Alertness!

"Hello, sir."

Luther's voice was polite but carried a calm confidence, drawing the attention of the man standing beside him. The man, caught off guard, turned sharply, his brow furrowed as he pointed at himself in surprise, silently asking, 'Are you talking to me?'

Luther gave a slight nod, his expression unwavering.

The man blinked, his initial confusion melting away into a broad, genial smile that seemed to light up his face. "Hello! What can I do for you?" he replied, his voice warm and inviting, as if he thrived on these unexpected encounters.

Luther didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned his head and pointed toward the horizon, his finger aimed at the swirling smoke where a towering, shadowy figure loomed. The creature, almost three stories tall, was barely discernible, its outline blending with the dense fog that surrounded it.

"Although I feel like I might be imagining things," Luther began, his tone carrying a note of concern, "do you see that strange creature over there? It's coming this way."

The man's eyes followed the direction of Luther's gesture, but his expression remained blank. He squinted, then shook his head slightly.

"I'm a little worried," Luther continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Could it be that the investigation committee's extraordinary individuals haven't noticed it yet?"

Luther's demeanor radiated earnest worry, the perfect picture of a concerned citizen reaching out for reassurance. His eyes searched the man's face, hoping for some sign of acknowledgment.

But the response was not what he had hoped for.

"Strange creature?" The man frowned, visibly puzzled. "I don't see anything."

Luther's heart sank. For a brief moment, his resolve faltered, his usually sharp instincts clouded by doubt. Was he truly the only one who could see this monstrous anomaly?

"If you have questions or concerns, sir," the man offered helpfully, his cheerful tone unshaken, "you might want to speak to that extraordinary lady over there." He gestured toward a woman in a crisp uniform standing a few paces away, her sharp gaze sweeping the crowd.

"Ah, perhaps it's just my imagination," Luther replied, forcing a sheepish chuckle as he shook his head. "Sorry for troubling you."

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked into the bustling throng. Disappointment weighed heavily on his shoulders, though he tried not to show it. Behind him, the man watched his retreating figure with an inscrutable expression before breaking into another easy smile. His lips moved almost imperceptibly, murmuring words that no one else could hear. Then, as if by chance, his gaze flicked toward the distant smoke. For a fleeting moment, his smile faltered, and a shadow of something, recognition, perhaps; flashed across his face before he turned away.

As Luther weaved through the crowd, he tried speaking with others, describing the strange, monstrous figure in the smoke. Yet, each encounter yielded the same result. Blank stares, polite dismissals, and no trace of acknowledgment. Was it possible that he alone could see it?

He stroked his chin thoughtfully, his mind racing. Could his eyes be playing tricks on him? Or was there something more to this creature that evaded the senses of ordinary people?

Suddenly, a loud cheer erupted from the crowd, snapping him out of his reverie. He looked up sharply, following the source of the commotion. The shadowy figure that had haunted the distance was gone. In its place was a glistening, black substance, a thick, tar-like pool spreading across the ground. Two individuals clad in gray robes were already working to clean up the remains, their movements efficient and practiced.

Nearby, three others, who had previously glowed with an ethereal blue aura, were slumped on the ground, gasping for air. Their exhaustion was evident, their faces pale and slick with sweat. A group of people in pristine white robes hurried over, carrying stretchers. The extraordinary individuals were carefully loaded onto the stretchers and transported into a sleek steam-powered car that hummed quietly at the edge of the road. Within moments, the car drove off, its destination unknown.

The crowd began to disperse under the direction of members of the investigation committee, their white armbands standing out against the haze. The onlookers moved on, murmuring amongst themselves, but Luther remained rooted to the spot.

An extraordinary event, one shrouded in the promise of mystery and intrigue, had just unfolded before his eyes. Yet the entire ordeal felt… mundane. Predictable, even. Luther couldn't help but compare it to the cartoons he had watched in his previous life. The formula was always the same: a monster appeared, the heroes fought valiantly, and the day was saved. The crowd cheered, the heroes disappeared, and life returned to normal. Episode after episode, the cycle repeated with only minor variations.

He sighed, his shoulders sagging. This event, which should have been shrouded in awe and danger, had instead played out like a routine chore for the investigation committee. Still, he considered another possibility. Perhaps this calculated presentation of extraordinary events served a greater purpose, to normalize the strange and prevent panic among the public. It was a comforting thought, though purely speculative.

His eyes flicked back to the smoke. The creature was gone, but the faint imprint of its presence lingered in his mind. He could still picture its massive form, its arms raised toward the heavens as if in a silent plea. Its distorted mouth, half-open, seemed to scream without a sound, a cry lost in the void.

As Luther stared at the smoke, he thought he saw a faint ripple, as though the air itself was trembling. Then, just as abruptly as it had appeared, the ripple vanished. Whatever the creature had been, it was gone now, swallowed by the shadows.

Luther's eyes flickered with unease as he sank onto a weathered bench by the roadside. The day had been a whirlwind of events, some inexplicable, others unnerving and now, he needed to make sense of them all. His mind churned with questions, trying to piece together the fragments of a puzzle that felt deliberately scattered.

