When the special unit arrived, they began their operation without delay. From the Investigation Division came Viola, Sebastian, and Andrew—Edward was absent as he was still occupied with interrogating members of the Script-Decipherers arrested earlier. Thus, this investigation fell under the leadership of the three he had sent in his place.
Viola led the Arcane Science Division team into the scene. She gave her two colleagues a brief, solemn nod before beginning to examine the fallen victims.
Sebastian greeted them as well, his shoulder-length black hair and sparse beard shifting as he bent down and straightened up, examining every trace in the area.
Andrew acknowledged them with a grim nod before heading off to check entry and exit points and secure the perimeter.
The remaining guests stood trembling, watching the special unit at work with fearful eyes. Some still clung to each other, sobbing softly, while others sat motionless with vacant stares, as if their souls had departed their bodies. Pale faces with tear streaks and smeared makeup no longer showed any trace of the nobility's lofty bearing.
Whispers circulated through the gathering—some spoke of ill omens, others suspected political revenge or a witch's curse. Fear and uncertainty permeated what remained of the once-elegant affair.
Members of the Arcane Science Division, clad in specialized protective gear that left virtually no skin exposed to potential contact with the black fluid, began moving the afflicted individuals. They brought out large, thick sheets and carefully spread them over the unconscious bodies. When they lifted the corners of the sheet, the body would come up with it, allowing them to slip a stretcher underneath. They would then gently lower the sheet, waiting until the body was firmly settled on the stretcher before deftly pulling the sheet away, preparing the victim for transport back to the Arcane Science Division.
Relatives and acquaintances of those affected by the black fluid stood watching the bodies being removed, their eyes distant and unfocused. Some whispered prayers, others bit their lips until they bled to stifle their sobs, while others had to be supported to keep from collapsing. The sight of each shrouded form being lifted onto a stretcher only emphasized the magnitude of loss that had occurred during this otherwise grand evening.
Joseph turned to his family, his face betraying concern despite his attempts to hide it. "Everyone should go home now. I need to stay and investigate."
Rebecca stepped closer to her husband, her eyes filled with worry. She clutched his sleeve tightly. "Will you be safe? We don't even know what caused all this..."
"Don't worry," Joseph reassured her with the most calming smile he could muster. "I have my team with me. I'll be fine." He glanced toward Miranda.
Miranda maintained an astonishingly composed demeanor, showing no trace of panic. She nodded coolly. "I'll take Rebecca and Isabel back myself," she turned to her niece. "We'll drop you off at home first. It's not safe for you to return alone."
Isabel stood still, her expression serene in a way that seemed unusual for a girl her age. There was no trace of fear on her face, only mild surprise. She merely nodded slightly. "Yes, Aunt," she replied in an even tone that carried a strength one wouldn't expect from someone so young.
Rebecca hesitated momentarily before releasing her husband's sleeve. "Please be careful," she whispered, then turned to follow Miranda.
Joseph watched his family preparing to leave. "Sister," he called to Miranda.
Miranda paused, looking back at her brother.
"Take care of them."
Miranda nodded, a faint smile appearing at the corner of her mouth. "Of course."
The Cavendish family carriage departed into the darkness, heading first to Isabel's home. During the journey, Rebecca sat wringing her trembling hands, trying to contain her anxiety, while Miranda sat upright, her gaze fixed vigilantly on the road ahead, watching for any potential danger. Isabel sat quietly, staring out the carriage window, her eyes reflecting deep contemplation.
After safely delivering Isabel home, the carriage continued on to the Cavendish estate. Once Rebecca was safely home, Miranda hurried back to the scene, rejoining the investigation team that was urgently gathering information.
At the scene, Charles was providing his account to the others.
"Henry Blackwell," Viola read the name from a paper in her hand while looking at the remains on the floor. "A wealthy philanthropist known for his donations to orphanages."
"I saw him just as he arrived," Charles spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. "He seemed perfectly normal then—smiling, greeting people warmly. Nothing suspicious at all."
"And at the moment of the incident?" Sebastian asked, taking notes.
"He changed completely, like a different person altogether. Walked directly toward Lord Darcy with clear purpose, ignored anyone who greeted him, his face expressionless. Then... that's when it happened."
Andrew, who had been questioning other witnesses, approached the group. "Someone saw him excuse himself to use the restroom not long before the change..."
"And after he returned, he had a notably vacant expression."
Miranda furrowed her brow. "So the transformation occurred while he was in the bathroom... Something must have happened there."
"Then we need to examine the bathroom immediately," Joseph concluded.
Viola nodded. "I'll send the Arcane Science Division to inspect it, and Sebastian should go with them. If there are traces of an arcane ritual, his senses might detect it."
Everyone moved according to plan: Sebastian led a group toward the bathroom, while Andrew positioned personnel to secure the area, preventing anyone from interfering with potential evidence.
Charles was about to follow the investigation team when Joseph stepped in his path.
"Wait," Joseph said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Stay out of this case."
"Why?" Charles frowned.
"Listen," Joseph lowered his voice, "this is a serious incident involving high-ranking nobility. The higher-ups will want every investigator focused on it."
