《Bailonz Street 13》


 Chapter 1: The Murderer of the Mist

    I was afraid of him.


    There was always a man by my side while I wandered the dark streets.


    This is just figurative speech, but partially true: no matter where I was, that man would always walk beside me.


    It was truly strange. How could one person be so blindly devoted to another? It seemed impossible.


    ¡­So, he was a frightening person.


    When I first saw him, that¡¯s what I thought.


    How can such a person exist? Even setting aside his god-like appearance, when he looked at me with those awe-inspiring eyes, fear was my first reaction.


    His eyes, like the misty gray sky of London, only reflected me. It was as if I were the entire world to him.


    There was a hint of familiarity in his gaze. Some might find such feelings very romantic, but I¡­ I wanted to run away.


    The reason was simple¡­


    ¡°Help me. I¡¯m trapped in a game, and an NPC is obsessed with me.¡±


    Anyone wouldugh if I said that.


    ¡°Stop ying games and get some sleep.¡±


    People would probably give me that kind of advice. If I could have, I would have done it a long time ago. It¡¯s so frustrating that I could die.


    ¡°It¡¯s a horror game. When did it turn into a dating simtor?¡±


    It was something that should never have happened.


    A bug, yes, a bug. This is no different than a bug urring and making him act this way.


    The man, who seemed to be bugged, then spoke.


    ¡°I thought I had hidden my thoughts and feelings about you well.¡±


    What did he want to say? I wondered.


    His gray eyes were still fixed on me.


    Now that I think about it, it was like that from the beginning. From the moment I started the game with this character, his gaze was always fixed on me. He found me among the crowd and followed me with his eyes, watching whatever I did.


    My mouth went dry, probably because of his gaze. Or maybe it was because of his eyes that persistently followed me.


    ¡°Jane Osmond.¡±


    He called me. I didn¡¯t answer.


    There¡¯s a word people use to describe epting the inevitable helplessly: fate.


    His hand cupped my cheek. His moist breath was suddenly close. The blue moonlight rested on his forehead, lingered over his eyes, and slid down his cheek.


    Some things are inevitable. For me, this man is one of them. I closed my eyes.


    A voice was heard. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was me speaking or someone else. But one thing was certain, the words echoed in my ears and lingered in my mind.


    ©¤¡±Jane, this is a game.¡±


    ¡°This is a game.¡±


    And I opened my eyes.


    Currently, I am a beta tester for a VR game being sold by ¡°Punk¡± this quarter.


    ¡°Punk¡± is a well-known game tform among gamers. It sells games of all genres, from big corporate releases to indie creations. Because of this, many users buy games during the frequent seasonal sales.


    Among the games I bought this way, horror games are my favorite. I can¡¯t get enough of watching and ying anything horror-rted. Thinking back, this might be the main reason my life started to go off track.


    Recently, I started a new game set in 19th-century Ennd, a seamless thrill-shock-suspense-horror-murder mystery.


    It soundsplicated, but it boils down to a horror game. I¡¯m not sure why they promoted it with ¡°thrill-shock-suspense¡± as key phrases. Maybe they just wanted to throw everything in there.


    The title is <Misty London: Bailonz Street>, a VR horror game.


    In its early development, it was criticized as a survival horror genre knock-off, amon game. Critics and seasoned gamers alike pointed out its ws and ridiculed it.


    Then, just when people started to forget about it, thinking it had failed, a yable demo suddenly appeared. The gamepany easily overturned the ¡°failed game¡± sentiment and garnered high scores.


    Excellent settings, excellent in-game graphics, excellent sound!


    Members of the Punkmunity, including myself, were quite excited about the game¡¯s release. Each element was intriguing, and the developers promised to twist the clich¨¦s of horror games.


    That was three months ago. Finally, the long-awaited beta test day arrived.


    The beta test only covers ¡°Chapter 1¡±. The rest will be avable in the full release. They likely released this beta version to check if the VR game interacted properly with yers. I heard it had voice recognition scripts.


    Anyway, today is the weekend, the weather is perfect, I have no ns with friends, and the semester is over, so no professors or assignments will bother me. It¡¯s the ideal environment for immersing myself in the game. I put on my VR headset and settled into my chair.


    The game started. I heard the fan whirring in the console. Was it the fan? I don¡¯t know much aboutputer structures.


    My vision flickered white, and after a moment, the game title appeared in elegant script:  <blockquote>


    [Bailonz Street. 13.] </blockquote>


    It felt like it was handwritten. I heard the sound of ink spreading on paper and the scratch of a pen. The pen strokes were heavy. Was it a man? Two drops of ink sttered and spread from the pen tip.


    Wait, are we starting right away? Just like that? No introduction to the developers or anything?


    Before I had more time to wonder, music began to y, and then¡­


    And then I was screwed. In English, it starts with F and ends with K, that word, you know.


    ¡°No, no, cancel! I said cancel! Excuse me! You crazy voice recognition game! Ahh!¡±


    It was a truly terrifyingly perverse game.


    Interacting with objects,municating with NPCs, and choosing dialogue options all created cause-and-effect rtionships. When certain conditions were met, specific events were triggered. These events helped predict the conclusion and solve the case to reach the ending. That seemed to be the overall system.


    ¡®How am I supposed to do anything when they tell me nothing¡­.¡¯


    I made a mistake within five minutes of starting the game and had to retry. I ran away screaming and got killed.


    I didn¡¯t even know why. I just died. The cutscene when I died was so realistic that I wondered if I had actually been murdered.


    My vision blurred. In the dark alley, I saw blood pooling on the ground.


    Restart.


    * * *


    Let¡¯s talk about the characters while the game is loading.


    There are two yable characters: John Osmond and Jane Osmond.


    John Osmond is a detective, who can freely use weapons and leverage public authority, while Jane Osmond, as a civilian, is better at gathering information and blending in with people.


    Additionally, Jane¡¯s advantage is that she can save the game at any time. Normally, in games like this, you have to interact with specific objects to save, but in Jane¡¯s case, she can save on thest page of her notebook. There are only nine slots, but you can overwrite existing data.


    So, you don¡¯t need to find a save table or vase while being chased by a murderer. This is the best advantage. In this type of game, finding strategies through infinite save and reload is the best method, especially in hard mode.


    I chose Jane Osmond.


    Her job is an assistant to a detective. She lives in a small room in the detective¡¯s office, with a contract to deduct a portion of her monthly sry for rent. Even so, finding such a spacious t with a kitchen, living room, and all necessary amenities in London for this price is not easy.


    Anyway, Liam Moore doesn¡¯t overwork Jane unless they are on a case. During cases, he asks for Jane¡¯s opinions and sometimes jokes that our two brains are better than all of Scond Yardbined.


    The loading isplete. The settings seems familiar now¡ªa boarding house.


    We work together from this office-boarding house. Since we¡¯ve been living together from the start, people around us sometimes call me ¡°Mrs. Moore.¡±


    When that happens, I don¡¯t respond, and Liam silences them with a few stern words like, ¡°What kind of mind do you people have?¡±


    When the game first started, the man in front of me asked, ¡°Jane, what about the case list I mentioned before?¡± I thought he was very harsh, but he wasn¡¯t just that. Heughs a lot, is humorous, and doesn¡¯t mind if I use his name a bit for my own purposes.


    For a 19th-century man, he¡¯s not that difficult.


    This is my assessment of Liam Schofield Moore.

 Chapter 2: Run, Jane, Run (1)

    So, during my free time, I wandered around Bailonz Street and Blemich Street, using Liam Moore¡¯s name to pry into cases. I asked the residents if they had heard anything about the incidents. If they had, I inquired if they could share the information with me.


    Most people looked at me like I was crazy and walked away, but asionally, someone helpful would appear. However, the information I could gather from these individuals was clearly limited.


    ¡°If I heard of someone being killed? But why are you so interested in that, miss?¡±


    ¡°So uncooperative,¡± I sighed as I walked the streets aimlessly, my parasol swinging from my arm.


    Now, let¡¯s see¡­


    The current quest toplete is¡­ <Collect Witness Statements>, right?


    I should talk to some police officers. Of course, there are limits to the policemen I can meet by myself. It would be helpful if some familiar faces appeared nearby.


    Unfortunately, Scond Yard trusted Liam Moore, not Jane Osmond. Some officers seemed resentful of their reliance on Liam, but the higher-ups¡¯plete trust allowed us to be closely involved with the cases.


    The gaslights dimly illuminated the fog. The grey afternoon of London, with the Thames visible beyond, seemed like a world separate from the hurried pedestrians in thick coats. I never imagined I¡¯d witness such a scene so vividly. A carriage passed by. What did Liam say again?


    ¡°Observing others carefully is the first step to deduction, Miss¡­¡±


    ¡°Miss Osmond.¡±


    A voice ovepped with my recollection.


    I was pondering where to go while looking at the map. For a moment, I thought it was Liam calling me from the second floor. I wasn¡¯t sure if that was possible, but with high freedom in this game, it might be.


    When I turned my head, the interaction button activated. A white name appeared before my eyes:


    [H. Brixon.]


    The man who spoke was wearing a worn-out coat. I habitually scanned him, a habit I picked up from spending time with Liam Moore.


    His tie didn¡¯t match his clothes, indicating he had overslept. Typically well-dressed like a proper English gentleman, today he appeared rushed. His tie, usually tied with a double knot, was hastily done with a single knot, and a red line from a shaving cut marred his cheek. Judging by his half-shaved beard, he had likely worked all night and was half-awake.


    His right shoe was always more worn out, a sign that his weight leaned to the right, and he had a habit of dragging his feet.


    Unlike Liam, I had some sense of social propriety, so I didn¡¯t mention all these observations and embarrass him.


    ¡°Inspector Brixon,¡± I responded, pressing the interaction button. The inspector smiled slightly, creasing his eyes.


    This sombre, tired-looking man in his thirties was Inspector Henry Brixon. He was one of the Scond Yard officers Liam Moore often burdened with cases.


    Henry Brixon, being naturally good-natured, neverined to Liam. Sometimes I wondered if he was just too oblivious to notice any rudeness.


    Poor Brixon. I hope you aren¡¯t troubled by anyone. But sometimes, things don¡¯t go your way.


    This also applied to me. Sometimes things didn¡¯t go my way.


    Inspector Brixon asked calmly and politely, then offered his arm.


    ¡°Shall we walk for a bit?¡±


    ¡°Only to Hyde Park.¡±


    We walked slowly, and I meticulously questioned him about witnesses and recent incidents. The man escorted me, diligently answering all my questions. He never once asked why I was interested in this, which was somewhat surprising.


    The witnesses were a reporter from the London Daily Report on his way to work and a resident living nearby¡­


    The murder scene was boldly in the middle of the street.


    The reporter, the first to witness the scene, almost passed by, mistaking the victim for someone resting on a bench due to the thick fog. However, the puddle of blood on the ground stopped him, and just in time, the fog cleared, revealing the gruesome scene.


    ¡°It¡¯s a murder!¡± he shouted, and a nearby resident came running. Both became important witnesses for the police investigation.


    After listening carefully, I asked, ¡°What was the state of the body?¡±


    ¡°Well, Miss Osmond, the body was missing its head.¡±


    Got it! A crucial testimony.


    My eyes sparkled with interest, and I leaned closer, not wanting to miss a word.


    The five recent murder victims were all found decapitated, which had the Scond Yard in a frenzy.


    Predictably, the newspapers had a field day, likely with a significant contribution from the witness reporter,mbasting the ipetence of the London police and the brutality of the serial killings.


    ¡°How long had the body been dead? What did the coroner say?¡±


    ¡°Less than an hour. It seems the crime wasmitted just before people started going to work. The cut was messy, and there were some blood traces a little distance away. It seems the attack happened there, and then the body was moved.¡±


    Ding, a new notification sounded as if a quest waspleted.


    [Case Investigation:


    Visit the crime scene (0/1)]


    To visit the crime scene¡­ Let¡¯s postpone that for now. It¡¯s not the time. While we talked, we had walked to Hyde Park.


    Thete autumn sun was setting. The surrounding fog thickened. Without a pocket watch, I couldn¡¯t check, but it must be time for him to go home. It was fine for me, living in the 21st century, but for a 19th-century woman, keeping a man out thiste was not seen favourably.


    I spoke apologetically.


    ¡°Inspector Brixon, I fear I¡¯ve kept you too long.¡±


    He waved his hand dismissively and looked around.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright. I¡¯ve enjoyed our conversation, Miss Osmond. Let me get you a carriage¡­.¡±


    It seemed he wanted to see me off properly. His gentlemanly demeanour was very kind.


    However, the carriages that had been passing by earlier were now nowhere to be seen, and Brixon¡¯s expression quickly turned to one of confusion. There were no pedestrians or sounds. He looked around in all directions. A brief silence fell between us.


    ¡°This is unusual,¡± Brixon remarked, breaking the silence, which was unlike him. I agreed, and I tightened my grip on his arm slightly.


    Has an event trigger been pulled? I couldn¡¯t tell where it had started. Was it because we decided to walk together? Or was it just a simple game glitch that made everyone disappear?


    ¡°This is dangerous.¡±


    My mouth went dry. A strange, ominous music started ying in the background. Brixon didn¡¯t seem to hear it, which meant it was only audible to me!


    This was bad. Very bad. Have I ever seen the fog in London this thick before?


    Brixon could no longer hide his now pale face. The man, who usually considered it impolite to touch a woman, urgently grabbed my hand and spoke hurriedly. He must have thought now was not the time to worry about such manners.


    ¡°Miss Osmond, run straight back the way we came.¡±


    ¡°To the main road?¡± I understood what he meant.


    ¡°Yes. Avoid the alleys and head straight for the main road. Find a carriage and return to Mr. Moore immediately.¡±


    Unfortunately, we couldn¡¯t act on his words. Brixon¡¯s eyes widened, and his body began to lean forward slowly.


    I tried to support the man who copsed into my arms, but when I saw his back soaked in red liquid, I was horrified.


    Someone had attacked us in this fog. But there hadn¡¯t been a hint of anyone else!


    Instinctively, I realised that this attacker was likely the perpetrator of the previous incidents, but I had no way to respond, and I couldn¡¯t just leave the injured Brixon behind.


    Even if I tried to run, how could I survive against this silent assant? With the event trigger already pulled, there was no way to avoid it. I needed to save, to open the save file.


    But¡­


    ¡°It won¡¯t activate¡­?¡±

 Chapter 3: Run, Jane, Run (2)

    No matter how many times I pressed it, the save file wouldn¡¯t open.


    Why? Damn system, I pressed the button!


    My frustration was boiling over.


    Henry Brixon, with ragged gasps, took out the revolver from his coat and handed it to me. He managed to do it after a few failed attempts.


    ¡°Run.¡±


    A sharp pain red in my neck. I felt the metallic taste of blood rising from my throat.


    The unused revolver felt heavy in my hand. My body leaned forward. Brixon¡¯s eyes were fixed on something behind me.


    In that brief moment, as he used his remaining strength to reach out and protect me¡­


    [You died.] A subtitle appeared.


    I was just killed.


    * * *


    I caught my breath.


    The shock of being stabbed in the neck left me paralyzed, unable to restart for a moment.


    I didn¡¯t understand why the save file wouldn¡¯t open. Is it simr to being unable to change characters during battle?


    I rubbed my sweaty neck and pressed the restart button. The scene rewound to thest saved point.


    What if this glitch happens again? The anxiety gnawed at me. The event seemed triggered by Inspector Brixon, but I couldn¡¯t tell if it was because we took a walk or because Hyde Park was the next murder scene. This required further testing.


    Alright. Let¡¯s remember the information gathered so far.


    The witnesses of this case are a journalist and a citizen. I need to check the newspaper and then head straight to the crime scene. Should I bring Liam¡­ would it be safe to bring Liam? The thought of the murderer in the mist attacking Liam Moore made my mouth dry.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    A soft, low voice.


    I had returned to the morning of the day I died. I saw arge window, then the central sofa, the firece on the wall, and the desk ced at regr intervals by the window.


    Liam Moore, in his indoor gown, waved from the sofa. His sleek, ck hair glistened from the water.


    ¡®Diligent as always,¡¯ I thought.


    Living under the same roof as a superior who starts the day earlier than I do was sometimes a hassle.


    A prepared breakfast and a cup of tea. I remembered the taste clearly, having had it just a few minutes ago.


    Today¡¯s tea was a bit bitter, and Liam quietly furrowed his brows as he drank it.


    ¡°The tea is bitter, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°The tea is bitter.¡±


    I asked quicker. Liam¡¯s gray eyes looked up at me with slight surprise.


    Though we were superior and assistant, we agreed not to use formal speech with each other. Well, the AI probably didn¡¯t recognize formal and informal speech anyway.


    He seemed to want to ask ¡®how,¡¯ but instead, he lowered his head to look at the dark tea and then back at me. The milk jug beside him was untouched.


    ¡°Are you feeling unwell? You¡¯ve been holding your neck continuously. Yourplexion doesn¡¯t look good either.¡±


    Ah. Only then did I lower my left hand from my neck. The shock of death must have been significant. I had been holding my neck for a while.


    Liam poured the bitter tea into the zing firece (it wouldn¡¯t extinguish the fire, but it wasn¡¯t a graceful gesture) and handed me the newspaper.


    ¡°A new case.¡±


    I took the newspaper, and he naturally shifted to make space beside him. There was a sofa opposite and another beside, but he expected me to sit next to him, as usual, with a brazen and natural demeanor.


    ¡°Who is the victim?¡±


    I mumbled with a piece of bread in my mouth.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see. An unidentified male (John Doe), no ID on him, found sitting on a bench¡­ without his head. The testimony from the crime scene is detailed. This isn¡¯t information gathered through simple questioning. Journalists often live around here due tock of funds. It seems a lucky hound from the London Daily picked up the scoop¡­ Goodness, they¡¯ve dubbed it the ¡®Misty Murderer.¡¯ Not a wise move.¡±


    ¡°Misty Murderer!¡±


    He was right. Naming a murderer is never a good idea.


    I¡¯m curious about what happened to my corpse. Brixon, is he safe? In the timeline before I restarted, I was likely found as a body. How did Liam Moore react? Did he give a cold critique even to my death?


    Lost in our thoughts, looking at the newspaper together, we were startled by a cough. The bread I was eating fell, and Liam sighed, pushing the newspaper aside and brushing crumbs off myp with a napkin. Another cough was heard.


    ¡°Damn it, Jefferson.¡±


    Liam recognized him without looking up. I wasn¡¯t as familiar, so I raised my head to see the man. Inspector Jefferson, stern-faced, removed his bowler hat and approached me with a light greeting.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Miss Jane. Liam, you too.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better if we don¡¯t meet often.¡±


    Liam Moore replied coldly. He seemed quite displeased about the interruption of our peaceful morning.


    ¡°The door was open, so I came in. But I fear you have been too often alone with an unmarried youngdy. Blocking ady¡¯s marriage prospects is not a gentlemanly thing to do.¡±


    Suddenly, herees talk about my marriage.


    Ah, right. This is it. The <Mrs. Moore Event>. It urred whenever I was in close proximity to Liam for an extended period, and there was at least one NPC around. It didn¡¯t happen every time¡ªthere was a probability factor¡ªbut I was by now used to it.


    ¡°Indeed, Inspector Jefferson. But it seems my marriage prospects are already closed off as I¡¯ve gotten older.¡±


    Of course, I wasn¡¯t that old, but Liam and I were already well-known in both the upper and lower circles of this cauldron of a city called London. The cases we solved were always drenched in blood and filled with sinister malice, leading to rumors that anyone who married us might end up the mysterious victim of our next case. So naturally, both Liam and I¡­


    ¡­Let¡¯s stop here before it gets too sad.


    ¡°Ahem. That wasn¡¯t my intention, Miss Jane. You¡¯re an attractive woman, so surely¡ª¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±


    Liam, mistaking Jefferson¡¯spliment as some sort of courtship, was about to respond sharply, which would have been absurd. Jefferson was old enough to be my father, married, and had a daughter.


    Before this sensitive man could spit out another cutting remark, I spoke up. Liam wasn¡¯t pleased, but I invited Jefferson to sit down. Leaving a guest, especially a police officer, standing this long wasn¡¯t proper for an educated Londoner.


    ¡°So, Inspector Jefferson, may I ask why you¡¯re here?¡±


    With a gentle voice, I offered him a seat, while, across from me, Liam poured tea into a fresh cup (yes, it was the same terribly bitter ck tea from before). It briefly crossed my mind how much Liam disliked Jefferson, but Jefferson¡¯s next words quickly diverted my attention.


    ¡°It¡¯s about this case. There¡¯s something odd. You must have seen the papers; this is the fifth time. Each victim was beheaded, but there were no other noticeable injuries. It wasn¡¯t a robbery. The murderer didn¡¯t touch any personal belongings like wallets, nes, or wedding rings. It seems their sole purpose was to kill.¡±


    Listening to Jefferson, I subconsciously touched my neck, feeling the spot where something sharp had pricked it before. It was a rather sharp and broad de, about two or three finger-widths.


    ¡®I wish I could see all the victims¡¯ bodies.¡¯


    I nced at Liam, who was looking back at me with a slight, knowing smile. It¡¯s always fascinating when two people who have heard the vicious phrase ¡®if you¡¯re intimate, you¡¯ll never die of natural causes¡¯ think the same thing. For us, this was just another puzzle to solve.


