The interior of Weston's house was just as grim as its exterior. Dusty furniture, creaking floorboards with every step, and the smell of alcohol filled the air, giving the entire place an air of neglect.
Weston dropped himself onto the worn-out sofa, a wine bottle casually gripped in his hand. The faint aroma of wine lingered in the dimly lit room, illuminated only by a small hanging lamp above an old wooden table.
"Why don't you all sit down?" he asked lazily, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
I, Arion, and Joshua finally settled on the sofa opposite Weston, while Dante remained standing resolutely by my side.
"I'll take my leave now," said the man who had escorted us there.
"Thank you for bringing us here," Arion replied curtly, nodding slightly as a gesture of respect.
The man simply nodded in return and walked out without another word.
Weston took a slow sip from his bottle, then turned to us with a faint smirk.
"Let me guess," he said, his tone sharpening, "you're here to ask me about Clementia, aren't you?"
"Good. Since you already know, this conversation will be quick."
"What if I refuse?"
Huh?
"I'm not giving you a choice," Arion replied, his golden eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, his tone low and unwavering.
Weston chuckled, swirling the wine in his bottle lazily before taking another sip. His gaze lingered on Arion, then shifted to me, a sly grin spreading across his face.
"Quick conversation, you said?" Weston sneered. "How about this—I'll give you the information you want, but only if..." His eyes glinted mischievously as they locked onto me. "She makes it worth my while."
The room instantly grew tense. I felt Arion's sharp gaze snap toward Weston, his expression darkening. Joshua and Dante stiffened, their displeasure evident in the scowls etched on their faces.
For a moment, I stared at Weston, shocked by his insolence. To act so boldly in front of the Finire, who could kill him in an instant, was truly reckless.
It wasn't every day you met someone who could toss diplomacy out the window with such flair.
Weston leaned back against the sofa, clearly enjoying the provocation. "What's the matter, boy?" he teased, directing his words at Arion.
"Enough." Arion's voice was ice-cold, his golden eyes blazing with warning. "Keep your filthy propositions to yourself. You'll give us the information we need, and you'll do it without dragging anyone else into your depravity."
Weston raised an eyebrow, amused by Arion's reaction. "Big words for someone in need of my help."
"Instead, we could pay you for every piece of information you provide."
Weston looked at Arion with a smirk full of satisfaction, relishing every second of the situation he had created. On the other hand, Joshua crossed his arms over his chest, the cheerful expression he usually wore completely gone, replaced by a rare cold stare. Meanwhile, the relaxed smile that typically adorned Dante's face had vanished entirely, his gaze now radiating displeasure.
"I'm just kidding; no need to put on such scary faces like that."
After saying that, he adjusted his posture on the sofa and placed the bottle of alcohol down.
The playful expression he had been wearing disappeared as well.
"Fine," he said flatly. "Since you're all so serious, I'll tell you. No need to pay me for it, but on one condition."
"A condition?" Arion looked hesitant. "What condition?"
"Take me with you."
"Why should I take you with us? There's a high chance you'll die if you come along since you're just an ordinary human."
Weston chuckled softly, then leaned back on the sofa.
"I know a lot about that city," he said, looking Arion directly in the eye.
"What happened there before the mine fire and the recent incidents? That information is something only I have."
Arion remained silent, but his finger tapped the armrest of the chair in an almost imperceptible rhythm.
Weston continued, his voice brimming with confidence.
"I can take care of myself, so you don't have to go out of your way to protect me if things go south."
Joshua, who had been observing quietly, finally interjected.
"I don't think that will be a problem."
His gaze met Arion's briefly, as if exchanging a silent signal. Arion let out a long sigh but didn't voice any direct objection.
He then turned to Dante, seeking his approval.
"I don't mind," Dante said.
Arion's eyes shifted to me next. Not that I had any intention of opposing the idea—having someone like Weston as an informant would likely be beneficial for the progress of our mission.
"I don't mind either."
"Alright, you can come. But I expect you to heed every warning and follow all of my orders."
"Fine, I'll do as you say."
"Then, start talking. Tell us everything you know."
"Hmm, I suppose I'll begin with the mission to investigate that merchant's whereabouts."
Weston leaned back into his seat, his posture relaxed.
