"Clatter, clatter, clatter!"
A biting chill rushed out to meet them. Duanmu Huai stepped forward and watched as a corpse was pulled out from the morgue drawer. It was a middle-aged man in his forties, his eyes wide open, his expression frozen in terror.
But that wasn't the main point.
The main point was… the wound on his chest.
Across the man's bare chest were four gashes, as if torn open by a savage beast. Just by looking, one could tell—this was the result of some massive creature, like a giant bear, swiping down with its claws, ripping through muscle and bone.
Duanmu Huai raised his hand and compared.
…Mm. Still a bit smaller than his own palm.
"Did you detect anything? Fur, for example?"
"We found animal-like fur in the wounds, but we couldn't determine what kind of animal it came from."
As he spoke, the fat coroner pulled open another drawer.
"And this one?"
"Also hit by that beast."
Looking at the corpse, the coroner shook his head.
"Would you believe it? The test results say this man died from a frontal impact equivalent to being hit by a truck going at least 150 kilometers per hour. But in those mountains, where would you even find a truck that could reach that speed?"
Just as the coroner said, the man's chest was completely caved in, as if struck by something with overwhelming force. Calling it a truck was exaggerated—but Duanmu Huai understood the coroner's fear.
This wasn't ignorance or rural superstition.
This was a conclusion derived from science—one that was utterly unbelievable.
"So you're saying… there's a hound in those mountains that's over two meters tall…"
Duanmu Huai gestured at the previous corpse's wounds.
"…and can move at over 150 kilometers per hour?"
"That's beyond my professional advice, sir."
The coroner forced a bitter smile, wiping sweat from his forehead. Even in the freezing morgue, he couldn't stop sweating.
"To be honest, I don't know what's happening, and I don't want to know. I'm just a coroner—I provide conclusions based on my work. But if you want my personal opinion… these days, I go straight home after work instead of stopping by the pub. And I think most people here are doing the same. At least until this cursed mess is resolved."
"Alright. What about the other bodies?"
"Most have already been taken by their families. These two were guards from out of town—their families haven't arrived yet, so they're still here."
"If I want more details about that night, who should I talk to?"
"You can go to Chief Tester. He's… not in a good state lately. You'll understand when you see him."
Duanmu Huai quickly understood what the coroner meant.
When he entered the chief's office, he saw a haggard, exhausted old policeman. That was to be expected—according to the coroner, he had led the operation that night. With so many officers dead, it wasn't something a superior could take lightly.
Fortunately, Duanmu Huai didn't need much effort to get him talking.
"Strictly speaking, I might not know much more than you do."
Holding his pipe, Chief Tester leaned back in his chair and spoke calmly.
"I was commissioned by Fred. He insisted that some beast in the mountains had attacked his parents. I saw the scene myself, and as someone responsible for local safety, I couldn't allow a man-eating creature to roam free."
"Then why go at night?"
Duanmu Huai frowned.
"Honestly, I think going into the mountains at night is about the dumbest choice possible."
"I thought so too. Unfortunately, Mr. Fred didn't agree."
Tester sighed.
"I tried to persuade him to wait until morning so we could prepare properly. But just then… we heard a strange howl outside."
"A howl?"
"Yes. It sounded like a wolf… or a dog… but I've never heard anything like it. Fred heard it too, and immediately gathered the Baskerville guards and rushed into the mountains to hunt the beast. As a policeman, I couldn't just watch him go to his death, so I took my men and followed."
At this point, his expression stiffened.
"As you said, going into the mountains at night wasn't a good idea. We brought flashlights and hunting dogs, but honestly, we didn't even know what we were looking for. Wolves? Wild dogs? The temperature was low, and there was fog. We wandered around like headless flies with no leads."
"Then… the screams started."
"Screams?"
Duanmu Huai raised a brow. Tester nodded.
"Yes. Fred's screams. We didn't know what he encountered, but it sounded like he had seen something utterly horrifying… something beyond reason. Then the hunting dogs in our group reacted—they started barking wildly, broke free of their collars, and ran off. Then came gunshots. We thought the front group had engaged something, so we rushed forward."
Tester clenched his fists tightly.
"But we were too late. There were only bodies. Bodies everywhere. Fred's guards… my officers…"
"…Sorry. I lost my composure. But it's something I'll never forget. Maybe I should've stopped him. Maybe things would've turned out differently."
"Then we retreated."
Tester let out a long sigh.
"Everyone was terrified. Afraid they'd be next. We ran back down the mountain and huddled together until morning. Only after sunrise did we return to collect the bodies."
"I see."
Duanmu Huai and Lorena exchanged a glance. Then he reached into his pocket and stroked the black cat inside.
"Since then, has anything similar happened? Howls, sightings of creatures?"
"No. Everything's been normal since then… like it was all just a nightmare."
"…If only it really was."
"Who's still at Baskerville Manor?"
"The old butler. Most people have left. A few servants remain… and Fred's wife, Baroness Vivian Baskerville. Poor woman—married less than two years, and now this…"
Tester lowered his head.
"I can't even face her."
