Chương 59: The Moons' Valley Village & a Case of the Condemned

But before that could happen, Galan felt himself returning to reality, his senses enveloped by the lively chatter and the glow of numerous paper lanterns. He looked around, his mindcast confirming that he had arrived in the central plaza of Tsukinoya Village. He snapped his fingers, detecting the presence of ghost victims within the local hospital. With another snap, he plucked the directions from the minds of the locals.

"I'll sightsee as I go," he muttered. He walked forward, taking in the countless lanterns decorating the eaves of every building. Standing lamps lined the path, casting a warm, festive glow over the village and illuminating the happy faces of families and travelers. The air was a symphony of sights, scents, and sounds. Such as the charcoal smoke of soy-slicked chicken skewers dripping onto hot coals and the hiss of gyooza dumplings turning golden in the pan.

There was also the smoky aroma of grilled meat from an open-window shop, where a chef smiled brightly as he drenched cuts in soy sauce. He passed through the joyful chaos, turning left toward a quieter part of the village. Ahead stood a new, five-story building: Moons' Valley Public Hospital. After stepping inside, the sounds of the festival faded, replaced by a hushed, sterile silence. The air was cold, smelling of medicinal herbs and bleach.

The wooden reception area was spacious and polished, reflecting the soft light of the paper lanterns. To his left, a sign marked the 'Waiting Room.' It was a gallery of grief. An old woman sat comforting her daughter, while her fisherman son was treated for severe burns—the result of a desperate attempt to save his boat, his family's only livelihood. Tragic, Galan thought, crossing his arms. He deemed the ship more worthy of saving than his life.

It wouldn't have been necessary if the guy in charge offered no-fault insurance for these poor fishermen. His gaze shifted to a lone farmer clutching a swollen, blackened ankle. It was caused by a simple cut from a rusty sickle, which he ignored for days, the tiny, invisible invaders wreaking havoc on his body. The doctor had warned of amputation. Jackass, Galan sighed, shaking his head. Guess giving Sho that book was the right decision. This land really needs to be taught about germ theory.

He looked further, spotting a young man trembling as he waited for news of his father, a victim of the ghosts. So this is what it looks like to have your loved ones be a victim of their attack, Galan thought, his expression hardening. I need to get this case solved and bring judicial justice back for these people. He approached the long wooden counter. A young nurse in a spotless white textile uniform was reviewing admission forms.

"Sumimasen." She looked up.

"Yes? Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I'm here to investigate the vengeful spirits on behalf of the angels. Can you confirm it with them?"

"Eh?!" She scrutinized him—his youthful appearance, his foreign features, his expensive cloak paired with cheap pants and sandals. Recognition dawned.

"Ah, you're the investigator the archangels told us about." Satanvubo, the birdies are efficient. Galan nodded.

"Yes. I need full access to the rooms of those injured by the ghosts."

"Understood. Do you have anyone you wish to visit first?"

"Just take me to someone who can answer some questions."

"Yes, of course. Let me check." The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. She opened a drawer and pulled out a large notebook titled Onryoo Victim Cases. She flipped through the pages, her expression growing grimmer with every turn. Finally, she stopped, bookmarking a page with a look of pure disgust.

"Follow me, Mr. Investigator," she said somberly. They turned right, and the true nature of the hospital revealed itself. Behind the closed paper screens, low moans of pain echoed through the halls. Galan walked past a stern doctor reviewing a chart and a pair of young nurses carrying bloodied bandages. A team rushed past with a gurney, their faces grim. The air grew heavy with the scent of potent medicine as they approached the Emergency Life-Saving Room.

Thin curtains separated the patients, offering a sliver of privacy for their nightmares. The nurse stopped at the third bed.

"Here he is, Mr. Investigator. Do you need to know anything before you enter?"

"No. I want the patient to speak for himself."

"Very well." She bowed and left. Galan stepped past the curtain. The man lay motionless, a wreck of a human being kept alive by sheer stubbornness. His body was a tapestry of bandages, barely masking something darker beneath. He turned his face away as he saw Galan, a mask of constant agony. His arms were secured at his sides to keep him from hurting himself. He stood next to the terrified man.