    ¡°Jefferson, are all five bodies still being held in custody?¡±


    ¡°One was taken by the family, who didn¡¯t want to be involved any longer. The rest are unimed.¡±


    ¡°Perfect! Then we¡¯ll start by visiting the morgue and then inspect the crime scenes. We¡¯d be delighted if you could apany us, Inspector.¡±


    I stifled augh. I couldn¡¯t believe Liam was being so insincere and ingratiating!


    In truth, apanying us wasn¡¯t a pleasant task. Liam Moore¡¯s insatiable curiosity spread across London like a web, requiring an entire day for an outing. This meant our range of movement was extensive, and we would be investigating every possible lead.


    But Inspector Jefferson, falling for the smooth talk, nodded his head. Poor man, but what could be done? Honestly, I preferred having one more person to share the burden of following Liam Moore around than suffering alone.


    Meanwhile, my quest window updated. White letters flickered on the screen.


    [Evidence: Meet A at the morgue.]

 Chapter 4: Run, Jane, Run (3)

    When we locked the door of our boarding house and came downstairs, Jefferson was calling for a carriage. ¡°Coachman!¡±


    The coachman, seated high on the carriage, came running from afar, slowing down with a series of ¡°Whoa, whoa¡± until he stopped in front of us.


    After hearing Jefferson¡¯s destination, the coachman shot a hesitant nce at the addresser and then at Liam and me. He seemed to recognize us, probably aware of our notorious involvement with London¡¯s crime scenes, and was assessing whether he should allow us onboard.


    I cleared my throat and whispered to Liam in a low voice, ¡°It looks like our reputation has spread quite a bit.¡±


    Suppressing a smirk with his hand, Liam addressed the coachman sternly and decisively, ¡°This is a time-sensitive matter. I¡¯ll pay extra if we arrive as quickly as possible. Hurry.¡±


    As someone living in the modern era, I¡¯m not exactly sure about the exchange rate back then, but I imagine that one pound was worth at least a few dors. Considering the high value of the pound rtive to the dor, trying to convert the currency with today¡¯s standards is futile. However, I do recall that a family could livefortably in the outskirts of London on about 100 pounds a year.


    Liam¡¯s sense of money might be even looser than mine.


    The coachman, motivated by the promise of extra pay, drove us swiftly through the streets to the hospital¡¯s attached morgue, receiving a five-pound gold coin for his efforts. That was a substantial sum for a single carriage ride. In the impoverished East End, this amount could provide shelter from the cold for several months.


    Since it was his money, I didn¡¯tin further, and the coachman, delighted, bowed deeply as he bid us farewell. Jefferson, too, seemed unsettled by how freely this young man was spending his money. Oh, if he lived with Liam Moore for even a few days, he¡¯d get used to it. Liam was not exactly well-off, yet he spared no expense when it came to solving cases.


    And despite his generosity, he never charged the poor or unjustly wronged people, offering his services free of charge. This was why he needed a tmate to afford the rent.


    asional significant ie (mostly extorted from well-fed bourgeois) allowed him to make it through the rest of the month. Quite the gentleman.


    * * *


    The morgue we were visiting was attached to a medical school where students practiced dissections.


    London¡¯s funerary culture predominantly involved burial, with cremation being very rare, so bodies rarely stayed here long. Autopsies were umon too. What we now consider routine forensic examinations were unusual back then and only conducted in cases of severe serial killings. At best, there were mere inquiries! So, we were only given the opportunity to examine the bodies.


    Liam took out a small magnifying ss from his pocket and asked, ¡°What does the coroner believe the cause of death to be?¡±


    ¡°Exsanguination. He believes they bled out while still alive. But it seems you have a different opinion.¡±


    ¡°Look here. The carotid artery in the neck ispletely severed.¡±


    Liam ced his fingers on the wound on the back of the neck. As he spread the wound a bit (I¡¯ll spare you the gruesome details), it was just as he said.


    ¡°The weapon is a knife with a width of about two or three finger-widths¡­ Let¡¯s see. There¡¯s a slight protrusion near the handle. The skin was damaged when the knife was pulled out. This kind of trace is usually left by a hunting knife. The neck was stabbed in one swift motion, and consciousness was lost soon after. Instant death. The subsequent crimes weremitted after the victim hadpletely stopped breathing.¡±


    Liam pointed to another wound on the corpse.


    ¡°But look at this part. It seems they tried to conceal the direct cause of death. The wound is particrly messy. The rest are somewhat simr. Intentionally inflicted this way, it suggests the perpetrator is quite skilled with a knife. Likely a man who enjoys hunting.¡±


    Jefferson asked, ¡°A man?¡±


    ¡°The victim is under 6 feet tall. At most, 5 feet 8 inches? For someone to target his neck in one strike, they must be quite tall. If it were a woman of such height, she¡¯d definitely be a notable figure in London, making it more likely to be a man. Stabbing the neck in one go requires either skill or¡­ youth and strength.¡±


    Liam, examining the next body, raised his head with a slightly perplexed smile. ¡°But this is¡­ strange.¡±


    ¡°What is?¡±


    ¡°The extent of the wounds ispletely different. Let¡¯s call this body A.¡±


    At Liam¡¯s words, a quest was achieved. A was the victim! What was the quest trying to tell me? I¡¯d think about thatter. For now, I needed to focus on the autopsy.


    ¡°The killer of A seems to be a cunning man with a good physique and agility, but B¡­ has stab wounds all over the body. Death by hemorrhage. The coroner was right in this case. It¡¯s surprising¡­. There must have been a lot of blood at the crime scene¡­¡±


    ¡°You are truly remarkable! Indeed, there was. The pool of blood was enormous. There wasn¡¯t a drop left in the body.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for thepliment.¡± With a wink, Liam theatrically reenacted the crime. One moment, he was the merciless killer stabbing from various angles; the next, he was the fallen victim.


    ¡°They waited forplete death before severing the neck. A¡¯s body was dealt with quickly, but this one took their time. The killer¡¯s method couldn¡¯t have changed within such a short interval, only a few days apart. Could this be a copycat crime?¡±


    That couldn¡¯t be. I muttered to myself. Liam seemed to be thinking the same thing.


    ¡°The series of murders only started gaining notoriety after the fourth incident. Today¡¯s paper even dubbed it ¡®The Misty Murderer.¡¯ It¡¯s too soon for a copycat, and the traces are entirely different for the same perpetrator.¡±


    It was indeed odd. As I examined the poor victims with sympathy, I noticed theck of consistency among them.


    The strangest was the third body. Aside from themonality of the severed neck, it appeared entirely the work of a different killer.


    The person who stabbed my neck moved without a trace, incredibly fast. It was simr to the first corpse. However, the subsequent bodies didn¡¯t show such signs anymore.


    Almost as if¡­


    ¡°It seems like there are multiple perpetrators.¡±


    When I spoke, Jefferson and Liam turned to look at me. Liam, with a satisfied expression, handed me the magnifying ss and joked that Scond Yard should consider hiring Jane as an officer.


    ¡°Indeed. I thought you might notice. Why do you think so?¡± The person who stabbed my neck was also left-handed.


    But there¡¯s no need to mention that. How could I exin the fact that I died once and make them believe it? After all, this is just a game.


    ¡°Don¡¯t act like a professor, Liam. These three were attacked by a right-handed person, but A was left-handed. The wound on the neck was also inflicted from behind. This person wanted to do the job perfectly, so why would they twist their right hand to stab the left carotid artery? If they failed to sever it properly, things would get messy. Hence, it must be a left-handed person.¡±


    Liam protested.


    ¡°They could have attacked from the front too.¡±


    He¡¯s testing my knowledge. It¡¯s even more infuriating because I can see he¡¯s doing it on purpose. I started pointing out the clues one by one, spitefully.


    I lifted the stiffened arm. It was clean.


    ¡°No defensive wounds, and the nails are clean. Victim A was about 5 feet 8 inches tall, a sturdy man who could defend himself. If the attacker had pulled out a knife from the front, he would have blocked or collided with it at least once, and if lucky, got injured in another area. People instinctively try to defend themselves. But there are no other wounds on the body. And as you said, he died instantly. This is evidence that he didn¡¯t face the attacker directly.¡±


    ¡°Perfect.¡±


    Liam spread his hands with a satisfied smile, as if he had nothing more to point out.


    ¡°Then, excluding Mr. A. The others were all attacked by right-handed people. But at least¡­ two¡­ three? The physical characteristics of the perpetrators are all different, and the methods of the crimes are different. This is¡­¡±


    I pondered.


    Could it be a group crime? Even if they moved in the fog, arge number of people would draw attention. A group loitering around the crime scene would soon be noticed and added to the list of suspects.


    These people didn¡¯t know each other, and the ways they died were different, yet their necks were slit. Is there some obsession with the neck?


    If not,


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°Yes, perhaps.¡±


    Liam finished my thought.


    ¡°These perpetrators are strangers with the same purpose.¡±

 Chapter 5: Run, Jane, Run (4)

    Crimesmitted by different individuals, but with a single purpose. Instilling blind trust in people, binding them together as one.


    What could make such a thing possible¡­


    ¡°We need to investigate religious groups.¡±


    A sense of foreboding washed over me.


    As if something we should never understand was watching us, guiding us down into the abyss from within the fog of London.


    A sticky, unpleasant sensation crept over my arms. I couldn¡¯t fathom what awaited behind these corpses. Perhaps, the aftermath of this case would affect not just me, but also Liam or Inspector Jefferson.


    However, Liam¡¯s pale face was flushed with excitement about the case, and his gray eyes sparkled with passion.


    ¡°Let¡¯s head to the crime scene. We must catch these perpetrators.¡±


    * * * Perhaps the game system had conveniently skipped the part from the morgue to the crime scene. I was thankful and relieved. If we had to travel the entire distance by carriage, the game would undoubtedly feel tedious.


    As soon as we opened the door, a brief loading screen appeared, and the three of us found ourselves standing on the street.


    Two officers were guarding the cordoned-off crime scene, and upon seeing Jefferson, they greeted him loudly, ¡°Inspector, you¡¯re here!¡± If I hade alone, they wouldn¡¯t have let me in.


    Liam slowly surveyed the area, stroking his chin. I noticed a few onlookers flinch and retreat at his gaze.


    The ominous fog had already lifted. The bench where the fifth victim was found was stained with dark spots, and the ground was marked with chalk lines, indicating that the bloodstains had been cleaned up after collecting evidence, probably out of consideration for passersby.


    Liam seemed displeased. Circling the crime scene, he muttered curtly.


    ¡°They cleaned up the blood!¡±


    ¡°Of course, it¡¯s in the middle of the street!¡±


    ¡°You know that removing evidence is counterproductive. I¡¯ve told you countless times, Raphy.¡±


    The young man, addressed as Raphy, retorted.


    ¡°It¡¯s Raphael, not ¡®Raphy¡¯! Don¡¯t shorten my name arbitrarily!¡±


    Oh. He should be grateful. It¡¯s rare for Liam to remember someone¡¯s name, even remotely correctly.


    Liam moved around, bending low to scrutinize each paving stone. When he finally straightened up, his face was lit with something akin to joy and excitement. He then pulled out a small vial from his pocket.


    ¡°What are you nning to do with that?¡±


    ¡°Watch something interesting, ¡®Raphy¡¯.¡±


    ¡°What? Ah, what the¡ª! Are you crazy? Inspector! We need to get this man out of here!! Someone stop him!!!¡±


    I stood back, observing the scene with a bemused smile.


    Jefferson clutched his head in exasperation at Liam Moore¡¯s sudden antics. Raphael screamed, but Liam ignored him. And for good reason, as Liam Moore had popped the cork of the crystal vial filled with a clear liquid and began sshing it all over the ground.


    One of the officers, startled, rushed over to scold him. Despite his position, he insisted that such behavior would damage the crime scene. However, they soon fell silent, their attention captured by the emerging traces as the liquid dried. Blue stains began to glow faintly on the road, almost like phosphorescence.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Jefferson asked. He took the empty vial from Liam, inspecting it from every angle but finding nothing.


    ¡°What did you spray?¡±


    ¡°Nothing special, just a reagent I developed. It reveals blood traces even after they¡¯ve been cleaned. If left alone for a moment, bloodstains appear like this. The hemoglobin in the blood reacts with it¡­¡­¡±


    So, it¡¯s luminol.


    I was astonished by his ability to recreate this here. Combining unknown chemicals to produce a simr effect required an immense level of scientific knowledge!


    ¡°Camera! Get the camera, quickly!¡±


    Before it was toote, an officer handed me a camera, and I photographed the revealed bloodstains. It was heavy but manageable. The droplets of blood were captured perfectly.


    Icked the specialized knowledge to deduce the trajectory of the blood, so I couldn¡¯t specte on the significance of these scattered stains.


    Liam asked, ¡°Was there any record of bloodstains at this location in the evidence log?¡±


    ¡°There wasn¡¯t,¡± Jefferson replied. ¡°This area was clean.¡±


    ¡°Then someone must have erased them first. This is quite an intelligent adversary!¡±


    Liam was now bent over, almost touching the ground with his nose. Then he demonstrated a short simtion using his fingers.


    His left index finger represented the victim. His right index finger, the perpetrator. The right index finger approached and struck the left index finger. Ah! The left index finger toppled over.


    Liam asked triumphantly, ¡°Did you see that?¡±


    He spoke with almost absolute certainty. Jefferson raised his eyebrows in bewilderment.


    ¡°See what, exactly?¡±


    So¡­ the perpetrator struck the victim?


    I, too, looked at Liam in bewilderment, while he sighed and rubbed his forehead.


    ¡°Oh! Scond Yard, indeed! Look, doesn¡¯t this exin why the blood drops are here?¡±


    He exined that such sttering urs when the back of the head is struck. He added that the perpetrator¡¯s clothes likely had blood on them, suggesting we strip any suspicious suspects we found.


    Liam Moore looked down at the fading stains. ¡°The effect doesn¡¯tst long, does it?¡±


    Jefferson bent down to look closer. Liam replied slowly, ¡°No¡­ It¡¯s still a work in progress.¡±


    His expression seemed deeply absorbed in thought, his eyes momentarily unfocused, gazing into the distance. I noticed for the first time how his gray eyes turned almost ck when shadowed.


    I couldn¡¯t gauge the emotion on his cynical, calm face. Anger? Astonishment?


    ¡°Jane! Let¡¯s leave these foolish Scond Yard officers and go have a wonderful meal!¡±


    Raphael, who had been listening quietly, exploded.


    ¡°What did you just say? This man is insulting our workce!¡±


    ¡°Well, I always tell you, your job choices are terrible, Raphy.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Raphael! Raphael!¡±


    ¡°Oh, Lord. Please bless this young angel.¡±


    ¡°Get struck by lightning and die, you damn man!¡±


    Inspector Jefferson and I nodded in agreement as we listened to their exchange.


    Sorry about that, Inspector. No, it¡¯s quite alright¡­


    ¡°Jane?¡±


    Liam Moore quickly returned to his lively, humorous self, making me think that the turmoil I saw in his eyes earlier was just my imagination.


    ¡®Can luminol really work in such a bright street? Especially in these poor conditions without proper tools?¡¯


    That thought crossed my mind but soon disappeared.


    * * *


    By the time we finished examining the scene, the sun was setting, painting the dreary London sky with hues of crimson. The November air was cool and damp. The creeping fog once again soaked the hems of our clothes. The early sunset limited our actions.


    It was around this time, after dusk, that the attack happened on the way to Hyde Park.


    The distant thump, thump of music echoed in my memory like a hallucination. Or perhaps it was just my heart pounding in my ears.


    Is someone there? Any carriages?


    It couldn¡¯t be another attack, right?


    It¡¯ll be fine. It¡¯s not night yet.


    I tried to stay calm, and luckily, seeing people walking on the street eased my anxiety a bit.


    But Liam Moore, whose gaze had been fixed on me, seemed to notice something was wrong. His sharp intellect detected my uneasiness and reached out to briefly rest on my neck.


    A warm sensation touched the back of my hand. At times like this, I felt a slight fear, as if he were a living, breathing person.


    ¡°You seem ufortable, Jane.¡±


    He grabbed the hand that had been resting on my neck and studied my pale face with a furrowed brow.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been strange since this morning. Your neck, your pale face¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve seen four corpses. We should consider Jane¡¯s feelings,¡± Jefferson interjected. Two four-wheeled carriages he had hailed were approaching from afar.


    Thank goodness. At least I won¡¯t die walking.


    But Liam Moore sharply red at Jefferson, and his gaze seemed to say, ¡®Are you seriously suggesting our girl is scared of a few corpses?¡¯ Of course, this was my personal interpretation and not exactly what his eloquent words would convey. But the sentiment was simr enough.


    Liam Moore dered, ¡°Let¡¯s call it a day. Jane and I need to head back to Bailonz Street, Jefferson.¡±

 Chapter 6: Run, Jane, Run (5)

    ¡°Let¡¯s do that. It gets dark early these days.¡± Jefferson tipped his hat in a gesture of farewell and boarded the carriage.


    After a while, the horses started moving, and we also got into our carriage, safely returning to Bailonz Street. The asional jostling of the carriage and the passing scenery outside made me realize that I was truly experiencing the heart of 19th-century Ennd.


    ¡®Is there no way to skip this?¡¯


    My impatient nature began to surface, but the man sitting in front of me helped me keep it in check. I must emphasize, this game is driven by the butterfly effect of choices, meaning ¡®there¡¯s no benefit to creating trouble.¡¯


    Liam Moore remained silent throughout the ride, holding my hand. It was only when we were about to disembark that I noticed this, but we both let it pass withoutment. Thanks to this, the turmoil in my heart subsided, and I felt rather grateful for it.


    Of course, your actions are also just part of the scripted narrative, at the end of the day.


    We arrived back at 13 Bailonz Street. The same scenery greeted me as when we had left.


    There was no murderer lurking in the fog, no ambush.


    We each changed intofortable indoor gowns and had dinner, discussing the case before retiring to our bedrooms. The day ended without any incidents. I opened my notebook to record the uneventful day as a save file, and after confirming that it was saved, I fell asleep reassured.


    * * *


    When I awoke to themotion of the night, it was around 2 AM. The small clock by my bedside confirmed the time.


    Ignoring the question of why I woke up at this hour, I instinctively got up. The bluish dawn air and the strange moonlight seeped into the room.


    Where was this sense of forebodinging from?


    The outside was chaotic, with loud running footsteps, and surprisingly, there was the sound of someone rummaging through objects even right outside my door.


    A thief? Liam is a light sleeper; did he wake up from this noise?


    I soon realized that I would hear the scream that had killed me during my first attempt. Back then, in my panic, I had foolishly rushed out without any preparation, but this time was different. With several unmentioned ythroughs, I knew where to find a self-defense weapon. I carefully retrieved the revolver from the drawer and cautiously stepped outside.


    I saw arge figure, turned away from me, focused on rummaging through the house. In the faint firelight, I could see he was a tall man with dark hair, over six feet, broad-shouldered, and muscr¡­ Wait, why was he familiar?


    I cautiously called out, ¡°¡­Liam?¡±


    Startled, the man¡¯s shoulders shook before he raised themp¡¯s brightness and turned to me. Relief washed over me.


    The man, in his nightclothes, had clearly been woken up. His eyes were slightly unfocused from fatigue but still tense, and his usually neat hair was disheveled.


    Normally, I would haveughed at his disheveled appearance, but this wasn¡¯t the time.


    Liam Moore seemed a bit taken aback that I was awake. However, he quickly grabbed a revolver from a small box on the mantelpiece. That seemed to be his objective.


    After checking the bullets, he was about to rush out but paused when he saw the revolver in my hand, nodding once.


    ¡°Caution is a good attitude. But Jane, whatever you hear, don¡¯te outside. No matter what.¡±


    Then, like a bolt of lightning, he dashed out of the house!


    It was the early morning, and aside from the faint glow of the gasmps, there was no light to rely on outside.


    A woman¡¯s scream pierced the air. That ominous, heartbeat-like background music began ying, causing my hands to sweat. My fingertips felt cold, and my neck prickled with unease. I even felt a bit breathless.


    I was worried about Liam, who had rushed out with only a gun. I knew that when screams were heard, someone always died. I feared what scenarios might unfold because I was awake.


    Clutching my gun, I locked the doors of all the rooms, then sat in the living room, trembling for about 30 minutes, worrying about Liam Moore who had run out without even properly dressing.


    Damn that man, making me worry like this!


    Just then, a gunshot rang out loudly from afar. Some light sleepers, woken by the gunshot, could be heard lightingmps and looking out their windows. Houses began lighting up even in thete hours.


    Another gunshot followed.


    Was it Liam? Was he safe? I hoped he wasn¡¯t hurt!


    After a while, heavy footsteps came up the stairs, and there was a knock on the door (Liam¡¯s distinctive knock: two knocks, a pause, then one knock, followed by three). I flung the door open.


    Liam Moore stood there, his face drawn with exhaustion. His indoor gown, soaked with some liquid, clung to him in dark stains from his neck to his shoulders. His arms hung limply, and his face was so pale he looked like a sick man.


    There was another person with him, almost supporting his body.


    When we turned on a few lights in the house, the identity of hispanion was revealed. It was Inspector Jefferson. It seemed he had encountered Liam while on night patrol.


    The outside was now bustling with the sounds of whistles and running footsteps.


