I mean, what else would I-" His voice cut off abruptly.
Reinhard paused as the page before him showed a familiar figure.
The Star Walking Beast.
The creature that had nearly killed him and his friends. The one they’d fought in Mensis Town, summoned through the sacrifice of an entire community.
Below the image: 315.