“Look at the blood pooling here. Wow, does this reach up to the ankles?”
“No, not up to the ankles… but it seems to go up to the shinbones.”
“What kind of massacre would cause this much blood to gather?”
The appearance of the building was horrifying. The term “slaughterhouse” would hardly suffice to describe the scene.
The animals were either chopped into small pieces or mangled by vicious knife wounds, reduced to rags and strewn about. The floor was filled with the blood pouring out from these corpses. Not only that, but hooks of various sizes were found all over the building. Suspended from these hooks were animal carcasses, each with large wounds that appeared to have been deliberately inflicted to extract blood, which now dripped profusely.
The blood falling from these carcasses was cascading onto a vaguely humanoid statue. Like a practitioner in meditation enduring a waterfall, this grotesque statue had its eyes closed, legs crossed, and was soaking up the blood drenching its head. Occasionally, after being thoroughly soaked in blood, the statue would faintly glow with a bluish light.
“Wow, this is incredible.”
“Could some strange religious group be involved here?”
“What religion? This is clearly sorcery, no doubt about it.”
Indeed, anyone with even a modicum of worldly knowledge, save a completely naive three-year-old, would immediately perceive this as a suspicious ritual of magic.
“No, no, it’s not sorcery!”
Michisige shouted loudly, perhaps trying to clarify matters for the journalists who were chatting. He hoped his voice would somehow transcend his smartphone and reach their ears, yearning for an opportunity to justify himself.
But the inspector in front of him merely smirked.
“Alright, why would I let you off that easily? You can yell all you want—you won’t be able to transmit a single sound to them.”
He tapped the air about 20 centimeters away from the smartphone with his finger, revealing a faint shimmer of the magical field before it disappeared again.
“As long as I maintain this field, nothing you say will reach them. Though, sounds from them will certainly enter your ears loud and clear.”
“Release it!”
Michisige yelled, glaring fiercely at the inspector.
“Why should I?” the inspector shot back, his expression a mix of bemusement and disdain. He chuckled.
“What exactly did you entrust to me? Did we have some unbreakable bond? You act as though my wife were sitting right here! Haha!”
Having teased Michisige with sarcastic remarks for some time, the inspector, his face flushed red with restrained laughter, pushed the smartphone in front of Michisige.
“Just shut up and watch.”
It was a one-way video call.
Considering that only one-way communication was possible, it was essentially an internet broadcast.
Yet, despite this highly unreasonable form of communication, Michisige had no choice but to accept it. Moreover, even if he wanted to resist, he had no option but to comply with the inspector’s demands standing in front of him.
“Ugh…”
The reporters, viewing the “slaughterhouse” through the screen, hesitated to go inside. Despite nearing the entrance, they seemed reluctant to step into the darkness filled with blood and flesh, continuously triggering flashes from their cameras while standing outside. Jinseong stood silently nearby, gesturing impatiently for them to hurry up.
But this hesitation wouldn’t last long. For journalists, securing an exclusive scoop meant risking their lives if need be.
Rather than endure the wrath of the editors and manager for failing to secure such an exclusive, they opted to suppress their physical aversion.
One by one, the reporters stepped through the warehouse doors into the blood-soaked space, their steps leaving blood splatters on their trousers as the viscous fluid swirled and surged with each step, rising up to their shins. Except for a few who remained outside filming, all entered the warehouse.
As they walked inside for the sake of their scoop, expressions of disgust escaped them like, “Ugh,” and “Ugh, disgusting,” their faces wrinkling in revulsion. With each step, the gory liquid splashed noisily, clinging and creating new stains on their clothes.
What made this experience even worse was the smell.
“Isn’t it strange the sheep and other animals don’t have a decaying odor?”
“So, this blood hasn’t been here long?”
“Places like this usually reek horribly after just a slight decay sets in. But there’s none here, see?”
The fresh smell of blood contrasted sharply with the environment’s grisly scene, inducing an unprecedented sense of discomfort.
“And look, there’s no decaying smell and no insects.”
“It’s not cold here either, but there’s no insects or smell of decay. Isn’t that odd?”
“Look at these chopped-up carcasses. There should be maggots by now, but there’s nothing. You’d think they were freshly taken out from a refrigerator.”
“Ugh! The muscles are still somewhat alive! Touch them, and they even cling a little! Damn it!”
“Could this be a preservation spell?”
“But for a preservation spell, there’s no peculiar smell, and no magical energy can be felt.”
“Then were these animals butchered recently?”
