Of course, the Deep One glanced at Alexander before swiftly departing, but Alexander was convinced it was Roland.

“It was definitely him. Clearly, Roland seems to be under Janet's control, which explains the attack on Eric…” However, Roland seemed to retain some degree of will; otherwise, he wouldn’t have given me any indication.

“Come over here, we found someone in this room.” While cleaning up the battlefield, Spain and the others stumbled upon a discovery. They found a man in the room.

The man was wearing tattered clothes, sitting in a corner with drool at the corner of his mouth, and he kept giggling foolishly. The room reeked of a foul stench, with traces of excrement in the corners.

His eyes were sunken, and he was emaciated, as if he had been seriously ill. His face held a vacant, silly grin, clearly indicating he had gone mad.

“He… could he be the Annandon we’re looking for?”

Eric, still somewhat shaken, glanced at the man with suspicion.

Alexander had the same thought as Eric. He crouched down and asked, “Are you Annandon? Annandon Williamson? You’re a photographer from Essex?”

The mention of “photography” seemed to ignite a spark in Annandon’s eyes.

“Who are you? Were you deceived by Janet Williamson, too?”

The ragged man who seemed insane had a sharp look in his eyes—hardly the gaze of a madman.

He’s pretending to be mad!?

Carmen and Alexander exchanged glances, understanding the meaning in each other’s eyes.

“Mr. Annandon, you’ve been pretending to be mad all this time, haven’t you?”

“Heh, if I didn’t pretend, there’s no way I’d have survived until now…”

Annandon gave a cold laugh, his voice calm as he said, “If I weren’t pretending, my cousin Janet would have killed me by now.”

“What do you mean?” Alexander pressed on, sensing that Annandon held vital information.

“A cigarette? Does anyone have a smoke?”

Annandon said little more, his brow furrowed and mood visibly unstable.

“Quick, a cigarette…” Alexander hurriedly asked an adjacent soldier for one. Among Spain's group, getting a cigarette wasn’t difficult.

Annandon took a few drags and his tension eased.

“Both Janet and I are descendants of the Williamson family. Our family is closely allied with the Marsh family, so we share certain blood ties. Every few generations, some descendants suffer a peculiar hereditary condition, causing their bodies to undergo bizarre changes…”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“That’s likely not a disease but a curse, originating from the Innsmouth curse, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. According to an elder’s research in our family, it is the curse of the Innsmouth bloodline. Members of our family under certain conditions transform into half-fish-like monsters. Some are imprisoned by the family until death, others vanish without a trace, and more cannot endure this fate, choosing suicide instead.”

Annandon took a deep drag of his cigarette, exhaling a long stream of smoke.

“Janet and I have known about this curse since we were young because my father committed suicide, and Janet and I happened to witness it…”

“From then on, we were terrified, fearing the same fate, so we joined forces early on to investigate the curse’s origin.”

“Ultimately, we discovered Innsmouth and met Madanra, a distant relative. He revealed the truth behind the curse, explaining it wasn't a curse but a blessing—an immortal blessing. Becoming a Deep One, a descendant of Father Dagon and Mother Hydra, serving the Great Old One Cthulhu, is the highest honor!”

“Heh, but neither Janet nor I could accept such an ‘honor’…”

Alexander was surprised; this part of the story went beyond his previous assumptions, introducing significant twists.

For example, he hadn’t expected Annandon and Janet to know Madanra. This knowledge would have altered many of their strategies.

“Madanra didn’t trouble you?” Carmen asked, puzzled by the historical context.

“Of course not. By seniority, Madanra is one of our elders. He understood our perspective but believed that our Innsmouth blood was strong enough to ensure we would one day become part of the cult. He said he would wait for us because that day would surely come…”

At this point, Annandon shivered, his eyes filled with an intense, unshakeable fear—the fear of Madanra’s prophecy, which he believed deep down.

“I forced myself not to believe him, though subconsciously I knew he spoke the truth.”

“Yes, Janet probably felt the same. We both knew it was our fate, our inevitable end—to either transform into a Deep One or take our own lives.”

“But Janet was stronger than me. He refused to accept this fate and sought to change it. Over the years, he’s been trying everything, even enrolling at Miskatonic University to access its forbidden library, convinced it held the answers…”

“One year passed, then two, or perhaps three, he continued searching and trying various methods, even resorting to witchcraft…”

—Clearly, Janet eventually discovered something. Alexander’s eyes reflected this understanding.

Annandon seemed to read his mind and nodded.

“About half a year ago, I started showing strange signs, just like my grandfather and ancestors—signs of Innsmouth. It marked the beginning of our transformation…”

At this, he suddenly removed his shirt, revealing an astounding sight—Annandon’s back was covered in dense fish scales.

“As you can see, I’m already transforming, but Janet was worse off. His transformation was more advanced, even distorting his body into something hideous.”

“Wait, but Janet now shows no signs of transformation?”

“Let me finish...” Annandon took another drag of his cigarette.

“About six months ago, when his condition worsened, Janet took a long leave, retreating to his countryside vacation home. Secretly, he found me and said he finally had a solution.”

“It was a horrific ritual. Don’t ask about the details—it’s something I wish to never remember, an exceedingly vile ceremony.”

He seemed lost in thought, his face pale before finally recovering.

“The ritual was successful; we truly encountered something, especially Janet, who seemed to receive enlightenment. He was muttering incessantly, as if communicating with someone.”

“What exactly did you encounter?”

“I truly don’t know; it seemed like an abyssal evil…” Annandon tossed the cigarette butt and stomped it out.

“Strangely, the signs of Innsmouth in us soon vanished…”

Afterward, Janet became increasingly bizarre. He followed the instructions of an unnamed evil god, leaving for a while, then returning to tell Annandon that the deity required him to retrieve something from Innsmouth—a tape of Nemesis accidentally obtained by the Dagon cult.