Southern Shore of the Conquest Sea, Kankdal. In the foreign residential district of Kankdal, a street near the outskirts hosted the Kankdal Civic Hall. This large civic building, funded by the municipal government, served many purposes. Normally, it was a venue for free cultural performances, rare exhibits, community events, and mayoral speeches—a comprehensive civic center. At this moment, a public event was underway. The hall’s interior bustled with people, mostly residents from the foreigner district, dressed in black with solemn expressions. They were attending a memorial service for the sole casualty of the South Station assassination—Prince Mazarr of the exiled Baruch royal family. A few days after the assassination, the city government, citing a need to express apologies to the Baruch royals, held this service at the Civic Hall. Prince Mazarr had been promoted as a virtuous and well-respected figure. Local newspapers had for days stirred sympathy for the Baruch exiles, so many residents came upon hearing of the memorial. The grand hall, built of white marble, stood on a broad lawn. Somberly dressed citizens moved along the pathway to the entrance. Among them was a pale-skinned man in a trench coat and short-brimmed hat, with deep-set eyes and a hooked nose. As he made his way toward the hall, he casually scanned his surroundings. Soon, the man passed through the hall’s main entrance and entered. What greeted him was an open space decorated with flowers in every corner. A large carpet covered the floor, and traditional North Ufigan tapestries depicting legendary tales hung from the pillars. In the center stood a flower-covered dais, atop which lay a coffin draped in white cloth. Before the coffin stood a North Ufigan priest in a headscarf, reading scripture to attendees. After listening, citizens would circle the shrouded coffin in silent mourning. Somber, ethereal string music filled the hall. The pale man looked around, then approached the central dais. Through his viewpoint, faraway Dorothy murmured softly. “No mystical detection… Looks like they didn’t put much importance on this place…” Dorothy, controlling the corpse marionette Edrick, had remotely attended Prince Mazarr’s memorial. She had originally suspected there might be mystical wards set up, but finding none was a pleasant surprise—it would make what she planned next easier. She hadn’t come merely to mourn Mazarr, but to scout and plan a heist. Dorothy intended to steal Mazarr’s corpse in order to clear the envoy delegation’s name. According to Ivy, with the Inquisitorial investigators clearly biased, exonerating the envoy required irrefutable, unmanipulable proof. After thinking it over, Dorothy had fixated on Mazarr’s body. Due to Dorothy’s interference during the assassination, the attackers’ plans had been disrupted. The final assassin had acted in haste after all other plans failed. Though they hit their target, the shots weren’t lethal. To ensure the victims didn’t survive treatment, Kankdal’s emergency medics had administered poisons during the rescue—effectively finishing off those who might’ve otherwise lived. Thanks to Vania’s treatment of the other victims, Dorothy was well aware of these poisons. The actual cause of Mazarr’s death was not gunshot but poisoning. Thus, if Dorothy could retrieve Mazarr’s body and extract remnants of the poison, she could prove that his true cause of death wasn’t the bullets but a deliberate medical kill. This would directly contradict the official claim that he had died from the assassin’s gunfire—and exonerate the envoy. Since the other two victims were treated by Vania, the poison in their systems had been cleansed and could no longer be detected. Only Mazarr’s corpse remained as valid evidence. If the investigators were neutral, Dorothy could’ve simply proposed an autopsy. But with suspicion that the inquisitors were colluding with the real assassins, such a suggestion could prompt the destruction of Mazarr’s body. So Dorothy had to steal it herself, examine it in secret, and deliver both the corpse and test results to Ivy—who could then use it to force the inquisitors’ hand. Controlling Edrick, Dorothy wandered around the hall, checking the layout, the guards, and searching for any mystical traces. After one full circuit, she confirmed it was just an ordinary rich man’s memorial. Stealing the corpse shouldn’t be difficult. “No mystical detection, weak security, no signs of mystical power… Looks like this really is just a normal memorial. Still, could this be a trap…?” Back in her hotel, Dorothy sat on the sofa, slightly worried. Despite her suspicion that it might be a trap, she decided it was still worth the risk. “Even if it’s a trap, it’s worth trying. I’m using a corpse marionette anyway—what’s the worst that could happen? Even if some Crimson-rank Beyonder catches me, I can retreat to the White Dove Hotel. With Ivy stationed there, unless they want to completely fall out with the church, they won’t dare act inside.” After a bit more thought, Dorothy decided to act that very night. She had Edrick leave the civic hall and head back to prepare for the operation. … Time passed quickly. The sun sank beyond the horizon, and night fell upon Kankdal. The memorial concluded at dusk, and with no tradition of night vigils, the Civic Hall closed early. The once-crowded building now fell quiet. As night deepened, the quiet gave way to silence. By late night, the massive civic hall was nearly lifeless, save for a few yawning civilian guards awaiting their shift change. Before long, these drowsy sentries at the front gates saw several figures approaching from the entrance, lanterns in hand. “Ah, finally—time for the shift change.” Mazarr, upon seeing the setup before him, stepped forward and lay down on the straw mat. One of the nearby corpse marionettes opened the medical kit, pulled out an empty syringe, rolled up Mazarr’s sleeve, and inserted the needle into his pale skin, drawing out dark red blood. Meanwhile, the other marionettes had already begun taking out various items from the medical kit—beakers, test tubes, alcohol lamps, reagent solutions, microscopes—and arranged them on the ground in preparation. Dorothy then began remotely controlling the marionettes to analyze Mazarr’s blood. Previously, she had already obtained a sample absorbed in fabric from Vania. After much trial and error, Dorothy had used her self-taught knowledge of this world’s medicine and chemistry to identify the type of poison. This particular toxin was a type of snake venom, originating from the highly venomous desert-dwelling Sandscale Spotted Viper native to North Ufiga. The venom was a hemotoxin, which, once it entered the bloodstream, would disrupt circulation throughout the body by aggressively destroying red blood cells and impairing coagulation. If left untreated, it could lead to death in a short time. And because it was a bloodborne toxin, its traces could still be detected in a corpse’s blood post-mortem—the poisoned blood was distinctly different from normal blood. After carefully completing the examination, Dorothy finally confirmed the presence of the toxin in Mazarr’s blood. The results showed a significant amount of Sandscale Spotted Viper venom, enough to definitively conclude that he died from poisoning rather than gunfire. Upon seeing this result, Dorothy couldn’t help but exhale in relief. “Phew… Thank goodness, the test was a success… With this much toxin in his blood, it’s conclusive—this guy died from poisoning. This is ironclad evidence. “As long as I hand him over to Evi, and she uses this to confront the inquisitor and the Kankerdal authorities, the entire assassination case can be overturned, and the envoy delegation’s suspicion lifted… right?” So Dorothy thought to herself. Everything had seemingly gone smoothly—she had detected the toxin in Mazarr’s corpse and could now prove that the assassination was suspicious. All she needed to do was give this evidence to Evi, and everything could be reversed. And yet, even now, her heart remained full of unease. Some seemingly minor inconsistencies made Dorothy wary even in the face of success—one of those doubts, in fact, came from Mazarr himself. “Come to think of it, I originally assumed Mazarr had been dead for days and that his body would’ve decayed too much to be usable as a corpse marionette. But tonight, I was still able to control him. The control was clumsy and the movements awkward, but he could still move… That’s definitely not what I expected.”