Chapter 156 “The Year That Disappeared”
This Translation is hosted on bcatranslation.com
The elderly priest spoke with a dispassionate tone, as if he were merely narrating a story for others to hear. The fact that he was also a character within that unfolding tale seemed almost incidental to him.
“Apologies for my rambling. It’s easy to get carried away when you’ve lived as long as I have,” he said, offering a warm, apologetic smile to Vanna. “I’m curious, do you have friends from other faith communities as well?”
Vanna paused to reflect before responding. “I do have a close friend who belongs to the Truth Academy. However, she rarely divulges much about their beliefs in Lahem, their god of wisdom.”
“Ahh, followers of the god of wisdom, you say? It’s not surprising that their teachings are reserved. Their doctrines are often so complex that they require a university-level education to fully grasp them. Some even have to pass advanced mathematics tests to be considered true believers,” the old priest said, nodding his head as if this were completely expected. “On the other hand, adherents of the god of death are far more accessible. Death, after all, is a universal experience, something each one of us will face someday.”
He then paused and looked pointedly at the rows of meticulously organized files that sat behind Vanna. “Your Grace, may I inquire what exactly you are searching for?”
Vanna felt a twinge of hesitation. She was uncertain whether disclosing the specifics of her quest to the old priest was wise. The matter of the erased fire incident could pose a significant risk to everyone involved. Alerting some unknown, potentially dangerous entity by discussing it openly could have unforeseen consequences, particularly for those who were unprepared to handle the truth.
But after a brief internal debate, she decided to share some information. They were in the innermost chamber of the church, devoted to the storm goddess. Though the priest may be advanced in years and not physically fit for combat, she had no doubt about the integrity of his faith and his unwavering commitment to the light.
“I’m searching for a specific record. Although, ‘record’ might be a misleading term since I’m not even sure if it actually exists,” Vanna began cautiously. “To be more precise, I’m looking for a clue related to an event that supposedly took place in the sixth month of 1889. It likely involves a major fire, but all information regarding it seems to have been mysteriously erased.”
The priest frowned, deep in thought. “A great fire in 1889? I can’t seem to recall any such event.”
He then paused, looking at Vanna intently. “You’re suggesting that even our memories might have been manipulated to forget this incident?”
“Very possibly,” Vanna replied, her expression grave. “I have nothing concrete to verify the fire’s existence, nor do I have any leads on who might be orchestrating these erasures. My current investigation is purely based on my own suspicions.”
She felt a sudden sense of self-consciousness wash over her. As an inquisitor, she was trained to question and investigate with rigor and skepticism. But this case was unlike any she had tackled before. She had no clear target, no way to determine if she was dealing with a spectral entity or a living being. Moreover, her entire line of inquiry was initiated not by concrete evidence but by her own instinctual hunch—something quite at odds with her usual methodical approach.
The elderly priest, unfazed by Vanna’s hesitation and self-doubt, nodded serenely. “Your faith and character speak volumes, Your Excellency,” he said with a note of conviction.
With those words, he limped briskly over to a column situated between nearby bookshelves. Using his mechanical prosthetic hand, he tapped a specific sequence of bulges on the pillar. As he did, the sound of pistons and gears working together rumbled from below the floor.
Suddenly, the heavy doors to the archive sealed shut. The bookshelves rearranged themselves in a complex dance, making way for pillars adorned with ancient runes to rise from below. During this mechanical metamorphosis, Vanna felt a soft whisper of wave-like sounds wash over her thoughts—a clear indication that the protective barrier had been activated.
“Is all of this really necessary?” Vanna asked, somewhat puzzled by the old priest’s dramatic actions. “I’m still in the preliminary stages of my investigation.”
“Experience has taught me there’s nothing ‘preliminary’ when it comes to a significant threat,” the priest said, hobbling back toward Vanna. Raising his intricate brass mechanical hand, he gestured at the rows of files and tomes. “Given that we’re dealing with something potent enough to manipulate collective memory, I’d say my security measures are fully warranted.”
“But won’t this sudden locking down of the archives raise questions among others?” Vanna asked.
“No,” the priest chuckled, revealing his jagged teeth. “The layout of these archives changes randomly multiple times a month to prevent the degradation or corruption of the sacred texts. Remember, the rule is to never let these ancient manuscripts stagnate.”
“Very well, then I have no further objections,” Vanna conceded.
The priest then turned his attention back to the matter at hand. “I noticed you were perusing numerous reports earlier. Judging by your expression, it seems you’ve stumbled upon something intriguing. Would you like my assistance?”
“Yes,” Vanna admitted. “I came across some fragmented records related to ‘heretical worship.’ While not directly related to the incident I’m investigating, there’s an interesting pattern. These accounts of heretical activities all occurred in the first half of 1889. Then, coinciding with a factory leak in the sixth block, they suddenly ceased.”
The old priest paid close attention, nodding as Vanna spoke. Guided by her directions, he then located the pertinent archival materials.
“Here it is!” Vanna exclaimed, pointing to the unearthed documents. “The rituals listed, which should have been ineffectual, along with reports of substantial psychological damage and localized outbreaks of madness, all point to actual heretical practices. The concluding reports on these activities appear to be standard, yet something feels amiss. I can’t shake the feeling that these investigations were concluded hastily or inadequately.”
The priest looked over the documents with a scrutinizing eye, sensing the gravity of Vanna’s findings. They were wading into dangerous territory, and the protective measures he had enacted felt more justified than ever.
“In a case of this magnitude, simply apprehending and prosecuting those involved can often be considered a thorough investigation. However, you have a point,” the old priest said, furrowing his brows as he looked over the documents. “When we see multiple similar incidents happening within a short timeframe, it’s not just happenstance. Each report notes the perpetrators were ‘inexplicably bewitched,’ yet the source of this enticement remains elusive.”
As he muttered to himself, he suddenly looked up as though a light bulb had gone off in his head.
“Your Grace, your research was limited to the records from the year 1889, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Vanna nodded, quickly catching on to what he was implying. “Are you suggesting that—”
“Exactly,” the old priest interjected. “The events you’re investigating may have taken place in 1889, but who’s to say these anomalies started that year? Let’s consult the records from earlier years. They are located down here,” he gestured toward the lower shelves, “you can start from the bottom and work your way up to the top three rows.”
Vanna moved swiftly to the indicated section and began perusing the files. Within moments, both she and the priest found additional reports that chronicled similar instances of heretical worship dating back to 1888, 1887, and even as far back as 1886.
“Look here,” Vanna exclaimed, “there’s another case report about a sacrificial ritual that took place in the port area. And it happened just two months after the last recorded incident!”
As she flipped through the pages with her heart racing—excited at the thought that she might have stumbled upon a crucial lead—she noticed the old priest staring intently at an empty space on a bookshelf.
“Did you find something?” she inquired, her voice tinged with concern.
“It seems the records for 1885 are missing,” the priest murmured. “They should be right here, following the 1884 files. But after 1884, it jumps straight to 1886.”
…..
“Let’s call it a day,” Duncan said, casting a final glance toward the unsettling church they had just left. “We’ve done all we can here. From this point on, we’ll need to seek external assistance if we want to crack this case, especially since we’re dealing with distortions in time and space.”
“Can I really go home now?” Shirley asked, her voice tinged with anxiety and uncertainty.
“Of course. I’ve never limited your freedom,” Duncan said, smiling as he gently ruffled her hair. Though Shirley was roughly the same age as Nina, her petite and slender frame made him instinctively treat her like a much younger person. “We’re done investigating for today. You can head home.”
Shirley hesitated for a moment, took a couple of steps toward her home, then paused and turned back. “Will we continue this investigation in the future?”
Her words hung in the air, reflecting the weight of the unanswered questions that loomed over them all.
“Rest assured, our investigation is far from concluded,” Duncan said, arching an eyebrow at her. “Why? Are you hesitant to go back home?”
“No, no, not at all!” Shirley hastily shook her head, her eyes wide. “I was just wondering how we’ll proceed the next time we investigate.”
“I’ll either reach out to you or you can come find me,” Duncan assured her with another warm smile, affectionately ruffling her hair once more. “And not just for the investigation; feel free to reach out if you find yourself in any sort of trouble.”
Shirley blinked as if considering the weight of his offer, then gave a somewhat awkward nod. Just as she was about to pivot and walk away, she suddenly blurted out another question: “So, what are your plans now?”
Duncan paused, clearly surprised by the unexpected query. “I plan to go buy a bicycle this afternoon.”
This time it was Shirley’s turn to be taken aback. “Wait, what?”
“Yes, a bicycle,” Duncan reiterated earnestly. “I promised my niece Nina that I’d get her one. It’s been a few days, and I need to follow through on my word. Is that surprising?”
Shirley stood there, mouth agape, visibly struggling to process this information. Finally, she stammered out, “I—I thought you’d be doing something more along the lines of, say, invading subspace or something.”
Before they could delve any deeper into this notion, a sudden burst of black flame materialized in the air beside Shirley and yelled, “I never said that!”
Just as abruptly, the flame disappeared, leaving them no opportunity for a rejoinder. It seemed as though Dog was too afraid to show itself more explicitly.
Duncan stood there, momentarily speechless, before his face broke into a grin. Deciding to play along, he said, “Alright, let’s go with that then. I’m off to purchase a bicycle for my niece, but I’ll do it within subspace. Does that work for you?”
The atmosphere was ripe with unspoken humor, and yet it served as a brief but welcome respite from the gravity of their ongoing investigation.
Thank you for the chapter!
After lotm this is the only story that made me so interested in it. And your translation quality is also great. Keep up the good work.
Okay now this is getting even more eerily intresting….like absence of any record of an entire year !!!! That’s even more creepy than the memory erasure of an even….. that’s some really high level plot
Ayy this author has another book – Record if Unusual Creatures or something. Fully translated.
And LOTM book 2 is out now as well
There’s some pretty chilling entries and stories over at SCP on cognito/infohazards. There’s a horrifying one about a cognitohazard that is killing and erasing the presence of almoat anyone that becomes aware of it. One researcher discvers that the SCP department that deals with those particular kinds of cases is way, way too small. There used to be like 10x the amount of people and facilities used to contain and study cognitohazards, but they’ve been disappearing and so has almost everyone that realizes this.