    ¡°There was an attacker,¡± Liam Moore¡¯s voice mixed with short, panting breaths.


    ¡°The strength was incredible.¡±


    He ced his four-shot revolver on the table. It was indeed Liam who had fired the shots. He spoke quickly as he began taking off his clothes and tossing them away from the carpet.


    Under the light, his shoulder was revealed to be severely torn. The injury was deep, and the gash was exceptionally long, stretching diagonally from his shoulder to his chest.


    Even for a robust young man who could handle himself, such a wound was severe! If it had been his neck, he might have been killed. Someone else might not have survived the attack.


    ¡°It was a woman in her forties. For some reason, she was still moving energetically despite being shot in a vital spot, so I had to shoot her again.¡±


    ¡°I heard gunshots during my patrol and rushed over, only to find Liam struggling with a woman. Judging by the blood already on the ground, it seemed she had been shot once. Despite that, she was rampaging and wielding a knife. She seemed to have lost all reason, Jane. It was truly madness. Liam was shouting, struggling to keep her away. When I arrived and tried to restrain her, she swung the knife at me. Eventually, she died after taking another shot. She had a blood-soaked hunting knife in her hand. I¡¯ve instructed the subordinates to move the body to the mortuary.¡±


    Jefferson finished speaking, and a brief silence fell among us.


    Both men looked like they were about to fall asleep, having endured a tough night, but unfortunately, rest was not an option for us.


    There was still the issue of Liam Moore¡¯s battered shoulder. I¡¯m an ordinary citizen with no proper medical training, only knowing a bit of sewing, but Liam seemed fine with that.


    ¡°It¡¯s better than dying,¡± he remarked, taking a sip of brandy soda. Jefferson added that as long as the deepest wound on his shoulder was stitched up, he would be fine. The other wounds were bleeding less significantly.


    TL/N: A brandy soda is a drink often used in historical contexts for its mild antiseptic properties, though not a proper medical solution.


    As I used his shoulder as a makeshift canvas for stitching, a nonchnt voice broke the silence.


    ¡°I guess I won¡¯t be able to shoot for a while.¡±


    In this serious situation, while we all had grim expressions, he was the only one smirking and making jokes.


    We all shouted simultaneously, ¡°Is that really something to joke about!¡± Jefferson¡¯s mustache quivered. I, too, wanted to give this carefree, audacious fellow a good smack on the back, but my morals, a shred of reason, and the principle of not hitting patients allowed the damned Liam Moore to survive my wrath.


    With his shoulder stitched up, I felt some relief as I wrapped it with the bandages we always kept on hand (since we often got minor injuries while confronting criminals).


    Now, the man seemed drowsy, his face showing signs of sleepiness as he sank into the armchair. Inspector Jefferson also looked exhausted, his hand bandaged.


    Late into the night, we had an impromptu tea time, discussing the attacker. I asked, ¡°Where did that womane from?¡±


    Liam answered in ce of Jefferson. ¡°She was from the Hyde Park area.¡±

 Chapter 7: Run, Jane, Run (6)

    ¡°The scream came from near Hyde Park, so I ran straight in that direction. Through the fog, a dark figure emerged, barefoot, with disheveled hair, covered in blood. I didn¡¯t think for a second that this person could be the attacker. I thought they were someone who had escaped and tried to talk to them, but instead¡­¡±


    Liam took a sip of his drink before continuing.


    ¡°They seemed out of their mind. Like a rabid dog, they were foaming at the mouth, their pupils were hugely dted. I heard an animalistic growling, but there was no smell of drugs. Jane, you know I have a keen sense for identifying drugs based on symptoms alone. But this person¡ªno, this thing¡ªlooked as if it had a clearer mind than anyone, yet it wasn¡¯t human.¡±


    I pushed aside my brief confusion and started thinking. So, it was something that seemed human but wasn¡¯t truly human?


    The fact that it could still move after taking a bullet meant it was numb to pain. Dying from a second shot indicated it could suffer fatal injuries. But what could exin such insane strength? Was it overly stimted by drugs?


    Jefferson had mentioned that the person was carrying a hunting knife, which matched the weapon we had theorized. Was it a coincidence that this person attacked Liam with it? Or could this person be the one who previously attacked, and also brutally murdered Mr. A?


    Liam finished his brandy soda and set down the ss. He was using his left hand, which he typically didn¡¯t use, probably because of the pain in his shoulder.


    ¡°Jane, you should go back to your room. I¡¯m sorry for scaring you in the middle of the night. Inspector Jefferson, please stay here tonight. It¡¯s too dangerous to wander around with the fog still thick.¡±


    ¡°That was my n. I don¡¯t want to be in the papers tomorrow.¡± ¡°None of us do.¡±


    * * *


    When I opened my eyes again, it was morning.


    Waking up safely, I habitually updated the slot in my notebook beside my bed, got up, and checked the lock on the window. Immanuel Kant was known to follow strict habits every hour, and perhaps I exhibited simr symptoms¡ªobsessivepulsive disorder or neurosis.


    ¡°Good morning, Jane.¡±


    I smelled the rich scent of bacon and eggs. It seemed George, thendy¡¯s son, had brought in a prepared breakfast.


    ¡°Did the inspector leave?¡±


    I asked. Liam, flipping through the newspaper and sipping his tea, nodded.


    ¡°He left at dawn, saying he had to get to Scond Yard to report yesterday¡¯s incident promptly. Truly a responsible officer.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be too harsh on Scond Yard. They¡¯re just doing their jobs.¡±


    ¡°Yes, although somewhat ipetently.¡±


    That attitude is the problem. No wonder the Scond Yard folks grit their teeth whenever they see you.


    Though Liam Moore worked as a consultant for Scond Yard, he was not particrly weed internally, which was a bit amusing.


    ¡°Any news?¡±


    I asked as I sat on the sofa, ncing at the pile of newspapers on the table.


    ¡°There¡¯s a mention of yesterday¡¯s events.¡±


    ¡°Everyone would know if there were gunshots in the city.¡±


    Several copies of different newspapers were delivered regrly. Liam Moore believed in getting urate information by reading various newspapers instead of relying on just one biased source.


    Flipping through these papers felt like the kind of research we did back in university. Honestly, our professors didn¡¯t even assign us such tasks often. But ever since I started this game (joined Liam Moore), he has maintained this daily habit. Hence, I didn¡¯tin.


    ¡®If he wants to read, so be it¡­¡¯


    While he read another paper, I picked up one from the remaining stack to see if there were any interesting articles. I found one:


    [Sixth Victim Found Near Hyde Park.


    Around 2:25 a.m. today, the sixth victim was found near Park Street, Paddington. The notorious ¡®Misty Murderer¡¯ has imed another victim. The body was¡­(details omitted)¡­ A police officer from Scond Yard fired twice, but the criminal escaped into the thick fog.]


    Park Street¡ªthat¡¯s where Inspector Brixon and I walked before!


    The emergence of a new victim there was surprising. This confirmed one of my hypotheses.


    Going to Hyde Park on the second day results in a murder.


    The only one who didn¡¯t get killed was the man armed with a weapon. Whether he prevented a death g unconditionally or not needed more observation.


    I was surprised to find no mention of Liam Moore shooting at someone. It seemed the police had kept things tightly under wraps.


    ¡°Where are you going today?¡±


    I asked.


    ¡°A social club. I intend to gather some information.¡±


    Was he a member of a social club?


    I knew young men from public schools went to Oxbridge (Oxford and Cambridge), followed prestigious curric, and formed exclusive clubs. These gentlemen¡¯s clubs were known for unting their status and enjoying their elite separation. Young men who graduated from London¡¯s universities maintained theseworks in society, creating stagnant, exclusive circles.


    I frowned.


    ¡°You, in a ce like that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, Jane. Sometimes meeting with those types can be helpful.¡±


    Well, I didn¡¯t think so.


    Anyway, after seeing Liam off, dressed impably for a change, I decided to get on with my work.


    I checked the tabs containing the gathered materials and clues, and reviewed the case records that hade into the office. I couldn¡¯t afford to miss anything.


    Even when George, thendy¡¯s son, brought fresh scones and tea, I remained buried in my mountain of papers. Information was piling up. Any disruption would break my focus.


    ¡°Um,¡±


    A young voice. It was George. He hesitated before speaking again.


    ¡°Miss Osmond, aren¡¯t you going to have your tea?¡±


    Ugh, my concentration was broken. I was irritated but tried to keep my voice calm.


    ¡°I¡¯ll drink itter, George. Thank you.¡±


    He didn¡¯t press further but looked at me with a hint of disappointment. I quickly returned my attention to the documents, disregarding his lingering presence.


    It was about an hour or twoter, as I was absorbed in the papers, that I felt the piecesing together.


    I cleared everything off the table and spread out a paper map from an as.


    A map of London.


    I tore and cut the newspapers, attaching the clippings to the map, arranging them one by one. Paper scraps piled up on the floor, which I tossed into the firece.


    The hidden truth behind the murders began to reveal itself.


    Eliminating the wrong leads eventually brings you to the correct answer. The process of digging out the truth was tedious, but necessary.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡±


    Six bodies, murdered in horrific ways, all converged around one point.


    Some might specte that the narrowing proximity to Belgravia and Westminster meant Buckingham Pce was the target. But that theory was entirely wrong. Buckingham Pce just happened to fall within this trajectory by chance.


    ¡°Oh my God, why did I only realize this now?¡± I muttered.


    These six cases were drawing a circle around Big Ben!


    Everything became clear. Whatever their goal was, it wouldn¡¯t be anything pleasant.


    If Big Ben was their target, why did they take the heads?


    That was a question forter. First, I needed to meet with Liam. I had to convey this information and alert him to their intentions.


    ¡­And as I threw on a cloak over my bustle dress to run out, I suddenly had a thought.


    Too much time had passed.

 Chapter 8: Run, Jane, Run (7)

    While ying a VR game, you can sometimes be deeply immersed, but not usually to this extreme. VR games involve moving your entire body, which leads to fatigue, naturally causing you to take breaks. However, my perceived time¡­ had already exceeded eight hours. The fact that I didn¡¯t notice this, and that I was so absorbed in the game, was surprising.


    Even more astonishing was that I didn¡¯t feel tired at all! Although I was controlling Jane¡¯s body, I didn¡¯t feel any physical fatigue. Following the choices and actions within the time limits wasn¡¯t overwhelming at all. Instead, I felt refreshed, like someone who had just woken up from a long, restful sleep.


    I wondered how this could be possible. Yet, as if something blocked my thoughts, the question disappeared. A strong temptation in my mind urged me not to think further.


    ¡ªLet¡¯s continue. Why not? Today¡¯s a good day for gaming. It¡¯s fun, honestly. A subconscious voice seemed to whisper in my ear.


    ¡°Is there really a need to stop?¡± The words slipped out of my mouth.


    You all must understand by now. I found ying this game extremely fascinating and satisfying. So, continuing to y shouldn¡¯t be a problem. I was¡­


    ¡­Suddenly, hot tea spilled over, the scalding liquid pouring onto myp. It burned!


    I felt the heat on my leg!


    Why? Why did it burn? This is just a game, isn¡¯t it? I was merely wearing goggles and a headset, so why was I feeling this?


    My mind snapped into focus. Thefort and strange lethargy from before vanished, reced solely by fear that chilled my spine.


    I asked myself, ¡®Why haven¡¯t I exited the game?¡¯


    That was the most terrifying part.


    I tried to end the game, but¡­ the game didn¡¯t shut down.


    I no longer felt the sensation of the stick in my hand, the weight of the devices on my head and ears, or the heat emanating from theputer tower beneath me.


    How could this be happening?


    I lifted my head. Fear. Only fear gnawed at my sanity.


    What is happening? What is this? What am I? What is going to happen to me?


    In the puddle of spilled tea, a pale woman with light hair and an ordinary face stared back at me. She was mirroring my actions, covering her mouth with both hands, breathing as I did.


    I smelled the scent of the tea. The crinkle of paper was tangible under my fingertips. I felt warmth and a heartbeat from this body that wasn¡¯t mine.


    Then, I heard Liam Moore¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    It was like a tidal wave receding, exposing the muddy shore underneath, revealing my bare self.


    The solid barrier of ¡°it¡¯s just a game¡± crumbled, and my senses were merging with this ce.


    ¡®Since when?¡¯


    Since when had it been like this?


    Upon reflection, it wasn¡¯t so surprising. If I were merely ying a game, how could I recall the taste of food made from mere data and pixels, or the stench of corpses? Clues I had overlooked were everywhere, but I had ignored them. So, it was inevitable.


    Rapid eptance was necessary to maintain my sanity. Panic and fleeting madness would do no good. I needed to clearly assess my situation and find a way to resolve it.


    Fortunately, all the game systems except for logout were functional. It seemed only I had be part of this virtual London. Telling anyone would undoubtedly get mebeled as insane.


    The game map, the minimap at the top right of my vision, and the quest list below it still shone, weing me. Opening the tabs still paused the game. The evidence list, in-game images, and notebook storage slots were intact, and thankfully, it seemed I wouldn¡¯t die permanently here. That provided somefort.


    I needed to figure out why I was perceiving everything as reality, but one thing was clear.


    Jane¡¯s body moved ording to my will. It was as if she were a puppet waiting for a soul to enter.


    I lifted my head and met the grey eyes of Liam Moore. His eyes had the soulless look typical of game NPCs, and his speech was monotonous, as if processed through a voice modtion program. The mechanical tone contrasted with his expressive face.


    While someone else in my situation might have felt terrified, I felt reassured.


    Yes, this is still a game. I just have to believe that the exit key has been pulled out. ¡°Liam, Big Ben!¡±


    Regaining myposure, I grabbed his arm and shouted. Liam, who was effortlessly pulled along, asked back.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°The killers¡¯ target! Look at this map. They¡¯re spiralling around, like moving towards one point! They¡¯ve reached the vicinity of Belgravia and Buckingham as a form of pressure. Maybe it¡¯s a warning to those who notice, or a message to theirrades. A silent message to follow this path.¡±


    Where¡¯s my pen? I hastily retrieved the pen I had tossed aside. I drew lines on the map, marked with newspaper clippings, strings, and coloured ink. A shape resembling a pentagram emerged, with Big Ben at the centre.


    ¡°And when you connect it like this, Big Ben appears. Whatever it is, the final destination is here. These six cases aren¡¯t all. People have probably been dying in the corners of London before this. As you know, deaths in East End slums aren¡¯t surprising due to poverty andck of security¡­ The murder cycle is speeding up. We must deploy the police along this path and stop them tonight¡­¡±


    Listening to my rambling, Liam Moore lifted me and seated me in afortable chair, his expression troubled.


    ¡°Jane, you¡¯re too excited right now.¡± His calm tone helped me calm down as well.


    Once I sat quietly, he touched my forehead and then knelt in front of me. The burning sensation from the spilled tea on my knee resurfaced. Liam, fearlessly lifting my skirt to check my knee, concluded that it wasn¡¯t severely burnt. He then sat on the diagonal sofa.


    ¡°Actually, I¡¯ve heard something simr.¡±


    ¡°About Big Ben?¡±


    ¡°No. We¡¯ve caught their tail. You may not know, but London has many religions other than the Anglican Church and Greek Orthodox. Some are not recognized by the Vatican or the Archbishop of Canterbury. If you¡¯re up for it, would you like to visit those ces with me? It might be a bit rough and tough.¡±


    I found it surprising that he got this information from a ¡®social club.¡¯ Those living in their own world, oblivious to reality, having an interest in non-state religions? It wasughable, even for the neighbourhood kids.


    But if these dubious sources could solve my curiosity, I would eagerly go along.


    ¡°Then we should go now.¡±


    Ah. Liam raised a finger.


    ¡°First, there¡¯s something we need to do. Your clothes.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better to wear somethingfortable. I like when you dress like ady, but¡­ we might need to run this time. You need something you can move easily in. Like pants.¡±


    I raised my eyebrows and kicked Liam Moore. He dodged,ughing. Damn him.


    I returned shortly, partially adopting the disguise techniques I had learned from him. Liam pped approvingly.


    ¡°Good. You pass. Even I would mistake you for a teenage boy if I didn¡¯t look closely. Our destination is¡­ Whitmore Gardens.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to see there except Queen¡¯s Park, right?¡± Liam Moore¡¯s face lit up with a mysterious smile.


    ¡°Sometimes, secrets crawl in the shadows of London that we don¡¯t notice, dear Miss Jane Osmond.¡±

 Chapter 9: Invader (1)

    When the carriage finally brought us to Whitmore Gardens after about a twenty-minute ride, it was nearly 4 PM. The ce was filled with three or four-story ts, most of which had ¡®For Rent¡¯ signs, giving the area an eerie feeling. A few lit homes had tightly drawn curtains, with people moving busily inside.


    ¡®Arge family?¡¯ I thought, but Liam¡¯s expression suggested he noticed something different. He gently brushed a namete and mumbled something I couldn¡¯t hear. Then, he boldly knocked on the door.


    A curt voice snapped from inside, ¡°Who is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me.¡±


    With that, the door opened just enough for a foot to enter. The house inside was dark, filled with continuous, sinister whispers. A skeletal hand gripped the doorknob, hidden in the shadows.


    ¡°The master does not receive unannounced visitors,¡± came the voice, crackling like dried wood.


    ¡°Would he say the same if he knew his benefactor was here? Tell him Liam Moore hase to see the ¡®One who has not yet fallen.''¡±


    The servant¡¯s hollow, skull-like eyes widened, and the door mmed shut. Footsteps receded as he went to deliver the message.


    During this time, Liam advised me to keep my head down and focus on the floor, probably to avoid exposing my disguise. I nodded and kept my lips sealed, eyes cast down. ¡°¡­Come in.¡±


    A creaking voice led us in. Liam went first, and I followed. We walked through a dark corridor.


    Though it appeared to be a small t from the outside, the hallway was long andplex, lined with doors, reminiscent of a hotel. It felt like the darkness was deliberately extended to trap any light or like a refuge created by those hiding from the light.


    As we walked, I felt eyes watching from all directions, and asionally, a door would creak open as if someone was peeking at the visitors. It felt like Orpheus, tempted by beings while leading Eurydice to the surface.


    I felt something pulling me to turn back. My pace slowed as insistent hands clung to my clothes, trying to see my face. Then, a strange, crisp sound of static snapped in the air.


    A brief, sharp scream, countless hands hurriedly letting go, and the relentless pursuit vanished instantly.


    Strange things were happening. Yet, Liam Moore never once looked back as he walked ahead.


    At the end of the beast-like corridor was arge door. As it opened, a vintage room with a roaring firece was revealed. The floor was covered with a red carpet, meticulously clean, and furnished with French-style furniture, reminiscent of an old era or a royal chamber.


    Liam, shielding me behind him, approached a massive wooden desk. ¡°Long time no see, dear Liam Moore. ¡ö¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö,¡± a warm and gentle female voice greeted.


    Hertter words, spoken in a foreignnguage, were iprehensible to me, sounding like a mix of harsh German and smooth French. The word seemed to start with ¡®Kreuz¡­¡¯


    I sensed Liam Moore¡¯s body tensing with stress, indicating a formidable opponent. However, Liam¡¯s voice remained surprisingly calm, dismissing my initial thoughts.


    ¡°I¡¯vee seeking your help, Lucita.¡±


    Hearing this, the woman let out a satisfiedugh. Even I didn¡¯t expect the proud Liam Moore to ask for help. Perhaps he also felt a sense of satisfaction in this.


    ¡°Then it would be polite to introduce yourpanion.¡±


    The sound of a long dress trailing, and suddenly, her voice was right beside me!


    A cold hand touched my cheek, then gently cradled my chin. The touch was soft and seemed harmless, yet chilling, as if it wasn¡¯t human.


    The woman whispered like singing a luby.


    ¡°Oh, such a pretty child. Won¡¯t you lift your head and introduce yourself?¡±


    ¡°Lucita, this child is not rted to you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Indeed, but if you, my ¡®benefactor,¡¯ cherish this child, isn¡¯t it proper for me to see his face?¡±


    ¡°Lucita!¡±


    Liam¡¯s loud voice carried a hint of panic, pulling at my arm in protest. But the woman was faster, lifting my chin.


    When I raised my head, I saw someone indescribable.


    A stunning blonde beauty with long, thick eyshes, a white and glossy cheek, finely shaped features, and cherry-colored lips. Her slim, smooth body was draped in a thin, ck dress, revealing her marble-like, cold figure. But the most striking feature was her eyes.


    Those eyes¡­ It¡¯s hard to call them human. They were a vivid red, but the color wasn¡¯t the problem. The shape of her pupils, elongated and slit like a reptile¡¯s, was terrifying. The mes from the firece behind me reflected in her eyes, creating the illusion of fire dancing in her gaze.


    For a moment, her cheeks glistened with what seemed like scales, then settled. The woman looked down at me with a curious smile, then lifted her head to look at Liam, seemingly filled with a strange desire.


    ¡°She¡¯s a woman.¡±


    Liam didn¡¯t answer, but I knew his face must have been twisted with frustration.


    ¡°A woman!¡±


    I was mesmerized by her snake-like appearance, feeling the chill of her touch on my cheek, raising goosebumps. But that was all.


    Lucita, as she was called, seemed surprised by my mild reaction.


    Had I forgotten something? Ah! She expected an introduction. So, I slightly lifted the edge of my hat and introduced myself.


