Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire

At noon in Igwynt, sunlight poured over the streets of White Pearl Street. Yet, the warmth it brought hardly penetrated indoors, especially within Corey’s pawnshop.

Faced with the gaping, black barrel of a gun pointed at him, Corey felt a chill radiate through his surroundings. His heart tightened, and his body froze in place. However, being someone who had weathered his fair share of storms, he didn’t panic immediately. Instead, he forced a smile and spoke.

“Hehe… dear customer, what is the meaning of this?”

“I think one pound is a bit too low. Decided to add your life to the deal. Name a price, shopkeeper.”

The trench-coated and masked man spoke slowly in an icy tone, his gun unwavering. Corey, on the other hand, kept his nervous smile intact and responded.

“Oh… I see. It seems I may have underestimated the value earlier. Please wait a moment… I’ll reevaluate it for you right away.”

Faced with the threat, Corey spoke with a forced grin as he slowly moved his hand toward the underside of the counter, where a hidden mechanism awaited.

This mechanism was Corey’s failsafe in crises. The floor in front of the counter was actually a concealed trapdoor. If triggered, the floor would open, sending anyone standing on it into a pit below while also ringing an alarm bell to summon his staff from the back room.

As a well-known loan shark on White Pearl Street, Corey had long prepared for situations like this. Threats against him weren’t new; he’d faced them multiple times before. But those who dared to threaten him were either now toiling in dark, sunless mines or had long been sunk to the muddy bottom of the Ironclay River.

While stalling for time, Corey discreetly maneuvered his hand toward the trapdoor lever under the counter. His actions were careful, subtle, and difficult to detect from the customer’s position. However, on the wall behind the counter, a gecko perched with an unobstructed view of Corey’s every move witnessed everything.

Just as Corey was about to pull the lever, the trench-coated man’s gaze turned sharp. With a sudden lunge, he pushed the barrel of his gun into Corey’s mouth, forcing him to stumble back two steps, out of reach of the mechanism.

“Mm! Mmhh!”

The sensation of cold steel in his mouth was far more terrifying than merely having a gun pointed at him. Corey, who had managed to stay composed earlier, now panicked completely. His eyes widened in shock, and he made muffled sounds of distress, his expression full of terror.

“Almost forgot to tell you—don’t try any little tricks with me. I see everything. Now give me a proper valuation. You won’t get another chance. Understand?”

The man spoke coldly, his gun still lodged in Corey’s mouth. Trembling, Corey nodded repeatedly. Only then did the man withdraw the barrel, though he continued aiming it directly at Corey.

“Cough… cough, cough…”

Corey coughed violently for a few moments before shakily picking up the pocket watch again. After a glance, he looked at the trench-coated man with eyes full of fear.

“This… this pocket watch is finely crafted… precise… I, I think it’s worth… ten pounds!”

Corey stammered, his voice trembling. The man remained silent, his cold gaze unwavering, and the gun steady in his grip.

“No, no! Ten pounds is still too low. Let me reassess… how about thirty pounds?”

Corey continued, but the man still showed no reaction, his hand steady on the weapon.

“W-what about sixty pounds? Sixty pounds should be enough, right?”

The loan shark’s voice shook as he offered a higher amount, but the man before him remained impassive. Desperation overtook Corey, and he finally blurted out.

“112 pounds! 112 pounds! That’s all the cash I have in the shop right now! Please, spare me!”

At last, the trench-coated man responded calmly.

“Then bring me the money.”

Corey nodded frantically, hurriedly opening a nearby safe. He grabbed the cash inside and handed it to the man. Taking the money, the man pocketed it, then slowly backed out of the shop while keeping his gun aimed on Corey until he exited.

As soon as the man left, Corey furiously rang the bell mounted on the wall. Moments later, two burly staff members burst in from the back room.

“What happened, boss?”

“I was robbed! A man in a black trench coat just walked out! Go after him, you fools! Tie him up and bring him back! And take more people—he’s armed!”

“Yes, boss!”

…

While Corey’s shop descended into chaos, across the street, Dorothy stood atop a rooftop, watching the scene below with satisfaction. She nodded slightly.

“112 pounds… not bad. Earning tuition through part-time work is really the way to go.”

As she spoke, Dorothy continued to control her corpse marionette, Edrick, skillfully evading Corey’s pursuing lackeys. With the aerial surveillance of her crow marionette, shaking them off was a simple task. Before long, Dorothy had left Corey’s men far behind.

After guiding Edrick to the designated hideout, Dorothy disconnected from the marionette and began recalling her other animal marionettes. Watching Corey berate his staff angrily at the shop’s entrance, she murmured softly to herself.

“Heh… with so many skeletons in your business, you wouldn’t dare report this to the authorities, would you? Well then, time to move on to the next step…”

She activated the Corpse Marionette Ring once more. Behind her, a figure slowly rose.

It was a young man in a checkered shirt and cap.

When Dorothy had been kidnapped by the Crimson Eucharist, there had been five attackers. Five corpses remained afterward. Two had mummified, and two were destroyed during the fight at the Burton mansion. That left one usable body, which was this figure.

Controlling the young man, Dorothy sent him down to White Pearl Street. The young man wandered into a lively tavern.

In the bustling bar filled with chatter and laughter, the young man ordered a beer at the counter. Holding his drink, he wandered through the tavern, listening closely to the conversations around him. Before long, he found his target—a group of men boasting at one table.

“Hey… did you hear? Something happened at Corey’s shop earlier. He’s been fuming mad!”

“Corey? Who’d dare mess with him? Must have a death wish…”

“Apparently, he sent his guys chasing after someone, but they couldn’t catch them. Maybe Corey got hit by a thief…”

At that moment, the young man approached their table with a mysterious grin and spoke.

“Not a mere thief… Corey really got hit hard this time.”

Hearing this, the men turned to look at the young man standing beside their table, beer in hand, wearing a conspiratorial expression.

“Got hit hard? What do you mean? Are you saying Corey ran into someone serious?” one of the men asked curiously.

The young man glanced around, then leaned closer and lowered his voice.

“Let me tell you, my cousin works at Corey’s shop. He said that earlier today, some weirdo pawned something at the shop. Corey accepted it at first but realized something was wrong and sent people to chase after them.”

“Pawned something? Did Corey fall for fake goods? That’d be karma…” one of the men joked.

The young man chuckled and continued.

“Heh… it’s much worse than fake goods. It was stolen property—loot that originally belonged to Burton Veil!”

“You mean that Burton Veil? The one all over the papers recently? Killed along with a bunch of his servants at his house? That bastard Purple Hill landlord?”

The drunk man’s astonished reaction nearly made him jump out of his seat. The young man nodded solemnly, then slapped the table.

“Exactly. And let me tell you—the killer who took down Burton Veil might still be here, on White Pearl Street. Right here, among us!”