"Which means the search for Michael might be suspended."
Charles's expression sharpened with understanding. "So you want me to..."
"Yes," Joseph nodded. "Continue tracking Michael on your own. That way, at least one of us is still following that lead, while I handle the situation here."
"But—"
"You're better at standard investigative work," Joseph interrupted. "And I have more experience with these supernatural matters..."
"Go home and rest up for tomorrow. Leave the aftermath here to us."
Charles held his friend's gaze for a moment before nodding solemnly. He understood Joseph was right. As much as he wanted to solve this bizarre incident, finding Michael was equally urgent—and allowing that trail to grow cold could jeopardize all their previous efforts.
The guest bathroom in Darcy Manor was luxuriously appointed, featuring a running-water commode—technology from Sarnia—along with a high-quality hand towel rack and wooden table for aromatic herbs and perfumes near a small ventilation window. Outside was a large water tank occupying nearly half the bathroom's footprint, used to supply water for the commode and sink. Water from this large tank was channeled through pipes for use inside. The investigating team was thoroughly examining every corner of this space.
Sebastian shook his head after his inspection. "No traces of magical ritual," he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Either none was used, or... the traces were meticulously erased. Whoever did this was extremely careful."
Just then, Joseph entered with information obtained from a servant. "The bathroom attendant says Henry went in and closed the door. After that... complete silence."
"No sound at all?" Miranda's brow furrowed. "That's odd. You'd expect to hear something—running water, at least."
"Exactly," Sebastian added. "Perhaps a spell or power that creates a silent space. If so... someone definitely orchestrated this. Such phenomena don't occur naturally."
Meanwhile, Viola surveyed the room with her analytical gaze, stopping at the table holding scented items. "There's something interesting here." She pointed to the floor. "Look at these scrape marks under the table. It appears to have been pushed forcefully. And the marks look fresh."
She turned to Joseph. "The attendant cleans after each guest, correct?"
"Yes," Joseph confirmed. "It's his regular duty. Whenever a guest finishes using the bathroom, he goes in to clean up."
Viola nodded. "Let's have him come in. I have some questions."
When the attendant arrived—a middle-aged man in a neat uniform—Viola began questioning him meticulously. "After Henry left and you cleaned, can you recall which parts of the bathroom he used?"
The attendant thought for a moment. "I noticed water in the commode, so it had been flushed. The sink had water droplets too." He paused, remembering. "Oh, and the hand towel was quite wet. I had to replace it."
"I see," Viola murmured, glancing at her colleagues. "Let's reconstruct what happened."
Joseph moved to stand by the door. "I'll play Henry's part," he looked around the room. "According to the attendant, he would have entered and closed the door..."
He enacted each step, walking to the commode stall. "After using this..." He emerged and went to the sink. "He would wash his hands here..."
Viola asked the attendant, "Was the tap turned on forcefully? Were there water splashes everywhere?"
"No, sir," the attendant replied. "Just small splashes, normal like regular handwashing."
Joseph nodded, turning the tap on gently to simulate normal handwashing. "Then he'd use the towel..." He reached for the cloth, wiping his hands slowly. "You're certain the towel was wet, not just damp?"
"Absolutely certain, sir," the attendant answered. "It was wet enough that I remember having to wring it out before sending it to be laundered."
"That indicates thorough handwashing," Viola concluded. "Which makes sense if he planned to return to the banquet..."
These small details convinced the investigation team that everything had proceeded normally until the critical moment.
"Looking at the scrape marks on the floor..." Joseph examined the table near the window. "He was likely attacked from the left near the sink, then slid into this table on the right." He demonstrated the motion. "Whether struck from front or back, his body weight would have pushed the table, causing that scrape."
"Any other clues?" Joseph asked Viola.
"Nothing more," she shook her head. "Just this, before... whatever happened to him."
Miranda, who had been listening, finally spoke. "How did the attacker enter? If they were hiding inside beforehand, someone using the bathroom earlier would have noticed them."
"Could they have used a cursed object?" Joseph suggested.
Sebastian nodded. "Or perhaps some enchanted item allowing them to become invisible and wait. That's certainly possible."
"Or," Miranda said, her voice grave, "what if the perpetrator wasn't an ordinary person at all, but an Ascendant with special abilities?"
A silence fell over the group. They all knew certain Ascendants possessed powers that would allow them to pass through walls or alter their physical form.
"That seems most likely," Joseph agreed, his eyes fixed on the small window—too tiny for even a child to climb through.
"But we still have another mystery..." Miranda continued, her eyes reflecting concern. "Whatever got inside Henry... it transformed him into that... thing. And caused the horror we witnessed tonight."
Joseph shook his head, while Sebastian merely shrugged. Even Viola—usually quick with answers—remained silent.
"We'll need to wait for the Arcane Science Division's analysis," Joseph concluded, looking at the mysterious traces on the floor. "Hopefully they'll discover something useful."
Footsteps approached from outside as the Arcane Science Division members returned, having finished preparing the victims for transport. They were loading both bodies and samples to take back to the Department of Supernatural Suppression and Defense, hoping to uncover the sinister power that had shattered the night's peace.