And that concludes the report, Malleus has been missing for some days now.
A couple of days have passed since she set foot in the safehouse in Hell's Kitchen, Beatrice reported the details of the events that had come to pass.
I see. Forthwith continue your investigation.
Valeria Trifa, The Divine Vessel. Receiving the report, he did not issue any outstanding new orders. The other end of the phone line felt only calm.
For the time being, you may cut down the number of reports. After all, most are naught but harmless back and forth chatter.
The Divine Vessel felt like he had a bitter smile on the other end of the receiver.
Not once, not twice, but four times. Slipping through Beatrice's vigilance and one-upping her. A single person cannot do that, it must be an organization of some sort. In order to stay ahead of an Obsidian Round Table member, who thrives by their individual strength, manpower is needed. And whatever group is behind the murder of so many people who belong to different organizations, that group must be unusually large. In other words...
To think they have not learned their lesson yet, even after the war... Or could it be that they want to try their hand once more with greater numbers? Individuals are yet easy to read, but against an entire country that becomes somewhat impossible for me...
It seems America is closely connected to this case. No, in fact, they might be the instigators. Either way, they seem to want to pick a fight with the Longinus Dreizehn Orden.
Let us leave the rest of this to Malleus. After all, she will surely take proper action for us. No matter what our foolish adversaries are plotting, eventually their plans will wither away.
These words were not for Beatrice. They were likely aimed at whoever wiretapped into the phone line. There are plenty of ways to communicate without the risk of a third party listening in, but Trifa used this method despite knowing it would be wiretapped. Because of this, every call, he would purposely toy around with threatening and humourous dialogue. Beatrice felt sorry for the person in charge, who surely had his guts and heart tossed about. Their sense of duty was seen as nothing but a toy rubber duck by Trifa.
She could relate to that.
After hanging up, Beatrice grudgingly reflected on her way of life and on the orders bestowed upon her by The Divine Vessel.
Who to make the first target... A member of the secret organization in question is a no-go. Their deaths are likely not even reported. A politician is not a bad idea, but they naturally have plenty of enemies and are typically disliked. There are probably many who would rejoice their deaths. In other words, it has to be someone who is loved instead of hated, someone whose death would hit the front page of the newspaper. It would take something like that to make an entire country pay. The important part is not the method of the murder, but the identity of the victim.
Rusalka had the same idea as Trifa. She was going to mercilessly kill. None of the members of the Obsidian Round Table have a particularly strong sense of guilt for their murderous behaviour. Even Lisa, who tends to only say what others want to hear, and Beatrice, who still has some of her purity left, have devoured the souls of thousands. In particular, Wilhelm and Schreiber are exceptionally lacking in their sense of guilt. To them, murder is like dinner, it is something that must be done.
On the other hand, Rusalka kills for fun, though she also has a plotting nature. She kills in order to pursue her personal goals as well. Spinne, who is a tactician, is probably similar to her in that regard. If Wilhelm and Schreiber have natural talent, Rusalka is a hardened professional. At killing, that is.
Rusalka actually already decided who to make the first target. Clearing step one. It is someone who is very dear to the American people, to the president, even. One who eases the minds of those who fear the outbreak of an impending war between the United States and the Soviet Union. That is exactly what makes them worth taking. The important part has now become the presentation of the murder, step three.
The second step, how to actually go about the act, is simple. Once the desired result is determined, there are plenty of ways to achieve it. There is no need for special tricks or an alibi, those are usually produced on the spot anyway. If some decorated detective does end up solving this case, well then that would be too bad. Nothing about this warrants solving, or any sort of common sense to begin with. This case needs something anomalous that goes beyond what people can comprehend.
This is about more than just causing harm, otherwise it would bear no more fruit than that despicable display the other day. Besides, cruelty and pain give rise to hatred. And breaking a heart that is full of hatred is interesting in its own right, although that is a different kind of pasttime. Sadness rules people's hearts, why did it have to be like this!? - it makes people full of regret. This case needs a tragedy.
First, Rusalka got in touch with the target's fanclub. Someone as popular as the target would have many, but Rusalka picked the most exclusive and fanatical one. Repressed love comes boiling over and turns into obsessive love.
Next, Rusalka got in touch with those who hate the target. And not just those who simply see her as a burden, no. Someone extravagant like the target is bound to have many enemies. Having good looks alone is enough to make others jealous, even enough to lead to murderous thoughts. This is something Rusalka knows all too well.