"When I got the mission, I immediately headed to Clementia with a group of mercenaries. There were five of us in total, including me. While we shared the mission, most of us preferred working alone.
From the tracks we followed, the merchant had indeed entered the city of Clementia. Once inside, we split up to search for their whereabouts."
Arion crossed his arms, his face remaining cold.
"Did you find any clues to their whereabouts?"
"We didn't. It was as if they vanished as soon as they entered the city. After about three days of searching and feeling like we had hit a dead end, we were planning to head back."
Before continuing, Weston looked at each of us one by one.
"On the third night, we agreed to return that night itself, but one of us, Iros, suggested staying the night first."
"Why?" I asked.
"He said the locals he encountered recommended it. Well, since the fog was getting thicker, the other agreed to his suggestion, but I didn't want to linger there and chose to leave earlier. The atmosphere that night felt oppressive, that's why I wanted to get out of there."
"Did you feel anything unusual that night?" Dante asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
Weston paused for a moment, his gaze drifting to the floor as if revisiting that memory. "I can't say for sure, but my instincts told me it was dangerous to stay any longer. So, I left before the fog grew thicker and the night darker. As I made my way out of the city, I saw fleeting shadows within the fog, but when I tried to follow them, there was nothing there. It was like they vanished the moment I got close. When I reached the city gates, I heard Iros screaming from inside."
Dante frowned, clearly intrigued. "Screaming? What happened next?"
"Did you feel anything unusual that night?" Dante asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
Weston paused for a moment, his gaze drifting to the floor as if revisiting that memory. "I can't say for sure, but my instincts told me it was dangerous to stay any longer. So, I left before the fog grew thicker and the night darker. As I made my way out of the city, I saw fleeting shadows within the fog, but when I tried to follow them, there was nothing there. It was like they vanished the moment I got close. When I reached the city gates, I heard Iros screaming from inside."
Dante frowned, clearly intrigued. "Screaming? What happened next?"
"I immediately rushed back inside, but all I found were the corpses of my three comrades—their bodies torn apart, ripped open in every part."
Weston took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting the tension of recalling that moment.
"I kept moving deeper into the fog, and that's when I saw Iros—his body trembling, his face filled with terror. A gaping hole had been carved into his chest, blood spilling endlessly. As I stepped forward to reach him, he screamed, ordering me to leave at once. His breath was ragged, on the verge of death, but in the final moment before he exhaled his last breath, he uttered just one word."
Weston swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"'Curse.'"
The room fell into silence. No one spoke, all waiting for him to continue.
"And the moment he took his last breath… something emerged from the fog."
Arion narrowed his eyes. "Something?"
Weston nodded slowly. "A woman."
Joshua, who had been listening with an unusually serious expression, finally spoke. "A woman?"
Weston let out a heavy sigh. "She wore a white wedding dress… but it was stained with blood. Wilted flowers covered her body, even obscuring parts of her face. But the most horrifying thing was her arms—nothing remained but bone, like withered branches, with claws so long and sharp that they looked capable of tearing through flesh with a single swipe."
Weston paused for a moment, as if he could still feel the terror gripping him back then.
"My whole body screamed at me to run… but the fear kept me rooted in place. I could only stand there, frozen, unable to move.
Yet, she just stood there, unmoving, staring at me with hollow eyes hidden beneath the decayed petals. No sound, no sudden movements—just an oppressive silence.
I could feel the air around me grow heavy, as if the fog itself was trying to swallow me whole. My heart pounded wildly, but my body refused to obey me.
Then, I realized something.
She wasn't moving.
The figure only watched me. She didn't attack, didn't advance. Just stood there, as if observing me.
I didn't know whether she was trying to determine if I was a threat or simply savoring my fear. But I had no intention of staying to find out.
With all the strength I had left, I forced my body to move. Slowly, I took one step back, testing if she would react. But she remained still.
I thought that was my chance.
Without wasting another second, I turned around and ran as fast as I could. The fog thickened around me, making me nearly lose my way, but I didn't care. The only thought running through my mind at that moment was to get out of that cursed city as soon as possible.
I didn't dare look back.
Even after I passed the city gates, I kept running—running until my lungs burned and my legs almost gave out. Only when I was sure I had put enough distance between myself and Clementia did I finally stop.
And when I turned back for the first time…
She was gone."