Andrew burst out of the clinic, and the cold air of outside hit him, his body which was drenched in the rain was now shivering due to the cold brutal winds of the upcoming storm.
His hands shook as he stuffed the crucial paper behind his pants, desperate to keep it dry. The sense of urgency pounded in his chest as he grabbed the nearby standing cycle, mounting it with a swift, practiced motion.
He paused for a split second, catching his breath, he inhaled, and then, exhaled sharply before pushing off.
He pedaled with all the strength he could master, as he furiously raced through the village streets.
Halfway through the streets, the skies unleashed their fury. The rain, which had been a mere drizzle moments before, now poured down in relentless sheets, drenching Andrew and his cycle. His clothes clung to his body, the fabric heavy and cold against his skin. Every push of the pedals became more challenging as the road turned slick and muddy.
As he rode, he began to shout, his voice rising above the relentless pounding of the rain. "I need help!" However, the doors and windows of the houses remained firmly shut, the heavy downpour keeping everyone inside.
He dashed to the doors of the houses knocking, banging, but none of the villagers opened their doors, it seemed like his cries of help was only reaching the deaf ears.
"My uncle is very sick!" Andrew's voice broke, a mix of desperation and frustration spilling out. He had never felt so alone, his pleas swallowed by the storm.
The disappointment hit him like a physical blow, a sinking feeling of helplessness settling in his chest as he realized that no one was coming to his aid. The only response he received was the relentless rain drumming on the roofs, the ground, and his cycle.
Then, like a ray of hope, a window creaked open. It was the woman he had offered bread not too long ago, her face peering out from behind the bars of the window. She gestured for him to come closer, her expression a mix of pity and concern.
Not wasting a second, he pedaled his cycle over to her, his heart pounding with a mixture of desperation and anticipation.
"You are a kind boy, Andrew," she began, her voice soft but carrying the weight of the truth. "Better than us. But we are helpless before this mysterious rain. The captain of the 9, however, is not."
Andrew frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?" His voice trembled slightly, the cold and his emotions making him shiver.
She continued, her tone somber but tinged with a glimmer of hope. "You should go to him for help. They came here to escort you to the manor. You might have rejected them, but you are still an important export to them. You should ask them to help."
Andrew's frustration bubbled as he responded, "The rain isn't going to stop for them either, so why should I?" His voice carried a hint of bitterness.
The woman sighed, her gaze softening with regret. "I am sorry, Andrew... But I cannot provide you with the help you need, but they can. Have you heard that one of the members of 'the 9' can heal any pain or sickness?"
Andrew's heart skipped a beat at her words, a new spark of hope igniting within him. "Where are they right now?"
"They are currently staying at the Gear Inn," she replied.
Andrew's mind raced with questions. The Gear Inn was on the other side of the village, not far but far enough for his situation.
"Thank you," he said, his voice steady, the determination clear in his tone.
The rain intensified, blurring his vision as he pushed forward. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and his hands, slick with rain, struggled to maintain a firm grip on the handlebars.
Meanwhile in the gear inn.
Nin lounged on the sofa, his legs hanging over the armrest as he tried to relax, but his mind was preoccupied with thoughts. "Hey, Steven," he called out, breaking the quiet ambiance of the inn.
Steven, seated by the window with a book in hand, looked up at Nin's inquiry. The rain tapping gently against the glass provided a soothing rhythm to the room's warm interior.
"Yes?" Steven responded.
Nin shifted on the sofa, his curiosity clear. "Didn't that old man looked familiar?" he asked, his brow furrowed in thought. He paused before continuing. "He seemed familiar to me, like I've seen him somewhere before," he explained, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Rema leaned forward in her chair, her interest piqued. "Who is he, talking about?" she asked.
"Andrew's uncle, Roger Wells, the boy we had to escort," Michael replied.
And setting aside his task, Joe too joined the conversation. "He did strike me as vaguely familiar too, but I couldn't place where I've seen him."
"You are correct, Nin. He indeed did look familiar... to a criminal," Hakira answered, his voice low and serious. As he said that, everyone's attention fell on him, their expressions shifting from casual interest to concern.
He continued, "I wasn't thinking much into it at first, but now that you mention it, I believe we should consider it more carefully," his words hung heavily in the air, and the atmosphere in the room grew tense.
Nin sat upright, suddenly tense, the casual ease from earlier now replaced with alertness. "A criminal? Are you sure, Hakira? He is someone's uncle, it is a very big thing to say."
"The one he looks similar to is Vinyl," chimed Vanvi, his tone serious. "He is still on the most wanted list. But people have started to forget about him since he hasn't shown up in years, and no murders similar to Vinyl's victims have been reported recently. He got his name from where he was first time caught—Vineland. Vinyl is wanted for many terrible crimes: kidnapping, rape, black magic, human trafficking, and more. He vanished suddenly from the great prison, and last time he was seen was with a child. And then a rumour came flying that he was dead."