Now that exceptional love and exceptional hatred are all gathered in one place, it is time for Rusalka to move to the target's mansion.
Brentwood, Los Angeles. A place surrounded by a beautiful ocean and mountains, where one can feel the wind of Santa Monica on their skin. Even in America, this is an outstanding place to live. Rory Mitchell enjoyed the happiness. His job is to protect a big white mansion and its inhabitants. In the mansion lives a princess. Of course, not one of an actual royal lineage... Although the American people love her and she has gained the favour of those in power.
However, she has a hard time being crushed beneath all that love. And a princess' guard ought to protect and support her. Rory's conviction went beyond that of a bodyguard.
- I want to become a knight and protect the princess!
Rory is now around 190cm tall, weighs upward of 100kg and can bench press over 150kg. Yet he still clings to his childhood dream. His daily training and his experiences serving the Green Berets has all been for this purpose. And today, this dream is proudly fulfilled. Surely his comrades feel the same way.
The attorney lawyer who quietly came to see the princess left, Rory had been patrolling the mansion up until now, it has become midnight. Besides stalkers and papparazi, some dangerous folk have started targeting her recently... There are many rumours floating around, like the Mafia receiving assassination requests, one would start thinking they were all true.
Patrolling the entire estate from one end to the other, being over two thousand square meters big, takes quite some time. He spotted a sight he had never seen before, a little girl petting a Dobermann dog.
There, there... That's a good pupper... Dogs really are cutest in black...
If one were to forget it is the middle of the night, and she is trespassing, this would be an utmost pleasing sight. But even stranger is the fact that a Dobermann, trained to be a watchdog, is okay with having its head patted by somebody he has never seen before. Even if that person is a child, this should not happen. But no, this is still going on. The dog's cropped tail is wagging in all directions.
This wagging actually indicates fear, and a cry for support. It did not take long for Rory to notice. After all, his own legs were trembling.
Good evening.
The little girl noticed him and greeted him. Rory did not hesitate and drew his handgun.
Stop right there!
The voice that came from his throat spasmed. Not even on the battlefield would one feel this sort of sensation. It was a kind of repulsiveness that the girl emitted. The garden that normally sprawled of exquisite colours, lost all saturation in that moment. This repulsiveness engulfed the entire mansion.
But I'm not going anywhere...
The girl smiled as if she talked to a crazy person. A very reassuring smile. Oh, it must have been a misunderstanding... A beautiful girl like that could never be repulsive... Yet Rory still pulled the trigger. He cannot let himself be fooled by her sugary smile. This is a trap. Rory's dignity as the knight he always wanted to be, as the soldier he trained to be, fearless in the face of adversity, was no match for the girl's simple trick.
In a stroke of luck, the bullet bursting from the barrel hit the girl's thigh. But that was all.
Whoa, you can still fire that in this state? You're pretty good.
She neither bled nor fell over. She was unharmed, even though the bullet definitely hit her. It simply did nothing. Not even an attempt at dodging it, what a body.
This was Rory's favourite gun, neutralizing targets in a single shot. The M1911's design philosophy is focused around that one moment. Rory let out a sound unfamiliar to even him.
Ahhhhhhhh ~!
With a shriek that was more akin to a war cry, he tackled the girl. But she did not move an inch. Rory's Judo technique, that had him tossing around giants at over 200kg in the past, had no effect on the girl. No matter how much strength he put in, he could not sway her body in the slightest.
She touched his chest. There was not even a hint of martial arts technique in her movements, a complete amateur, but Rory's huge body was pushed down to the ground in an instant. His muscle fibers were cut and his bones broken. With but minimal arm strength, the girl overpowered Rory's gorilla-like body.
Hmmmmmmm ♪
The girl mounted Rory with a cutesy smile. The stars lit up her body. Oh, but her beauty was greater than that of any star. Her small lips, her green pupils, all of it.. Rory could feel his manly feelings rise up inside of him, feelings of lust he should have eliminated back when he became the princess' bodyguard... Those feelings that were once sealed away took him over once more.
You...
Her voice reverberated inside his chest. But this time he was not feeling fear, it was pleasant. She ran her finger across his chest, almost unbearably pleasant. The girl still sat, bewitching him.
Why are you still holding back?
Holding back... Those words never quite had any application to Rory to whom hardship and moderation were obvious things. Thinking about it, what did he really mean to achieve by serving the princess? Having his smile returned by her once in a while- Was not enough, was it... He wanted to be loved by her, he wanted to be her only one. He wanted to-
Suddenly the girl's pupils had gone from green to red. Having been satisfied, the girl rose up from Rory's body, but he himself was not satisfied yet.