    ¡°¡­Jane Osmond. Yes, I¡¯m a woman.¡±


    ¡°Such an adorable and audacious child¡­.¡±


    This time, it was Lucita who muttered in disbelief.


    ¡°Liam, you certainly know how to pique my interest!¡±


    When I turned my head in confusion, even Liam looked at me with slight astonishment, but neither of them exined further.


    I didn¡¯t ask either. With everything that had happened, my mind was already overloaded, and I had little desire to delve into their long history (which seemed worthy of the term ¡®benefactor¡¯).


    In the end, the three of us sat down, sharing cups of the mysterious tea brought by the unsettling servant. Despite its strange color, the taste and aroma were surprisingly excellent.


    Liam Moore still hadn¡¯t touched his cup. I tried to distance myself from their conversation, but Lucita¡¯s persistent kindness made it impossible. Liam shielded me with his body as he exined the situation.


    ¡°You¡¯ve heard about the recent murders in London, right? We¡¯re chasing the ones behind it. With your informationwork, you must know what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°Murders happen every day. Be more specific about what you¡¯re curious about.¡±


    ¡°¡­Is their goal really rted to the brain?¡±


    Lucita sank deeply into her armchair, her long blonde hair curling with her movements.


    ¡°There have been a few strange urrencestely. Those who follow the ck King, and the schrs of the End Star. But neither group is very active. The ones operating in London are just those hiding in the sewers, chanting dark prayers. If they followed the ck King, they wouldn¡¯t cause chaos with just six people. You know that well, having experienced it yourself.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Followers of that one are always active. I suspected the schrs of the End Star. But I don¡¯t think they¡¯re directly involved.¡±


    It was a string of iprehensible terms. They seemed to be searching for a religious group, but why bring up schrs or kings? What was the ck King, and what did the End Star mean?


    They appeared to avoid direct expressions, likely to prevent me from ¡®understanding¡¯ the implications of those terms.

 Chapter 10: Invader (2)

    ¡°If I quote my assistant¡¯s deep insight, I would deduce that the final destination of this murder case will be Big Ben.¡±


    ¡°The tower is very tall. It will be highly visible, even from outside the city. To those kinds of people, Big Ben is a most appetising symbol. Ah, this youngdy is quite to my liking in many ways. She¡¯s smart, cute, I see why you cherish her so much. Did you make her dress as a man because you were afraid I¡¯d take her? Poor Liam.¡±


    ¡°Enough of that!¡± Liam shouted. It was a rare sight to see the usually cynical Liam blushing and getting flustered.


    Lucitaughednguidly, resting her chin on her hand. Watching Liam Moore fume, she spoke up.


    ¡°This is the work of humans. I understand that you suspect us and others, but this is the work of humans.¡±


    ¡°Or those who work with them. They might have their own motives, Lucita.¡±


    The woman¡¯s eyes, now free of her supporting hand, gleamed with a cold light. Her cheeks shone like opals, but there was no smile on her face. I was momentarily struck by the difference, recalling her once gentle and serene smile.


    ¡°Tell me the possibility of the ¡®Forbidden Song¡¯ being yed, Lucita.¡±


    Liam Moore asked again, unwavering even in the face of her formidable aura. ¡°¡­There is no such creature foolish enough to do that. As long as sanity is intact!¡±


    ¡°But those who serve the King of Crows find it hard to retain their sanity.¡±


    ¡°Your adorable club is no exception!¡±


    Lucita retorted sharply. After a moment of deep breathing to calm himself, Liam responded calmly.


    ¡°¡­That¡¯s why I¡¯m asking. Who evaded the eyes of the Meridian?¡±


    Meridian?


    I squinted briefly. My notebook was sessfully recording all this dialogue, but many of the terms were difficult to interpret, making me feel as if I were searching for a single boat in a stormy sea.


    After a long silence, it was Lucita who conceded.


    ¡°Fifty percent. If this is rted to the ¡®schrs,¡¯ it could go higher. I¡¯ll tell you the locations of the suspected individuals. If you meet with Plurititas and get answers.¡±


    ¡°Send it to 13 Bailonz Street. I¡¯ll convey the answer afterward.¡±


    Liam Moore abruptly stood up as if there was nothing more to see and extended his hand to me. He hadn¡¯t even touched the bizarre search devices.


    He didn¡¯t speak, but I knew he was very upset. After bowing my head slightly in farewell to Lucita, the strange woman, I took his hand.


    ¡°Liam Moore.¡±


    As we were about to leave, Lucita¡¯s voice called out. Although he didn¡¯t reply, Liam¡¯s halt in his steps served as a silent answer.


    ¡°Hiding for too long won¡¯t help. For your safety. Follow my advice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle my own affairs.¡±


    And that was the end of it.


    The hallway that seemed so long upon entering felt surprisingly short on the way out. Nothing impeded us. Only Liam Moore guided me out, and once we were free of that beast-like house, we finally took a deep breath.


    Liam Moore returned to his rxed and yful self. Though I still couldn¡¯t read much from him, I knew he was ruminating on our earlier conversation.


    ¡°We need to meet Plurititas.¡±


    Liam muttered as if sighing, his face showing reluctance.


    ¡°Who exactly is this Plurititas?¡±


    ¡°A very mad scientist, dear Jane. You might dislike him intensely. No, you might utterly despise him. His obsession with knowledge is extreme.¡±


    But such warnings didn¡¯t scare me. Nothing could be more frightening than my current situation.


    Meanwhile, my quest window on the right side of my vision updated with a message:


    [Mad Scientist: Talk to Plurititas.]


    I was almost relieved. If he wanted disdain, I would dly give it. Yet I understood the burning desire for knowledge. Liam Moore knew about ¡®Jane Osmond,¡¯ but he didn¡¯t know ¡®me.¡¯ No one epassed me more than my own desire and obsession.


    He needed to cooperate with us.


    Yes. And we would extract it.


    The truth.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The mad scientist Plurititas had a mansion on M Avenue in the Haleden area.


    ording to Liam Moore, this person possessed a dazzling intellect and a ravenous hunger for knowledge. He was such a despicable figure that Liam added I probably wouldn¡¯t like him.


    As we rode in the swaying ck carriage, we faced each other in silence, heading to meet someone who might be my kindred spirit. There was a hint of guilt in Liam¡¯s grey eyes, perhaps for bringing me here. He repeatedly seemed on the verge of saying something.


    ¡°Do you have something to say?¡±


    When I finally asked out of frustration, he just mped his mouth shut like a scolded child.


    I was slightly angry at him, but I knew it couldn¡¯t be helped. When did I be so knowledgeable about these things? When did I start caring about Liam Moore¡¯s affairs? It was obvious that letting it slide was better for my mental health.


    Liam, perhaps parched from tension, kept clearing his throat and took a sip from a silver sk.


    ¡°Tea?¡±


    I asked, and Liam nodded with a vague smile.


    Around this time, the poorly-sprung carriage finally entered a row of houses. The mansion, our destination, appeared beyond the elegant ck iron fences.


    Haleden was a residential area, so it wasn¡¯t surprising to find such houses here, but this mansion seemed somewhat out of ce.


    Liam Moore jumped out without even using the carriage step and extended his arm. Not a time for pride, I gratefully epted his help. He briefly smiled at mypliance, and I yfully nudged his side.


    This ce was brighter and more inviting than Lucita¡¯s mansion, but there was still an unsettling feeling about the people in the hall.


    Did Liam notice? Even the butler wasn¡¯t an exception, and I felt uneasy about the kind old man, making me mumble my greeting. It was unlike me, always friendly to the elderly.


    The butler was so well-groomed and tidy that it was hard to read any insights from him. I could only guess from his awkward gait that he might have a prosthetic leg.


    He was exceedingly polite, constantly talking about how pleased his master was with our visit, until we finally met Plurititas.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The study was more chilly than cosy. It felt simr to the sensation I had in Lucita¡¯s mansion corridor. The further I walked on the carpet, the colder it got, like entering a market¡¯s vegetable section.


    When I shivered slightly, Liam briefly put his arm around my shoulders, then withdrew it. That bit of warmth helped me keep looking around.


    The most striking thing was the rows of shelves packed with what seemed like disy cases, reaching up to the ceiling, giving the impression that the walls were made of disy cases.


    Inside the ss doors were packed cylinders about a foot high. They had isosceles triangle decorations but were opaque, hiding their contents.


    Plurititas. The man was a gentleman in a sleek suit with neatlybed hair. At most, he was in his mid tote twenties. He looked more like a counsellor than a scientist. With dimples that appeared when he smiled, he seemed likeable, probably quite popr.


    His appearance made him seem far from a madman, but there was still something about him that made one wary. Perhaps it was his persistent gaze.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect someone who ims to know everything toe here.¡±


    His almost fluorescent blue eyes fixed on us. He looked at Liam with a mixture of wee and annoyance, approaching with his tall frame bent slightly. He was easily over seven feet tall.


    Murmuring, the man, taller than Liam Moore by a head, said,


    ¡°With that remarkable intellect, you should achieve your goals without our advice.¡±


    Liam bared his teeth in a smile.


    ¡°This case requires a bit of your cooperation.¡±

 Chapter 11: Invader (3)

    Episode 11. Invader (3)


    ¡°Oh! Cooperation!¡±


    Plurititas pped once and rubbed his hands together. (I had wondered countless times, but where did this namee from? Athens? But his British ent was perfect, so I couldn¡¯t help but think about what kind of parents would give their child such a long and difficult name.) He mimicked Liam¡¯s smile, spun around in his chair, and sat down.


    ¡°Alright. I like you, so I¡¯ll listen.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get to the point. The recent headless corpses, I want to ask about them. You and the schrs of the End Star are knowledgeable in ¡®that part,¡¯ aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Suddenly, the atmosphere grew tense. Liam¡¯s question seemed to have hit a nerve.


    The mad scientist¡¯s smile remained, but his eyes were fixed on Liam. They were cold. If a pair of blue eyes could bore holes, Liam Moore¡¯s head would be as full of holes as Emmental cheese. Plurititas stroked his chin.


    ¡°Oh, are you asking about the mastermind?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± ¡°You ask quite rude questions. We don¡¯t desire worthless things. We wouldn¡¯t collect such trash.¡±


    There was something strange about his words. They don¡¯t collect worthless things? That almost sounded like, if it was valuable, they might cut off heads.


    The mad scientist, whose eyes met mine, grinned broadly, making me feel a chill run down my spine. How are we even having a conversation with this guy?


    Despite the intense stare, Liam showed no sign of fear. It made me feel like the Liam Moore I knew was someone entirely different. Perhaps everything I knew about him was a lie.


    Liam pressed on.


    ¡°You have no involvement with the cult either?¡±


    ¡°I swear on our elegant collection, this matter has nothing to do with us.¡±


    ¡°Then that¡¯s it. Thank you for your cooperation.¡±


    I doubted if it was really over, given Liam¡¯s pressing attitude. But he epted it easily, knowing the value of that collection. I tried to step out of Plurititas¡¯s line of sight by standing slightly bowed.


    Just then, I heard a voice.


    ¡®Miss.¡¯


    The room was filled with a presence again. This time it was a whisper. A small, monotone voice constantly whispered to me.


    How could I not have noticed? They were here with Plurititas before we arrived!


    But where in this study could the voices being from?


    ¡®Miss. Beware of ¡®him¡¯.¡¯


    It was a warning. One voice, then another, then another, and another, started speaking.


    ¡®He won¡¯t let go of what he catches.¡¯


    ¡®We ended up like this too.¡¯


    ¡®Tell the person who came with you.¡¯


    ¡®You can¡¯t stay here for long.¡¯


    Such words. I wondered if these voices were ghosts. I would have thought so forever if I hadn¡¯t seen a metal cylinder at the end of my unintentional gaze.


    Noticing my nce, one voice responded.


    ¡®We are watching too.¡¯


    ¡®But pretend you don¡¯t notice. You must not let him know.¡¯


    It was a difficult demand. While I was distracted, Liam finished his brief conversation with Plurititas and ced his hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°Well then, Plurititas.¡±


    Just as he was about to end the conversation,


    ¡®Run.¡¯


    This voice was louder, and it seemed Liam heard it too.


    Plurititas, noticing our odd expressions, switched from his friendly smile to a more frustrated look, pressing his forehead and letting out a deep sigh. It sounded like he was trying to suppress a boiling rage. A loud groan echoed.


    The man bent over, took a deep breath for a while, then slid his hand over his nose and lifted his head.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been found out.¡±


    And I faced those piercing blue eyes.


    ¡°Well, it can¡¯t be helped now.¡±


    He mumbled like he was singing, with a subtle smile, stepping towards us.


    I felt like I was hallucinating. A huge shadow with many legs, like a reptile or a crustacean, seemed to extend behind him. Before I could observe more, Liam Moore covered my eyes with his hand.


    Guided by Liam, I retreated with my face half-covered. He whispered,


    ¡°Keep your eyes closed.¡±


    It was a wee sound. I didn¡¯t want to look at that creature for another second.


    Plurititas¡¯s voice sounded doubled. It felt like something beyond human vocal cords was speaking. It was like an echo in a dripping cave. Just hearing it made my body¡¯s hair stand on end.


    The mad scientist spoke again.


    ¡°You are free to listen to information. But I did not grant you permission to leave.¡±


    Before he could finish speaking, Liam responded. His voice was intended to persuade, but its meaning was as good as a threat.


    ¡°It¡¯s not wise to make ¡®us¡¯ your enemy, not for the schrs of the End Star. Not for you either.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s never revealed, no one will ever know. As an adult, I can¡¯t let impudent people who disturb peace and rules be. Indeed, now that it hase to this, it wouldn¡¯t be bad to take that brilliant intellect of yours. I have coveted it for a long time¡­ You should be proud. You would be a good conversational partner, Liam Schofield Moore.¡±


    Despite the serious situation, I felt no fear.


    I could imagine Liam Moore¡¯s face vividly. He would be smiling leisurely with a corner of his mouth lifted.


    ¡°It seems even the beings of Yuggoth acknowledge my brilliant intellect. But I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s a long waiting line. So¡­ you¡¯ll have to queue.¡±


    A bright light pierced through my closed eyelids, followed by a familiar sharp sound.


    Leaving behind the enraged voice of Plurititas, Liam Moore pushed me out of the study.


    ¡°You can open your eyes now.¡±


    I quickly opened my eyes and asked,


    ¡°Did you just use a shbang?¡±


    Oops, excuse my unrefinednguage.


    I was running down the hallway with Liam, holding my cumbersome hat in my hand. Screams echoed behind us. It sounded like the flutter of insect wings or the discordant noise of a radio. If I were to transcribe it, it would be something like ¡®skrrtskshtskr.¡¯


    Liamughed heartily. He seemed to find the situation extremely amusing and enjoyable.


    Having a boss who loves danger always results in such situations. He¡¯s as crazy as the mad scientist Plurititas!


    ¡°Exactly, my dear Jane! Now, run!¡±


    Ah, damn! I started running. The reason was simple. Something slow and lumbering was definitely chasing us. I avoided themon mistake of looking back.


    Running for my life, with my survival instinct kicking in, Liam Mooreughed breathlessly, which only annoyed me more. After all, wasn¡¯t it Liam Moore¡¯s smooth talk that got me into this mess?


    Damn London, damn Liam Moore, damn murderers! Why does crime lurk like a hidden beast and reveal itself at the worst time?


    I wanted to ask.


    Is the tendency to murder inherent in human nature, ensuring a short life without it? Evil isn¡¯t made, it¡¯s born, and we must find such people¡­.


    Voices resonating, people started running from all directions.

 Chapter 12: Invader (4)

    Episode 12. Invader (4)


    ¡°What on earth is ¡®that¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you wouldn¡¯t want to know.¡±


    He chuckled and then kicked the approaching butler. I was somewhat shocked. As someone from a country where elders are respected, seeing an old man kicked was unimaginable to me, even though I appeared to be a 19th-centurydy. What was more shocking was how easily the old man was flung away, and what startled me even more was that his body shattered into pieces upon impact. My difort was finally resolved. It was natural that I couldn¡¯t read anything from it. The butler wasn¡¯t human; he was a highly precise automaton mimicking human form!


    Through the broken leg, I saw round joints and connectors like those of a wooden puppet. The broken lower half ttered and began to chase us with its arms.


    ¡°For God¡¯s sake, they¡¯re all puppets!¡±


    ¡°I know. They¡¯re called automatons. I didn¡¯t realize you were this slow to catch on.¡±


    As we ran, I began to run out of breath, and soon the front door came into view. What should we do now? This was a residential area, and there were few people around in the evening. Hardly any carriages were passing by. We had limited stamina, and if we kept running around the neighbourhood, we would surely be caught by those things.


    But then Liam Moore, with a bright smile (a smile I found ominous), suddenly pulled me and threw me over his shoulder. I didn¡¯t have time to question his actions. I knew well enough how to react in such situations: I clung tightly to his coat. We soon threw ourselves outside the open front door. A sh and a notification sound marked thepletion of the quest.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When I opened my eyes, the sharp, cool London night air greeted us. I quickly realized we weren¡¯t in Hallenden because I could hear the Thames River nearby. We were in an alley between Bailonz Street and Blemich Street, about two blocks from 13 Bailonz Street.


    Liam Moore was sitting on the ground, waiting for me to get up. His tie was disheveled, and his hair, except for a part of his bangs, was in disarray. I didn¡¯t need to look to know I looked just as bad.


    ¡°How was it? Fun, right?¡±


    Liam¡¯s grey eyes curved into a smile. I always found myself speechless at his shamelessness.


    ¡°Are you crazy? Is that what you want to ask right now?¡±


    As I rubbed my tailbone, I swore never to get involved in Liam Moore¡¯s audacious investigations again. But I knew that resolve wouldn¡¯tst long. We looked at each other¡¯s dishevelled appearances and burst intoughter, then got up and returned to the office at 13 Bailonz Street.


    Lucita kept her promise. Her letter was in the middle of the living room. I didn¡¯t know how she got in despite the locked door, but her skill was impressive. Liam opened it with a paper knife, read it, and handed it to me with a satisfied smile.


    It was written in elegant, in handwriting.


    [The Brothers of Turc, a cult active in London, seeking ¡®sacrifices for the end.¡¯ Cutting off the head was to confuse the investigation, an attempt to divert suspicion, which failed. ¡®High priests¡¯ attending the gatherings bring the sacrifices. There are likely more kidnappings and murders unnoticed. Check the East End or slum areas near the docks for missing persons. Request cooperation from S.Y. The sacrifice is almostplete. The missing part is the heart. Ritual location: Big Ben. Does that girl have a lover? Waiting for a reply. Next gathering is tonight at midnight, near Old Paradise Gardens. Follow the people. The password is ¡®Star.¡¯ Good luck.]


    ¡°How on earth did she get this information?¡±


    I eximed in near-admiration as I read the sprawling words.


    ¡°Lucita is quite adept at these things. It¡¯s fair to say that people of this type fear Lucita.¡±


    The puzzle pieces began to fit together. They beheaded victims to make it look like a series of murders and drew the media¡¯s attention. Finding bodies in the East End wasn¡¯t surprising. Sadly, children and vagrants die daily in the unseen parts of London. Missing people often go unnoticed until their bodies are found weekster. The notion of a gentlemanly Ennd is aughable tale, with only those desperately trying to hide the dirty underbelly of London. Like hoping the other side of a coin isn¡¯t heads¡­


    Two hours remained until midnight. Liam Moore quickly scribbled a note and handed it to me.


    [Old Paradise Gardens, need backup, L.M.]


    Anyone recognizing this signature would assist us. Finding a lead on this frustrating case in just two days would be thrilling news.


    I immediately changed into neat clothes. We didn¡¯t have the luxury of arguing at the entrance of Scond Yard. Our division ofbour usually worked this way.


    Liam Moore left first for Old Paradise Gardens, promising to send a signal if there was trouble.


    ¡°Stay safe, Jane.¡±


    ¡°You too.¡±


    I replied.


    £ª £ª £ª


    [Whitehall ce 4, PM 22:35]


    Saved. Good.


    Lately, I¡¯ve felt like I¡¯m adapting too quickly to this situation, as if I were born in the 19th century. My behaviour and speech are bing old-fashioned. Everything around me feels like a swamp, a sticky, heavy mire called London. Beneath that dreadful swamp lurks something ominous, ready to drag people down. So I consciously tried to act like a 21st-century person. Resist, resist, to protect myself.


    I deliberately opened my inventory to check the items inside. A pistol, which was in my inventory but actually strapped to my thigh. It¡¯s easy to spot someone hiding a gun inside their coat by the way one side of their walk is weighted down or the gun clinks. I paid attention to such details and walked as elegantly and regrly as possible.


    Aside from that, there were a veil and a parasol. These woulde in handyter, so I¡¯d exin their use in due time.


    Now, I was arguing at the entrance of Scond Yard. I regretted not dressing as a man, as the officer blocking me was obstinate and dim-witted. He repeated like a parrot that it waste and I should go back instead of bothering others.


    ¡°I have to go inside!¡±


    I finally shouted in frustration.


    Insisting on entering Scond Yard past ten at night, with only off-duty personnel and night patrol officers around, was unreasonable, I knew it. But as time passed during this argument, the ritual might end quickly, and we might miss them. My impatience grew, and my voice rose. I couldn¡¯t hide my irritation.


