In the Jaws of the Beast

All I can focus on is the rhythmic drumming of my horse’s hoofs, as it runs through the night. I spent the entire day hitting the stores. For starters, I needed upgraded lock picking tools. Next, I caught a whiff of myself. Yup, my school uniform had ripened. Now, I ride in my grey boots, black pants, and a sleeveless, black gambeson, over a loose, grey shirt. However, like a salaryman who’s just lost his job and home, I can’t part ways with my uniform. It’s still inside my bag, with my school shoes in the satchel.

Looking at the map, I’m right outside maybe-Allister’s neighbourhood. I stop the horse and hitch it to a streetlamp.

The streetlight makes me nervous, so I pull up my hood, as I walk down the street.

Number sixteen.

There it is. The small, brick house my spies had uncovered. I vault over the small, white fence and approach the front door. It has two locks, which I successfully work my way through, courtesy of my tools.

I creep in and carefully close the door behind me. Okay. Maybe-Allister’s room is on the second floor, but I know he has a small study downstairs. I’ll start there.

It’s locked. Of course. I get to work. After a few minutes, I have the door open.

The study couldn’t look more standard. The first thing I see, is the desk at the back. It’s covered in papers. Cabinets stretch across the side walls, like ivy. Right, then, it looks like I have my work cut out for me.

***

I’m making quick work of these cabinets. Yeah, I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I refuse to believe that twenty-one people can just disappear without a trace, regardless of the existence of magic. But above all else, I refuse to believe that none of this is connected. It's too terrifying to think that I was transported to this world for no reason.

This one's just an archive of ledgers, I think, giving up on the final cabinet. They're all marked as property of Allister Twain, so at least I know I’m in the right house.

But seriously? Not one written master plan? Not even a spellbook featuring a teleportation spell?

Finally, I turn my attention to the desk. I start with the papers messily strewn all over it.

Boring documents… more boring documents…

Nothing.

Does this desk have any drawers? A cursory glance tells me it has several.

I start picking the lock of the topmost drawer on the left-hand side…

*click*

The satisfying sound of a job well done. I open the drawer and place what I find onto the desk: a stack of papers and a pen on top of it. I read over the first paper...

Contract Agreement.

This agreement, dated 999/03/21, is made between Nicole Jackson and Allister Twain.

Nicole Jackson? Why does that name sound so familiar?

I take the quest poster out of my backpack and flip to the first missing person’s poster. Jackpot! There she is; the most recent disappearance.

I excitedly returned to the stack of papers I’d taken from the drawer and flipped to the next one. It was also a contract. Henry Sampson. A cross reference tells me he’s another victim. If these papers were arranged in chronological order, then the fourth one must be…

Contract Agreement.

This agreement, dated 994/09/29, is made between Khurael Walkur and Allister Twain.

So, Allister and Mr. Matsumoto really have met before! I can hardly contain my excitement, as I snap some pictures.

“What’s all the commotion down here?”

A woman’s figure in the doorway. She wore a frilly, pink nightgown, though her face was covered in shadows.

I didn’t know he lives with anyone!

“I can tell someone’s there,” she said.

What did she mean she could tell? I raised up my lantern, to see her face. Her eyes looks straight at me, but their vacantness told me she didn’t see me. She’s blind! Is that why she never leaves the house? I wondered. Whatever, I need to get out of here. I’ll stay silent and sneak out when she moves out of the doorframe.

I ever-so-slowly put my camera and quest poster in my bag. I take Mr. Matsumoto’s contract with me.

“If anyone’s there, please identify yourself,” she said. She spoke in the strangest voice. It sounded like a man doing a bad falsetto. The woman slowly approached the desk. She ran her hands through the papers I’d taken from the drawer. She sighs. “Always making a mess…” she tuts.

By now, I’ve snuck around her and am creeping my way to the door on tiptoes.

“… Aren’t you, Kugo?”

I spin around in time to see the woman fly towards me at an inhuman speed. She attempts to grab my throat.

Again, that sudden burst of power. I dodge her attack and counter with a punch square to the face. On impact, the locksmith’s face flashes on the woman’s face. This catches me off guard, allowing her to backhand me so hard, she sends me flying into the bookshelf against the wall.

Some of the books fall down. I grab one of them. Somehow, the blow hasn’t killed me or even knocked me out. I nimbly dive-roll behind the desk, as she attempts to stomp on my head. I throw the book I’m holding against the wall to my right. I hope the thud will divert the woman’s attention. Then, I spring out from the other end of the desk. Sure enough, her head is turned to where the book had made impact. I leap into the air and try to kick her in the temple. She reacts just fast enough to bring her arms up. This time, she’s the one who goes flying into a wall.

She sits up against the wall. Her right arm, the one that took the most the impact, looks like it belongs to a man. She grits her teeth. The lower half of her face vaguely resembles Allister’s face. “Damn you!” she roars in Allister’s voice. She slowly rises. Her arm returns to normal… Well, it returns to what it looked like before.

I unsheathe my sword. The next moments are a blur.

Whenever I land a solid blow, or force the woman to make a quick dodge, I see those weird flashes. A hairy forearm here, a veiny hand there. Sometimes, I catch glimpses of Allister. Maybe his moustache or his jaw.

The woman is overwhelming me, despite being blind and unarmed. Though, in all fairness, my backpack does slightly weigh me down and restrict my movements…

She’ll kill me if I don’t end this now!

I somersault over to the lantern and pick it up. I fling it at the woman with full force. It explodes into a ball of fire. Flaming shards erupt in all directions, like meteors. All this wooden furniture and paper…

Both my opponent and the room are set ablaze.

I sprint towards the woman and leap into the air. I drop-kick her so hard, she soars out of the room and out of the house. She tumbles violently, crashing through the fence. All that rolling put the fire out. However, the motionless figure no longer belonged to a woman. It was Allister, now in full.

The shrieking of neighbours rings out over the roaring flames.

I rush outside. People stand on their porches or stare through their windows, ogling. I hear voices in the distance.

“Over there!”

“You! Don’t move!” an authoritative voice calls out.

I look over. A group of city guards are being guided to the house by some neighbours. Part of me wants to stay and explain the situation. However, I don’t have evidence of Allister committing any crimes. I, on the other hand…

Welp, time to go.