Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 403

**Chapter 405: The Pursuit Unveiled**
Time passed swiftly. After a full day of pushing ahead at top speed, the Glorious Church’s fleet—now carrying the rescued passengers of the Flashing White Pearl—finally caught sight of land. The mainland came into view, and with it, Nawah Port.

By midday, the deck was packed with eager, restless survivors, all craning their necks toward the coastline that now grew steadily larger on the horizon. When the outline of the city became unmistakable, a wave of cheers erupted across the fleet. Ships coasted toward the harbor, where normal maritime operations had been suspended to make space for the church’s incoming convoy.

Nawah Port, situated in the southern region of Cassiglia, was neither vast nor especially prominent, but it was well-equipped enough to handle the influx. The fleet docked in careful formation, gangways extended, and passengers began disembarking in droves.

After surviving the terror of shipwreck and spending the past day crammed shoulder-to-shoulder on crowded decks and passageways, every soul longed for the feel of solid earth beneath their feet. Relief washed over them as they stepped off the gangplanks onto the well-worn docks. Despite everything—the detour, the sunken ship—most wore weary but thankful smiles. Grateful simply to be alive, they fanned out into the city. Some began planning their next steps: whether to continue on to Iwig, return to their hometowns, or stay behind and seek reparations through the shipping company’s investigators.

But while the general mood at the harbor was one of reprieve and cautious hope, not all eyes carried goodwill.

From the shadows near the end of a stone pier, a lone figure stood watching. Dressed in a long dark coat and low-crowned hat, Massimo lurked with single-minded focus, eyes locked on the disembarking masses. From beneath the brim of his hat, he scanned faces one by one, inhaling sharply through flared nostrils—trying to isolate a particular scent.

He had made sure to be among the first to set foot onshore. Now, he waited with silent intensity, hoping to identify a trace of the thief using the residual smell left on the button they’d recovered. Meanwhile, Costas took up a conspicuous post—stationed near the temporary registration area where church personnel were confirming names and cabin assignments. Ostensibly there to assist with missing persons lists, Costas used the pretense to examine every evacuee up close… and to smell them.

Their plan was simple: surround and identify. Together, Costas and Massimo coordinated a trap meant to catch the scent of Thief K in the crowd. But as each group of passengers came through the checkpoint and left the port behind, they found nothing. Time passed. Fewer people remained to be processed. Tension tightened around their necks like a noose. Still, the smell they were counting on didn’t appear. Doubt began to creep in. Could she have slipped past?

The clerical teams at the desks continued to work methodically, scribbling down names and berth numbers. Sacred Rite Knights maintained a visible presence to ensure order, while white-robed nuns moved among the staff with trays and teapots, offering brief comfort.

“Some tea to ease the day. Please, drink.”

“Much appreciated.”

One such nun offered a warm smile as she set a cup next to a tired clerk. Then, without drawing notice, she stepped quietly past him—drifting near where Costas paced.

A tiny insect, no larger than a fingernail, slipped from the folds of her sleeve and landed on Costas’ coat. It wriggled into his pocket and vanished from view. Elsewhere, in a sliver of alley shadow, another insect darted invisibly beneath Massimo’s hat, its movements swift and precise. Neither man noticed.

Finally, the last name was written down. The final passenger cleared the register.

Costas and Massimo froze in place.

Every muscle in their bodies went rigid. Panic built behind their eyes.

“Are… are you sure there’s no one else aboard?” Costas asked, voice tight.

“No, sir, that was the final one. Thank you again for your help today, Captain. We’re finished here,” the priest responded brightly, unaware of the storm behind Costas’s blank stare.

*Gone? The passengers are all gone? But he never showed. How is that possible? He didn’t make a move… Did he stay aboard? Or did he escape long before?*<e/m>

Massimo’s expression twisted in parallel shock. Then, at that exact instant, the hidden insects inside their clothing spasmed violently. The insects split open, releasing a sudden, fine crimson mist laced with faintly glowing Cup-element spiritual energy. The vapor wafted gently into the air.

Costas caught the scent at once—sharp, bitter, metallic. His heart lurched. He reached instinctively toward his pocket and pulled back, eyes widening at the faint, red-tinged smoke still curling out.

“That smell… the same one from that night…”

His breath caught in his throat. His jaw clenched. But after a heartbeat of visible rage, he exhaled slowly and composed his features. With a trembling hand, he straightened his tie and forced a polite smile.

“Well then… looks like my role here is done. I’ll take my leave. May the Holy Mother’s blessings be with you all.”

He turned away, ready to make his exit.

But just as his foot hit the first step, a voice rang out, clear and commanding, halting him mid-stride.

“No need to rush off, Captain Costas! After all your hard work, wouldn’t dinner be a fine way to unwind?”

From the raised bow of the flagship cruiser, Jode stood watching him. The Sacred Rite Knight’s hands were neatly clasped behind his back, and his amber-tinted gaze bore down like sunlight through glass. On either side of him stood three of the fleet’s senior captains, each one locked in silent seriousness.

“There’s plenty of room at our table,” Jode continued. “And bring your companion too. We wouldn’t want to separate old friends.”

His gaze shifted smoothly to where Massimo stood frozen, half-concealed in the shadows. The words hit like hammer blows.

Costas’s hands clenched so tightly his knuckles blanched white. One crackled audibly from the pressure.

“Thief K…” he whispered with venom.

Around the port, the water began to churn with unnatural motion. Threads of spiritual energy rippled through the air. Clergy nearby sensed the shift and instinctively retreated. Up on the ships, officers reached for their weapons.

Mere seconds later, the stillness shattered—loud detonations split the harbor.

Nawah Port erupted into chaos.