    Of course, these incidents build my reputation bit by bit¡­ but some things are inevitable, like the sun rising and the moon setting. This was one of those inevitable things.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡±


    A miraculous voice came at that moment, and I couldn¡¯t help but wee it.


    I didn¡¯t need to turn around to know who it was. It was a form of confirmation. Since his previous death was undone, this man would be alive as long as I didn¡¯t go to Hyde Park.


    Turning my head, I saw a man with his hands respectfully behind his back, bowing slightly. His face, relieved of some fatigue, was brighter today, without the unkempt beard. He looked pleased to see me but bewildered by the arguing officer.


    ¡°Is something the matter?¡±


    Oddly enough, I thought of the man desperately trying to protect me in the past when I saw this face. Yes, Inspector Henry Brixon. This pathetically devoted man.


    ¡°Inspector Brixon!¡±


    Brixon smiled gently and nodded to me.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Miss Osmond. What brings you to the Yard at thiste hour?¡±

 Chapter 13: Invader (5)

    Episode 13. Invader (5)


    ¡°¡­It seems that Liam Moore has apprehended the suspect behind the recent murders. He¡¯s requesting police assistance.¡±


    Brixon cast a reproachful nce at the officer blocking my way at the entrance.


    I was, of course, equally frustrated. The game system that required the help of acquaintances (usually male) to aplish anything was indeed inconvenient. To be honest, it was irritating that I couldn¡¯t move ording to my own will within the game, despite controlling my own actions in reality. I felt powerless. More than anything, it was unpleasant that I could only act through such assistance, choices,binations, and quests.


    Despite this reality bing mine, there were countless restrictions¡­.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have the authority to decide. Inspector Jefferson is on duty today. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll listen to Miss Osmond¡¯s story.¡±


    He led me inside as he spoke.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you on duty, Inspector?¡±


    As I asked, I noticed he was holding a small bag. Noticing my gaze, he mumbled an exnation, saying it contained a change of clothes. ¡°Mrs. Jefferson requested it. I¡¯ve been worried, too, as the inspector has been determined to catch those guys for days now¡­.¡±


    I see. It seems he¡¯s been conducting a personal investigation since the autopsy we attended. Of course, Liam and I used our connections to get quick and concise results, but not everyone in London has suchworks.


    As I nodded in understanding, Brixon gave a shy smile. I looked away from him and continued up the stairs. Some people¡¯s gazes briefly touched my cheeks as they passed, but it didn¡¯tst long. Most of them seemed indifferent, perhaps assuming I was an importantdy.


    We finally arrived at the duty room on the third floor.


    ¡°Inspector Jefferson.¡±


    There was a knock, and shortly after, Jefferson opened the door. His face was gaunt, and his beard had grown wildly, making his wife¡¯s concerns seem justified. Nheless, I was d to be here and able to assist Jefferson. His face, worn with fatigue, brightened up.


    ¡°Oh, Miss Jane! What brings you here at thiste hour? Didn¡¯t anyone trouble you downstairs?¡±


    ¡°They did, quite a bit. Thanks to Inspector Brixon, I¡¯m fine. Oh, and this is from Liam. It contains answers you¡¯ll appreciate.¡±


    He hadn¡¯t forgotten the words Liam Moore muttered as he left the autopsy: to look into religious aspects.


    Tearing open the wax seal and reading the letter, Jefferson hastily grabbed his coat from inside and woke up a few more people.


    ¡°Get up, you lot! We¡¯ve got information!¡±


    There were grumbles andints from all around, and Brixon and I shared a brief chuckle at themotion. Soon, three or four disheveled people emerged. Their hair was messy, and their faces were red with sleep marks. Poor souls. No doubt, they had been roused by Jefferson¡¯s relentless persistence.


    Jefferson asked again.


    ¡°Is Old Paradise Gardens confirmed?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s confirmed. We¡¯ve received solid information. Liam has said he¡¯ll be there first, so we need to block the escape routes and wait for his signal.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Rick. How many men can we mobilize right now?¡±


    Rick, the man addressed, replied.


    ¡°If we redirect all patrols to this, blocking one block won¡¯t be a problem.¡±


    Jefferson stroked his chin briefly and spoke.


    ¡°East London, especially Whitechapel, is a slum, so patrols are necessary. Let¡¯s deploy forces from elsewhere, except for Buckingham. The wealthy areas can spare some men. Bermondsey in the south of the Thames remains as is.¡±


    ¡°What about Spitalfields?¡±


    ¡°Same there. Leave the slums untouched.¡±


    Listing tasks one by one on his fingers, the inspector¡¯s previous exhaustion and weariness were gone, reced by the hunger of a hunting dog. A strange fervor and excitement surrounded them.


    ¡°Bring everyone off duty and on standby. Quietly. We must move silently. If the rats living in London¡¯s sewers get scared and flee, it will be troublesome.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    [Old Paradise Gardens, PM 23:20]


    From Scond Yard to Old Paradise Gardens, it was about an eight-minute carriage ride across Westminster Bridge. Walking would take a bit longer. To avoid detection, they split into carriages and some went on foot.


    Hurrying might be faster, but they had to cross the Thames, so there was no need to rush. Some took the Strand Bridge route, while Jefferson, Brixon, and I shared a carriage.


    It was easy to get a carriage here, allowing us to arrive on time. ck carriages frequently headed to a certain building, a four-story structure. The exterior was cream-colored with a burgundy roof. Numerous windows allowed the interior lights to glow softly.


    The constant stream of people disembarking wore dark, high-quality clothes. Women wore ck veils and carried parasols, looking likedies heading to a salon if seen during the day. However, women carrying parasols at night drew attention, yet the people here seemed to ept it naturally.


    I then realized that even the passersby were part of the group.


    Among those disembarking were high-ranking figures. Men in dark cloaks, holding canes, entered the building cheerfully guided by footmen.


    I spotted Liam Moore among them.


    He was with a man in his fifties, and his polite smile was something to behold! You wouldn¡¯t know the shock I felt seeing him lift his ck top hat with white gloves. It was like seeing a neighbor suddenly dressed in formal attire. It was apletely different look from his usual suits.


    Was he a member of this social club? Despite saying he¡¯d wait, he quickly found apanion and went inside. I had a bad feeling about the potential trouble.


    I eventually got out of the carriage, leaving Jefferson and Brixon to handle things.


    Before I got out, I asked.


    ¡°What time is it now?¡±


    ¡°About 11:20 PM.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll send a signal at midnight. Make sure to block the entrance.¡±


    I covered my face with a veil, straightened my shoulders, and headed towards the entrance. The footman noticed I was alone and greeted me.


    ¡°Wee, madam.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while. There are more people today than usual.¡±


    This greeting lowered his guard. It was half a gamble. He spoke of blessings and asked me:


    ¡°What do we call those who burn incessantly, transmitting destiny and lineage to our sight?¡±


    ¡°Stars.¡±


    ¡°Confirmed, madam. Shall I escort you to the banquet hall?¡±


    ¡°Please do.¡±


    Upon entering the banquet hall, I was almost overwhelmed by the scene.


    Arge painting was carved into the marble floor, leading to a central altar. Ominous and sphemous sculptures supported the altar. It was like seeing the words of Dante Alighieri¡¯s ¡®Inferno¡¯ brought to life:


    ¡®Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.¡¯


    If those words were carved in stone, they would look like this.


    The altar was surrounded by tiered seats, resembling a colosseum or an amphitheater. A tform was set up on the stage at the back, with people in ck-hooded cloaks bustling about. Though it appeared to be a four-story building, it was a single space, disguised as a mansion by separating it with entrance corridors.


    Despite this, the ce undeniably had a strong religious aura. From the ground to the roof, the ceiling was open and visible, adorned with grotesque paintings akin to cathedral frescoes. ck stains were visible on the walls and various spots.


    ¡°Madam. Please take a seat here.¡±


    Following the footman¡¯s kind guidance, I climbed the steps and sat, slightly tilting my head to look below the railing.


    The ce appeared decadent, even resembling an illegal auction house. It was far from the mansion I had imagined.


    As more people took their seats, I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up.

 Chapter 14: Invader (6)

    Episode 14. Invader (6)


    A gentleman in a top hat smiled faintly. When I looked into his grey eyes, I opened my mouth in surprise.


    ¡°Liam,¡±


    ¡°Shh.¡±


    Liam Moore pressed a finger to his lips and sat to my left as if he had always been part of our group. To my right sat a man in his fifties, with strands of grey in his ck hair.


    His thick eyebrows and sunken cheekbones gave him a tough appearance. The grey hair, which seemed to form a pattern, made me suspect that his ck hair might be dyed. If so, he was a person meticulous about self-care with a keen sense of aesthetics.


    His index and middle fingers were calloused, and there was a slight ink stain on his sleeve, suggesting he was a writer, though 19th-century writers rarely lived so luxuriously. From head to toe, he was adorned in the finest attire, and his movements exuded elegance.


    A singlerge ring adorned his wrinkled fingers, and a wedding ring graced his left ring finger. So, he had a wife.


    This was the man who had apanied Liam Moore. He smiled kindly at me. ¡°And who is this?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oh, forgive me. I should have introduced you to this brilliant youngdy,¡± Liam said.


    Given our location (we were possibly infiltrating the headquarters of a cult), revealing identities was too risky. We didn¡¯t know who might recognize us. Thus, throughout our conversation, we refrained from revealing names and referred to each other with terms like ¡°you,¡± ¡°this person,¡± and ¡°we.¡±


    The clock struck midnight, interrupting our conversation. The lights dimmed, and a figure ascended the tform.


    ¡°Brothers of Turc! The great endeavour we¡¯ve long awaited is about to begin!¡±


    Cheers erupted from all around. When the figure in a ck cloak raised a clenched fist, the noise stopped. It was like watching a well-coordinated machine. People exchanged nces filled with excitement and anticipation for what was toe.


    ¡°The sacrifices of our brothers, their long dedication, have finally paved the way to the Great One. We will be one with the stars. Let us praise the song that echoes through London.¡±


    ¡°Praise be.¡±


    ¡°Thest piece we couldn¡¯t find for so long has finally revealed itself. Pain will open the way for us. His pain will be our blessing!¡±


    At that moment, someone was being dragged forward, their head covered with a sack. They looked around in fear, but couldn¡¯t see anything. Bound by ropes, they seemed to have lost the will to resist, appearing almost devoid of life.


    I reached for my thigh and recalled Lucita¡¯s letter. The missing part is the heart. I began to understand what they intended to do.


    ¡°But before wemence the ritual, I have something to share with you,¡± murmured the man who was fiddling with a dagger.


    ¡°The numbers are far too few. We tried to gather the purest and most beautiful, but it wasn¡¯t enough to quench our hunger. Our Father demands much. We must fill his empty stomach with many things. So, I thought¡­¡±


    At this point, I felt a growing sense of dread.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there enough sacrifice right here?¡±


    Someone stood up and shouted, banging the table.


    In this tense silence, speaking out was either foolish or a show of confidence in their strength. I thought it was foolish, as did Liam and the middle-aged man to my right.


    ¡°Weren¡¯t we told the ritual would be at Big Ben! This is not what we agreed on!¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. That¡¯s what we said. But that was a lie. We had a spy within the Brothers of Turc. So we told them¡­ that it would take ce at Big Ben. But think, brothers. Could wemit our act in the Queen¡¯s domain? Victoria is quite the pickydy.¡±


    To speak of a nation¡¯s queen in such a manner! I was appalled, and so were the others. If the door wasn¡¯t locked and the windows were uncovered, the protests would have continued.


    There was the sound of a bolt sliding shut. Wooden nks covered the windows. The man sped his hands and replied sorrowfully.


    ¡°The sacrifice was insufficient. But isn¡¯t today exceptionally crowded? Your flesh and bones, blood, and brains will sate the hunger. Father King will be pleased and praise you. This one poor offering won¡¯tplete it. No, no, no!¡±


    Wow, aplete cultist.


    ¡°So rejoice. You will be one with the stars¡­. Salvation is noting. Only the end. I¡¯ll use you joyfully. You¡¯ll be excellent offerings. But it doesn¡¯t matter if we fail¡­¡±


    His teeth were bared in a bright smile. He was truly mad, speaking without regard for the audience.


    Heughed, saying it didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°There are many people, and you are always receable.¡±


    Bang!


    Liam and I simultaneously drew and fired our guns. I aimed at his shoulder, and Liam at the altar.


    The altar, struck by Liam¡¯s bullet, cracked and crumbled into rubble. I was shocked that a mere revolver could cause such destruction. It felt like a sniper rifle had been fired.


    As I shot the man, chaos erupted. People pounded on the doors, screaming to be let out. But the windows wouldn¡¯t open. They would remain closed until opened from the outside.


    The man, hit by the bullet, staggered and copsed. The sacrificial victim, seizing the moment, began to crawl away. The man¡¯s eyes fixed on Liam, who had fired the shot.


    ¡°You, you, you! You!¡±


    It was a grotesque sight. The man, covered in blood, screamed in agony as if he were melting.


    ¡°How dare you! How dare you interfere with us!¡±


    He muttered something in an unintelligiblenguage, and suddenly, the people in the room began to attack each other frantically.


    We were not exempt. Liam, hispanion, and I ran, avoiding the crazed attackers. Each one had immense strength, foaming at the mouth, and eyes devoid of focus, like people on drugs or possessed.


    ¡°Oh, Jesus, Buddha, Ah¡­.¡±


    ¡°Jane, your head!¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡±


    Someone grabbed my hair. I groaned, swinging my parasol.


    Who is it? Let me see your face!


    I retracted my thoughts within three seconds. It was like watching a zombie movie, surrounded by madness. It felt like a Halloween theme park. Eyes rolled back, inhuman growls, a symphony of chaos. We were being pushed towards the altar.


    My parasol was half broken from fending off the onught.


    Ah, life. I muttered.


    Damn it. Mother, what original sin did Imit to deserve this?


    In one hand, a broken parasol, in the other, a revolver. My dress was torn and tattered, my hair half pulled up and half loose. I looked like an executioner about to behead a criminal.


    ¡°Did the person who attacked you look like this?¡± I panted, asking.


    I didn¡¯t really want an answer, given the state of the mansion. In one corner, people were biting each other. In another, a finely dresseddy was strangling a gentleman with twisted legs. Elsewhere, someone was banging their head against a wall, screaming incoherent words. Pagan? Paganini? Whatever. Soon they¡¯d be calling for Chopin, Liszt, and Rachmaninoff.


    Even the musicians weren¡¯t spared. Priceless instruments were being used as weapons. ng! Bang! Smash! It was a spectacle. They were bashing heads on piano keys, mming the lids down.


    Liam Moore skillfully redirected attackers towards new targets.


    Is that ethical? I pondered. It¡¯s better than being torn apart, but selling others to save oneself feels deeply hical!


    Someone grabbed my shoulder. A mouth foaming with spit came towards my neck. Just as I thought I¡¯d be bitten, Liam shot the attacker in the arm.


    I retract my statement. Sometimes, it¡¯s okay tock a conscience. Conscience doesn¡¯t feed you. Let¡¯s be pragmatic.


    19th-century London was testing me. My course of action was clear.


    I had a conscience, but it just disappeared.

 Chapter 15: Invader (7)

    Liam, after lowering his gun, answered nonchntly, ¡°Yes, just like this. But I never thought I could drive so many people mad at once. This requires some research, don¡¯t you think, Hopkins?¡±


    The man called Hopkins tidied his disheveled hair and kicked aside an approaching person, something you wouldn¡¯t expect from a man in his fifties.


    ¡°I agree, Mr. Moore. It will be quite an interesting study, I assure you.¡±


    Research, my foot. These guys are insane.


    Without even trying to hide my disbelief, I fired the remaining bullets in my revolver at the window. Any South Korean would recognize that rhythm.


    Bang-bang bang bang-bang.


    At that moment, I heard the police breaking in. They got the signal! Thank goodness! Anyway, shooting something was definitely a signal. There¡¯s no way a 21st-century Korean would be here.


    The outside grew chaotic. Voices of people startled by the sudden arrival of the police echoed around.


    ¡°These bastards, hey, stop them! Crush them! Kill them!¡± Among themotion, I thought I heard something uncharacteristic of the police, but I ignored it. Sounds of scuffles as footmen resisted, curses from those who failed to escape, something about a cult and stars.


    ¡°Once you fall into a cult, there¡¯s no saving you. What are we going to do with these people?¡±


    The real issue now was how to stop these frenzied people. If left alone, it seemed like a mass murder was imminent. The sight of someone trying to smash a person¡¯s head with a contrabass made action urgent. I had to do something. But what?


    Then, I focused on what the man was muttering.


    This was like triggering some kind of mechanism. This was a cult. And that madman was like a cult leader. So why were these people insane? Right, the brainwashing antics typical of cults! Could the trigger word have been what he just said? For example, ¡°When I say this word, you will fall asleep.¡±


    If that¡¯s the case, there¡¯s only one way. I walked towards the man, who was panting with someone clinging to his shoulders.


    ¡°Liam Moore, you wretch! Your soul will burn in the fires of hell seven times and will be weed nowhere! Our king ising! The king ising! The ck Forest is moving!¡±


    What the heck. This guy is cursing out someone else¡¯s boss.


    The man was cursing Liam,pletely unaware of me approaching from behind. Or he hadpletely forgotten about me. Oh, that¡¯s a good thing. Anger narrows your vision. There¡¯s probably a paper on how beneficial such narrowness can be.


    ¡°To hell with research and papers.¡±


    Papers! I couldn¡¯t believe I was saying such things. So, I opted for less schrly, more modern words. Hey, you cult bastard.


    ¡°Shut your mouth.¡±


    I punished the guy for yanking my hair. In a rather udylike manner, I smashed his head into the floor.


    Wham! Ack! Wham! Ack!


    How many times was it? Hmm¡­ about five times, I think. His consciousness faded on the third hit, but I smashed him two more times for good measure.


    The man, twitching and convulsing, copsedpletely. His tongue stuck out and his eyes rolled back, clearly unconscious.


    ¡°Don¡¯t believe in cults, find enlightenment. Amen, Namu Amitabha.¡±


    See? This is how you unify religions.


    My method was right. As the man fainted, people started to copse one by one, freed from some brainwashing influence.


    Finally, I heard groans and screams from all around. Until then, people moved without feeling fear or pain, but now they were writhing in the sudden onught of pain. Someone with a broken leg cried out, ¡°My leg!¡± Over there, someone seemed to have a broken nose.


    Among the panting people, only the three of us were standing.


    ¡°How?¡±


    Liam panted. His vest was torn. His hair looked yanked out. I shrugged.


    As the police burst through the door, I tossed off my blood-sttered veil and took a breath. Leaving the two stunned men behind, I walked out gracefully, standing tall.


    The police had no need to subdue anyone. Seeing the unconscious people and the grim scene inside, and my disheveled state, they were speechless. Neither Jefferson nor Inspector Brixon could say a word to me. They averted their gazes and began tending to the injured.


    £ª £ª £ª


    [Old Paradise Gardens, AM 00:06 (Day 3)]


    It¡¯s been a tough night.


    I think I dislocated my shoulder after all the exertion. It had been a dull pain until now, but now it was going numb.


    I trudged out and sat on the cream-colored steps, looking up at the sky. A little past midnight, the third day had begun. The second day of not dying was over. The moon above was bright.


    Ah. What a killer moon¡­.


    Exhausted, I held my shoulder and set down the revolver. The ck revolver on the bright steps looked out of ce.


    Despite everything, I habitually opened my notebook and recorded the events. As I sat there for a while, Liam Moore and Hopkins, done with their tasks, came out too. A carriage called by Scond Yard was arriving.


    Liam cleared his throat and spoke, ¡°I apologize for thete introduction, Herschel. This is Miss Jane Osmond. She¡¯s been assisting me in many ways.¡±


    Here? Now?


    His name is Herschel. Hopkins is the surname. Herschel Hopkins smiled gently and extended his hand to me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard a lot about you, Miss Jane. Liam speaks very highly of you. I¡¯m Herschel Hopkins.¡±


    I looked up at the hand extended to me in astonishment. Sitting haphazardly on the steps, with my hair yanked out and my neat attire in disarray, I was surprised at the hand offered by Herschel Hopkins. And the fact that Liam Moore thought this was the time for introductions was the most absurd. I muttered.


    ¡°Do people in your social club exchange greetings after surviving near-death experiences?¡±


    I threw a barbedment.


    If you¡¯re human, feel a little guilty. I mean, you left me alone to deal with everything. And shouldn¡¯t you exin what¡¯s going on in such sudden situations? Don¡¯t make an ordinary citizen beat up people.


    The sensation of beating someone is still unsettling.


    I shook his hand. Herschel Hopkins seemed to be nning to kiss the back of my hand, but I shook it twice and used it to stand up. Liam, as if anticipating this, offered me his jacket. Though dusty and torn, it was better than my tattered bustle dress.


    ¡°I¡¯ll escort you.¡±


    A police officer was sitting in the driver¡¯s seat. A Scond Yard carriage, huh? Quite the honor. Probably because we solved a troublesome case.


    I naturally got into the carriage. No matter what, it wasfortable and heavenlypared to outside. It was very lovely.


    And as soon as I got in, I passed out as if I were dead. Oops, my mistake. I fell asleep as if dead.


