The next morning, some strange yellowed leaves flew through the streets as they soaked in the puddles. The storm from the night before had been less intense than people expected. The rain had already stopped, but the sky remained cloudy. The leaves on the ground seemed to be made of parchment paper. Pedestrians thought they were advertisements until they got closer to them.

The lieutenant hated those leaves. Maybe he would never have said it out loud if I hadn't been interested in hearing his version of the events. He respected Asmodeus a lot, his friend, so he didn't want to belittle his work, but he really hated those leaves. And he hated even more the fact that they were necessary.

They had been insignificant a few hours earlier, but their message ended up spreading like wildfire throughout the city. Now no one ignored their existence.

The death of the girl was the topic everyone was talking about. Some debated what had happened, the motives behind the crime, or why Asmodeus had become interested in it; others wanted to downplay the issue, claiming that the girl had simply drowned or that it was a distraction to hide something else. The rest of the people struggled to avoid the topic while swimming in a sea of reactions. Ink, graphite, and cellulose had alerted an entire city, just as his friend had predicted.

It was incredible, but the lieutenant still felt bad about it.

Lately, everything in his life seemed wrong. His stomach had turned from the moment he saw the girl floating face up in the river. From there, everything had gotten worse. He felt bad in many ways, but he couldn't find the time or the words to express his troubles.

Seeing the girl collapse seemed to be the climax of all his sorrows, but what followed afterward continued to test his sanity.

Lieutenant Elena had been horrified to hear what Asmodeus wanted to do to the girl's body. It sounded grotesque. It was, in fact. Autopsies were as abhorrent in theory as in practice, but necessary on occasions like that. It was difficult to explain to the lieutenant what such a procedure was and why the lieutenant trusted Asmodeus's judgment so much. Opening a corpse was like desecrating its owner's memory, that's how she saw it. She hated the idea of allowing that to be done to the girl and almost jumped on Asmodeus to stop it, but the lieutenant managed to calm her down and make her swallow her anger.

By the next morning, Asmodeus had already drawn his conclusions regarding the crime. He revealed to the lieutenant the details of his findings in the technical language he liked to use with his close associates, but adamantly refused to use it to spread the crime.

A pencil drawing and a three-paragraph message were all he had in his hands. The lieutenant asked why, but there was no clear answer. "We need a greater impact," was all Asmodeus said.

Something interrupted the lieutenant's morning walk. It was a shrill voice giving orders. Some children were playing further ahead. He could hear them better as he approached. They seemed to be interested in the leaves on the street. They talked as if they were in some game, but their faces were more serious.

A boy approached the driest leaf he could find. He was small, about seven years old, a little younger than those challenging him. The presence of an adult usually intimidated them, but at that moment they were so focused on what they were doing that they didn't even pay attention to the lieutenant.

One of those leaves floated in front of his eyes. He had already seen its content; the lieutenant had been the first to see it. He didn't like much the way the facts were expressed, although he couldn't deny that it was having a great effect on people. The leaf stuck to the wall of a building while another one hit his chest. He didn't want to, but he felt he had to take it.

Three simple paragraphs were written there, accompanied by a very realistic drawing of a girl's face. Straight hair, large lips, chubby cheeks. She looked like the image of any child, but in her eyes, a difficult-to-describe sadness could be seen.

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"It seems real," said the children as they challenged each other to hold her gaze. Some were afraid of its details, feeling that the drawing's pupils would move at any moment to return their gaze. The brave boy from before wanted to show the others that he wasn't scared, but was horrified to find a haggard face. The graphite of the drawing had blurred due to water action, and the result was even more chilling than the original image.

The lieutenant also felt fear from that, but for completely different reasons. Haunting ghosts were his last concern. It was his failure that he saw reflected in those eyes.

The brave boy ended up succumbing to terror. He screamed as he threw the leaf away and ran off, scaring off his other companions and making them scatter in different directions.

