Chapter Six: The Moonlight Is Beautiful Tonight

“There are three types of anomalous incidents our Sixth Division is responsible for, categorized by their level of danger: 'Corruption,' 'Incursion,' and 'Descent of Divinity,' from lowest to highest,” Chen Ziang explained, gathering his thoughts to systematically lay out the division’s work.

“Corruption refers to humans coming into contact with certain objects imbued with mysterious powers. The resulting severe psychic contamination causes their spiritual perception to spike, ultimately transforming their bodies into monstrous forms.”

“Turning into monsters, you mean?” Suzuna Tsukimiya feigned curiosity. “But as frontline operatives, even with our protective measures and regular checkups, long-term exposure to anomalies still raises our spiritual perception. Why haven’t we become monsters?”

“It’s a matter of speed,” Chen Ziang replied. “Think of it like a diver ascending or descending in deep water—every so often, they must stop and acclimate, or else the body can’t withstand the change in pressure. It’s the same principle with spiritual perception.”

He took a sip of tea, then continued, “Compared to corruption, incursion refers to anomalies from the Abyss manifesting in our world for various reasons.”

“I have a question,” Suzuna eagerly interjected. “What sort of anomalies actually manage to invade?”

“You’ve probably heard the iceberg analogy,” Chen Ziang responded seriously. “The Abyss is like an unfathomable ocean, and our world is the floating ice on its surface. What we call ‘spiritual perception’ is merely our way of describing depth within that Abyss.”

“Just like marine creatures, anomalies each have their own depths where they’re active. Take the deep-sea anglerfish, which swims about a thousand meters below the surface—it’s impossible for it to appear above water. But sardines, which school near the surface, sometimes leap into the air.”

“In the same way, it’s mostly the lesser anomalies, active at depths between zero and ten, that frequently emerge in our zero-depth world.”

“I see,” Suzuna nodded. “So the ones we usually deal with are these lesser anomalies, right?”

“Exactly,” Chen Ziang confirmed. “As for the Descent of Divinity…”

He fell silent for a moment, frowning. “I don’t know much about that. All I can say is that any ritual attempting to communicate with a deity from the Abyss—and actually succeeding—has almost always led to catastrophic disaster.”

“Fortunately, contacting a deity is exceedingly difficult. They reside at the deepest levels of the Abyss, and to establish a connection from our world takes immense time and effort. Various anomalies arise during the process, so as long as we detect and respond in time, it’s not that hard to stop.”

“But what if, for whatever reason, we fail to stop the ritual?” Suzuna asked, curiosity undimmed.

“Well,” Chen Ziang quipped, “at least you won’t have to worry about disciplinary action from the bureau.”

Because the northernmost city would be utterly destroyed, right… Suzuna managed a dry laugh.

“In short, working in the Sixth Division is certainly dangerous,” Chen Ziang said, offering a timely hint. “If you want a quieter life, the best choice is Intelligence Division Two. They mostly handle fraud and economic crimes, overtime is rare, and it’s easy to rack up accomplishments.”

“Then why does a senior like you choose to stay in the Sixth Division?” Suzuna pretended not to understand, pressing on.

“Because…” Chen Ziang paused, “before they disappeared, my parents worked in this field. They ran a spirit-banishing agency.”

Suzuna, of course, knew that due to certain unspeakable secrets, not everyone who encountered an anomaly would report it to the Public Security Bureau. Thus, unofficial exorcism groups serving private clients had emerged—some were detectives willing to take any case, others appeared to be monks or shrine maidens with more relevant backgrounds.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Chen Ziang said, clearly unsettled by the topic of his parents. “It’s getting late. Shall I walk you home, Suzuna?”

“Oh.” Suzuna hesitated, half wishing to stay the night, but she knew her tradition-minded senior would never agree. Instead, she gave a bright, dimpled smile. “No need, I’ll walk myself.”

“I insist.” Chen Ziang was firm. “This path is narrow, and the lighting isn’t great.”

They changed into their shoes and stepped outside. In front of the house was a narrow path for non-motorized vehicles, and beyond that, a river called the Tone.

Suzuna walked beside Chen Ziang, hands clutching her small purse, treading lightly as she watched the silvery moonlight reflected on the riverbank. Suddenly, she spoke softly, “The moon is so beautiful tonight.”

“What?” Chen Ziang hadn’t quite caught her words.

“I said,” Suzuna twirled around with a lively step, her long hair arcing elegantly like an unfurling silk umbrella, “the main road is just ahead.”

“This is far enough, Senpai! You can go back now!” She beamed at him.

“Very well.” Chen Ziang nodded. “Take care.”

Suzuna waved, then turned to leave. After taking six or seven steps, she glanced back and saw Chen Ziang still standing in place, seemingly determined to watch until she reached the bright main road.

Their eyes met for a moment. Suzuna raised her right hand demurely, waving again to assure him he could return. Only then did she continue on her way.

Rounding the corner, she walked a few more steps, then suddenly turned back, hiding behind the wall to peek out cautiously.

She watched Chen Ziang’s figure disappear behind the gate before lowering her gaze, a faint sense of loss filling her. After a moment’s silence, she took out her phone to call a taxi.

Before the driver responded, her father’s call came through.

“Suzuna?”

“Father, are you off work?”

“Yes. I heard you handled a case today, but the Public Security Bureau won’t tell me the details…”

“Don’t worry, Father. I can handle it,” Suzuna replied, spinning lightly on her toes. “I have a wonderful senior guiding me.”

“A senior?” Her mother’s voice sounded on the line—first surprised, then swiftly composed. “Bring him home sometime, so we can host him properly.”

“No need, Mother,” Suzuna replied with a laugh. “He’s just an ordinary public safety officer; there’s no need for you to vet him.”

“Very well,” her father’s authoritative voice returned. “Whenever you tire of this, just come home. No daughter of the Tsukimiya family needs to risk her life among thugs and riffraff at the grassroots…”

His words were drowned out as her mother interrupted, the two lowering their voices in a hurried argument that Suzuna couldn’t quite make out.

“It’s all right,” Suzuna said, still smiling. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Good night.”

She hung up, her smile slowly fading.

Her father had guessed right—joining the Sixth Division was never her true ambition. Yet, with knowledge of what the future held, the plan she was weaving in her heart was something she could not reveal to anyone around her—not just yet.