Chapter Forty-Six: Proper Exercise for Maintaining Health

The next morning, the Phantom Troupe began their day with a run.

“Morning jogs are good for both body and mind. You get to see a side of the city others never do—the purest form of a city is only revealed when everyone else is still asleep. At moments like this, you get to enjoy all the beauty of Vegima for yourself,” Victor said, running ahead with calm and steady breath.

“But I... I’d rather still be in bed. You really don’t have to share this ‘beauty’ with me,” Angoulême replied, a few paces behind, breathless and gasping for air.

“That’s just because your body isn’t used to it yet; once you get accustomed to running regularly, you won’t feel so exhausted.”

Seeing that she still looked utterly miserable, Victor added, “Remember that cross-country run in the Floating Harbor? Didn’t that give you some motivation?” The boy didn’t hold back in his attempt to boost her spirits.

Called out, the girl said nothing, only grit her teeth and quickened her pace, overtaking him.

But she hadn’t gotten far before suddenly stopping, pointing at a narrow alley to the side, and turning back to Victor with a mocking grin, “Heh! So this is the ‘beauty’ you wanted to share with me, Captain? I must say, it does leave a lasting impression!”

Catching up in a few strides, Victor saw what Angoulême had found—a sight indeed hard to forget, though it had nothing to do with the word “beauty.”

The alley walls were splattered with dark red blood, staining them grotesquely. On a heap of grass lay what looked like a human corpse—though “looked like” was all one could say, because—

“Tsk tsk! Slit open from throat to belly and chopped to pieces—this is worse than butchery. Let’s go! Run faster! We didn’t see anything.”

With that, the boy didn’t hesitate for a second and moved on.

Angoulême quickly caught up. “I thought you’d want to go check it out, Captain, since you’re such a champion of justice.”

Victor shot her a sidelong glance. “Don’t say things like that. Justice and I have nothing in common—I just still believe justice exists in this world.

But before talking about justice, I prefer to be wise. If even you didn’t dare get close, why would I be so stupid?”

Though the information he’d gathered in the past days suggested the Temple District was well managed and that Captain Vincent of the City Guard was competent, Victor had no interest in testing the integrity of ancient constables. It was nothing unusual for the authorities to pin the crime on whoever found the body if they couldn’t catch the real culprit.

“You noticed something, didn’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have run off so fast.” Angoulême squinted at him, full of confidence.

After spending so much time together, it was hard to hide anything from her. Victor had indeed noticed something—and it was not good news.

First, this murder was likely not the work of a human. To wreak such destruction on a body would require immense strength.

Looking again at the depth of the claw marks on the wall, and considering this was an alley in the Temple District, Victor quickly formed a rough guess about the culprit’s nature.

There was still plenty of celery, but monkshood would need to be bought—if it was available at all. If necessary, they’d have to gather it themselves. As he jogged, Victor considered their options.

“We’ll head into the more distant forest this afternoon to hunt wolves. We need dog fat and wolf liver. It seems we have a dangerous neighbor,” he said solemnly.

Affected by his serious tone, Angoulême asked, “What exactly is it? How dangerous?”

“Werewolves.”

...

In Carl’s alchemy workshop, after checking the supplies, Kalkstein grinned broadly. “Excellent, excellent. This batch of drowners’ brains is fresh—so lively, it’s as if they were just harvested. Well done, I’m very pleased.”

“Your satisfaction is my honor. I went to considerable lengths to procure these materials,” Victor replied with a smile.

Though the alchemist had snapped at him last time, that had merely been a misstep in communication. His assessment of the man hadn’t been wrong: Kalkstein was a naïve, single-minded, and driven scientist, obsessed with his own goals.

Once you learned how to get along with someone like that, it was actually easier than with most people—just be sincere and cater to his interests.

“You’ve worked hard. Help yourself to any books on the shelf. You have two hours to pick and read, take your time,” Kalkstein said, before turning away to prepare for his experiments.

Victor moved to the bookshelf, satisfied, and began browsing the notes. Kalkstein’s “take your time” meant he could read anything as much as he liked in that period—a reward for the apprentice’s effort in gathering materials.

“Is it true there are werewolves in Vegima?” Victor suddenly thought the alchemist might know something.

“Hmm? Werewolves? I’ve not heard any such rumor. Did you see one?” Kalkstein turned abruptly, his primitive features contorted in curiosity—Victor nearly burst out laughing at the sight of this “walking meme.”

Suppressing the urge, Victor answered seriously, “No, but I saw a corpse in an alley this morning—it was badly mutilated.”

Hearing this, the alchemist quickly lost interest and turned away, lecturing, “Listen, Victor, this is a big city. The Temple District has over fifteen thousand residents, with countless people coming and going. Gang fights happen all the time—one or two deaths a day are nothing unusual.

That’s the City Guard’s business. As an apprentice, you’d do better to spend your energy learning and gathering materials than worrying about such things.”

There was no need to protest—Kalkstein meant well.

“Understood, Master,” Victor replied.

...

That afternoon, they led Amber and another black horse out of the city stable and rode north. That direction led to the nearest forest, and it was said that gray wolves roamed there.

Riding side by side, Catherine accompanied them, and Angoulême, astride Amber, looked quite pleased with herself.

The story of the new mount was simple: the girl had fallen in love with Amber at first sight and forced her own black horse on Victor instead. The longer they spent together, the more she realized that Victor never refused her in matters like this.

With the wind in her hair, Angoulême’s golden locks streamed behind her. “Captain, did you find anything from your information gathering this morning?”

She’d never encountered a werewolf, but such infamous creatures were obviously formidable. Given what she knew of Victor, she was sure his morning inquiries had focused on this very matter.

Victor’s reaction to her question was a subtle, ambiguous smile—a smile that was not quite a smile. “You know, maybe I was mistaken. Maybe it wasn’t a monster that did the killing. I checked with the City Guard, and there was only one case of a gang murder in the Temple District this morning.”

“What? A gang fight could cause such a mess? That was blood everywhere!”

“It’s fine! Just trust the City Guard—they’re the experts. Just remember, from now on, don’t go out after nine in the evening.

Now, let’s focus on our own tasks. This afternoon, I’ll teach you how to brew ‘Cursed Creature Oil.’ The ingredients are dog fat, wolf liver, celery, and monkshood.

When applied to a sword, this oil inflicts excruciating pain on a werewolf and slightly slows their healing. For the foreseeable future, we’ll need to carry some with us wherever we go.”