'Are they connected somehow?' he wondered, pulling out the ID card from his pocket. It was a simple thing, yet it felt heavy in his hand as he scrutinized every detail on its surface. The more he looked, the more a nagging sensation gnawed at him, like a fishbone caught in his throat; something was off, deeply off.

He leaned back, exhaling slowly, and let his gaze drift toward the crowd in the distance. The bustling street, alive with murmured conversations and hurried footsteps, seemed ordinary at first glance. Yet, a subtle tension prickled at the edge of his consciousness, like a whisper he couldn't quite hear. His level 9 sword-fighting instincts flared, a finely-honed alertness to danger that rarely failed him.

'Someone's watching me.'

Luther didn't react outwardly. Instead, he lowered his head, his mind rewinding the day's events. And then it hit him; a small detail he had almost dismissed.

When he left his villa earlier, the wind had blown down the number plate hanging by the front door: 'No. 96.' At the time, it had seemed inconsequential, just another mundane occurrence. But now, something about it gnawed at him. Sandwiched between houses numbered 68 and 70, it made no logical sense. A deliberate mislabeling, perhaps? And when he paired that anomaly with the presence of an investigation committee member lurking nearby earlier…

Luther's eyes narrowed. Someone was targeting him; or, more specifically, his villa. But why? What was inside that house that they wanted so badly?

His thoughts darted back to the basement. The dimly-lit space had revealed little on his first inspection, yet there had been something; a bulky, cloth-covered object tucked into the most secluded corner. He hadn't dared to investigate it too closely at the time. Whatever it was, someone else clearly knew about it.

A slow, sardonic smile crept onto Luther's face as he considered the implications. If they wanted it so badly, they were in for a surprise. After all, he had stationed a very 'special' guardian in the basement; a ghoul unlike any other.

He'd fed the creature his own blood, among other unsavory concoctions, triggering a grotesque evolution. Strange, pulsing organs had sprouted across its body, and its hunger was… insatiable. If his mysterious visitors had wandered into the basement, they wouldn't be leaving in one piece.

Luther stood, brushing off his coat, ready to return home and confirm his suspicions. But just as he turned, a wave of unease washed over him; a predator's instinct warning him of a threat at his back. He spun around, his eyes locking onto a shifty-looking middle-aged man standing a few feet away.

The man flinched under Luther's piercing gaze, fumbling awkwardly as he bent down to pick up a shiny shilling on the ground. His hands trembled slightly, and his eyes darted around, avoiding Luther's.

But as the man's fingers hovered over the coin, a polished boot descended, pinning the shilling to the ground.

"Sir," Luther said, his voice smooth but edged with steel, "it's impolite and illegal, to take what doesn't belong to you."

The man straightened slowly, his face contorting into an ugly mixture of fear and defiance. Luther held his gaze, his own expression calm but unyielding. After a tense pause, the man mumbled an incoherent apology and slunk away, disappearing into the crowd.

---

Meanwhile, back at 69 Fleming Street, chaos had erupted. The villa's front door had been violently smashed open, and muddy footprints littered the pristine floors of the living room. From the open basement door came a blood-curdling scream, followed by the grotesque sounds of flesh being torn and devoured.

The creature Luther had stationed in the basement; a ghoul now grotesquely transformed, was indulging in its meal. Its jagged teeth tore into the remains of an unfortunate intruder, while dark, viscous fluid dripped from its misshapen body.

Elsewhere in the villa, another entity stirred. The 'Touch of Plague', an unsettling creature that resembled a mass of writhing tentacles, emerged cautiously from the spittoon beside the sofa. It surveyed the wreckage of the door with an almost human-like tremor of anxiety before slinking up to the second floor to check on Harley, its favorite charge.

Peering into Harley's room, the creature visibly relaxed upon seeing the boy still asleep, blissfully unaware of the carnage below. Satisfied, it scuttled back downstairs and peeked into the basement. The ghoul glanced up briefly, its grotesque face smeared with blood, before returning to its feast. The 'Touch of Plague' didn't disturb it. Instead, it quietly shut the basement door, preferring not to witness the rest.

With the intruder seemingly dispatched, the 'Touch of Plague' took it upon itself to restore order. It scoured the first floor, sniffing out any lingering intruders, but found none. Finally, it retrieved a toolbox from under the closet and began repairing the shattered front door with surprising efficiency.

Despite its grotesque form, the 'Touch of Plague' had long since taken on the unofficial role of housekeeper. It fixed broken furniture, scrubbed floors, and even removed unpleasant odors, all to maintain the villa's eerie equilibrium. After completing its repairs, it rolled itself into a tight ball and tucked itself under the sofa in the living room, its favorite hiding spot.

It knew better than to linger in plain sight. No matter how fearsome the ghoul in the basement was, it paled in comparison to the wrath of its true master. 'And even that black-hearted bastard, Nawensel, wouldn't dare disturb the sofa.'

The house fell silent once more, but an air of tension lingered. Whatever or whoever, had broken in tonight had set events into motion that could no longer be undone. Luther's villa was no ordinary home, and now it seemed the world was starting to take notice.