    My whole body ached, I was exhausted, and I didn¡¯t even have the strength to fix my yanked hair. I think Liam Moore let me lean on his shoulder. He smelled of gunpowder and blood.


    Just as my vision darkened, these subtitles floated in my mind.


    [Episode 1. End of the Misty Murderer.]


    What did I even do?


    £ª £ª £ª


    I opened my eyes again. I don¡¯t know how many times I¡¯ll wake up to the sight of my room¡¯s ceiling in this round.


    A seemingly habitual action followed. My hands moved, checking my shoulder and body, slowly getting up to check the condition of my beloved game system.


    The inventory was working, the save lists were still there. The quest list, filled with ¡®???¡¯, awaited the next progress. That certainly reassured me.


    As long as this situation wasn¡¯t real, I could endure whatever happened here. There was a slim chance I could return somehow.


    Far off, I heard the voice of a newspaper boy and the sound of a carriage passing by. The sound of hooves and the bustling streets of London had be familiar in just a few days. It seemed I had adapted to this daily life.


    Was this a smartphone detox? Maybe I thought of it as a temple stay. Although, this was 19th-century London, so it would be Anglican, not a temple.


    Even though we seemed to have glimpsed London¡¯s darker side through yesterday¡¯s unfortunate events, I loved London. I loved London and London loved me, so perhaps even stuck in the 19th century, I could live well.


    ¡°This is absurd!¡±


    I would have continued to love London. That is, if I hadn¡¯t heard such a remark.

 Chapter 16: The Man of the Mist (1)

    Episode 16. The Man of the Mist (1)


    It seemed that Jefferson hade to discuss the case.


    As soon as I stepped out of the room, the eyes of the gathered crowd fell on me. It was a bit overwhelming, but I refused to let it faze me. Thinking that I was just being prideful? Clearly, they didn¡¯t know me well. Among the crowd was Hershel Hopkins from yesterday.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± I greeted them. Pulling my thick indoor robe tighter around myself, I sat next to Liam and naturally took the newspaper from him.


    The table between the sofas was piled high with newspapers, ranging from reputable dailies to gossip rags, as if we had bought every paper in London. The front page featured an article about the ongoing construction on the Thames River bridge and a story about a young couple causing amotion by attempting to jump off the Strand Bridge. The police had to intervene. That bridge had been a known suicide spot for over thirty years. The nerve! Especially with Scond Yard not far away.


    I noticed a consistent detail in all the newspapers.


    ¡°¡­the culprit of the case,¡± I started, but nowhere, not on the front page nor in the ssifieds, was there any mention of the incident at Lambeth¡¯s Old Paradise Gardens. It was as if it had never happened, as if the people who died there were just fools.


    Jefferson continued, visibly agitated. Higher-ups had forbidden any further investigation. The Brothers of Turc, the religious fanatics they had captured, were released early in the morning due tock of evidence. They couldn¡¯t be held any longer. I understood their situation to some extent.


    ¡®Personally,¡¯ Jefferson had found a corpse at the ce the fanatic imed to be staying. The man had clearly poisoned himself overnight. Though Jefferson suspected foul y, he wasn¡¯t given the chance to perform an autopsy or further examine the crime scene. The room was quickly cleared, and anything useless was burned. Soon, someone new would move in. In London¡¯s shadowy corners, there were always people ready to live anywhere with four walls and a roof. Who knew how many more would be used like this? The dead man¡¯s body was buried in amon grave for the unimed. In London, this was the usual end for the poor, with the process moving swiftly as if they had been waiting for him to die. Such was the fate of these people, always.


    All I could send the deceased was a bit of pity. It was clear they had severed the tail, yet none of us could pursue it further. Tobias Jefferson had a wife and daughter, and Liam and I also had families, strained as our rtionships might be. We couldn¡¯t stir up trouble that the high-ranking officials at Scond Yard wanted to ignore.


    People with much to lose always choose silence. You might call it cowardice. The identities of those attacking people were never revealed, and the murder case would forever drift in the fog of London¡¯s unsolved mysteries.


    We did catch the Misty Murderer. Even if we didn¡¯t identify every person involved in the killings, we managed to separate the chaff from the wheat in society. The Brothers of Turc were all apprehended by the London police, and the many visitors to Old Paradise Gardens were managed. It was remarkable that no one died in the process, but that was the end of it.


    Only then did I remember there were quite a few high-ranking officials among those present at the scene. The case was closed. For the sake of the noble lords¡¯ honor, their honor and wealth which would vanishe the 21st century.


    Let¡¯s be honest here. I¡¯m opening up to you. Honestly, I am bewildered. I wasn¡¯t surprised by the London police¡¯s response. I vaguely knew that the high-ups had a strong aversion to sinister religions and had anticipated their reaction. Even so, curiosity or genuine belief might have led some high-ranking officials to get involved in this sinister religion, wanting to keep it under wraps. I understood this situation. I knew that many of these attacks and murders were the work of those fanatically devoted to the cult.


    So, what confuses me?


    Listen closely, dear readers. What truly confuses me is that despite doing ¡®nothing,¡¯ Episode 1 concluded because we ¡®caught the mastermind.¡¯


    I still hadn¡¯t received any answers from them. I knew they attacked people for some cultic rites, but I couldn¡¯t understand anything from start to finish of what those involved were saying.


    Everything I¡¯ve encountered so far has been like that!


    Honestly, solving cases with Liam Moore usually involved proper investigation and inquiry, providing valuable criminology insights. But in this case¡­ it was filled with surreal elements.


    There are countless questions. For instance,


    What was the mist? Did they predict the foggy days? But how could it be so dense on the days theymitted the murders? What about the disappearing people? Were the empty streets my hallucination?


    Who is Lucita? How did she enter a locked office? What was Plurititas? The automaton-like people in that house? Those containers filling the library?


    If being led to Big Ben was merely the cultist¡¯s trap, why did theymit murders in such a convoluted way?


    So many questions, yet no answers.


    Since when did Liam Moore get used to such things? What was his drug? Now that I think about it, he injured his arm, so how did he shoot a gun so urately? How? Are the things I know correct? Was everything just MacGuffin¡¯s, the game creator, intent? But if that¡¯s the case, how many plot holes does it create? These creators don¡¯t know how to write a story. They should quit if they can¡¯t do better.


    Everything was just a series of coincidences and surreal events. It felt like I had glimpsed a world I didn¡¯t intend to see.


    Liam Moore remained the same, and so did I, but I didn¡¯t feel like we had ¡®solved¡¯ the case. There was only unease left, a lingering difort like drinking tea with too much sugar, sticking to my tongue and throat, bringing this persistent doubt.


    Did we really solve the case?


    Yet, the game system remained unchanged. It must have heard my doubts, yet it continued to shimmer in the corner of my vision. What a broken game.


    At that moment, I felt a certain anger.


    A broken game.


    It was a flood of emotions, overwhelming and disregarding everything in its path, leaving only sharp anger.


    To include such an iplete, hole-ridden scenario as the first episode, were they showcasing an unfinished work, or was this ¡®how it was supposed to be¡¯?


    There have been many games that fell into the category of broken games. The elements of a broken game are numerous.


    Half-baked story, incoherent plot development, shameless mization strategies, endless gacha with no ceiling, the constant rotation of pushing popr characters, story development worse than a school assembly¡¯s ¡®let¡¯s all get along¡¯ narrative. I¡¯m familiar with it. Theg caused by new characters entering the battlefield or the poor polygons are understandable.


    But this, this was a kind of absurdity I had never experienced before. It was as if they were determined to create a broken game. They poured their hearts into character and background uracy, leaving the story hollow. I couldn¡¯t even begin to guess what was in the creator¡¯s mind. What a broken game.


    A hand rested on my shoulder. Liam Moore watched my expression briefly. Only then did I realize I was crumpling the newspaper as if ready to tear it apart. Everyone had been watching me in silence during my brief distraction.


    ¡°Let¡¯s have breakfast outside,¡± he suggested. ¡°You could use a change of scenery.¡±


    He must have thought I was angry about the police¡¯s decision. Let him think that; I muttered inwardly.

 Chapter 17: The Man of the Mist (2)

    Episode 17. The Man of the Mist (2)


    Thus, after the morning meeting ended, we walked along the Thames River for a while. I remained silent, and Liam simply followed me with his hands politely behind his back. Mist was gently creeping in, the river flowed, and people came and went. To be honest, it wasn¡¯t romantic. The morning fog carried a stench. A putrid smell that made my stomach churn, slick and nauseating.


    You might not imagine it, but as Henry Mayhew once described, the Thames River, regardless of location, smelled like a cemetery. Though human corpses didn¡¯t float up frequently (though they were sometimes found), it was no different from a river of death. This area was rtively developed, and because it was near Belgravia and Westminster where the high and mighty frequented, it was less pronounced. But if you saw the Thames near the slums, you¡¯d react the same way.


    In the slums along the docks and riverbanks, the stench was severe. The most infamous area for this was Jacob¡¯s Ind, located at the confluence of the Thames and the Neckinger River. Although called an ind, it was actually an area surrounded by a drainage ditch near George Row and London Street, with St. Saviour¡¯s Dock to the west. Typical of British naming, it wasn¡¯t an ind in the middle of the river as one might first think.


    The Morning Chronicle sarcastically referred to this ce as ¡°the capital of cholera¡± (because those who used contaminated water fell ill with cholera) and ¡°the Venice of drainage.¡±


    Jacob¡¯s Ind was a cluster of rickety bridges and densely packed houses. After Charles Dickens made it famous with ¡®Oliver Twist¡¯, these slums became fodder for many creators. House sewage flowed directly into the river(!), and rotting animal carcasses were pushed up against the banks. Dead fish piled up in clumps. Some areas of the filthy river seemed to run red with blood, causing fear among the people, but it was due to pollution from nearby factories.


    Novelists saw all this ugliness as romantic, but for those living there, their gaze and sharp pens were the real ugliness. Their writings turned the slums into a tourist attraction for gentlemen anddies, who clogged the old bridges while holding their noses and gawking. Isn¡¯t that a disgusting romance? Romanticising because it didn¡¯t happen to them.


    Of course,pared to the 1840s when ¡®Oliver Twist¡¯ was written, now (around 1870) it had lost much of its ¡°prime ind¡± reputation. Many buildings were demolished, and efforts to remove the drainage ditch and level thend were underway. The number of houses decreased, and some changes urredpared to the past when people drank putrid water from the ditch. The city¡¯s mdies continued, but thanks to morally driven individuals trying to resolve these issues.


    Liam Moore pulled me out of my reverie as I stared at the Thames flowing beneath the pedestrian bridge. The wet stones from the early morning rain were slippery. If he hadn¡¯t grabbed me, I would have surely had a deep kiss with the Thames¡¯s sewage. His face was urgent as he embraced my waist, perhaps even looking foolish. I didn¡¯t particrly like his face¡ªcold, yet youthful and round from certain angles. Often, I saw the foggy London in his eyes. When I got close, like a game character locking onto its target (he was indeed a game character), his grey eyes fixed on me. Regardless of the distance. When his foggy eyes were full of me, I often forgot he was an NPC, so I tried not to look into Liam Moore¡¯s eyes, and that actually worked about half the time.


    But sometimes things don¡¯t go as nned. Always, it seems. The one to break this awkward silence was Liam Moore. He spoke first.


    ¡°Be careful.¡±


    From behind, I heard the sound of death flowing. Cold sweat trickled down my back.


    ¡°Thanks. Almost drowned on such a fine morning.¡±


    I said, trying to lighten the strange atmosphere, but Liam Moore¡¯s expression showed no signs of improvement. His thick brows slightly furrowed, and a fork-like wrinkle formed between his eyebrows.


    Naturally, I shut my mouth, adjusted my posture from his arm, and stood up properly, but even then, Liam¡¯s hand remained on my waist, as if I was someone who would fall and die at any moment. His face looked anxious. I started to walk to escape that vacant expression. When I had almost crossed the bridge, I turned to see Liam Moore still standing there, looking at me as if nailed to the spot.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t youing?¡±


    I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯lle.¡±


    But he still stood there, chewing his lip, looking like he had a lot to say. Was he that startled by my misstep? Anyway, I started walking back to get him, and a sorrowful question floated above my head. Somehow, there seemed to be a faint emotion in his machine-like voice.


    Startled, I looked up to see his eyes close to mine. The colour of grey clouds about to rain. Liam Moore asked me, fixing his eyes on mine.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you look into my eyes these days?¡±


    When I first heard this, I couldn¡¯t hide the shiver running down my back. Fear flowed down my spine. Why? Why look at me like that? What is the purpose of this question? Thoughts like that ran through my mind.


    Whether he knew my thoughts or not, his eyes still stayed fixed on my face.


    After a brief silence, he returned to his usual self. Rxed, sly, and seemingly living in his own world. As he walked ahead, I felt a sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. As if he wasn¡¯t someone I knew. I wanted to grab his shoulder and shout, ¡°Who are you? What are you doing?¡± but I kept my mouth shut and followed him.


    ¡°Shall we have a warm meal? The food in London is all the same, but you might like this ce.¡±


    Liam Moore said.


    ¡°¡­Might as well have tomato stew.¡±


    Yes. Let¡¯s eat. We need to eat to live. I was no longer a yer, but an ordinary person trapped here. So I had to keep up my survival activities by eating well and sleeping well.


    Liam Moore smiled brightly.


    ¡°A very wise choice.¡±


    And I muttered to myself again. Wise, my foot.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When we returned after our meal, a man was standing in front of our office, and we exchanged nces briefly. He had a round, slightly short figure, giving a kind impression. His dirty blonde hair was curly, and his shoes and clothes didn¡¯t match, so he didn¡¯t seem to have a good fashion sense. Overall, he seemed like someone who couldn¡¯t say no.


    The man, looking at his watch and impatiently knocking on the door, turned his head at the sound of a cough, and his face brightened surprisingly. He spread his arms and eximed happily.


    ¡°Oh, Liam!¡±


    It was as if he was greeting an old friend.


    But Liam frowned for a moment, as if trying to figure out who this man was. His expression clearly said, ¡°Who is this guy?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me, Stranden! We took the same ss at Cambridge! Professor Hexture was very fond of you. Did you know his acquaintance just joined the university as a new professor? His name is¡ª¡±


    Oh, poor fellow. He seemed to be an acquaintance from Liam¡¯s college days, but it looked like Liam didn¡¯t remember him. Honestly, I also didn¡¯t remember everyone from my college days, but at least I developed the social skill to pretend, yet he didn¡¯t even try that. I guess it¡¯s fortunate he remembers my face.


    ¡°¡­There were just too many people.¡±


    Liam replied curtly, cutting him off, and turned the door handle. The door, which I thought was locked, opened smoothly.


    ¡°Come in. Let¡¯s hear your business upstairs.¡±


    As a result, we ended up going to a wedding. Our visitor, Mr. James Stranden, hade with a wedding invitation. He smiled shyly like a boy and said he was marrying a good person. He looked like the very picture of a man in love, so I congratted him with a smile.


    After briefly praising his future wife, he checked the time and stood up, saying he still had many invitations to deliver. Stranden repeatedly asked us toe to the wedding, even if not as groomsmen, at least as guests, before he left.


    The wedding was three weeks away. The address indicated a mansion on the outskirts of London. It would take about an hour and forty-five minutes by train.


    ¡°By the way, he must have been really close to you in college to remember you and bring an invitation.¡±


    I said, looking at the name on the invitation. Liam, who was examining sks and beakers scattered on the desk, replied, ¡°I guess.¡±


    Just then, a notification sounded. A small grey window shed white letters.


    [Would you like to proceed with the next episode?]

 Chapter 18: Blue, Old, New (1)

    Episode 2: Bloody Mary


    Episode 18. Blue, Old, New (1)


    Typically, weddings are long affairs. The day before, there¡¯s a bachelor party, and the next day, the ceremony usually starts around 10 AM in a church, ending at varying times depending on the length of the speeches. Afterward, there¡¯s often an extended celebration. British wedding customs turn these events into two or three-day festivals, celebrating one of life¡¯s biggest events. Perhaps it¡¯s because they want to make the most of a once-in-a-lifetime asion.


    Liam Moore, as a friend of the groom, was invited and, naturally, had to attend the bachelor party. This meant he had to stay at his friend¡¯s house the night before. Upon realizing this, Liam groaned and clutched his head.


    I suspected his headache was more due to the fumes from the test tubes and sks he was constantly inspecting. The strange, bubbling liquids right under his nose would give anyone a headache. I generously opened a crack in the window.


    Even this argument over the invitation we were having was enough to cause a headache. We had dyed and dyed, and now, on the eve of the wedding, we were still debating whether or not to go.


    ¡°You¡¯reing with me, right?¡± I asked again.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going.¡± He grumbled like a petnt child.


    ¡°Absolutely not.¡± It was always my job to coax Liam Moore in such moments.


    ¡°But he¡¯s your friend,¡± I soothed him like a child.


    ¡°¡­I don¡¯t remember having such a friend.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s his first marriage!¡±


    ¡°If it were his second, it would be bigamy.¡±


    True. I stopped myself from trying to rationalize with him.


    ¡°You should go and congratte him.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯ll be plenty of people to congratte him, even without me. He¡¯s a nobleman.¡±


    This time, I almost lost the argument. His stubbornness was immense. Surely, there had to be some semnce of normal social behavior in him, but he was incredibly obstinate about this.


    But I was used to handling him. cing a hand on his shoulder, I spoke.


    ¡°Sorry, but I need you toe with me for the next episode.¡±


    He could refuse outright, but I had learned from past incidents that my survival rate drastically increased with Liam Moore around. I didn¡¯t need to know why. Staying alive and seeing the end was my sole purpose.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want me to go alone, you¡¯lle with me.¡±


    Bingo. His grey eyes wavered with emotion before he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.


    He looked at me for a while as if measuring my sincerity, then his round eyes softened into a reluctant smile.


    ¡°You really know how to handle me.¡±


    Of course, I do. I¡¯m Jane Osmond, after all.


    He put down his sk, and I sipped my now-cold tea in triumph.


    £ª £ª £ª


    At dawn, we packed our bags.


    I packed a few clothes, my revolver for self-defence, gloves, and an umbre. I hoped it wouldn¡¯t rain too much. I didn¡¯t bother much about my notebook, as it always seemed to find its way back to me even if I lost it.


    Liam, for some reason, was sealing various liquids from the sks on his desk into bottles and packing them. It made me uneasy, as if the bachelor party might turn into a drug party.


    ¡°Why are you packing those?¡± I asked. He stopped and smiled.


    ¡°You never know when you might need them.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t guess why these would be necessary, but I didn¡¯t question his motives. Liam Moore handed me a bottle.


    ¡°Jane, this is a coagnt. It¡¯s like an antiseptic. If you get cut or bleed, pour this on. It will stop small wounds quickly.¡±


    The liquid was clear like hydrogen peroxide or alcohol. Although I didn¡¯t know why he was anticipating injuries, it seemed he was thoroughly prepared for any mishaps. Even though getting shot at a wedding seemed unlikely, it was good to be prepared.


    ¡°And this?¡± I picked a bottle of light blue liquid. Liam pointed to the tag, which I could only partially read as ¡°protect.¡±


    ¡°Stomach lining protection.¡±


    Goodness. Liam Moore had prepared for injuries and the copious amounts of alcohol likely to be consumed at the bachelor party. I couldn¡¯t imagine him drunk. I just hoped James Stranden, who imed to be his friend, wouldn¡¯t force Liam to drink.


    With a few more items packed, Liam¡¯s bag looked more like a doctor¡¯s medical kit than a gentleman¡¯s luggage.


    ¡°You¡¯d make a good pharmacist,¡± I murmured. Liamughed.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m quite satisfied with my current job.¡±


    I knew that. In terms of job satisfaction, neither of us could be beaten in London.


    Solving murder cases, reading the traces left by death, and deducing the culprits gave me joy. The moment I broke the forced silence left by fate and extracted a confession, I felt truly alive.


    We were simr in that way. Therefore, neither Liam nor I ever suggested that the other quit this perilous and death-filled work.


    £ª £ª £ª


    After breakfast, we headed to King¡¯s Cross at around 9 AM. Liam looked displeased but didn¡¯t argue further. He simply walked alongside, inspecting the tform. We started looking for our train with our tickets in hand.


    In hindsight, Liam Moore looked nothing like a groom¡¯s friend attending a wedding. Anyone seeing him might think he was going to a funeral instead.


    I wore a neatly pressed blouse with a thick two-piece suit, a green jacket and skirt, and a small hat. For a wedding gift, Liam decided on a bottle of French wine aged 15 years, from well before the couple had even met.


    It was clearly one of Liam¡¯s treasured possessions, yet he brought it along despite iming he had no such friend. His motives were always enigmatic.


    Finally, when the train¡¯s whistle blew, I felt a slight tension. The rumble of the steam lotive vibrated beneath us.


    ¡°Are you nervous?¡± he asked. Of course not. I was just contemting the extent of this world.


    Outside London? Ennd? The whole world? What would happen next?


    Previously, I thought the main map was just where the events unfolded. But seeing thendscape unfold as we took the train made me wonder. Is this an open-world game?


    It took about 1 hour and 45 minutes by train to reach the rural outskirts of London.


    When we arrived, it was just past noon. A carriage awaited us, thanks to a telegram sent with our arrival time. The coachman, a cheerful young man in neatly pressed clothes, kept us entertained with his chatter.