That's enough playing with you.
What!?
His tone was rough, but he was actually pleading. His own voice sounded foreign to him.
But don't worry, there's plenty of fun left! You know, I'm confident you'll win... Out of all the people here, you were the best.
A battle had started around the mansion. Well, to call it a battle would be a bit too flattering, this was nothing more than a riot. A bunch of guys he did not even know were strangling his bodyguard colleagues. Doing their best to fulfill their duty, they were once more assaulted by another group of unknown naked women. The dogs were ripping the women apart.
A crowd of people Rory did not know were flooding the mansion. Up until a few hours ago, this estate was elegant and peaceful, now it has devolved into the most vile place on earth.
Ah, hatred and love... You know, it's really hard to live while suppressing the way you feel. But today, it's okay to let it all out! Nobody to stop you, nobody to judge you... It's like a paradise.
Rory felt the bliss of being in paradise, but also the pain of having a sledgehammer strike his legs. Rory grabbed the throat of the man swinging the hammer and strangled him. The man's movements stopped after taking another punch and having his throat broken. Rory's knees should have been destroyed, but he can still move. No matter how much he tried, he could not stop this riot.
This place is an all-you-can-eat buffet right now. Rory excercised his strength as he pleased. The more he did, the more his rational thoughts left him. His head became filled with violence and adrenaline, only a sudden high-pitched scream managed to bring him back only slightly to some form of rationality.
He wanted to be loved by her, he wanted to be her only one. He wanted to fuck her up. His primitive instincts took over Rory's mind once more, and just like the other survivors, he acted as he pleased. His dream of becoming a knight who would protect the princess was shattered. No, this was probably some sort of curse that had always been in his way, rather than a dream. He felt eternal gratitude to the girl, no, to the holy woman who made him an adult.
Rusalka returned to Beatrice in the latter half of September, taking over a month since she left in the start of October.
I really went all over America, and everywhere I went was fun! California and Las Vegas were great, but Los Angeles has to have been my favourite!
Rusalka purred on the bed like home sweet home. The problem, however, is that this is Beatrice's single-person hotel room with only one bed. Not quite her own home.
Hey, I can shower first tonight, right?
You're not staying!
As if she could spend the night, use the bed and use other people's stuff like it is hers. Beatrice's rants made her disapproval very clear.
By the way, did anything interesting happen while I was gone?
In particular...
Right. She had to tell her. So far this month, no traces of people investigating the Obsidian Round Table have appeared. Before, traces of them would be easy to find, but recently there have been none at all. Like a turtle that has retreated into its shell, no movements, and no traces.
Oh, I don't mean it like that... More like, in general? Like, did anything interesting hit the front page of the newspapers of late?
Somebody managed to take a small yacht from Japan all the way across the Pacific Ocean to San Francisco. There was a pretty big commotion about it.
Hmmmm...
Rusalka sulked. There seems to be a particular piece of news she wants to hear. Beatrice thought of something that seemed like the unpleasant kind of news she would probably be looking for.
And the death of Marilyn Monroe...
The death of Marilyn Monroe shook not just America, but the entire world. There were few who did not know of this superstar who balanced youth and voluptuous sex appeal. Her blonde hair, red lipstick and her famous longest walk in cinema history. She was someone who left her mark on the entire world.
Yeah, that's the one! Did they already do the funeral?
It seems to have been a private funeral.
While a superstar, Monroe's funeral was held only for close friends and relatives. There remain many mysteries surrounding her death. That morning, the maid found Monroe dead in her room. Her cause of death was ruled poisoning from taking an overdose of sleep medication, likely suicide. That is the only information the people got, a mysterious death.
Hmmmm, yeah that's true. I guess you'd do a private funeral for that...
Rusalka said that with a triumphant expression. Beatrice then understood what Rusalka was up to while she was missing. She made a display of what a real witch is, of how far the Obsidian Round Table is willing to go.
Not just Monroe, she probably killed other figures deemed politically influential too, in ways that probably should not be elaborated on. Rusalka is directly responsible for the decrease in unsettling vibes around Beatrice, and the sudden disappearance of her investigation target's movements. In fact, the person who imitated the Obsidian Round Table might be mistaken for the culprit. Their adversary the size of a country suffered a severe blow by means of being shown what the real thing is. Like The Divine Vessel predicted, Rusalka took proper action and made their blood run cold.
