Bride of the Ineffable

A13 - Saint Ines

The name entered your awareness with weight. It wasn’t far from the town where you stayed—a larger port city, once famous for deep-water docks and underwater surveys. All mentions of Gu City eventually led back to this port.

After breakfast, you headed to the library.

The air in the old books section smelled of dust, moisture, and ancient paper. You leafed through local histories and folklore volumes, fingers gliding over yellowed pages. Hours of cross-referencing finally yielded a clearer record in a damaged tome:

Gu City, a special city controlled by the “Holy Gu.”

Your pulse quickened.

The book did not describe the Holy Gu as a mere insect. It was more like a living conduit capable of receiving, transmitting, and amplifying will. The so-called city master did not need to govern each person directly—controlling the Holy Gu meant controlling the nerves and obedience of everyone within Gu City.

You closed the book, and a vague map in your mind began to take shape.

If the ancient texts were correct, Gu City was more than a location. It was a system: a city, a city master, a Holy Gu, and countless humans linked into it.

The tome also mentioned that an actual specimen of the Holy Gu might be preserved in a nearby city’s museum.

You immediately went there.

The museum was small, with few visitors. Its display lights were dim, and the glass bore a haze that no wipe could clear. In an inconspicuous corner, you noticed a specimen labeled “Unknown Insect.”

It rested in preservative fluid, its body shriveled, yet intricate internal structures were clearly visible. Fine tube-like organs ran from the abdomen to the spine, resembling a biological signal reception and transmission system. You crouched, fingertips hovering against the glass.

Could this be the Holy Gu?

The description card confirmed your suspicion. The specimen had been donated by the town’s geological research institute, originating from an expedition near Saint Ines Port. The last line was particularly striking:

Its complex signaling system may be the key to the legend: the Holy Gu obeyed the city master, and through it, the city obeyed as well.

You photographed the note, then headed to the geological institute.

After an explanation, you obtained a copy of the expedition report. It noted that the research team had discovered suspected ancient ruins in the waters near Saint Ines Port, but unstable geology prevented further exploration. Among the sources listed repeatedly in the report was one name:

Elias Hale.

A local fisherman, who had provided extensive information on positions and tides to the expedition.

The name felt like a key that had yet to enter a lock.

By evening, you followed the address to a fishing village. The settlement was old, its alleys narrow, walls weathered and bleached by sea wind and salt. In a secluded corner, you found Elias Hale. The old man looked extremely aged, and his eyes were cloudy.

At first, he eyed your questions warily. You did not press; you merely uttered the words “Holy Gu.”

For a moment, his murky eyes cleared. He leaned closer, voice soft and cautious. “The Deep Ones… they know the truth. They roam the depths, guarding ancient secrets...”

Then he trembled as he handed you a piece of paper. It had a street address in Saint Ines Port and the location of a nameless antique shop.

“When you reach Saint Ines Port,” he said, “you must go there.”

You later searched online, but found no trace of the shop. No name, no reviews, no map entry. It existed only in Elias Hale’s wrinkled paper—a blank left unrecorded by reality itself.

The next morning, you set out for the port city of Saint Ines.

Following Elias Hale’s directions, you eventually found the shop, nestled between two damp old buildings. Its narrow façade bore no sign, only a dim yellow lamp hanging outside.

Unfortunately, the antique shop had no posted hours, and its door remained shut all day until evening.

You stood across the street for a while, watching the dim yellow lamp above its entrance sway in the damp sea wind. Just as you were about to give up for the day, you noticed another sign nearby.

A detective agency.

It occupied the second floor of a narrow building beside the alley. The stairwell smelled of dust, cheap coffee, and rain-soaked wood. When you pushed the door open, a bell gave a weak chime.

Behind a desk buried under case files, a man looked up.

“Welcome,” he said, sounding only half awake. “What can I help you with?”

You walked closer to the desk, then stopped.

For an instant, something moved behind him.

It was gone too quickly for you to identify, but the shape was unmistakably wrong—long, pale, and flexible, like a tentacle slipping out of sight.

“Hello,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “I wanted to ask whether there have been any unusual cases in the city recently.”

The detective shifted slightly, blocking your view of the space behind him.

“Oh?” His expression sharpened with interest. “You’re interested in detective work, too? There is one case causing quite a stir lately.”

You tried to look past his shoulder, but saw nothing.

“Can you tell me about it?”

He lowered his voice. Something flickered through his eyes, so faint you almost missed it.

“A wealthy businessman disappeared after purchasing a batch of antiques,” he said. “No one has heard from him since.”

You kept your gaze on his face, though your attention remained fixed on whatever might be behind him. “How long has he been missing?”

“Two weeks. His family is frantic. They’re offering a one-million-dollar reward for information.”

“And there are no leads at all?”

“None.” The detective shook his head. “The police checked surveillance footage and questioned everyone they could. The man vanished like smoke.”

“What about the antiques? Was there anything special about them?”

“That’s the problem.” He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping once against the edge of a file. “Their origin is unclear. No one can even confirm where they were purchased. They may be tied to an old legend, but we’re still looking into that.”

Then he smiled.

“I’ve already told you quite a lot. Interested in working together?”

You hesitated. Something about the room felt wrong—the angle of his body, the covered space behind the desk, the faint wet sound you were not sure you had heard.

“Thank you,” you said. “How would we split the reward?”

“At minimum, fifty-fifty. If you contribute more, you could take up to ninety percent.”

“I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

The moment you stepped out and closed the door, you heard something from inside.

A soft, familiar, unnatural sound.

You turned back at once and tried the handle.

The door would not open.

You stood there for a few seconds, hand still on the knob. Then you looked toward the antique shop again. Its door remained closed.

There was nothing more you could do tonight.

You found a small hotel near the port and checked in. After locking the door, you used your private information network to search for the missing businessman’s case. The results confirmed part of what the detective had told you. The antiques had no traceable origin. Stranger still, after being taken into police custody, they had vanished from the station.

The surveillance footage showed only a group of “monsters.”

You stared at that word for a long time.

No matter what, sleep first. You closed the file.

The next day, you found that the antique shop had finally opened.