    ¡°London has frequent drizzles, but here the sunshine is warm. It¡¯s a perfect ce for a newlywed couple to start their life.¡±


    He handled the reins with ease.


    He was right. The countryside, despite being rural, seemed lovely. Fields stretched out, and a distant windmill added to the picturesque scenery.


    Crossing a cold November stream via an arched bridge, we headed to James Stranden¡¯s mansion. We gazed at the scenery outside. Despite winter approaching, the sunshine was still beautiful. I felt a pang of envy for the bride who would spend her honeymoon here.


    ¡°We¡¯ve arrived.¡±


    The voice introducing the mansion was filled with excitement, as if the coachman himself owned the ce. He seemed proud of his work and living in this area.


    He helped me down with a sense of pride, but Liam Moore gently ignored him and assisted me down himself. This ambiguous attitude was baffling. Despite the sudden quiet, we managed to stand at the mansion¡¯s entrance without any mishap.

 Chapter 19: Blue, Old, New (2)

    Episode 19. Blue, Old, New (2)


    With a thud, James Stranden ran out with a smile, grasping the door handle as I knocked.


    ¡°Liam! And Liam¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Assistant.¡±


    ¡°Oh, having such a lovely person as an assistant, you must be quite clueless. Anyway, Miss Assistant, thank you foring all this way.¡±


    Damn, the ¡°Mrs. Moore Event.¡± I shook hands with James awkwardly. He greeted us warmly, only releasing my hand after his weing speech.


    As we were being shown to our rooms, Liam spoke up.


    ¡°I¡¯d like the room next to hers.¡±


    James Stranden¡¯s eyes widened at that. ¡°So, you want the rooms adjacent to each other?¡±


    Liam Moore replied nonchntly.


    ¡°We have a lot of work.¡±


    There was none. Liam Moore was an incredibly diligent man, the type who couldn¡¯t stand work piling up even for an event like this. He had finished a massive amount of work frantically until yesterday, allowing us toe herefortably.


    James Stranden looked at us with surprised eyes, as if asking if I was okay with this. But I was used to Liam¡¯s behavior and could answer calmly.


    ¡°Yes, we have a few cases that came in. We¡¯ll probably need to keep working.¡±


    ¡°Then there¡¯s no choice,¡± James replied.


    With that, the room next to mine was assigned to Liam. James, holding a bunch of keys, pointed to the door. There was another door inside Liam¡¯s room, which seemed to connect to my room.


    ¡°Technically, these connecting doors are locked, but I¡¯ll leave the key with Miss Assistant. You¡¯ll need it for work.¡±


    He handed me an old key, which fit perfectly in the lock. It seemed that all the guest rooms in the mansion were meticulously managed. I was satisfied, knowing we could easily ess each other¡¯s rooms in case of an emergency. My mind shed to emergency exit ns from the cinema.


    In case of fire, run to Liam Moore. In case of murder, open the door to Liam Moore.


    Listing these out made him seem like an emergency exit himself. I chuckled subtly.


    ¡°Then, rest up a bit. There¡¯s a bachelor party this evening, so I¡¯ll borrow this friend for a bit. Oh, if you haven¡¯t had lunch yet, why don¡¯t you join us? I¡¯d like to introduce you to my fianc¨¦e.¡±


    Liam and I exchanged nces. Our answers came simultaneously.


    ¡°We¡¯ll unpack ande down right away.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll unpack ande down right away.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    Red carpet covered the stairs and hallway. It was so red it looked like blood.


    Blink. A lingering image ovepped before my eyes. A pale woman lying in the hallway.


    ¡°!¡±


    I rubbed my eyes and looked at the carpet again. It was clean.


    I must be tired, I thought, staring at the red carpet when someone moved busily behind me. It was Liam Moore.


    As soon as James Stranden left, Liam took out a bottle of something, popped the lid, and began spraying it on the window frames and door frames. Then he opened another bottle and sprayed it around the armchair in the room.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked.


    It was baffling to see him spraying something everywhere as if there were germs, despite not being a germaphobe. Liam Moore was the type who could casually eat a biscuit dropped on a dirty carpet in a boarding house.


    ¡°Are you crazy? Why would you eat that? Are you starving?¡± I had questioned once.


    ¡°I picked it up within three seconds, so it¡¯s fine.¡±


    That was Liam Moore. He was indifferent to dirt and germs unless they were causing death. Usually, he didn¡¯t care much.


    Yet here he was, inspecting every nook and cranny, even behind picture frames. It was shocking. Wait.


    My thoughts paused.


    This isn¡¯t about being a germaphobe¡­.


    ¡°¡­You¡¯re looking for something, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Liam froze, then resumed. Thinking I wouldn¡¯t notice with all that fuss was naive. Then, quietly, in a resonant voice, he made a request.


    ¡°Jane, no matter what happens, if you sense anything strange, do not, under any circumstances, let anyone into the room.¡±


    ¡°¡­Into the room?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve taken temporary measures, but we can¡¯t be sure. If I¡¯m not here, don¡¯t let anyone in. If someone gets in without your permission¡ª¡±


    He pointed to the armchair.


    ¡°Do not get up from that chair.¡±


    His face was serious. He seemed certain that something or someone woulde looking for me in his absence. What it was, neither of us knew, but it seemed to unsettle him. Judging by his expression, he wanted to lock the door and wait it out.


    ¡°I will.¡±


    I spoke again.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do as you say.¡±


    Finally, Liam rxed his shoulders.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be gone long. If anything happens,e over to my room¡­.¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright. Let¡¯s head to the dining room, you worrywart detective.¡±


    Liam smiled faintly. We left the room and headed to the dining room.


    Thinking back, I probably felt it around then. The air inside and outside the room seemed different. Whether it was foresight or my body¡¯s instinctual recognition of danger, I didn¡¯t know. But clearly, very clearly.


    The air outside the door where Liam sprayed was sticky and damp, ufortable. It felt like summer humidity, but with a chill. Like a ssroom soaked during the rainy season, with the air conditioner sting cold air.


    Liam nced around the hallway as myplexion worsened. Then he said,


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, it¡¯s just the weather.¡±


    ¡°I might be tired.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it could be that.¡±


    I should have paid attention to more than just the view in front of me. Observed where Liam¡¯s gaze lingered, what he was seeing. Whether his words were true or just meant to reassure me.


    Soon, the unsettling feeling vanished, and the air returned to normal.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When we arrived at the dining room, there were several other guests. James Stranden sat at the head, with a lovely blondedy beside him. They looked to be about the same age, and their soft, bright demeanor made them seem like a perfect match.


    Smiling gently, thedy nodded. I returned the gesture and took my seat.


    There was an elegant middle-aged woman, a slender man, a chubby man with a jovial demeanor, and a man with a soldierly appearance at the table. All seemed around the same age except for the middle-aged woman.


    The chubby man eximed loudly,


    ¡°Oh! You, you¡¯re Moore, right? Liam Moore!¡±


    ¡°¡­Hmm.¡±


    Liam had a troubled look again. Others might see a nk expression, but I knew. That face was him struggling to recall who this person was. I suppressed augh as the man continued.


    ¡°I¡¯m Philip from the geography department. It¡¯s understandable if you don¡¯t remember me. We were in different departments.¡±


    But how do you know him? Liam and I thought the same thing.


    ¡°I thought I had forgotten an old ssmate. Truly an unfamiliar face.¡±


    Liam spoke surprisingly sociably.


    ¡°Geography department, huh?¡±


    Philip replied,


    ¡°You were quite famous in our school. Liam Moore from thew department! Everyone knew you. Students from different faculties would flood in just to catch a glimpse of you.¡±


    Really? I asked with my expression. Liam across from me firmly shut his lips, denying it. But I knew. This was something only he didn¡¯t know.


    Listening to Philip talk about their school days, dishes starteding out. Sds with tangy dressing and finely cut salmon, grilled mullet with lemon juice¡ªbeautifully ted.


    James Stranden said to Liam,


    ¡°Perfect timing, a bitter and you would¡¯ve missed our chef¡¯s amazing appetizers.¡±


    Liam, unfolding his napkin over hisp, replied smoothly,


    ¡°That¡¯s fortunate.¡±


    Just as I was about to take a bite of the sd with finely chopped salmon¡ª


    ¡ªthud!


    Something fell outside the window.

 Chapter 20: Blue, Old, New (3)

    Episode 20. Blue, Old, New (3)


    It felt like a ssh of cold water had disrupted the previously amicable atmosphere. Something red sttered against the window. Blood. I instinctively knew. The fallen¡­


    James Stranden rushed out in a panic, shouting, ¡°Christine, don¡¯t look!¡± But I knew it was toote. James Stranden¡¯s fianc¨¦e was already staring out the window, her face as pale as a sheet, covering her mouth with her hand.


    ¡°I¡­ I saw it. I saw¡­ I saw it all.¡±


    The woman¡¯s face, muttering nkly, was stained with despair.


    Liam and I simultaneously jumped up and rushed to the window. I looked down while Liam looked up. Seeing what was sticking out of the flower bed just outside the restaurant, I understood why Liam had been so reluctant to attend this wedding.


    It was a person. A man, still barely alive and writhing, murmured something while waving his hand.


    ¡°Ugh¡­ ni.¡±


    What? What did he say? I was halfway out the window when Liam grabbed me and shook his head. The man had stopped breathing.


    I had a foreboding that this would be an ill-fated wedding.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The meal ended shortly after. No one could continue eating after a man fell to his death, and everyone who had witnessed the scene began to rise, overwhelmed by shock.


    The almost unconscious bride was helped out by the hands of the guests. James Stranden watched her retreating figure helplessly, his lips moving silently before he leaned against the window frame. His friendly expression was now twisted in sorrow. He let out a deep sigh.


    Liam Moore¡¯s demeanor was remarkably dry. Unlike me, who knew this was a game and could think of it as mere data, Liam was different. He was another person living in this world. I wondered if the countless incidents had dulled his human side.


    I observed his profile as he stared out the open window, tapping the window frame with his fingernails as if in deep thought. Slowly, he began to speak. He must have organized his thoughts on what to do next.


    Although he called me his assistant, most of the cases were solved relying on Liam¡¯s inscrutable brain. I had grown ustomed to letting hisplex deductions pass without question. I was more of an observer, listening to his words and marveling at his borate reasoning.


    ¡°Stranden.¡±


    Now, only the three of us remained in the restaurant. Though we all looked drained, we were certainly better off than the poor soul lying outside. I blinked and listened to Liam.


    ¡°You knew this man, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    James rubbed his forehead, then replied, ¡°¡­He¡¯s my future brother-inw. Christine¡¯s brother.¡±


    ¡°His name?¡±


    ¡°Justin Besson.¡±


    A bride¡¯s brother dying the day before the wedding! Nothing could be more horrific. I thought this couldn¡¯t have been a voluntary death.


    Though I knew from experience that people cornered emotionally could make extreme choices, Justin Besson showed no such signs. His well-groomed appearance suggested he was looking forward to the wedding.


    His clothes, neatly pressed and clean, and his manicured nails, along with the corsage on his chest, indicated he was trying on his suit for the wedding. Everyone else was dressed casually, suggesting this.


    ¡°Why was hete to the meal?¡±


    Liam asked. Since we arrivedst, others must have arrived earlier. Especially the bride¡¯s family, who should have been preparing for the event.


    James rolled his eyes, trying to recall. His gaze moved up to the left, and he stroked his chin with his left hand, deep in thought.


    ¡°He said he wanted to find something. That he had something for Christine¡­ That¡¯s what I thought, but now¡­¡±


    I listened to their conversation, watching Liam and James alternately. My senses screamed at me.


    This was undoubtedly a murder!


    The image of the man¡¯s wide, shocked eyes and his lips trying to say something lingered in my mind.


    A person jumping voluntarily would usually throw themselves forward. Even if gravity flipped them mid-fall, this mansion was only about three to four stories high. Guests wouldn¡¯t be put on the fourth floor, so it must have been the second or third floor. That height wouldn¡¯t be enough to reverse the body¡¯s position.


    While Liam and James continued their conversation, I reached out to examine the dead body, using a handkerchief to avoid leaving fingerprints. I wasn¡¯t sure if fingerprint analysis existed here, but just in case.


    Interestingly, now seemed like the only opportunity to examine the body closely. James Stranden seemed disconcerted by my actions, but I ignored him.


    There were no signs of beating or other injuries on Justin Besson, except for some scratches from branches. However, his fingernails had dried blood beneath them, likely a sign of a struggle. Liam Moore would think simrly.


    If this hypothesis was correct, this was indeed a murder. The attacker would have scratches from Justin¡¯s defense.


    Justin had fought to survive, trying desperately to convey something to me with hisst strength.


    Strangely, the scene reminded me of Inspector Henry Brixon from Episode 1, moving despite his severe injuries to protect me. A chill ran down my spine. Why did these things feel so real? I shook my head to clear my thoughts.


    What I needed to know now was¡­


    Right on cue, the system updated the quest.


    [Investigate the Incident:


    Visit the room where Justin Besson stayed


    Identify suspects (Progress: 0%)]


    Suspects.


    Nervousness dried my lips, and I spoke to break the tension.


    ¡°Is there anyone else on this floor besides Justin Besson?¡±


    ¡°¡­No. None of the groomsmen arrived earlier in the day. The others sent telegrams saying they¡¯d arrive in the evening. Aside from the servants, it¡¯s just us here.¡±


    So, were the servants not here?


    I began to suspect that this was an inside job. Someone Justin Besson would let into his room easily, someone he¡¯d trust, and then resist toote, leaving scratches on their body.


    Liam Moore, quietly listening, stroked his chin and looked up. He seemed to understand what I was thinking.


    ¡°First, let¡¯s take care of the body. Are you nning to continue the wedding as scheduled?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the n. After that, I¡¯ll take responsibility for my brother-inw¡¯s¡­ funeral.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s your decision.¡±


    I left them to their conversation and returned to my room. There was nothing more I could learn by staying, and I needed to quickly organize what I had found.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The corridor felt colder, perhaps because of the death. I quickly returned to my room and locked the door firmly. Liam Moore would send a signal if he needed me, so there was no problem. Left alone, I finally rxed.


    Until now, I had been focusing entirely on my surroundings, looking for more evidence, ensuring I missed nothing (as an observant but ordinary person, I could miss a lot, so I had to pay extra attention). I tried to catch any discrepancies in the expressions and words of those I spoke to.


    In fact, I found it easier to analyze letters or statements, where repeated words or the longest sentences often revealed what the writer meant. But spoken words were like trying to catch the flowing wind, requiring me to recall and review them through memory. Memory could be contaminated, and without a recording device, I had to trust my recollection and verify it repeatedly.


    I opened my notebook and began listing what I had understood so far.


    Justin Besson seemed to be looking forward to the wedding but ended up dead. Pushed by someone? If so, who?


    He was a slim young man. What kind of strength would it take to push him over?


    Cause of death. Impact from the fall? Massive bleeding?


    Then, I felt the same chill from earlier.

 Chapter 21: Blue, Old, New (4)

    As I walked down the hallway, I felt a cold, eerie presence approaching. It wasn¡¯t my imagination! I could hear footsteps¡ªthe muffled sound of the carpet being pressed down. I sat frozen in my chair, the pen still in my hand.


    The sensation drew nearer to the door, and then I heard the doorknob being turned. Good thing I locked it, or it would havee in. Holding my breath, I stared at the jiggling doorknob, praying fervently for Liam Moore to return.


    Click.


    Click. Click. Click. Click.


    The sound repeated, followed by incessant knocking.


    Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock.


    Then, silence.


    Was it gone? Just as I thought that, the doorknob to the door connecting to Liam Moore¡¯s room began to turn violently.


    ¡®What the hell is this?¡¯ This is a horror game. I had forgotten, but it was indeed a horror game. Ominous background music yed. Thump. Thump. Thump. I felt a tinge of fear.


    Liam!


    Breathing became difficult. The sticky, humid, heavy air was gradually filling the room. Despite having the key, the door opened.


    How? How did the person outside my door move to Liam Moore¡¯s room?


    I felt a chill!


    And then, beyond the slowly opening door, I saw her.


    A woman with disheveled hair, dressed in pajamas.


    The door opened.


    She was smiling.


    ¡®How?¡¯


    The door connecting to Liam Moore¡¯s room should also be locked. It was strange that it opened, and her presence was even stranger. Everything about this moment was bizarre, and yet, there was no one to exin this oddity.


    As the woman with the elongated smile entered the room, my breath caught in my throat. An inexplicable terror gripped me. With every step she took, the air grew heavier.


    ¡°Oh, someone¡¯s here¡­.¡±


    Her dreamy voice floated through the air. Leaning against my chair, I exhaled quietly, fearing that even the slightest movement would get me caught. I recalled Liam Moore¡¯s words: never let anyone into the room, and if someone does enter, don¡¯t leave your seat.


    However, Liam Moore didn¡¯t know one thing: that someone capable of opening a locked door could be in this mansion.


    The woman dragged her feet as she walked. Her long pajamas were stained with soot, and her disheveled hair was matted at the back. Feeling the bone-chilling cold pierce my flesh, I absurdly wondered: Is this a person? Who could carry such coldness?


    I tried to shake off the chill and spoke first, perhaps in an attempt to dispel the fear.


    ¡°¡­Who are you?¡±


    I asked. She looked down at me with a curious gaze, as if surprised that I spoke first. But she didn¡¯t answer my question.


    ¡°A guest, I see.¡±


    Her tone was as if confirming something she already knew. I vaguely realized that remaining silent was pointless. Whatever I said, a lie would be uncovered, and those dark eyes would see the truth¡­.


    It felt simr to when I first met Liam Moore. Anyone listening to his calm speech would feel the same.


    Her attitude of observing us since our arrival made me even more frightened. Where had she been watching from? The ufortable chill, the shivers I couldn¡¯t suppress, were due to my inability to adapt to such things.


    Her hand suddenly reached out. I flinched and pressed myself further against the chair, thinking it would distance me from her hand.


    Her hand stopped just before my face, and she smiled strangely.


    ¡°A smart person.¡±


    But not as much as I am.


    Muttering softly, her hand drew closer. I might have resisted. At that moment, I saw something transparent distort at her fingertips. It was like a thin film, like a soap bubble.


    Even though the window in the room wasrge and bright sunlight was streaming in, the room didn¡¯t warm up.


    The film around me shone in rainbow colors for a moment before tearing apart with a purple hue, and then her bony, icy hand touched my shoulder. The frigid cold prated my shoulder, even through my woolen jacket.


    Her expression was gentle. As if asking whether to add sugar to tea, her face was utterly natural.


    ¡°Sorry to startle you, guest. But I wanted to meet you. As the hostess, I felt it was my duty.¡±


    ¡°Hostess.¡±


    The following words shocked me even more.


    Hostess!


    We must remind ourselves why we came to this mansion. Our purpose was the wedding of Christine Besson and James Stranden, the union of two families! But if there¡¯s already a hostess¡­.


    ¡°James Stranden is already married¡­.¡±


    Bigamy?


    Reading my expression, sheughed. I stood there, wide-eyed, listening to herughter.


    She continuedughing for a while before patting my head. Despite her youthful appearance, her actions were like those of an elder.


    She looked up, as if checking an invisible clock, and then back at me. Then she spoke quickly.


    ¡°My name is Amelia Jokins. Remember it well. I have much to say, but sadly, we don¡¯t have much time now. I¡¯lle find you tonight. Then, we¡¯ll talk more.¡±


    With these words, she left the way she hade. Her exit was as smooth as rewinding a tape. The door closed. Click, the doorknob turned.


    All the coldness disappeared with her departure, as if she had taken it away with her¡­.


    I spoke, as if trying to stop her.


    ¡°Wait, don¡¯t go! Exin¡­!¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    I reached out and opened my eyes.


    Seeing the wooden surface in front of me, I momentarily thought I had fallen face-first onto the floor.


    Realizing I was sitting, I saw I was at my desk. My cheek had been resting on the desk. Had it been a dream? I felt momentarily dazed.


    The woman was gone. The soap bubble-like film was no longer visible. The room was warm, filled with a reddish glow.


    Then, I felt a sense of oddness again. Searching for the source of the reddish light, I scanned the room and the shadows cast by the window.


    ¡­The sun is setting. I clearly remember it being noon. If I had met the woman, it should have been daylight, before lunch. But¡­.


    I recalled the conversation between Liam and James about delegating the handling of Justin Besson¡¯s corpse to the servants. Having nothing more to do, I returned to my room, sat in the chair, and started writing.


    To confirm, there was ink and a half-inserted pen in front of me. The paper contained notes on James Stranden¡¯s conversation, written thoroughly but trailing off into smudged, sloping letters.


    ¡­Had I fallen asleep while writing?


    I stood up and opened the door connecting to the next room, despite knowing Amelia Jokins wouldn¡¯t be there.


    What met my eyes was ck hair gleaming in the twilight. A few strands fell naturally, giving a soft impression. A tall man lounged in an armchair, resting his chin on his hand.


    Liam Moore.


    Thick eyebrows, deep-set eyes, double eyelids, and dense eyshes. He wore a robe loosely, with his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath. His gray eyes, catching the light, looked almost transparent.


    He looked like a painting, lost in thought, as I stared at his face in the dimming light.


    ¡°Ah, Jane, you¡¯re awake?¡±


    As soon as I let go of the doorknob, he asked without taking his eyes off the book. We could now recognize each other¡¯s presence without any action.