And that concludes the report, Malleus has been missing for some days now.
A couple of days have passed since she set foot in the safehouse in Hell's Kitchen, Beatrice reported the details of the events that had come to pass.
I see. Forthwith continue your investigation.
Valeria Trifa, The Divine Vessel. Receiving the report, he did not issue any outstanding new orders. The other end of the phone line felt only calm.
For the time being, you may cut down the number of reports. After all, most are naught but harmless back and forth chatter.
The Divine Vessel felt like he had a bitter smile on the other end of the receiver.
Not once, not twice, but four times. Slipping through Beatrice's vigilance and one-upping her. A single person cannot do that, it must be an organization of some sort. In order to stay ahead of an Obsidian Round Table member, who thrives by their individual strength, manpower is needed. And whatever group is behind the murder of so many people who belong to different organizations, that group must be unusually large. In other words...
To think they have not learned their lesson yet, even after the war... Or could it be that they want to try their hand once more with greater numbers? Individuals are yet easy to read, but against an entire country that becomes somewhat impossible for me...
It seems America is closely connected to this case. No, in fact, they might be the instigators. Either way, they seem to want to pick a fight with the Longinus Dreizehn Orden.
Let us leave the rest of this to Malleus. After all, she will surely take proper action for us. No matter what our foolish adversaries are plotting, eventually their plans will wither away.
These words were not for Beatrice. They were likely aimed at whoever wiretapped into the phone line. There are plenty of ways to communicate without the risk of a third party listening in, but Trifa used this method despite knowing it would be wiretapped. Because of this, every call, he would purposely toy around with threatening and humourous dialogue. Beatrice felt sorry for the person in charge, who surely had his guts and heart tossed about. Their sense of duty was seen as nothing but a toy rubber duck by Trifa.
She could relate to that.
After hanging up, Beatrice grudgingly reflected on her way of life and on the orders bestowed upon her by The Divine Vessel.
Who to make the first target... A member of the secret organization in question is a no-go. Their deaths are likely not even reported. A politician is not a bad idea, but they naturally have plenty of enemies and are typically disliked. There are probably many who would rejoice their deaths. In other words, it has to be someone who is loved instead of hated, someone whose death would hit the front page of the newspaper. It would take something like that to make an entire country pay. The important part is not the method of the murder, but the identity of the victim.
Rusalka had the same idea as Trifa. She was going to mercilessly kill. None of the members of the Obsidian Round Table have a particularly strong sense of guilt for their murderous behaviour. Even Lisa, who tends to only say what others want to hear, and Beatrice, who still has some of her purity left, have devoured the souls of thousands. In particular, Wilhelm and Schreiber are exceptionally lacking in their sense of guilt. To them, murder is like dinner, it is something that must be done.
On the other hand, Rusalka kills for fun, though she also has a plotting nature. She kills in order to pursue her personal goals as well. Spinne, who is a tactician, is probably similar to her in that regard. If Wilhelm and Schreiber have natural talent, Rusalka is a hardened professional. At killing, that is.
Rusalka actually already decided who to make the first target. Clearing step one. It is someone who is very dear to the American people, to the president, even. One who eases the minds of those who fear the outbreak of an impending war between the United States and the Soviet Union. That is exactly what makes them worth taking. The important part has now become the presentation of the murder, step three.
The second step, how to actually go about the act, is simple. Once the desired result is determined, there are plenty of ways to achieve it. There is no need for special tricks or an alibi, those are usually produced on the spot anyway. If some decorated detective does end up solving this case, well then that would be too bad. Nothing about this warrants solving, or any sort of common sense to begin with. This case needs something anomalous that goes beyond what people can comprehend.
This is about more than just causing harm, otherwise it would bear no more fruit than that despicable display the other day. Besides, cruelty and pain give rise to hatred. And breaking a heart that is full of hatred is interesting in its own right, although that is a different kind of pasttime. Sadness rules people's hearts, why did it have to be like this!? - it makes people full of regret. This case needs a tragedy.
First, Rusalka got in touch with the target's fanclub. Someone as popular as the target would have many, but Rusalka picked the most exclusive and fanatical one. Repressed love comes boiling over and turns into obsessive love.
Next, Rusalka got in touch with those who hate the target. And not just those who simply see her as a burden, no. Someone extravagant like the target is bound to have many enemies. Having good looks alone is enough to make others jealous, even enough to lead to murderous thoughts. This is something Rusalka knows all too well.
