Kaemon City, Crimesweeper Bureau Pearl Division.
"Hmm?" A young hunter glanced at the flashing "Casket Light" indicator on his screen and stood abruptly. "Someone's dead."
Nearby, a rotund beastman hunter, busy munching on a bag of chips, asked nonchalantly, "Where?"
"Let me check..." The younger hunter switched the monitor to a surveillance feed. "Third Street, Elven Lake area."
The beastman let out a derisive snort. "That place? All those abandoned projects by those scam developers... They name a muddy puddle 'Elven Lake' and sell it as prime lakeside property, call two scrawny trees a 'Private Forest,' and a slightly longer hallway a 'Ten-Meter Grand Corridor.' It's no surprise the projects went bust."
He stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth, chewing loudly. "Anyway, who died?"
"Two victims. Louis Muir, human male, 32. Nia Brinn Aiden, goblin female, 14."
"Got their sugar record?"
"Six years for him, three for her."
"Classic. Hiding in some abandoned building to binge on moon sugar until they melted their brains. Although, a human and a goblin OD'ing together? That's not common."
Even a ogre, with their legendary resistance to toxins, would experience hallucinations after taking moon sugar. For other races, the effects were far more potent—euphoria, sexual hyperstimulation, and aggression. Sugar addicts engaging in group activities of both violence and intimate nature called it "fusion."
The young hunter frowned. "A 14-year-old goblin… She should still be under the care of an orphanage, right?"
The beastman let out a chuckle. "You're not from one of those market-standard orphanages, are you? Stick around this precinct a little longer, kid, and you'll figure it out. The orphanages here are a joke. Any brat can slip out like it's nothing. A lot of small gang leaders around here started young, all because of the Juvenile Protection Act. Even if they're caught, they get reduced sentences. Most of them either join gangs when they grow up or end up mining platinum in the prison camps."
"But this... shouldn't we at least check it out? A minor died. If we got her to a hospital in time—"
"No need," the beastman interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Just do what we always do: send the location to the hospital, and let them pick up the bodies. Saves us the paperwork."
The young hunter's face darkened. "Paperwork? That's your concern?!"
"Of course. Think about it: if we go, we need to open a case, write reports, secure the scene, process the bodies. It's a hassle, and guess what? No pay raise for any of it. The hospital will clean up the mess anyway. Why not skip straight to the end?"
The younger hunter's fists clenched. "We ignore gang shootouts, we ignore overdose deaths... What exactly do we hunters protect?"
The beastman smirked, his tone dripping with condescension. "I see now why the bureau shipped you out here, college boy. Let me guess: back at HQ, you were one of those overly righteous types who thought justice could change the world?"
Without another word, the younger hunter grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door.
"We hunters protect the living, not the dead," the beastman said lazily, crunching on another chip. "If someone's dumb enough to waste their life on moon sugar, that's on them. Letting them rot is doing society a favor."
The younger hunter paused at the door. "When did a 14-year-old goblin girl get the choice to ruin her life? Society failed her—we failed her."
"And you think the Blood Moon Lords care about us? How can you sit by and watch this happen?"
Bang!
The door slammed shut behind him. The beastman scratched his head, his face a mix of irritation and amusement.
"Didn't think college boy had been watching the Blood Moon trial. No wonder he's parroting that dead ogre's nonsense. Let him cool off—he'll learn soon enough when I dock his pay for insubordination."
Leaning back, the beastman opened his holographic interface, scrolling through old photos. His screen stopped on a picture from three years ago: a younger, fitter version of himself, proudly wearing the crisp red uniform of a fresh recruit, his face beaming with youthful ambition.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror—a weary, overweight beastman, his fur dulled by the crimson glow of the moon.
"Guess we're all just broken relics now," he muttered to no one. "But the young... they still have a chance."
Looking up at the glowing moon, he added softly, "Mayor Snow, you died a hell of a death."
Elven Lake, Third Street.
An abandoned building collapsed, sending a cloud of dust and startled birds into the night.
Ashur crouched behind a shattered wall, glancing at the blood seeping through the rubble. "Enough playing around. If we don't leave soon, the Crimesweeper Bureau will be on us. Gerard's probably so mad at my little voicemail that he'll break the sound barrier getting here. If you want to be his stress relief, I won't stop you."
From behind another wall, Igura smirked. "You actually left Gerard a message? How did you know he'd be the first one there?"
"Call it intuition. Pray I'm wrong," Ashur replied, straightening. "So, do we keep fighting or call it a night?"
"I'm done," said Harvey from the shadows of a second-floor alcove. "Without access to the processors around here, killing you is more trouble than it's worth."
Ronald chuckled. "Getting cocky, Harvey? Thought you'd mellow out after the breakout."
"Ronald, shouldn't you be more worried about Ronar eating you alive? Medical coverage isn't great in this district," Igura quipped, grinning.
"Enough," Ronar growled. "Let's just go our separate ways before this gets messy."
"Wait!" Ashur interrupted, raising his voice. "Before we split, one question: do any of you know a way out of the Blood Moon Nation?"
Silence fell over the group.
Harvey broke it with a cold laugh. "Even if I did, why would I tell you?"
Ashur shrugged. "Hey, like confessing to a crush—might as well try, right?"
"Try keeping your promises, Ashur," Igura sneered. "You still owe me a favor, and I haven't decided how to cash it in yet. Maybe I'll make you do push-ups in the middle of the rubble?"
"Be realistic. Why not something simple, like buying you a birthday cake?"
"How thoughtful," Igura said sarcastically. "Except we both know you're just angling for cake yourself."
"Not a clue," Ronar said curtly.
"I might have an idea," Ronald added, "but the fewer people who know, the better."
Ashur sighed. "You're all so unhelpful..."
He turned to Harvey. "One last thing: there are two people buried in this rubble. Can you save them after we leave?"
Harvey's voice came from the shadows. "I checked. You're the only living soul here."
"Then you can save them?"
"If they're dead, I can keep them... alive enough for ten hours. It's up to fate after that."
"Thanks."
By the time Ashur turned to reply, the others were gone.
He uncovered the buried victims just enough to expose their faces and slipped away, changing into a raven-black cloak gifted by a healer.
"Still no way out of this cursed nation," he muttered, scanning the city map. His eyes landed on a stop labeled Kaemon University.
"Time for the next chapter."
He grinned, striding toward the bus stop. "Professor Shirin, your student is back from prison academy."