"Sumimasen," he said, his tone formal.

"I would like to ask you some questions." The man opened his eyes, his voice a hoarse rasp.

"W-what do you want? Don't you see I'm in pain?"

"Yes, I can see that," Galan said coolly.

"But I'm investigating the spirits that did this to you. Cooperate, and I might be able to figure out why." The man flinched at the word 'spirits.'

"But I don't know anything… aren't there others you could ask?"

"I wish there were. But the nurse couldn't find anyone else who could speak for themselves." The man sighed, defeated.

"Understood… what do you want to know?" Just then, the nurse returned with a chair.

"Sorry for the interruption."

"Thanks." Galan sat down as she left.

"Let's start with your name."

"Kuroda Ryosuke," the man coughed.

"I… I run a successful textile business that I inherited from my father. He was a good man… always ready to lend a hand or a shirt whenever someone needed any… and I've done my share of helping many families in this village too, sir." Two lies, one truth? I like this game… let's play. Galan thought.

"If that were the case, you wouldn't be in this situation, correct?" Ryosuke paled.

"You are correct… Sir."

"Then tell me what you did to anger them. And don't lie. It'll only take longer."

"I also bought a gambling den," Ryosuke admitted.

"I let people owe me money… gave them free drinks as they play… I don't know why anyone would wish this fate on me." Getting people drunk to create debt. Classy.

"Perhaps it wasn't them directly. What would you do if they couldn't pay it back?"

"I… I just wouldn't let them play anymore, I swear." Still hiding the truth? Despicable.

"Sir Ryosuke, be honest. We both know you've ruined someone's life to the point where they decided to end it and became a vengeful ghost. Tell me how." Ryosuke fell silent. His eyes grew glassy.

"There were many that sold everything to pay me back. But I don't know anyone that ended their life over mere debt."

"Then it wasn't just debt. What else did you make them do?" Ryosuke's face contorted in self-loathing.

"Some… worked off their debt in my warehouses, unpaid. Others signed over their farms and precious belongings." A single, genuine tear escaped his eye. So he can feel bad, Galan noted. But this is just the beginning.

"And among those you took advantage of, which of them ended their life?"

"There was one woman… Fujimoto Hanae," Ryosuke whispered.

"She came to me late one night, begging me to relieve her husband's debt while bowing to the floor."

"That bad, huh? How much did he owe?"

"Twenty thousand kogan."

"Impressive," Galan whispered to himself.

"What…?"

"Oh, I mean…" he said, regaining his composure.

"So how did it go from her pleading to her doing this to you?"

"We talked about selling what little they had left," he said.

"And I sold all of their heirlooms."

"So you took their money and valuable possessions, just like that?" Ryosuke flinched.

"Now I need to know what happened when she died," Galan continued.

"It was a few months after I cleared the debt," Ryosuke said softly.

"But I told her husband that he also got twenty thousand kogan to play with." Not very noble of you, Ryosuke, Galan noted.

"And that only made it worse."

"Yes. We spent so much time partying and gambling… we weren't even bothered by the news of her death. I heard she did it because he got another girl pregnant. I also heard that he even gave her his wife's wedding ring." Whoops, guess he's next, Galan thought. I'll get someone to secure them after this.

"Strange that she saw no way out except death, instead of leaving that scumbag."

"She had no one to come back to." Ryosuke closed his eyes.

"The peacekeepers came to me after they found her the next morning. She had made sure she wouldn't be saved… I told them the truth. They told me she was an orphan. They then closed the case… ruled it a suicide.

'With no family to press charges, our hands are tied.' That's what they said." A dry rattle escaped his throat.

"I was… so happy when they left. But now… I realize just what a horrible monster I am." He began to sob, his mangled body shaking against the straps. But Galan was undisturbed.

"So now that we have her motive, we can continue with the day of your attack," he said, his eyes cold.