The rustling of leaves and hushed footsteps thudding against the damp soil were the only thing that could be heard. It was grimy and soft. 

Salome and the four priests’ boots sank as they continued to amble, like it was a quicksand. Every step they took left a mark. The priests, pair by pair, carried a body wrapped in a cotton body bag. It was the couple that failed to survive despite Chris’ multiple attempts of healing them. 

It was fairly light, due to the fact that most of their parts had burned—only their bones remained, perfectly, like pieces of puzzles that had been completed.

The soil was damp and the air was chilly; as they all continued to take breath, a fog formed whenever they breathed. Salome led the way, holding a candlelight to guide their path to the soil that was dug, to where the couple will be put into for their eternal rest—or perhaps, eternal damnation?

“We’re here.” Salome spoke, not louder than a whisper. 

The priests, with gasps, gently placed both bodies in the hole that was dug. They ensured that they were beside each other, perfectly aligned. The air was still. The crows that caw stopped their calls, as if mourning. There was nothing other than their breaths that could be heard. Salome and the priests clasped their hands together, offering a prayer.

Unknown to them, June watched the whole scenario like a hawk looking at its prey. He kept himself hidden behind the tall acacia tree. His whole face was covered with a black cloak, blending against the shadows, not arousing any suspicions.

After all, who would want to stay here, at the graveyard, when it was late? 

June was delighted once he saw the priests covering the dead bodies with soil that was probably mixed with turd. He was delighted at the thought of the fact that would never happen to him, as long as he followed Henry’s wishes and wants.

Henry wants this body? June will get it for him. The reason why he was a butler of the young lord was not because of money or power, but something deeper and more sinister. 

‘I don’t care what I need to do as long as I fucking live, and see what’s outside this damn country,’ June thought as he laughed to himself. “Oh, far low I’ve become,” he muttered. He soon left his hiding spot once he noticed that the priests and that nun were far away. He looked behind him, making sure his comrades were on sight. 

“Let’s go. Priority is to grab that body that was just buried,” he led the group without looking back. Soon the group, mostly men, dug the soil where the couple were laying to rest. One man in particular kept murmuring ‘sorry, sorry’, while the other started praying, and one did not even show a hint of emotion as if it was normal, day to day occurrence for him. 

June stood still on the side and watched the three men do their job competently, securing the two cotton body bags. 

“H-hehehe…w-we did it—”

“You still have to bring it to the carriage, it’s at the hidden entrance for this graveyard. I’ll lead the way.” June interrupted the moment their  happiness blossomed, without a single care. 

With no choice, the two lanky men carried one of the body bags that were visibly heavier. The taller and more muscular guy carried the other corpse like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder as he led the group away. June trailed behind, his silver hair illuminated by the moonlight, making him look as ethereal as ever.

It was a quick job. The bodies were tossed inside the carriage without any care, the bodies harshly colliding on the floor with blag, blag, blag. The brute guy then roughly slammed the carriage door shut. 

‘Oh, Henry wouldn’t like that…This is his favourite carriage after all,’ June thought as he shook his head. June’s eyes observed the three of them intently. And before one of them had a chance to speak, rather, ask for money…

Three men versus one. 

Rushing behind the other two lanky guys, June swiftly slit their throats—their blood gushing out like rain.

June laughed maniacally, his face bore a crazed smile as the bodies dropped one by one. Their limp forms slumped against the carriage’s steps, painting it red.

The brute man had a chance to react and tried to strike back at Jun. But the butler was far too quick, managing to jump backwards with a smirk.

“I guess you ain’t going down without a fight, you brute?”

The brute guy looked at his two dead companions, their faces kissing the carriage’s steps. And for the first time, he felt an unbelievable level of anger—a rage that threatened to consume his sanity.

“My name’s Jacob, fucker! Bring it on!” His face flushed red due to fury, tears staining his face. His fist clenched as he launched an attack, rushing like a bull towards the assailant. Eyes devoured by madness—it bulged, almost like it was about to pop. He swung his fists like a madman, rationality totally fleeing his mind.

June laughed like a madman, evading every punch thrown at him. “You’re getting there, come on~!” he taunted, looking like he was having fun. The coat he wore danced in the air with every move. His footsteps light, leaving no sound behind. 

Jacob fought recklessly, grasping and throwing himself at June. That only made Jacob smooch the ground as he missed his target, making him stumble. June seized this opportunity and jumped on his back. He used his unbelievable strength to pin the savage down, keeping him where he now belongs.