Before long, the reporters, seemingly adapted to the unpleasantness, began chatting in clusters. Perhaps they conversed to forget the discomfort.
“Didn’t we see any butchers earlier?”
“No, butcher’s knife work isn’t typically this chaotic.”
“Could this person have been testing a blade on livestock?”
“Wait, let’s check this pig head for identification. Oh? This isn’t livestock.”
“What?”
“Properly managed livestock usually have tags for tracking. There’s nothing here—this is clean.”
“No signs of vaccination either.”
“Are these wild animals?”
“But if they’re wild, they’re too well-groomed.”
“No, these aren’t wild animals. The fur and skin are spotless, no scars except for the blade cuts. They look like they were raised in a barn.”
The reporters inspected the area carefully, furrowing their brows with increasing doubts:
If they weren’t livestock, then surely they weren’t wild animals either.
It was as if these animals had dropped from the sky or were pets cherished and brought here.
“Do you folks really wish to know?” a clear voice rang out from afar just as the reporters were debating the nature of the livestock.
Turning their heads in unison, they saw a Shinto priest wearing a fox mask standing there.
“The answer to your query is right here.”
Jinseong, while wearing the fox mask, beckoned them in with one hand and grabbed what looked like a hidden lever on the wall with the other.
Before Michisige realized it, he let out a cry.
“No! Don’t—!”
“Quiet, already. It’s futile.”
“No! Don’t pull it! Damn it! How did you find it! Damn it!”
His plea was almost like a desperate, luminous cry, but the magical barrier surrounding the smartphone wouldn’t transmit any sound. Michisige’s plea, saturated with frustration, scattered uselessly in the air. Jinseong pulled the lever without any objection or interference from anyone.
“Clunk!”
The smartphone’s speaker emitted a heavy sound as the lever was pulled.
“Is that a door?”
“A secret door! That’s it! Shoot it! We have to capture this! Mad! Unbelievable!”
“Damn! This guy is amazing! Unbelievable! I can’t believe what I’m seeing!”
“Incredible! This is insane!”
“Exclusive scoop! A secret door!”
“Lord Shinto priest, how did you find it?”
“Did you use a special method, or did your deity guide you?”
“Well, in here, there were different smells other than blood, so I examined the wall.”
“Wow, this man has a good nose! Gifted or a blessing from the deity?”
A secret door. Moreover, not in a dwelling or hideout but hidden within a brutal and horrifying slaughterhouse.
The reporters, overcome with excitement over what might be inside, almost forgot about the blood splattering around them as they hurried toward the door, their legs trembling with joy.
“Let’s go inside!”
“Hold on! Do we know what’s inside? This isn’t an ordinary hideout. It’s a secret door in a butchered mess made by probable murderers. There could be traps, right?”
“Nah, traps? Let’s quickly get in and shoot this. Everyone’s itchy to go.”
“No, stop. Think about it. His point makes sense. There could be traps or perhaps a secret self-severance device meant for intruders. Someone outside could also trigger it to silence intruders.”
“Then what do we do?”
“Call the police! Aren’t there plenty of police outside?”
“Yeah, that’s right. They even came well-armed.”
Thus, the reporters opted to call the police for assistance instead of rushing in recklessly. They believed they shouldn’t risk danger even for an exclusive scoop.
“Hmm. Fascinating.”
“Ugh, this reeks.”
“Where there’s a hidden door in this setting, there’s likely to be people inside.”
“What? People? Is someone imprisoned inside?”
“No, not necessarily. I’m saying it’s possible.”
“We’re talking about the worst-case scenario, but it’s also possible that this is just set up to dispose of those chopped carcasses. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions prematurely.”
Finally, the police arrived and carefully stepped into the passage. Following their training, they progressed cautiously while staying vigilant.
After descending the gently sloped pathway for a while, they eventually reached their destination.
“Uh…”
“It’s a barn?”
“Why would there be something like this underground?”
At the end of the secret passage was a spacious chamber underneath the ground, filled with countless livestock.
Cows.
Pigs.
Deer.
Dogs.
In the rather wide underground space, these four species were crammed into cages, visibly suffering.
“Could this be a smuggler’s warehouse?”
“Why are the cages stacked up to the ceiling?”
“There must be hundreds of them, at least…?”
“Even smugglers aren’t this excessive. The cages are all jam-packed with animals. This can’t be normal.”
One journalist mumbled in disbelief.
“Is this where the warrior clans gather…? Or… the outcast community?”
