When Galad stepped out of the room, the gory scene was already gone.
The altar of flesh and blood had vanished without a trace, the floor scrubbed clean by uniformed officers. Siris's body, wrapped tightly in a white sheet, was carried out by several policemen.
"Captain."
The green-eyed Nighthawk approached Dunn first, lowering his voice as he nodded toward Galad. "What's the verdict?"
"Temporarily safe," Dunn replied calmly. "They're only innocents caught in the storm."
"Since everything's fine, can my brother and I leave now?"
Cecilia darted to Galad's side, clinging to his arm.
"I regret to say, no."
Dunn's voice was soft yet absolute. "You'll both come with us."
Cecilia's brows knit together. "Why?"
Her tone grew stiff, almost hostile, as she unconsciously tightened her grip on her brother. "We don't have money for bail. Officer, we're penniless—you won't get anything out of us…"
Her small frame trembled, but her eyes were fierce. She looked like a tigress guarding her cub, refusing to yield.
Earlier, when Dunn had questioned Galad alone, Cecilia had protested just as fiercely. It was only Galad's persuasion that calmed her down. Now, with their hope of leaving shattered, her anger erupted.
Yet Dunn showed no irritation. He simply regarded her with gentle composure, his gray eyes steady.
"Cecilia, calm down. It's not like that."
Galad quickly interrupted, stroking her shoulder. "There are still dangerous people out there. Mr. Dunn is protecting us…"
Only after his explanation did Cecilia reluctantly accept the truth. The siblings, under Nighthawk protection, were escorted from Siris's house.
Outside, two black carriages awaited, each bearing the insignia of the police: two crossed longswords guarding a crown.
Galad boarded one carriage with Dunn and the green-eyed officer, while Cecilia entered the other with the brown-eyed Nighthawk. To avoid suspicion, a female officer accompanied her.
Inside the carriage, a carpet cushioned every step, and the air carried the faint scent of incense. It was far more refined than its plain exterior suggested.
But what froze Galad wasn't the decor.
Hanging deep inside was a peculiar emblem, about the size of Cecilia's fist. Against a pitch-black background, silver stars clustered around half of a crimson moon—the Night Emblem of the Evernight Goddess.
The moment Galad's gaze landed on it, invisible fluctuations pierced his body. His muscles tightened, and his heart skipped a beat. The ripple circled within him once, then quietly faded. Nothing happened.
What the hell...?
Galad forced his expression to remain neutral, but when he glanced back, both Nighthawks were staring at him with sharp vigilance, their hands hovering near their weapons.
"What's wrong?" he asked carefully.
"…Even the Goddess's Gaze detected nothing abnormal," Dunn finally said, relaxing his shoulders. "It seems you're truly fine. Sit where you like."
The words sounded casual, but Galad's eyes narrowed.
So they had never trusted him fully. The emblem was their test—a quiet snare to catch his weakness. And had he failed, they would have cut him down on the spot.
No wonder he's captain. Cautious, meticulous, and dangerous.
Galad glanced out the window as the carriage lurched forward.
Since suspicion is cleared, maybe I can probe a little…
He leaned back, choosing his words carefully. "Mr. Dunn, could you tell me what exactly Beyonders are? And this… 'Beyonder world'? After what happened today, I need to understand."
Dunn removed his police hat, revealing his receding hairline, and nodded. "I can share some basic knowledge."
Through the swaying ride, Galad learned of Beyonders, potions, sequences, and rituals—the skeletal framework of the hidden world.
When Dunn paused, Galad seized the moment. "Then what about me? Why do you think I've already become a Beyonder? You even mentioned it… in my dream."
Dunn's expression turned serious. He stroked his hat once before speaking. "This involves confidential matters. I can only explain in part. But remember—what you hear must not be spread. Do you accept that?"
"I won't breathe a word," Galad promised. His life was already in their hands—refusal wasn't an option.
"Good." Dunn's voice lowered. "Then let me ask: after Siris died, did you touch any strange substances from his body?"
At once, Galad thought of the small black sphere. He forced a sheepish tone. "Uh… I did swallow something. A little sphere from his palm. It made me uncomfortable for a while, but it wasn't on purpose—Siris faked death and lunged at me, and I panicked. It… slipped down."
He tried to sound evasive and worried. "Is that why I became a Beyonder?"
Dunn nodded slowly. "Just as I thought. When Beyonders die, their bodies often produce anomalies—what we call Beyonder characteristics. Under certain conditions, others may inherit them. Whether it's fortune or misfortune, you became a Beyonder that way."
So that black sphere… was the key.
Galad's thoughts spun. "Then when you saw nothing left at the scene, you suspected I'd already absorbed it?"
"You could say that," Dunn confirmed. "But we only knew for sure after Klein performed a divination. He's the one in the other carriage—a Sequence 9 Seer."
Seer… Galad's heart stirred. A dangerous ability. If he could divine everything, I'd already be exposed… Yet here I am. At least my biggest secret seems safe.
Gathering courage, Galad asked, "Then… the Pathway I inherited—what is it? And the name of the Sequence 9 potion?"
The air inside the carriage chilled. Dunn and the green-eyed Nighthawk exchanged glances, their expressions darkening.
Galad's chest tightened. Could it be… the cultist's Pathway?
At last, Dunn exhaled slowly. His voice was calm but heavy.
"According to the Nighthawks' internal records, the Sequence 9 potion for Siris's Pathway is known as Secrets Supplicant."