"Why don't we investigate him then?" Nin suggested eagerly, determination flickering in his eyes.
Vanvi shook his head. "No, we can't just act on a gut feeling. While he might resemble Vinyl, there are differences. Vinyl had blue eyes, not brown, and he was taller than Roger."
Sarah, who had been quietly listening, offered, "What if it's a body switch? Advanced black magic can alter appearances drastically."
Vanvi considered this for a moment. "It could be," he admitted. "I won't deny the possibility. Body switching can be done through high-level black magic, not the kind a local practitioner could perform. If that old man knows how to perform such advanced magic, then we can do more than to just investigate him. Vinyl was known for his mastery of black magic which is rare."
Joe leaned forward, his expression grave. "If there's a chance it's Vinyl, we have to be cautious. One wrong move could be a big, bug miskates.."
"Look, the matter is very serious or I could have laughed at your bug mistake," commented Hakira.
Sarah nodded in agreement. "We should observe him closely, look for any signs of unusual behavior or abilities. If this old man is Vinyl, he could be extremely dangerous."
Rema, her expression thoughtful, suggested, "Yes, if he does, then can we consider an open investigation?"
Vanvi, glancing around at his companions, said, "Let's keep this between us for now. It is very sensitive matter.."
Outside the Gear Inn, Andrew hurriedly parked his cycle against the rough stone wall, barely taking a moment to secure it before sprinting towards a small window set into the inn's exterior.
Inside the inn, a man sat comfortably in an armchair, a newspaper spread wide in front of him. He seemed unconcerned by the storm raging outside, his focus entirely on the printed pages. When he noticed a figure approach the window, he didn't even bother lowering the paper. "Are you in a hurry, mister? Our apologies, but not today—the inn is closed."
Andrew, breathless from his frantic ride and the anxiety gnawing at him, barely managed to get the words out. "I need to meet with the captain of the 9."
The man behind the newspaper lazily lowered it, ready to dismiss the request, but as his eyes focused on the drenched figure before him, recognition sparked. "Andrew?" His voice was tinged with confusion and concern. "Did something happen? Why are you out in this storm?!"
"I need to meet with the captain of the 9," Andrew repeated, his desperation intensifying.
The man frowned, sensing the urgency but still unsure. "Look, boy. You're kind and all, but—" Andrew cut him off, his voice pleading now. "It is urgent. I have to meet him. I can't explain everything right now, but I must see him!"
The man behind the window hesitated, then exchanged a quick, uncertain glance with another man seated nearby. After a moment, he nodded slowly. "Wait... here." He stood up from his chair and moved to a telephone mounted on the wall. The old rotary phone made a clicking noise as he dialed the number, his eyes darting back to Andrew every so often as if reassessing the situation.
Inside the inn's main room, the sound of the telephone ringing cut through the tense atmosphere, interrupting the group's intense discussion. Joe, who was closest to the phone, picked it up. "Yes?" he answered, his voice guarded.
"Sir, there is a young man here named Andrew Moons. He says it's urgent and insists on meeting the captain of the 9. Should I let him in?" The man's voice on the other end was cautious, uncertain.
Joe's expression shifted as he covered the receiver with his hand. He turned to the captain, his face serious. "Captain, Andrew's here, and he says it's urgent. Should we let him in?"
The captain, sensing that this was more than a trivial matter, nodded. "No, I will come to him. For now, let him in."
Back outside, the man returned to the window, now more serious. "The captain will be here soon. Why don't you come in and sit down?"
Andrew, drenched and shivering from the cold, nodded gratefully. "Thank you," he murmured, stepping into the inn. The warmth of the interior was a stark contrast to the biting cold outside, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel some relief.
Moments later, Vanvi descended the stairs, his presence commanding as he entered the main room where Andrew was waiting. As soon as Andrew saw him, he spoke up, "I need your healing ability," he began, his voice trembling. "My uncle is very sick, and he needs immediate attention and medicines."
Vanvi regarded him with a thoughtful expression, his eyes narrowing slightly. "So, Your uncle is in a critical state, and my healing abilities are not something I offer lightly. Do you not trust your doctor? Why have you come running to us as if we are the only ones who can save him?"
Andrew's desperation flared as he tried to explain. "I do trust him, but—" He took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. "The doctor sent me to bring an oxygen cylinder from the next village, but it's too far. With this storm, I can't do it alone. And the paper which was given to me is completely drenched in the rain, it is useless now. I need help. Please."
Vanvi remained silent for a long moment, his gaze never leaving Andrew's. Finally, he spoke, his tone calm yet authoritative. "Make a deal with me, and I will see what must be done."