Jeanne stared at the sea urchin-like mass of flesh. Though calling the squishy thing a living organism felt slightly inaccurate, she could swear she saw it twitching!
Moving on instinct, Jeanne immediately pulled Anne behind her, ensuring she could shield the girl if anything went wrong.
Anne was thoroughly terrified by the sight. She had no idea such repulsive things had been hiding in her own cellar. What was something like this even used for?
"This is Seaborn... or rather, Seaborn flesh," Skadi said, her expression darkening as she observed the pulsating mass. "I think I know why her parents died."
This discovery was grim news for her, and even worse for the city. What were those cultists planning?
Jeanne's mind raced. Were those fanatics preparing something catastrophic for the city? A plot to cultivate a Seaborn and infect every citizen?
Anne didn't care about the bigger picture—all she knew was that this vile substance had claimed her parents' lives. Her eyes flushed red with rage, and she lunged forward, desperate to crush the grotesque mass, but Jeanne caught her by the collar like a mother cat holding a kitten.
"Calm down," Jeanne said gently, looking at the impulsive child with a sigh. "This isn't something you can just stomp out of existence with your boot."
The girl's parents had likely been manipulated as disposable delivery tools. No wonder Anne had mentioned that her father's grain runs, while difficult, had always gone surprisingly smoothly.
"Can you tell what this is meant to do?" Jeanne asked, turning back to Skadi.
"I can't say for certain, but it's likely used to transform people into Seaborn," Skadi replied. "Normally, a prize like this is guarded fiercely by those lunatics in The Deep Sea Church. Why would they entrust something so precious to an ordinary grain merchant?"
Skadi picked up the fleshy sphere, inspecting it closely before shaking her head and dropping it back onto the stone floor. The doubt in her eyes remained.
Any cultist would view this biological mass as a gift from their ocean gods. Why hand it off to an outsider?
"Perhaps they lacked the nerve to bring it through the city gates themselves, so they used a middleman to do the heavy lifting," Jeanne suggested, nudging the sphere into a heavy wooden box. She would deal with burning it later; right now, bigger concerns demanded their attention.
Before they could discuss it further, Fafnir arrived, leading Anne's younger sister, Lucy, down the cellar stairs. The younger girl looked frantic, as if carrying urgent news.
"What happened, Lucy?" Anne asked, rushing forward. Had something gone wrong outside?
"An uncle named Tom is at the front door," Lucy whispered, glancing around nervously. "He says he ordered a batch of grain a while ago, and now he wants us to hand it over!"
Lucy paused, leaning closer to her sister as her tone turned eerie and cautious. "He feels wrong, Anne. He's swaying around like he's drunk, and everything about him looks strange. I really don't like him."
Hearing the name Tom, Anne felt as though an Originium bomb had detonated right beside her ears! The very man she suspected of murdering her parents had walked straight to her doorstep!
The girl stood up, her small frame rigid as she glared toward the entrance. Jeanne felt a sharp wave of killing intent radiate from the child—a dark, heavy emotion for someone so young.
Before Jeanne or Skadi could speak, Anne turned around, her face set in grim determination. She pondered for a moment before voicing her plan.
"Big sisters, I want you to hide down here in the cellar. If that man came here with bad intentions, the storage room is where he'll end up."
Her tone was resolute. She didn't want Jeanne and Skadi stepping in right away—not because she rejected their help, but because she needed answers directly from the man's own mouth!
"Fafnir, go with them and keep them safe, alright?" Jeanne said, turning to her companion.
Anne's suggestion was actually clever. If two armed strangers confronted him, the guilty suspect might turn and run without uttering a word. But facing three children, he would fall into a false sense of absolute control.
By the time he realized his mistake, it would be too late. With three individuals capable of flattening him in an instant waiting in the house, safety was guaranteed.
"Sure thing! Leave it to me!" Fafnir patted her chest proudly.
Jeanne smiled, knowing full well that no ordinary thug could handle a dragon. Meanwhile, the two sisters exchanged bewildered glances, unable to grasp why their new friend was so confident.
Though Anne worried about putting Fafnir in danger, Jeanne's casual attitude made it clear that the younger girl possessed strength far beyond what her appearance suggested.
"Are you sure letting them face him is wise?" Skadi asked quietly as the three children headed upstairs.
"Even if we stepped in now and dealt with Tom ourselves, it wouldn't solve the real problem," Jeanne replied softly, understanding the grief driving the child. Leaving things unresolved would only breed deeper tragedy.
If they eliminated Tom without giving Anne closure, the girl would spend her life hunting down traces of The Deep Sea Church, eventually consuming herself in vengeance. Her younger sister would inevitably follow down that dark path until tragedy claimed them both.
Allowing them to face the truth under controlled conditions was the better path. With Jeanne and Skadi watching from the shadows, the sisters would remain completely safe.
Skadi glanced at Jeanne in surprise. She hadn't considered the emotional fallout, intending simply to keep the children shielded from the dark truth.
"Give them a little faith," Jeanne added gently. "Besides, they already know too much to go back to ignorance."
"You've thought this through far more than I have," Skadi admitted, her red eyes softening slightly. "And I agree... losing family leaves a scar that never truly heals."
Her voice drifted off as her gaze grew distant, lost in her own painful memories of lost kin.
Meanwhile, upstairs in the hallway, Anne was preparing for the confrontation.
"Fafnir, stay close to us," Anne instructed, trying to make the setup look natural. "We'll say you're a friend who had nowhere else to go."
Near the front entryway, Lucy peeked through a crack in the doorframe, watching the uninvited visitor pacing back and forth on the porch.
The man was practically squirming. He couldn't stand still for even ten seconds, his hands twitching wildly at his sides as if infested with fleas.
He looked like an agitated animal eyeing a bundle of food, glaring at the front door with growing impatience. Anne knew that if they made him wait much longer, he might lose his remaining composure and break the door down.
Under normal circumstances, such bizarre behavior might have seemed like mere restlessness. But knowing he was linked to her parents' deaths, every twitch made him look overwhelmingly suspicious.
Anne decided to make him wait a little longer. Her father had once taught her that when dealing with an impatient man, the best strategy was to stay calm and let his anxiety build. The more frantic he became, the more mistakes he would make, giving her the upper hand in the conversation.
Even for a child, the lesson held true. Anne watched the twitching figure through the window, waiting for his next heavy knock before opening the door.