The lieutenant was also unable to hold her gaze for too long. He stepped on the leaf to sink it into a nearby puddle, but the girl's face remained tattooed in his memory. He didn't explain to me with words what he felt in those moments; it's something I saw reflected in the sorrow in his eyes.

Some adults further ahead were discussing the topic. They were elderly, perhaps retired already. They were paying close attention to the "ink." They had never seen anything like it, they said. It was like a soft ink delicately applied to the paper to create textures. Some wanted to touch it, but their fingers stained with its color. Only one of them could identify it as graphite. Almost no one in the world was interested in such material. And whoever was had to pay large amounts of money to order its extraction. Ink was better and cheaper.

Despite everything, even those adults couldn't ignore the realism of the girl on the paper. Her lips were dry, her eyes were teary, and her hair was battered. A shadow darkened half of her face. If you paid closer attention, you could even see some wounds on her face. The combination of those almost imperceptible details on that face was what disturbed everyone.

No one had ever seen such artistic skill, nor did they think they would find it scattered on the streets. Each stroke seemed to tell a story, one that no one would want to think about, but that everyone could sense.

The message below was even more heartbreaking:

"Do you know me?

On the thirteenth day of the current cycle, my body was found adrift in the Pocuán River. I was between eight and ten years old when I died. It is believed that I had a condition called 'micrognathia,' which means that my jaw was smaller than normal and I had difficulties eating and breathing, but that didn't stop me from working to survive. Fishing was among my favorite activities, and it is believed that I lived in the marginal sector of the west.

Authorities determined, from the wounds and marks on my body, that I was captive for almost twenty days before my death, so it is likely that I was kidnapped late last cycle, just around the time of the harvest festival. From that moment until my death, I was bound hand and foot and injected multiple times with drugs of various types. I was still alive when they found me, but I succumbed to the action of a corrosive poison that had been administered to me. My muscles were painfully contracting, my stomach acids had begun to digest my intestines, and my blood was losing the ability to transport nutrients throughout my body.

The substance that killed me is unknown, but it had the ability to completely suppress my regenerative factor. Authorities believe that a criminal group is trying to create a potent poison against any usshyer. Right now, adults might be able to resist its effects, but it's only a matter of time before the perpetrators achieve their goal by experimenting with children like me.

Do you know who I am? Do you know my parents? Help me get my name back."

A heavy and somber silence spread through Elker as rumors and the wind spread the message. The rain had already completely stopped, but the clouds continued to darken the streets.

By dusk, all the adults had managed to realize the terrible extent of the news. A criminal group was developing a lethal weapon against usshyers. It was only a conjecture, but it revived rumors of a war against the Munrich kingdom. Whether it was the Stavenger government acting in the shadows to synthesize that poison or, on the other hand, whether it was King Decanius who was behind that terrible act. Either of the two possibilities was horrible. No one would be safe from such a conflict, even the proudest Stavians were aware of that.

Looks of concern and consternation crossed between the distressed faces of the citizens. The news quickly spread to the surrounding villages until it reached the capital of the Stavenger kingdom itself and even beyond, carrying with it a feeling of indignation and fear.

Mothers, terrified by the idea that something similar could happen to their own children, hugged their little ones tightly while fathers exchanged worried glances. The news of the kidnapping and murder had lit a fuse in the hearts of the people that would be very difficult to extinguish.

The lieutenant thought of his friend's words, "We need a greater impact." Fear, terror, indignation was what he sought. The lieutenant and his colleagues —as authorities—didn't take long to feel the effects of those words. First, their communicators were flooded, then citizens flooded their offices.

A few extra words were written at the bottom of the leaves.

"A favor from L'Asmodeus will be granted to the person who provides relevant information about the case. To make it valid, contact Roldus d'Elker, second lieutenant of the city."

The lieutenant initially thought that wouldn't be a big problem. Strengthening the message by backing it with Asmodeus's reputation and trusting a high-ranking officer seemed like a great idea. It was, in fact, only perhaps too much.