“You fight well—but you fought with me. It was futile.” June whispered, holding the man by his hair tightly. He pulled his hair, making the fiend look at him. “Ha, Jacob? Did you really think you could win against me?”

“L-let go!” Jacob gritted his teeth, struggling as he groaned. Despite the overwhelming dread that embraced his whole being, he pushed and kicked, using his knee to try to gain momentum to stand up—but failed. 

June took his chance to roughly stab him in the eye. “I…fucking, told you… that you wouldn’t win against me! Why do you keep struggling?!” He laughed derangely. One of Jacob's eyes that was perfectly attached before was now glued to the edge of the dagger. 

June licked the eyeball, then bit it with a maniacal grin, “I see…tears are very salty, isn’t it?” 

“A-AHHH!” 

Jacob's tears turned red, sliding down his cheeks—where his eyes once sat, was now a hollow and bloody hole. With his left eyesight gone, the right one was hazy as he tried to crawl away. He grasped the ground, using all his might to drag himself away from the madman. 

Even blinking hurts.

Jacob learned his lesson too late, and now, he and his friends are paying for it. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you and your companion's death won’t be in vain, okay? I’m my master’s butler after all.” 

That was what Jacob last heard before he felt an electric shock in his head. He heard something broke, and it was soon followed by something warm gushing down his head.

 Jacob's remaining  eye widened as it tried to look above his head. He noticed the dark hue staining his sight. Everything felt static and cold. His ear rang as the lunatic’s laughter filled the air, and soon, Jacob’s body went limp. 

“You were all useful. Thank you for your service.” June stood up, looking at the three lifeless bodies without remorse.

“Now, how should I clean this up?” 

Chris stayed in the kitchen with a cup of tea in front of him. Across from him sat Nana, with the same mug filled with tea. Scorching hot. The kids were in their own rooms and beds, since it was late. The only time that he and Nana talked to each other was through letters, and this was the first time they have seen each other face to face. 

Nana sipped her tea, “It was lovely seeing you, Priest Chris. Thank you so much for your help—the kids are learning so much from you.”

“No, the pleasure is all mine.” Chris’ voice could not hide his displeasure. Every time the nun spoke, the air smelled of something spoiled and decayed—mouldy, rancid. It almost made him gag, but he managed to control his expression. 

‘What was that smell? Are the others not able to smell this?’

‘Am I the only one able to smell it?’ His thoughts rapidly flew, as he slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to breathe less of that foul stench. When it became too unbearable, he held his breath. His feet continuously thudded as he remained seated. 

“Is something the matter, Father Chris?” Nana asked, her eyelashes fluttering. Her hair was hidden beneath the veil, a cross placed in her garments in her chest area, giving her a chaste aura, but her eyes strangely glistened with mischief and interest. 

The priest could not help but feel uncomfortable. His adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed the drink a bit too fast, which caused him to cough. His eyes tightly shut as he covered his mouth. Nana stood up—and went behind him quickly, patting his back. 

“You don’t need to drink so quickly, there’s more…” 

“That wasn’t the case, it just went the wrong pipe…”

“You could do the same to me too, Father Chris…” 

“Huh?” Chris was flabbergasted as he turned his attention to the woman behind him upon her reckless words. Nana smiled sheepishly, patted his back one last time before she proceeded back to her seat. The man continued to be wary of her—his body language guarded. He leaned against his chair and arms were crossed as he remained silent. 

The tea went cold.

“You might have to stay the night, Father Chris… we have a lounge area, you can rest there.” Nana broke the silence as she leaned closer to him, smiling kindly. 

Chris knew that was a facade; her very existence exuded a stomach-churning odour—it smelled like a rotten fish mixed with mouldy cheese.

It was revolting.

The Trumpet that was inside his pocket radiated light that almost burned his thighs. He bit his lip as his clothing protected him from the heat, preventing him from being burnt. He was relieved that the cloth was thick thus it was unnoticeable that there was something hidden in his pockets.

In front of him, Nana continued to blabber but Chris’ attention was wholly placed on the empty cup of tea that was in front of him. The priest's thoughts drifted. 

‘One of The Trumpets are here, I’m sure of it. Matthias isn’t here so it wouldn’t react this way—that means there's another trumpet here besides Matthias.’

‘I have to find it. At least I have another clue–and it’s close by,’ Chris unconsciously gripped his arms, keeping them crossed. But one thing did bother him—how did Henry and Matthias know each other? How should he even ask that, without raising suspicion?