Now that exceptional love and exceptional hatred are all gathered in one place, it is time for Rusalka to move to the target's mansion.
Brentwood, Los Angeles. A place surrounded by a beautiful ocean and mountains, where one can feel the wind of Santa Monica on their skin. Even in America, this is an outstanding place to live. Rory Mitchell enjoyed the happiness. His job is to protect a big white mansion and its inhabitants. In the mansion lives a princess. Of course, not one of an actual royal lineage... Although the American people love her and she has gained the favour of those in power.
However, she has a hard time being crushed beneath all that love. And a princess' guard ought to protect and support her. Rory's conviction went beyond that of a bodyguard.
- I want to become a knight and protect the princess!
Rory is now around 190cm tall, weighs upward of 100kg and can bench press over 150kg. Yet he still clings to his childhood dream. His daily training and his experiences serving the Green Berets has all been for this purpose. And today, this dream is proudly fulfilled. Surely his comrades feel the same way.
The attorney lawyer who quietly came to see the princess left, Rory had been patrolling the mansion up until now, it has become midnight. Besides stalkers and papparazi, some dangerous folk have started targeting her recently... There are many rumours floating around, like the Mafia receiving assassination requests, one would start thinking they were all true.
Patrolling the entire estate from one end to the other, being over two thousand square meters big, takes quite some time. He spotted a sight he had never seen before, a little girl petting a Dobermann dog.
There, there... That's a good pupper... Dogs really are cutest in black...
If one were to forget it is the middle of the night, and she is trespassing, this would be an utmost pleasing sight. But even stranger is the fact that a Dobermann, trained to be a watchdog, is okay with having its head patted by somebody he has never seen before. Even if that person is a child, this should not happen. But no, this is still going on. The dog's cropped tail is wagging in all directions.
This wagging actually indicates fear, and a cry for support. It did not take long for Rory to notice. After all, his own legs were trembling.
Good evening.
The little girl noticed him and greeted him. Rory did not hesitate and drew his handgun.
Stop right there!
The voice that came from his throat spasmed. Not even on the battlefield would one feel this sort of sensation. It was a kind of repulsiveness that the girl emitted. The garden that normally sprawled of exquisite colours, lost all saturation in that moment. This repulsiveness engulfed the entire mansion.
But I'm not going anywhere...
The girl smiled as if she talked to a crazy person. A very reassuring smile. Oh, it must have been a misunderstanding... A beautiful girl like that could never be repulsive... Yet Rory still pulled the trigger. He cannot let himself be fooled by her sugary smile. This is a trap. Rory's dignity as the knight he always wanted to be, as the soldier he trained to be, fearless in the face of adversity, was no match for the girl's simple trick.
In a stroke of luck, the bullet bursting from the barrel hit the girl's thigh. But that was all.
Whoa, you can still fire that in this state? You're pretty good.
She neither bled nor fell over. She was unharmed, even though the bullet definitely hit her. It simply did nothing. Not even an attempt at dodging it, what a body.
This was Rory's favourite gun, neutralizing targets in a single shot. The M1911's design philosophy is focused around that one moment. Rory let out a sound unfamiliar to even him.
Ahhhhhhhh ~!
With a shriek that was more akin to a war cry, he tackled the girl. But she did not move an inch. Rory's Judo technique, that had him tossing around giants at over 200kg in the past, had no effect on the girl. No matter how much strength he put in, he could not sway her body in the slightest.
She touched his chest. There was not even a hint of martial arts technique in her movements, a complete amateur, but Rory's huge body was pushed down to the ground in an instant. His muscle fibers were cut and his bones broken. With but minimal arm strength, the girl overpowered Rory's gorilla-like body.
Hmmmmmmm ♪
The girl mounted Rory with a cutesy smile. The stars lit up her body. Oh, but her beauty was greater than that of any star. Her small lips, her green pupils, all of it.. Rory could feel his manly feelings rise up inside of him, feelings of lust he should have eliminated back when he became the princess' bodyguard... Those feelings that were once sealed away took him over once more.
You...
Her voice reverberated inside his chest. But this time he was not feeling fear, it was pleasant. She ran her finger across his chest, almost unbearably pleasant. The girl still sat, bewitching him.
Why are you still holding back?
Holding back... Those words never quite had any application to Rory to whom hardship and moderation were obvious things. Thinking about it, what did he really mean to achieve by serving the princess? Having his smile returned by her once in a while- Was not enough, was it... He wanted to be loved by her, he wanted to be her only one. He wanted to-
Suddenly the girl's pupils had gone from green to red. Having been satisfied, the girl rose up from Rory's body, but he himself was not satisfied yet.
