Irene released her grip, and the unfurled Secret Letter immediately ignited in layers of illusory flames. In a blink, the flames collapsed inward, folding into an ordinary piece of stationery.
Yu Sheng, however, remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the paper with a solemn expression, his thoughts deep and heavy.
It took a long while before Little Red Riding Hood’s voice broke the silence beside him. “…Old Zheng… it really was him…”
The girl’s tone was hesitant and resistant, clearly unsettled by the revelation. She had come here seeking answers, but now that she had found them, the truth was far from what she had hoped for.
The sacrificial ritual in the White Exhibition Hall had indeed been a trap meant for her. The person who had lured her into the trap was none other than her trusted contact.
From the words written in the letter, it wasn’t hard to discern that Old Zheng, the contact in question, had likely been deceived and manipulated.
“The signature reads Servant of the Angel. It’s obvious the author of this letter belongs to those Angel Cultists, the same ones conducting the ritual in the exhibition hall,” Yu Sheng said calmly as he shook the letter. “The reason they use ‘letters’ for communication is probably to leverage this particular kind of magic for concealment.”
“The recipient of this letter was definitely thoroughly fooled,” Irene added. “Blessings, lifting curses, goodwill, being misunderstood by the world—classic cult rhetoric. Sometimes, it actually works.”
Yu Sheng glanced at Little Red Riding Hood’s conflicted expression, deliberated briefly, and then said, “Based on the content of the letter, it seems Old Zheng wasn’t aware it was a trap. He likely thought he was helping you… Perhaps he’s been trying to help you for a long time and ended up falling into their clutches because of it.”
“…Likely quite some time,” Yu Sheng replied, recalling the contents of the letter. “It mentions personal witnessing, which suggests Old Zheng didn’t just rely on the promises of the Angel Cultists. He may have participated in certain rituals or at least encountered something related to the Dark Angels. By the time he led you to the exhibition hall, he was already deeply entangled.”
Yu Sheng paused before continuing, “And this letter reveals another critical detail… Those cultists weren’t targeting you alone—they’re after the Fairy Tale Organization you’re connected to.”
Little Red Riding Hood said nothing, her gaze shifting to the other notes and scraps of paper scattered around.
“Irene,” Yu Sheng called out, “see if there’s anything else hidden among these papers letter.”
“On it,” Irene replied, sitting down amid the clutter on the table and sifting through the materials.
She searched thoroughly but came up empty-handed.
“Nothing here. The rest are just ordinary items, including these few letters. It seems traditional correspondence is simply a personal habit of this individual,” the little doll said, her legs swinging over the edge of the table. She scanned the room again and added, “I’ve also checked the room—it doesn’t seem like there’s anything noteworthy.”
Yu Sheng wasn’t surprised by this outcome.
It seemed anything directly related to the Angel Cultists had already been moved or destroyed, leaving only this one letter unaddressed. However, Yu Sheng wasn’t disheartened. He began meticulously examining every corner of the room.
The absence of overt evidence didn’t mean there were no clues left behind. If the contact had delved so deeply into the cult’s influence, it would undoubtedly have left traces—habitual changes, unconscious marks, snippets in journals… People inevitably leave marks behind; it’s impossible to erase everything.
Realizing his intent, Little Red Riding Hood joined in, inspecting various corners of the room. She even summoned her wolves to search for subtle clues beyond human perception.
Irene began combing through the papers and books on the desk. Though they appeared mundane, clues might be hidden in plain sight.
Suddenly, a Shadow Wolf stopped in the center of the room, growling low and pawing at a rug by the bed.
Little Red Riding Hood frowned instantly, stepping forward to lift the rug in one swift motion.
Nothing was hidden underneath, but faint, hard-to-discern marks were visible on the floor.
Strange symbols and lines, forming a one-meter-diameter circle, faintly tinged with dark red. They appeared to have been carefully scrubbed, leaving only faint traces. Perhaps the repeated scrubbing attempts had inadvertently preserved their outlines.
“It looks like it was drawn with blood,” Little Red Riding Hood said, her brows furrowed as she studied the faint markings. “This is a basic Spirit-Summoning Ritual. Without the accompanying offerings or chants, it’s difficult to trace what it was used to communicate with.”
“Could it have been to contact the Dark Angels?” Yu Sheng asked curiously.
“Hard to say,” Little Red Riding Hood replied, shaking her head. “You know I stay away from this kind of thing. From what I’ve heard, those Angel Cultists claim to communicate with the ‘messengers,’ but most of the time, they’re just hallucinating from overindulgence in drugs. The Dark Angels rarely respond to humans—or when they do, it’s by driving them insane.”
She paused, her expression darkening. “As for someone like Old Zheng, a clear novice who’s been duped into using a basic summoning ritual, it’s unlikely he made actual contact. It’s probably another layer of deception by the cultists to convince him he could truly hear the ‘divine will.’”
Yu Sheng listened without commenting, crouching silently to examine the faint red traces. After a moment, he retrieved a small knife from his pocket and made a small cut on his hand.
Bright red blood dripped onto the floor.
Little Red Riding Hood jumped, instinctively reaching out to stop him. “Hey, what are you doing? You can’t mess with—”
The blood was absorbed instantly by the faint marks on the floor, like water on a sponge.
The distant sound of Little Red Riding Hood’s exclamation stretched into a prolonged, broken noise.
Yu Sheng looked up to find the room veiled in a translucent haze, as though caught in a dimension slowly detaching from reality. Little Red Riding Hood and Irene appeared as shadowy figures in the distance, their movements seemingly stretched into infinity.
Rubbing his eyes, Yu Sheng stood, surprised but unfazed—after witnessing countless bizarre phenomena, he had grown almost unnervingly unshakable.
Gradually, the hazy veil lifted.
The room remained the same, but everything was now tinged with a grayish pallor. The sunlight streaming through the window had turned into a pale, dim glow that illuminated nothing beyond the frame.
Then Yu Sheng’s eyes widened.
In the shadows untouched by the dim light, words began to emerge on the walls and floor.
Like projections of someone’s intense thoughts etched into this strange dimension, the words spread in all directions, covering every visible surface.
“I wanted to help them…
“I visited the orphanage again after months… Another familiar face gone…
“The tree planted by the last Little Red Riding Hood has grown tall. Today, a new child approached me. She said she’s the new Little Red Riding Hood…
“She’s only fourteen. She said she needs a job…
“No one can help. Not the Special Affairs Bureau, not the Association. I’ve collected and studied so much on lifting curses and fighting nightmares, but it’s all useless.
“…Then someone came to me. They said they could help…
“They seemed suspicious. I suspected ties to some illegal sect, but they showed me things…”
The words stretched across the floor, walls, and even into the air, filling Yu Sheng’s vision. Then, as silently as they had appeared, they began to fade.
A strange, slow, slithering sound came from above.
Yu Sheng raised his head cautiously toward the source of the noise.
The ceiling had split open at some point, revealing a circular hole corresponding to the dark red markings on the floor.
From the hole came a deep, chaotic noise, accompanied by the eerie sound of something sliding against a surface. A long, slender appendage, covered in grotesque bumps and intricate patterns, extended downward.
The tentacle pulsed silently, probing the air, slowly inching toward Yu Sheng…
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation