'...some of these made their slaves unable to speak of their master, to the point of causing self-inflicted pain. A slave began to bleed from the eyes and violently bash their head...'

"FUCK YEAH! BINGO!" exclaims Deedee.
As she reads the old book, she can't help but rejoice when she finds something that could be useful.

*SSSSHHH*

A chorus of hushes and disapproving looks surrounds her, interrupting her joy.
The library is a silent sanctuary, and Deedee is the desecrator.
An exasperated sigh makes its way through the onlookers as the detective remains unaware of her uncontrollable outburst.
The scandalized readers naturally urge her to maintain a more appropriate tone for the place she's in.

Deedee clicks her tongue.
She would love to tell them to go to fuck themself, but she can't afford to get kicked out of the library as well.
"I apologize..." she lowers her head and whispers an apology.

As vast as the internet may be as a source of information, when you're really looking for something in detail, it's challenging to find it.
That's why her investigations have led her to a retro place like the library.
The search has been long and tedious.
She has spent sleepless nights and consumed liters of caffeine.
But finally, she has found a lead.

'Chronicles of the Chand Exorcists during the Hohsclafrige Dungeon Incident 1788'

A title as long as the fucking book, and equally heavy, thinks the detective.
Now she can start connecting the dots.
Curses.
It even seems absurd to think about such a thing, but is it really that absurd?

Curses.
The word resonates in her mind.
The bastard behind all this, the "alchemist" as the detective has nicknamed them, the one who synthesized the drug formula, the true hidden hand behind the drug trafficking, might be using curses.
There is a common thread connecting Drusla, Vonner, and maybe a demon.

Her sixth sense, sharp as a blade, suggests that there is something dark and ancient behind all this.
A shiver runs down her spine as the puzzle takes shape.
But they are only speculations without concrete evidence.
Deedee thinks she might be delirious.
Perhaps too many sleepless nights, too much caffeine, coupled with the suspension from the police, are driving her out of her mind.

But if her instinct is right, does that mean the culprit is a fucking demon?
In the book, Chand exorcists had to face demons and their servants.
These servants were enslaved by curses that kept them subdued.

It's been centuries since a demon was last spotted, even though their existence has been documented.
Moreover, it's written in this book, as proof of reality; it's not a work of fiction but a book that cites historical events.
The church has based its existence on combating demonic forces.
They could well be inventions, but magic exists, and she herself entered a dungeon, so she has no reason to doubt.

Curses... Deedee knows someone knowledgeable about these, an old friend.
She should pay her a visit and seek advice.
Now, she teaches at the Extrella Academy, the school for Ventures attended by Reis Vonner, Nikola Drusla, and several of those arrested in the raid. Everything leads back to that place.

*DRIINNN* *DRIINNN* *DRIIIN*

Her phone rings, and in the silence of the library, it resonates loudly.
For a moment, Deedee thinks about the stupidity of not setting her phone to vibrate.
People complain impatiently about yet another violation from the green-haired woman.

"Enough with this commotion, we're in a library!" the librarian reprimands her.

"Fuck you all, I'm conducting a fucking police investigation, you fucking bookworms!" Deedee snaps and insults the library-goers.
She flips them the middle finger and glares disdainfully at those shocked by the woman's reaction.

She takes the old book.
She strides quickly out of the building, with the phone still ringing.
Chesterwin's name appears on the smartphone.

"Hello?" the woman answers just in time as she steps out of the library.

<Deedee, finally!> she hears from the sergeant Calpho Chesterwin, whose voice is also seems quite fat.

"What's happening, Chesterwin?"

<Reis Vonner is dead.>

The news hits her like a punch in the stomach.
Violent and unexpected.

"What the fuck?! Suicide?"

<No, a brawl in prison. Stabbed.>

This is unexpected.
Could it be a coincidence?

"Who killed him?"
<The dynamics are not clear yet, but probably one of the subordinates.>

The coincidence seems too significant to be just that.
Her mind races with the possibility of a curse, an invisible thread linking these unexplained deaths.

"Chesterwin, we need to dig deeper. This can't be just a prison brawl." Deedee is a torrent of emotions. "Maybe a settling of scores? An assassination on commission? Renner is a big man, a C-rank Venture. Can he die from a simple stabbing?" She vomits her questions into the phone.

<I'm already doing something I shouldn't by notifying you. Captain Vasistas hasn't gotten over his anger yet.>

"I would like to talk to the killer."
Maybe if she could interrogate him, she could find out more.
A clue to make sense of this madness.

<It's not possible, Deedee. You know that.> Chesterwin brings her back to reality, harshly.

Deedee would like to tell the fucking pig to go to hell, but if she has to be objective, she knows the man has already done a lot, despite her always treating him badly.
She can't close this door.

"Thanks, Chesterwin. At least, let me know if you find out anything else."

<I'll try.> The sergeant responds with little certainty.

Deedee hangs up the phone with a determined gesture, but the turmoil is evident in her eyes.
The news of Vonner's death casts a darker shadow over her already murky investigation.

Nikola Drusla is dead by suicide. Reis Vonner was stabbed in a brawl.
Two different deaths, but she can't shake the thought that things are connected.
This case, which has cost her a suspension, has become an obsession.
What she can't say for fear of being taken for crazy is that she thinks the Masterminds are getting rid of anyone who can link them to the crimes.
If that were the case, gradually, all those arrested should die like flies.
But is it really possible to kill indirectly and in such different ways?
Can curses justify these events?
And, most importantly, how can she prove these crimes?

"Ah, how I wish for a cigarette..." she sighs.
She quit a long time ago, but when under pressure, the craving returns.

She has to go to that fucking school.
The leads point there, and that's where her friend, an expert on curses, is.
Kanna Merfal.