Chapter 117: A Bride for Every Month

Chapter 117. A Bride for Every Month

The town stretched across towering sea cliffs, its white stone buildings and red-tiled rooftops arranged in beautiful terraces overlooking the turquoise ocean. Elegant bridges connected different districts, while countless staircases wound between houses, shops, and flower-covered balconies.

Honestly, whoever designed this town must have been obsessed with stairs.

At the highest point stood an enormous cathedral, its towers overlooking a bustling plaza. Below, a magnificent harbor welcomed merchant ships and fishing boats, while a lighthouse guarded the entrance.

But what fascinated me most were the lamps.

They were everywhere.

Enchanted lanterns hung from balconies, decorated bridges, and lined cobblestone streets. Some resembled flowers, stars, or butterflies, glowing faintly even beneath the afternoon sun.

No wonder Lumenford was famous for its enchanted lamps.

I could only imagine how breathtaking this place became at night.

A perfect romantic destination.

I descended toward a broad terrace, attracting curious glances from pedestrians before landing on the cobblestones.

The salty breeze brushed against my face as I surveyed the beautiful town.

I was still admiring the view when I noticed someone approaching from the direction of the central plaza. A middle-aged man dressed in formal administrative attire hurried toward me, accompanied by two guards who maintained a respectful distance behind him.

The man looked slightly breathless.

Someone had apparently noticed my arrival. Not particularly surprising. A man descending from the sky while wearing a cloak bearing the kingdom’s insignia wasn’t exactly subtle. I might as well have landed carrying a giant banner announcing my presence.

The official stopped several steps away and bowed deeply. "Lord Rey Valen. We’ve been expecting you."

I nodded.

Well, that was convenient. No introduction necessary.

The official straightened, attempting a polite smile. Unfortunately, the nervous tension around his eyes betrayed him. "Please, my lord. Follow me. Lord Veymont and the town chief are waiting for you."

I gave another nod and followed him.

He seemed relieved. Poor man. He was probably expecting some terrifying Royal Magus who would turn him into a frog for breathing too loudly.

Our footsteps echoed across the cobblestone terrace as we headed toward the town center. The two guards followed several paces behind us, their armor occasionally clinking whenever they moved.

I remained silent. Not because I disliked the official. I simply didn’t see any reason to talk unnecessarily.

The original Rey had been like that too. Quiet around strangers. Observant. Rather intimidating without particularly trying. And apparently, I possessed the same habits. Another interesting similarity between us.

Sometimes, I wondered whether these habits were originally mine or something I’d picked up from Rey’s memories. Then again, we’d always been ridiculously similar.

But honestly? It hardly mattered. We both preferred observing people rather than entertaining them with meaningless conversation. And apparently, we both had a concerning tendency to become fascinated by things that could potentially kill us.

As we walked, I examined everything around me. The buildings. The streets. The people. Even the placement of the enchanted lamps. Whenever I arrived somewhere unfamiliar, observation came naturally.

The streets were lively, although I noticed something peculiar beneath the cheerful atmosphere. People were working. Merchants advertised their goods. Children ran between stalls. Glassworkers displayed beautifully crafted lanterns in their shop windows. Yet whenever someone mentioned a wedding, the mood around them seemed to change.

A woman arranging flowers outside a shop suddenly grew quiet when she noticed a bridal ribbon hanging from a nearby stall. Two elderly men lowered their voices while discussing something beside a fountain. And near a jewelry store, a young couple appeared to be arguing with a worried-looking older woman.

Hmm...

Fear hadn’t emptied the streets. But it had settled into the town like an invisible fog. Everyone was still going about their daily lives, pretending things were normal. Unfortunately, people were terrible at pretending when something frightened them. Especially when the threat involved their daughters.

My arrival didn’t help matters.

Quite the opposite. Heads turned wherever we passed. Women paused beside shop windows. Men stopped their conversations. Children pointed at my cloak, whispering excitedly to one another. Even several elderly residents watched me with expressions that ranged from curiosity to suspicion.

A few young women standing outside a bakery began whispering the moment they saw me. Their eyes traveled from my face to the kingdom’s insignia on my cloak before returning to my face.

One of them blushed. Another nudged her companion. And the third looked suspiciously interested in whether I was married.

I couldn’t blame them for looking.

This face was rather unfair.

The original Rey had apparently been blessed with the sort of appearance that made women stare and men question the generosity of the gods.

