Chapter 6: Making the Dead Speak

The so-called "Starport," as the name suggests, is a harbor for docking starships, typically established in outer space. Why not on the planet’s surface? Naturally, because launching starships from the ground consumes a tremendous amount of energy to overcome planetary gravity—something that isn't an issue in space.

In fact, since the era of extensive cosmic colonization, most planets' starports have evolved from simple docks for building and parking starships into complex colonial outposts integrating transportation, cargo handling, manufacturing, commerce, tourism, and diplomacy.

The Takahara Starport follows a similar path. It houses factories, commercial complexes, residential areas, and a large permanent population—essentially a small city... if one overlooks that it is constructed within a space station.

As their helium balloon neared the starport, a staff member came by to clear the tables and reminded everyone that they would soon experience weightlessness, advising them to avoid eating or drinking where possible. In zero gravity, food crumbs and droplets of water can float in midair and potentially drift into noses or eyes.

When the ascent platform finally docked with the lower level of the starport, everyone was nearly completely weightless, forced to grasp the railings beside the observation deck and gently propel themselves forward.

Chen Xiaozhu’s situation was exceptional. Normally, Chen Zi’ang would support her as she walked, but now he pulled her along as they floated forward. Without gravity or friction, it was surprisingly easier.

Unfortunately, the weightless passage was only a short segment designed purely for passengers to experience.

Once inside the starport from the helium ascent platform, gravity quickly resumed.

Most of the starport continuously rotated around its central axis, much like a washing machine drum spinning clothes against its walls. This centrifugal force generated an artificial gravity nearly indistinguishable from that on a planet’s surface.

Upon entering the starport’s third district, Chen Zi’ang instructed Tsukimi Suzuna, “Suzuna, take Xiaozhu to the hotel to settle in. I’ll check out the address Qingyu gave me.”

“I’ll come with you!” Tsukimi exclaimed immediately, then suddenly realized, “But who will look after your little sister?”

Originally worried that Uncle Weimen might intrude, she now found it impossible to manage without him. Sigh...

Chen Zi’ang had anticipated her response and smiled, “It’s fine. You go get Xiaozhu settled first. You can catch up with me later.”

“Alright,” Tsukimi reluctantly agreed.

She took Chen Xiaozhu to the hotel to check in, while Chen Zi’ang hailed a taxi toward the address provided by Xia Qingyu.

The location was a pricey inn situated on the starport’s outermost edge, boasting “at least one hour daily of views of the Extreme Northern City through the window.”

Suzuna’s hotel was similar but claimed “six hours daily of planetary vistas.” Chen Zi’ang didn’t bother asking the price, choosing instead to trust that she had won some sort of prize.

Once at the inn, Chen Zi’ang presented his identification and gained the trust of the innkeeper’s wife, who then led him to find the two mutual aid society members.

According to the innkeeper, she had seen the two alive and well just yesterday morning, returning from an outdoor business meeting.

That statement was somewhat odd, as the information from Xia Qingyu indicated that the two were self-media operators—what kind of business deals would they be making?

At the door to their room, the innkeeper knocked but received no response. She knocked again, while Chen Zi’ang suddenly caught a certain scent—a damp, rotten odor.

An alarm blared in his mind. He shouted urgently, “Open the door quickly!”

Startled, the innkeeper hurriedly produced her key and unlocked the door.

As soon as it opened, Chen Zi’ang rushed inside.

The floor was soaked with water, and the waterlogged bed looked as if it had been salvaged from the sea.

Two swollen female corpses lay on the bed, their features and figures completely unrecognizable.

The innkeeper screamed uncontrollably, but Chen Zi’ang quickly cut her off, “Don’t panic. I’m going to inspect the scene. You must report this immediately!”

Terrified, the innkeeper fled the room and composed herself in the hallway before pulling out her phone to call the authorities.

Suddenly, she realized and called loudly into the room, “Aren’t you a security officer?”

“Exactly!” Chen Zi’ang’s voice came from inside. “I just wanted to stop you from screaming.”

He examined the surroundings swiftly.

The bathroom was quite far from the room, and the floors were carpeted.

Yet only the carpet around the bed was soaked through. Chen Zi’ang lifted the carpet to find the floor beneath equally wet.

This meant the water had flowed out from the bed itself.

If this were a mystery novel, such a bizarre crime would require hundreds of thousands of words to explain the strange method.

But the experienced Chen Zi’ang quickly reconstructed the scene through imagination and reasoning:

The two had originally been lying on the bed when Seiko Takano appeared, summoning a massive volume of water from the bed that drowned them alive.

Further examination of the bed’s impressions around the bodies confirmed that something had been pressing down hard on them, pinning them immobile and preventing escape.

Just like at Miyuki Arai’s scene, the indentations in the sheets bore traces of human tissue—perhaps dead skin cells.

For some reason, Chen Zi’ang recalled Xia Qingyu’s annotation on the case file: The living dead.

After roughly compiling the gathered information in a chat window, Chen Zi’ang took photos from multiple angles and sent everything to Xia Qingyu, just as Tsukimi Suzuna returned from outside.

“Senpai, I’m here… What is that awful smell?” she grimaced, looking at the two corpses on the bed with disgust.

“We were too late,” Chen Zi’ang sighed. “The innkeeper said they were alive just yesterday.”

“Is that so?” Tsukimi replied casually.

A mere glance at the scene was enough for her to deduce Seiko Takano’s method of murder.

The Song of the Drowned.

Using the living dead to immobilize victims, then summoning drowners to engulf them completely, releasing vast amounts of water and drowning them alive. Usually, that’s the end.

If the Song of the Drowned were wielded at a high enough level, it could even convert victims into living dead thralls under the wielder’s control.

The presence of bodies at the scene indicated that Seiko Takano—the witch of the Drowned Nest—had not mastered this power deeply enough to cause greater trouble.

Unless she had no plans to kill indiscriminately like Mie Nishikawa, perhaps she could survive a bit longer before being discovered.

After feigning an analysis of the scene, Tsukimi reached the same conclusion as Chen Zi’ang, then added, “What a pity. If we had arrived sooner, we might have intercepted Seiko Takano and gathered more intelligence.”

“Now, unless the deceased speak, this is all we can get.”

“Make the dead speak?” Chen Zi’ang pondered thoughtfully.

It seemed... not entirely impossible?

(The End of This Chapter)