“Oh, certainly,” I replied, letting the corner of my lips twitch up. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in specific individuals. I came to you for a different reason.”

“I remember,” The man let out a short, humorless laugh. “Unfortunately, I was informed this morning that all materials regarding the outbreak of the unknown disease must not be disclosed.” He cast a quick glance toward the corner of the office, where I noticed a small camera with a green light blinking, and then at the safe. That was enough to understand what was being kept locked away. “As you can imagine, this directive came from the local Inquisition department of the Reapers, and it was by no means a request. Disclosing any information would have serious consequences,” Givori paused for a moment. “I’m afraid to disappoint you, but aside from the existing, already-circulated theories and assumptions, you won’t learn anything new.” His voice took on an air of feigned disappointment, but in the expressive depths of his eyes, there was a profound weight to his words.

“So, the incidents did happen, and the patients’ madness isn’t just stories and ghost tales but a real outbreak of a disease brought from the North?”

Givori nodded almost imperceptibly.

“You’re not the first to try and find out what’s really going on.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll just have to be the first to find answers to all the questions,” I said with undisguised determination.

A chill ran down my back, while my neck and face burned with heat. All or nothing. Because taking this kind of reckless risk had two outcomes: on one hand, it could land me by evening in a cell facing a Reaper interrogator. On the other, the fact that the intelligence service was actively working to prevent any information leaks only confirmed its existence here.

We didn’t endure four grueling days on the road, braving barriers, restrictions, and traffic jams, for nothing.

Givori remained stubbornly silent, and I clicked my tongue:

“Do you really think I’d reveal the name of my informant?” He raised an eyebrow, casting a meaningful glance toward the camera in the corner. “Dr. Givori, the country is in panic, and it won’t be long before that panic escalates into uncontrollable chaos. Do we really want another scenario like the southwestern territories?” I said it more to the small, flashing camera in the corner than to the doctor. “Or another situation with aggressive opposition groups? People are terrified. Rumors of an epidemic are spreading everywhere. Loyal citizens need at least some concrete answers, not scraps of gossip that only grow into more horror stories and fabrications. If you know something, it’s a chance to help others. Besides,” I added, “You won’t deny that your patients are in a state teetering on the edge of death and are attacking others, trying…” I paused briefly, taking a deep breath and exhaling almost silently, “…to bite them.”

His response didn’t come immediately. The ticking of the clock seemed louder, and I flinched again, nowcertain I could hear gunshots in the distance.

"I won’t," the man nodded. "And I can tell you one thing: this is clearly not a psychiatric disorder, as many believe," he continued, his voice feigning boredom. Quickly, I pulled a battered leather notebook and pen from the inner pocket of my jacket, ready to jot down every word as he spoke. "First of all, mental illnesses cannot be transmitted from person to person. Second, it’s impossible for so many people to develop the same mental disorder practically at the same time. And third," he continued, "as you rightly pointed out, the carriers are in a state that teeters on the edge of death. And I’ll tell you," Givori’s face twisted with an expression of terror and panic as he pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe the sweat beading on his forehead, "the term ‘on the edge’ is an extreme understatement. Can the equipment really lie to us?"