"Oh, right. A young lady from the Brontë family is also staying here for recuperation. If you run into them, please don't disturb them."
"They're in town?"
"No, at their private villa. I heard something happened, so they came here to recover. No one expected this…"
"…I see."
Duanmu Huai nodded.
For some reason… that name sounded oddly familiar.
—
For Mary, this was her first time at the retreat, taking in the scenery.
Compared to the perpetually gloomy, fog-covered capital, the air here was fresh, and the environment far more pleasant.
"I didn't expect we'd get to spend Christmas together, Shirley."
Sitting at the table with tea and sweets, Ashley smiled brightly at Shirley. The latter had recovered quite a bit, though after months bedridden, she still needed physical rehabilitation. Still, in daily life, she was gradually returning to normal.
"Neither did I… By the way, where's Mr. Howard?"
"He has work, but he promised to bring us a very expensive gift for Christmas."
"Then we'll look forward to it."
Mary smiled, then looked at Shirley, who gave a wry smile.
"Will there be any activities in town for Christmas?"
"Things haven't been very peaceful lately."
At that moment, Shirley's maid Donna approached and poured them tea.
"Ladies, I strongly advise you not to go out casually. Something seems to be happening nearby. It's safe inside, but outside… not so much."
"No need to worry so much, Donna."
Shirley reassured her softly.
"It's probably just rural rumors."
"Even so, Miss…"
"What happened?"
Seeing Donna's anxious expression, Mary asked curiously.
This villa was a secondary residence of Shirley's family. After the incident where Shirley had been "abducted" in the capital, her family brought her here to recover. There weren't many people caring for her—just Donna and a few servants like the gatekeeper and gardener.
If not for Mary and Ashley visiting, the place would be even lonelier.
Mary and Ashley also knew that Shirley wasn't particularly close to her brothers. Even during Christmas, they would likely be busy attending noble banquets rather than visiting her.
"There are rumors of some kind of beast nearby."
Donna glanced uneasily out the window.
"I'm not sure, but everyone's worried. Even wild dogs would be dangerous. So please, don't go out unless necessary."
"Understood. We'll stay inside."
Originally, Mary and Ashley planned to take Shirley for a walk, but considering her condition—and the possible danger—they both agreed.
Her safety came first.
—
Meanwhile, Duanmu Huai had arrived at Baskerville Manor and met the widow who had lost her husband.
"Good day, Baroness Baskerville."
Seated on the sofa, he observed the young woman carefully. She looked only slightly older than Mary—early twenties at most. She wore an elegant silk dress, her hair styled in refined curls. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen from crying.
Clearly, the blow had been severe.
"Hello, Mr. Duanmu. Welcome to Baskerville Manor. I apologize for receiving you in such a disheveled state…"
"No need. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask a few questions."
"Of course… if I can help."
In truth, she provided little useful information.
She had stayed in the manor the entire day of the incident and knew nothing. She had tried to stop her husband from going into the mountains, but failed.
Beyond that, there was nothing.
Though… she did mention one thing.
Every night before bed, she would see the shadow of a massive hound outside her window—like a beast lurking in the darkness, waiting to kill her.
Whether that was real… or just the hallucination of a grieving widow, no one knew.
—
Aside from her, only six people remained in the manor.
Of course, Duanmu Huai had no interest in playing detective.
This wasn't about solving a crime.
His goal was simple—the dog.
If it showed up again, he'd beat it into submission with his fists.
That would be the end of it.
He left Lorena with the baroness. After all, she was the last remaining member of the cursed family. If the hound struck again, she would be the most likely target.
With Lorena there, he didn't need to worry.
Then he went to find the butler, Robert.
An old man in his sixties, he had served the Baskerville family his entire life.
"Oh, my ancestors even appeared in Dr. Watson's book—the Barrymore couple. They were my grandparents. Our family has served the Baskervilles for generations."
The old man spoke eagerly.
"But this incident… it's far stranger than the novel. Personally, I've never believed in the hound legend. The book tells the truth—someone exploiting superstition to harm others. This must be the same."
"Then tell me the original version of the story."
"The original?"
"The earliest part."
Duanmu Huai pointed at the portraits on the wall.
"The Hound of the Baskervilles."
"Well… it's the same story everyone knows."
The butler shook his head.
"It's told to every Baskerville from childhood. Personally, I think it's just a cautionary tale—don't do evil, or the hound will tear out your throat."
"What about that ancestor? Any details?"
"Every family has its black sheep, sir. He appeared polite, but was actually crude and violent. He surrounded himself with unsavory companions. People feared him—they would drink late into the night, then ride out into the moors shouting like savages…"
"Was he always like that?"
"More or less. Even as a child, he was different. Ill-tempered, quick to anger, prone to violence. Without the Baskerville fortune, he'd have ended up in prison long ago. He was a scoundrel. No doubt about it."
"…Those companions."
Duanmu Huai thought for a moment.
"After his death? Did they appear again?"
"Of course not. They were flies drawn to his wealth. Once he died, they scattered."
"I see."
Duanmu Huai shrugged.
"Then his room should still be here, right? Could you take me to it?"
"Of course."
(End of Chapter)