That's enough playing with you.
What!?
His tone was rough, but he was actually pleading. His own voice sounded foreign to him.
But don't worry, there's plenty of fun left! You know, I'm confident you'll win... Out of all the people here, you were the best.
A battle had started around the mansion. Well, to call it a battle would be a bit too flattering, this was nothing more than a riot. A bunch of guys he did not even know were strangling his bodyguard colleagues. Doing their best to fulfill their duty, they were once more assaulted by another group of unknown naked women. The dogs were ripping the women apart.
A crowd of people Rory did not know were flooding the mansion. Up until a few hours ago, this estate was elegant and peaceful, now it has devolved into the most vile place on earth.
Ah, hatred and love... You know, it's really hard to live while suppressing the way you feel. But today, it's okay to let it all out! Nobody to stop you, nobody to judge you... It's like a paradise.
Rory felt the bliss of being in paradise, but also the pain of having a sledgehammer strike his legs. Rory grabbed the throat of the man swinging the hammer and strangled him. The man's movements stopped after taking another punch and having his throat broken. Rory's knees should have been destroyed, but he can still move. No matter how much he tried, he could not stop this riot.
This place is an all-you-can-eat buffet right now. Rory excercised his strength as he pleased. The more he did, the more his rational thoughts left him. His head became filled with violence and adrenaline, only a sudden high-pitched scream managed to bring him back only slightly to some form of rationality.
He wanted to be loved by her, he wanted to be her only one. He wanted to fuck her up. His primitive instincts took over Rory's mind once more, and just like the other survivors, he acted as he pleased. His dream of becoming a knight who would protect the princess was shattered. No, this was probably some sort of curse that had always been in his way, rather than a dream. He felt eternal gratitude to the girl, no, to the holy woman who made him an adult.
Rusalka returned to Beatrice in the latter half of September, taking over a month since she left in the start of October.
I really went all over America, and everywhere I went was fun! California and Las Vegas were great, but Los Angeles has to have been my favourite!
Rusalka purred on the bed like home sweet home. The problem, however, is that this is Beatrice's single-person hotel room with only one bed. Not quite her own home.
Hey, I can shower first tonight, right?
You're not staying!
As if she could spend the night, use the bed and use other people's stuff like it is hers. Beatrice's rants made her disapproval very clear.
By the way, did anything interesting happen while I was gone?
In particular...
Right. She had to tell her. So far this month, no traces of people investigating the Obsidian Round Table have appeared. Before, traces of them would be easy to find, but recently there have been none at all. Like a turtle that has retreated into its shell, no movements, and no traces.
Oh, I don't mean it like that... More like, in general? Like, did anything interesting hit the front page of the newspapers of late?
Somebody managed to take a small yacht from Japan all the way across the Pacific Ocean to San Francisco. There was a pretty big commotion about it.
Hmmmm...
Rusalka sulked. There seems to be a particular piece of news she wants to hear. Beatrice thought of something that seemed like the unpleasant kind of news she would probably be looking for.
And the death of Marilyn Monroe...
The death of Marilyn Monroe shook not just America, but the entire world. There were few who did not know of this superstar who balanced youth and voluptuous sex appeal. Her blonde hair, red lipstick and her famous longest walk in cinema history. She was someone who left her mark on the entire world.
Yeah, that's the one! Did they already do the funeral?
It seems to have been a private funeral.
While a superstar, Monroe's funeral was held only for close friends and relatives. There remain many mysteries surrounding her death. That morning, the maid found Monroe dead in her room. Her cause of death was ruled poisoning from taking an overdose of sleep medication, likely suicide. That is the only information the people got, a mysterious death.
Hmmmm, yeah that's true. I guess you'd do a private funeral for that...
Rusalka said that with a triumphant expression. Beatrice then understood what Rusalka was up to while she was missing. She made a display of what a real witch is, of how far the Obsidian Round Table is willing to go.
Not just Monroe, she probably killed other figures deemed politically influential too, in ways that probably should not be elaborated on. Rusalka is directly responsible for the decrease in unsettling vibes around Beatrice, and the sudden disappearance of her investigation target's movements. In fact, the person who imitated the Obsidian Round Table might be mistaken for the culprit. Their adversary the size of a country suffered a severe blow by means of being shown what the real thing is. Like The Divine Vessel predicted, Rusalka took proper action and made their blood run cold.
