This time, Vivian heard it clearly; the sound was coming from behind that stack of boxes.
The scratching sound was rhythmic.
One, two, pause.
Then another.
The sound was a bit muffled, like… ‘It sounds like someone is using sandpaper on wood.’
‘If it were a rat, the noises would be more scattered, accompanied by squeaks.’
‘If it were a weasel or something else…’
Vivian narrowed her eyes, her gaze falling on the carpet next to the pile of boxes.
The lighting was too dim; she hadn’t noticed it before.
Now that she looked closely, there were several dark spots on that section of the carpet. ‘Are those water stains? Or some kind of body fluid?’
Furthermore, the corners of those boxes, which should have been sharp right angles, were now frayed like a chewed corn cob, with several strands of white fibers hanging off them.
Those were wood splinters that had been clawed apart.
All the clues connected into a single line in Vivian’s mind.
‘The height is less than 30 centimeters.’
‘It has a habit of sharpening its claws.’
‘It produces waste with an ammonia smell.’
‘It moves silently and likes to hide in dark corners.’
“Purr… purr…”
During the interval when the scratching stopped, a faint sound traveled along the floorboards. Mrs. Durant called this “the devil’s whisper.”
“After all that, I thought it was some big case.”
Vivian shook her head and walked toward the pile of boxes.
She crouched down, placed the gas lamp on the floor, and pulled half a piece of leftover beef jerky from her pocket.
“Hey,” she said, jerking her chin toward the shadows, “want to come out and chat?”
The only response she received was a deathly silence.
The thing in the corner seemed stunned by this sudden “offering.”
The air froze for a few seconds.
Then.
“Meow — !”
The sound was sharp and short, tinged with a sense of grievance, followed immediately by a huffing sound.
Vivian raised an eyebrow as she watched the dark shadow jerk backward, slamming into the boxes with a dull thud.
Fine.
Case closed.
—
“So this is what Mrs. Durant calls the ‘avenging spirit from hell,’ the monster that makes the floorboards bleed and gnaws on human bones at midnight.”
Cicero was curled up in an armchair reading Paradoxes of Theology and Mechanical Mechanics. Hearing her, he slowly closed the book and pushed up the gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose.
“Oh? Let me see what kind of high-dimensional being required so much effort from you.”
Something moved inside the cage.
A dirty calico furball timidly poked its head out from the shadows. It blinked its large, wet eyes at the pale priest before it and gave an extremely perfunctory cry.
“Meow~”
the sound was as soft as a marshmallow, with a hint of a kitten’s milkiness.
This single cry effectively choked back the mockery Cicero had prepared.
The air was silent for about 3 seconds.
“This thing?” Cicero pointed at the little creature currently licking its paw. “A hellish spirit?”
“Yep.” Vivian sat on the edge of the table and casually snatched a biscuit from a plate, stuffing it into her mouth.
“I call him ‘Ghost.’ After all, his hide-and-seek skills are top-tier.”
Vivian reached out a finger and teased the kitten through the wire mesh.
“Well, Boss?” Vivian leaned in with an expectant look. “Aren’t I impressive?”
Cicero didn’t speak.
He stared at the cat, and his originally pale face broke into a weird, visible flush.
“Um…”
Cicero’s voice suddenly turned strange, as if a chicken feather were stuck in his throat or someone were strangling him.
“Vivian…”
He jerked backward, sliding half a meter away along with his chair.
“Boss? What’s with that face?” Vivian asked, biting her biscuit with a look of confusion.
“Take… take it away…”
“Take what away? Ghost? I’m planning to keep him!” Vivian pushed the cage closer to him.
“A — CHOO!!!”
The sneeze was so loud that Vivian felt her hair blow back.
“Whoa!”
Vivian jumped, dropping her biscuit. “Boss, what’s wrong with you?”
“Cat… hair…”
Cicero stammered his accusation, “I’m… allergic to cat hair! A — choo!!”
With another sneeze, the book in his hand fell to the floor.
“Cough, cough, cough… Take it away! Now! Immediately!”
Vivian watched the scene, dumbfounded.
She looked at “Ghost” in the cage, who looked innocent and was even tilting its head to look cute, then looked back at Cicero, who looked as if he were about to pass away.
“Alright, alright, taking him away. Don’t go dying on me, Boss.”
Vivian hurried to pick up the cage.
“Then should I ask the landlady?” Vivian teased as she walked out. “I think the landlady quite likes fluffy little things like this.”
“Fine, just… take it away quickly…”
Cicero’s voice came muffled from behind a thick handkerchief, sounding incredibly aggrieved.
—
After nearly 1 hour of fussing.
Once Vivian had settled “Ghost” and spent a long time downstairs listening to the landlady nag about how “young people should be compassionate,” she went to the pharmacy to buy a box of antihistamines for the poor allergy sufferer.
The moment she stepped through the door, she smelled a heavy scent of disinfectant.
The windows were wide open, and a draft was whistling through the room.
Cicero had already regained his usual sophisticated appearance. He had changed into a fresh shirt and was now sitting behind a spotless desk, holding a cup of steaming black tea.
Vivian tossed the box of medicine onto the table and slumped onto the sofa. “I bought the medicine. Remember to take it, so you don’t get sent to the afterlife the next time a stray cat passes by.”
Cicero glanced at the box of medicine and gently blew on the floating leaves in his tea.
“Jacques called just now.”
“Hmm?” Vivian was rubbing her sore calves and looked up lazily.
“He said the situation over at the Seine has intensified.”
Cicero extended one finger and tapped the tabletop lightly.
“The water level rose by 0.5 meters without any rainfall, and…”
He paused, his lips curling into a joyless arc.
“You know Jacques. If he could still handle it himself, he wouldn’t be calling me in the middle of the night.”
Cicero walked to the window and gazed out at the dark night, where the lights of Paris flickered in the distance.
“It seems the people at Division Twelve are completely overwhelmed.”
He turned around and looked at Vivian, his eyes reflecting the helplessness of ‘the good days are over.’
“Pack your things, Miss Assistant.”
“First thing tomorrow morning, we have to go to the police station.”
Vivian sighed and buried herself deep into the sofa.
She remembered the taste of rust she had encountered by the river that day, and those heavy metal fragments.
Cicero didn’t say anything more; he only let out a very restrained sneeze.
“A — choo.”
Allergies weren’t something that would clear up in a short time.