I practically looked like some famous model or idol who couldn’t walk down the street without attracting attention. Except this particular idol was secretly plotting to corrupt a sacred artifact and possibly bring an entire religious institution to its knees.

Just a minor difference.

The men were less enthusiastic. Some whispered about my identity. Others glanced at the guards accompanying us. A few seemed relieved, probably assuming the kingdom had finally sent someone capable of solving the disappearances. And then there were those who looked worried.

I memorized their faces. Not because I suspected every nervous citizen of kidnapping young women, of course. That would be absurd. But fear could reveal useful things. Especially when someone was frightened for reasons different from everyone else’s.

"Did you have a pleasant journey, my lord?"

The official’s voice interrupted my observations.

I glanced at him. "Like usual."

"Ah. I see."

Silence returned.

The poor man smiled awkwardly.

I could practically hear the gears turning inside his head.

He wanted to make conversation.

Understandable.

We still had quite a distance to walk, and escorting a silent Royal Magus through town probably felt like accompanying an executioner who hadn’t decided whether he liked you. I almost felt sorry for him.

He glanced toward the harbor, apparently searching for another harmless topic. Perhaps the weather. Or the town’s famous lamps. Maybe the quality of the local seafood. Before he could begin, I decided to spare him.

"Tell me about the disappearances."

His expression immediately changed. A topic worth discussing.

"Anything you know is fine," I continued. "I’ll verify the formal details with Lord Veymont and the town chief."

"Of course, my lord."

He adjusted his posture, visibly relieved to have something useful to say. The disappearances had begun approximately a month ago.

The first victim had been a young woman preparing for her wedding. Her disappearance was initially treated as an isolated incident, perhaps an elopement or an unfortunate encounter with criminals. Then another woman vanished. And another. By the time the authorities realized something was seriously wrong, the number had already grown. But according to the official, the investigators had struggled to identify any other meaningful connection.

The women came from different families. Some were merchants’ daughters. Others belonged to ordinary households. A few had relatives involved in Lumenford’s famous lamp-making store. Their financial circumstances differed. Their neighborhoods differed. Even their wedding dates weren’t particularly close.

Hmm...

Ordinary kidnappers generally preferred predictable targets. Wealthy families. Vulnerable travelers. People whose disappearances wouldn’t attract immediate attention. But these victims apparently had little in common beyond their approaching marriages and religious affiliation. Which suggested the selection criteria might be something the investigators hadn’t considered.

I continued listening as we crossed a stone bridge overlooking the lower market. Then the official mentioned something that made my attention sharpen.

"Their birthdays were different as well, my lord."

I glanced at him. "Different?"

"Yes. The investigators checked their ages and birth records, hoping to identify a pattern. But even their birth months were different."

I slowed slightly. "The months?"

"Yes, my lord."

"All twelve?"

He nodded. "Each woman was born in a different month."

Now that was interesting. Twelve different birth months. One woman representing each month of the year. My expression remained unchanged, but inside my head, several unpleasant possibilities began arranging themselves into a rather fascinating pattern.

I knew something about this. Not the exact ritual, necessarily. But the underlying principle.

In ancient forbidden magic, certain formations required sacrifices representing a complete cycle. Twelve months. Twelve celestial divisions. Twelve positions arranged around a central magical axis. Depending on the ritual, each sacrifice could serve as an anchor for a different segment of the formation.

A complete annual cycle could be used to stabilize large-scale summoning magic, manipulate spiritual boundaries, or construct certain types of dimensional gates.

Of course, that didn’t mean the culprit was definitely performing such a ritual. But combined with the victims’ shared status as brides-to-be? That was considerably harder to ignore.

Marriage represented a transition. A binding. A promise.

In some ancient magical traditions, a bride standing between her previous life and her married life was considered symbolically valuable. Not because marriage itself granted special magical power, but because rituals could exploit the meaning assigned to that transition.

Identity.

Vows.

Spiritual bonds.

If the victims were all devoted followers of the Light Temple, their faith might provide another useful characteristic. If my suspicion was correct, we weren’t dealing with a simple kidnapping operation. We might be dealing with a completed set of ritual components. And that raised one particularly unpleasant question.

Were the women still alive?

I hoped so. Not merely because rescuing them was my assignment. But because their survival could reveal something about the ritual’s intended purpose.

If the culprit needed them alive until a specific moment, then there might still be time.

If not... I would deal with that possibility when I had evidence.

For now, I kept my thoughts to myself.