    ¡­Wait, he said awake. Did hee to my room?


    I asked, slightly bewildered.


    ¡°Was I asleep?¡±

 Chapter 22: Blue, Old, New (5)

    Episode 22. Blue, Old, New (5)


    Liam Moore smiled gently. His eyes, both round and sharp depending on the angle, slightly crinkled.


    ¡°You took a train since morning. You must be tired. I figured as much.¡±


    ¡°You should have woken me.¡±


    ¡°How could I touch a sleepingdy? That¡¯s not what a gentleman does.¡±


    Imitating Stranden¡¯s rigid manner of speaking, he chuckled. I rubbed my cheek and massaged my stiff neck, muttering softly, ¡°I see¡­¡±


    I must have been very tired. How else could I have had such a disturbing dream? I was always consistent with my sleep schedule, so this disconcerted me a bit. Was it the shock of facing death right before my eyes? No, I don¡¯t think that was it¡­


    ¡°Why, did something happen?¡±


    Liam gestured. As I approached and slightly bent over, hisrge hand reached out and massaged the back of my neck. The tight muscles rxed under his touch. He made a light joke about my neck being as hard as a stone. For a moment, the dream seemed to slip away from my memory. The tension that had been stirring settled down. The silence that filled the room didn¡¯tst long. I lowered my head, my forehead touching his shoulder. His shoulder shook slightly. The calmness dispersed, his chest heaving as if it might burst.


    I was tired of being so affected by the mere death of data made of zeros and ones, and by those strange dreams. Yet, why did I lean on this man who was just as much a part of the game?


    Perhaps because these memories would disappear with a restart, and he would forget them? Or because I felt he might remain indifferent to even this?


    I lifted my head, wanting to see his face. I wanted to know what expression he would have as he looked at me. And I was momentarily surprised by the unexpected result.


    The man sat there with a face I had never seen before, his hand awkwardly raised and frozen.


    ¡°I had a nightmare.¡±


    At my deliberately grumpy words, Liam quickly giggled. I seemed like I was sulking about the nightmare. But I didn¡¯t bother to correct him because his usually cold face had softened, revealing a mischievous smile.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Liam Moore was not easily shaken. He maintained an impassive expression regardless of emotions, events, or even life-threatening moments.


    Because of this, those who knew him often mocked his cold nature with remarks like ¡°cold-blooded,¡± ¡°a miracle if he bleeds a drop,¡± and ¡°blue blood.¡± The members of the social club (which had another name, Greenwich, and will be referred to as such hereafter) were close enough to offer him straightforward advice.


    However, if asked who was the most critical of him, Liam Moore would choose his assistant.


    Jane Osmond.


    He remembered the day his current assistant barged into his office, clutching a newspaper ad. She stood straight, her chin slightly raised, exuding confidence.


    He thought she wouldn¡¯tst long. No ordinary person could endure the numerous corpses. His cases were filled with insidious and immense evils, sometimes threatening even him. It was only natural that assistants soon shuddered and left.


    How many times had it been? He recalled and believed this confident youngdy would soon quit as well.


    But Jane Osmond did not. Throughout her stay, she showed enthusiasm in solving cases and disyed deep insights beyond what an ordinary person could. When she pieced together clues andpleted her deductions, Liam Moore felt as if he had discovered a pearl in an oyster. Some of her remarks hit the core of the cases, and he sometimes relied on her judgment.


    At some point, they began to delve into the deepest parts of London. Liam respected Jane¡¯s insight. It was a natural talent. Few could pick out crimes and make the mouths of victims silenced by death speak. And there would be fewer in the future, in this era.


    Thus, he feared Jane.


    Jane said his gaze was piercing, but to Liam, Jane¡¯s was even more so.


    They had been through a lot together. He was sure Jane had noticed his contradictions. However, Jane Osmond, even if she sensed something suspicious about him, never mentioned it. It seemed as if she was waiting for Liam Moore to speak first.


    Hence, Liam Moore did not ask Jane more questions. That was how he remembered Jane.


    Therefore, Jane Osmond¡¯s recent behavior was unfamiliar.


    Her insights had sharpened, but there was a strange distancing attitude. She increasingly avoided his gaze. He wondered if she had noticed something about him.


    Lucita¡¯s warning came to mind.


    ¡°Hiding something for too long never helps.¡±


    But how could he tell?


    He knew. Intelligence surpasses reason.


    Get a grip, Liam Moore. He muttered to himself as he closed his eyes.


    In his mind, he knew several times over. Lies are always poison in rtionships. Yet he continued to deceive Jane Osmond with well-oiled lies. He didn¡¯t share what he knew.


    Why? Greenwich and Hopkins would ask. Why? Wouldn¡¯t it be better for you to be honest with the woman you are so protective of?


    Part of him agreed. Sometimes it is better to be honest. However, Liam Moore still hadn¡¯t found the answer to what he had long pondered.


    Why don¡¯t you tell her? What he feared was always the fact of knowing. He already knew too well what knowledge could bring.


    Knowledge breeds madness. Look at Plurititas. Look at his ecstatically blue eyes. Knowledge is akin to a deadly poison to reason, and sometimes understanding breaks down existing perceptions. Broken perceptions and concepts shake the very foundations of a person. Ordinary people had to live as ordinary people, and he hoped Jane Osmond would not cross that line.


    Why, why did you hide it and cherish it so much? If you know? What changes if you know?


    He knew Jane Osmond was thirsty for knowledge. He had noticed her almost arrogant desire to know more.


    But already, Liam Moore had thrust Jane into numerous dangers. Just being involved with him put her at risk. Telling her more would be like pushing her to her death.


    The threats he faced and the ones Jane faced were slightly different. Understanding might lead to death. No, it could be worse than that. Greenwich and Meridian had limits to what they could protect, and those who knew exceptionally much were always prey.


    It was the same that day. Liam Moore felt a tearing sensation.


    Dangerous. His mind warned. You will regret it someday.


    Running roughly, not even knowing why, his heart pounded fiercely. It was a mixture of anxiety and a kind of fear. Just thinking that Jane could also be a target after someone had just died made him shudder. He, who rarely felt fear, did then.


    He couldn¡¯t understand why he was so sensitive to Jane Osmond¡¯s danger. He couldn¡¯t understand why he smiled with relief, seeing her precariously dozing against the desk.


    The woman¡¯s breathing was even, her long eyshes quivering slightly before settling. It was an innocent face.


    His fingers, unable to resist the impulse, slowly stroked her sleeping forehead. ¡­It must be because of relief. He thought so.


    Butter, when the woman, now awake, took a few steps toward him, he was mesmerized by the green eyes filled with the sunset.


    It felt like a forest at dusk. Or perhaps a field. Her slightly furrowed face and the tousled brown hair were vividly clear.


    ¡®Did Jane have so many stray hairs?¡¯


    When the light reflected off her light brown hair, it momentarily shone golden. Even the tiny dust particles in the air sparkled. Time seemed to flow slowly.


    Like swimming in sugar syrup¡­


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    hello, viri here! Just somements of mine, so feel free to skip !!


    I initially nned to post this daily, but as I tranted I got more and more hooked that I actually unlocked 10 chapters in a single day ??¡­. We also get for the first time Liam¡¯s POV, and O.M.G. if he¡¯s down bad for Jane ?? I mean who wouldn¡¯t tbh¡­ I can¡¯t wait for the more ¡°cosmic horror¡± elements toe out, although we already got a taste of it with Lucita and I¡¯m loving it..!


    PS: you can support me on Kofi, everything I make from it will be redirected to unlocking more chapters¡­!


    this being said, see you next time~!

 Chapter 23: Blue, Old, New (6)

    Liam Moore wondered why he was so satisfied. Despite priding himself on knowing everything, he couldn¡¯t understand why his whole body tensed at the touch of a forehead on his shoulder or the sound of small breaths.


    The atmosphere was stifling. Or perhaps it felt like something inside him was copsing. It was ticklish. Probably because of her hair.


    ¡°I had a nightmare.¡± He couldn¡¯t understand why a small whisper made himugh.


    A man who prided himself on knowing everything felt like an idiot at this moment. Perhaps even the damn madman Plurititas might give up on wanting his head.


    The woman¡¯s face, as she lifted her head, looked sulky, like a child whose candy had been taken away. Since he immediatelyughed at her words, she probably thought he was mocking her. When she red, Liam quickly apologized with a guiltyugh, ¡°Sorry forughing.¡±


    Should he soothe her until the anger on her face dissipated? Maybe if he coaxed her gently, her anger would subside, he thought.


    Of course, he was someone with many secrets. So it was natural to have at least one hidden thought. For example,


    ¡°Sorry. But your expression just now was really cute.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª Nothing significant happened until dinner ended.


    The guests murmured for a while about the deceased, then soon smiled warmly. Christine Besson, with the tender care of James Stranden, seemed to gradually recover from the shock.


    Of course, no one can ept the sudden death of a family member overnight. Even if they appear better on the surface, inside they must be a mess. My psychological knowledge could read at least that much.


    Someone once said that women (though it was just me and thedy) have a way of connecting. It was true. After dinner, during a light tea time, weforted the sorrow of the new bride.


    Christine Besson was a fragile person, delicate and invoking a protective instinct. As she tearfully recounted how wonderful her brother was, her pitiful appearance seemed like a scene from a movie, something from another world.


    We patted the back of her hand, offeringfort that her brother, despite the ident, would surely have looked forward to the wedding.


    Liam Moore wasn¡¯t a heavy drinker. But there are moments when the fiery warmth of alcohol is desperately needed. As Stranden forcibly dragged him along, perhaps to shake off the shadow of death with drinks, I waved at their tear-jerking friendship.


    Of course, Liam¡¯s face was ashen, resisting like an animal dragged to the ughterhouse, trying desperately to escape. Knowing there was no one to help him¡­


    ¡°I hate alcohol!¡±


    ¡°Haha, you¡¯re just like when you were young!¡±


    ¡°I said no! Are you listening?¡±


    ¡°Everyone¡¯s waiting downstairs, Liam!¡±


    Though he reached out to me desperately, I turned my head slightly. His shocked expression, as if he couldn¡¯t believe I¡¯d betray him, was truly pitiful¡­ but that¡¯s that and this is this. Business is business, Liam Moore.


    I didn¡¯t want to be dragged to a drinking party outside of work hours, and Liam, with his sharp intellect, realized I had no intention of helping him.


    ¡°Have fun,¡± I mouthed. His gray eyes widened. He finally resigned to his fate¡­


    Not long after Liam was dragged off to his bachelor party, the women¡¯s tea time ended. I returned to the guest room, relieved to shed theyers of clothing and changed intofortable pajamas, warming myself by the firece. Sleepiness crept in like a full cat.


    How much time had passed since dinner? I was pondering the dream. I¡¯m not sure if it was a dream because it was so vivid, like it had just happened.


    Had I really been asleep?


    But if it was reality, Liam wouldn¡¯t have missed anything suspicious. I don¡¯t know why. It just seemed like he would. I had faith that if something happened, Liam Moore would definitely know. Maybe that was the trust between us.


    The ghostly woman in my dream said she would return at night, and as the customary time of night approached, I began to anxiously check my pocket watch every ten minutes.


    Without the earliermotion, I heard two small knocks. Approaching the door, a cool draft slowly seeped in through the crack below. Considering the previous visit as a dream, I couldn¡¯t hide my surprise as I opened the door.


    It was clearly not a dream!


    If I considered it reality, the one who promised to visit me at this hour was none other than Amelia Jokins. Liam was probably downstairs, getting drunk with his friends. And my guess was correct.


    Dark eyes, difficult to describe, looked at me. The woman¡¯s face was indifferent, filled with a certainty as if the world¡¯s troubles bypassed her. News of steam trains, London¡¯s murderer, royal marriages, and policies seemed to have no impact on her.


    Amelia Jokins, the mistress of Stranden Manor, smiled casually. Her childlike smile broke down some of my defenses.


    ¡°Hello, may Ie in?¡± Amelia Jokins asked.


    I remembered Liam Moore¡¯s warning not to let anyone in. But whether I allowed it or not, she was going to enter.


    I distinctly remembered her dry fingers touching some barrier. For some reason, this room clearly had such a barrier. It sounds crazy, but it¡¯s true. A respawn zone in a system, maybe? In a respawn zone, health is restored, and invincibility is maintained¡­.


    I let myself go with the flow of the game. It felt like enlightenment. Giving up on thinking about what was happening, reacting consistently with ¡°Well, that could happen,¡± brought peace to my mind. Inner peace¡­ inner peace¡­.


    ¡°Come in. Would you like some tea?¡± I asked, stepping back to make space for her as I pulled the doorknob.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. A gatecrasher shouldn¡¯t also ask for tea.¡±


    As she stepped in, I closed and locked the door again. Amelia had already taken a seat as if it were her own room (which, technically, it was). When I sat across from her, our conversation began.


    ¡°So, why have youe to see me?¡±


    Amelia, looking down at her fingers, spoke slowly.


    ¡°I want to stop this wedding.¡±


    ¡°Because of bigamy?¡±


    I asked cautiously. Amelia smiled.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say my husband wasn¡¯t a good person.¡±


    ¡°¡­Does he use opium?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then smuggling? Or a cult fanatic? Murder? An international fugitive? ¡­A ve trader?!¡±


    I¡¯m sorry, madam. My experiences have been quite harsh.


    Amelia chuckled more with each added crime, and I eventually shrugged, leaning back into my chair.


    ¡°Murder, then. He must have killed someone, right?¡±


    Amelia seemed puzzled by how I guessed.


    It¡¯s simple. I was reading her reactions by suggesting something very stupid and observing her expression.


    Using one¡¯s field of vision, Liam Moore once exined it as a psychological technique. He mentioned observing people¡¯s unconscious reactions when they think no one is watching. Those spontaneous smiles, for example, are in the realm of the unconscious and easy to pick up for those who can¡¯t control it.


    Honestly, I don¡¯t know much about this. I don¡¯t have the eloquence to exin it convincingly, so I stayed silent. Amelia, seeing my confident expression, gave up questioning and began to tell her story.

 Chapter 24: Misery (1)

    ¡°¡­That¡¯s right. I never thought he would be capable of that. James Stranden was a noble, but not particrly wealthy. You know, don¡¯t you? The nobility consists of both the very high-ranking and those who are nobles in name only, on the brink of ruin. He was thetter. But he was still upright and kind. He cared more for me as a person than for my family¡¯s money, and I knew I couldn¡¯t let him go. Even my father and brother, who initially opposed our rtionship, changed their minds because of his attitude. At first, I thought he was just a gentle and foolishly kind man. He was the type who would wash his wife¡¯s feet out of love.¡±


    ¡°And then?¡±


    ¡°¡­Suddenly, one day, he changed. Yes, thinking back, it was after my father passed away. Since I was the only family left, I became the sole heir. He started going out more and became irritable. He would bring strangers to our house. One day, he came home drunk and said, ¡®Amelia, I need money.¡¯ I replied, ¡®Your brother sends us money. We also have the dowry. What happened to that?¡¯ It turned out he had squandered it all on gambling.¡±


    My expression grew more serious as I listened to her. I couldn¡¯t hide the tightening at the corners of my mouth. After a moment of thought, I spoke again.


    ¡°Was he asking for your father¡¯s inheritance?¡±


    ¡°Probably.¡±


    ¡°So what did you do?¡±


    Amelia, as if searching through her memories, gazed into the distance and spoke.


    ¡°I rarely went out, so I didn¡¯t know much about what was happening. But gradually, his rtives started looking at me strangely. The maids whispered about me, and I felt their eyes following me around the house. I was bing isted. Can you imagine? Eventually, I heard that my husband was portraying me as a madwoman, iming that insanity ran in my blood to cut me off from the world.¡± At that moment, a missing puzzle piece clicked into ce for me. Madness. The word struck me like a blow to the back of my head. Another word shed through my mind.


    ¡°You¡­ you were Creole.¡±


    Amelia Jokins smiled sadly.


    In today¡¯s Ennd, a married woman¡¯s property was essentially her husband¡¯s. It was not umon in this period for wealthy Creole women (whose fathers were oftenndowners who had amassed wealth in the colonies and returned to Ennd) to be falsely dered insane and confined to asylums. This was not limited to Creole women. Many wives werebeled as mad and locked away, like Bertha Mason in the attic or Catherine Dickens.


    But I had never imagined that such a thing could happen so openly, and I certainly did not expect James Stranden, who had proudly dered his intention to marry with such a pleasant demeanor, to be that kind of person. The property he seized would be James Stranden¡¯s, leaving Amelia Jokins imprisoned and remembered as a madwoman. Listening to her story made my mouth feel as bitter as if I had swallowed a vile potion.


    ¡°I thought we could change.¡±


    Amelia murmured.


    ¡°I tried to let people know I was sane, but no one listened. Then, to my surprise, James Stranden announced he was going to marry again. Another Creole woman.¡±


    ¡°Christine Besson,¡± I said.


    It struck me that Christine, like Amelia, had be the sole heir after her brother, Justin Besson, died. My mind was already contemting the worst-case scenario.


    For James Stranden, who already had a wife, to marry again was bigamy. Christine Besson would be his mistress, and any children they had would be illegitimate. Even if heter confessed he already had a wife, under English marriagew, it would not be epted. Unless it was a remarriage due to the death of a spouse!


    Was he nning to carry on the marriage under false pretenses? What would be of Christine Besson? Perhaps she would follow the same tragic path, with madness in her blood manifesting again¡­


    ¡°Wait. You said hemitted murder. Who did James Stranden kill?¡±


    With a face that looked almost indifferent, Amelia Jokins replied.


    ¡°Me.¡±


    I must confess, I struggle toprehend how one person can kill another. Perhaps I find it impossible. With flesh, fat, muscles, and veins coursing with hot blood, how could one human kill another identical being? If someone didmit such an act, I would surely go mad.


    Thus, I cannot fathom the hands and nature of a murderer. There¡¯s no need to empathize with such a twisted being. I often wondered about the various criminals I encountered in cases, questioning what could drive someone to such acts.


    Might the perpetrator be non-human?


    That thought crossed my mind as I saw defendants in court. Surely, no human could do such things.


    Money drives people to madness. I know this well. London¡¯s slums were full of people hardened by their environment and filled with rage. Those living in such conditions often carried knives, and those who earned a bit more carried guns. Children,cking such means, hid ss shards to protect themselves.


    In the 19th century, many things iprehensible by 21st-century standards weremonce.


    The body was amodity. Labor, marriage, crime. If I hadn¡¯t be Liam Moore¡¯s assistant, I might have married an old man to save our decrepit family estate. James Stranden, clearly not theboring type (having been raised genteelly), saw marriage as his only option.


    But what atrocities did this greedy manmit?


    I froze as if struck by lightning, staring at the woman who had just finished speaking. She was smiling gently, nodding as if she understood my shock. Her cold fingers tapped my hand, helping me regain myposure.


    To realize the person I¡¯d been speaking to was not from this world¡ªsomeone from the other side, across the river¡ªwas astonishing. Naturally, I had never imagined conversing with a ghost!


    Licking my parched lips, I slowly spoke.


    ¡°This is¡­ an unreal situation.¡±


    For days, such events had been guing me. I couldn¡¯t understand why. What had I encountered in 19th century London? It was supposed to be a murder mystery game.


    After Amelia Jokins finished exining how she died, she quietly sped her hands, lost in thought. Her eyes moved slowly as if retracing her past, like reading a book from left to right, then back again.


    The firece¡¯s fire felt cool. I sat silently for a while, contemting what to say next. Should I express my condolences for her death?


    Amelia broke the long silence.


    ¡°I have only one wish.¡±


    ¡°To¡­ find peace?¡±


    ¡°Oh, now there are two. Let¡¯s make finding peace the first.¡±


    Her reply was surprisingly cheerful for someone who had confessed to being murdered. At this point, a notification dinged, indicating a new quest.


    ¡°Stop the marriage.¡±


    By any means necessary, she murmured.


    ¡°That will save Christine Besson.¡±


    ¡°And what about you?¡±


    Amelia Jokins smiled kindly, reaching out to touch my cheek briefly.


    The barrier around me rippled at her touch before popping like a bubble. Iridescent colors swirled¡ªpurple, yellow, green. It felt like someone had showered me with soap bubbles. Amid the falling bubbles, Amelia Jokins grew fainter.


    I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Only an empty chair remained in the dim light.


    She was gone. Vanished like mist.


    The room warmed again. Though it was the ghost of a dead person, I had felt her presence keenly. The chill she exuded had kept the zing firece at bay. Ghosts could indeed affect reality.


    Feeling warmer, I dropped my shawl and stood up.


    How to stop the marriage? It was time to ponder the significant task left by the ghost.

 Chapter 25: Misery (2)

    Liam Moore sat like a fixed painting amidst the raucous, noisy crowd. His thoughts were entirely with Jane Osmond, who was upstairs.


    Why? Even though he prided himself on knowing everything, he couldn¡¯t figure it out. A brief mystery.


    The men, red-faced from drinking,ughed loudly, pounded their knees, and sprawled on the armchairs. Their mood was entirely different from his, who remained silent throughout.


    He looked down at his ss. It appeared to be from a high-end brand, but it was actually a cheap imitation. The engraving was crooked, and the finish was rough. The rim was so thin that it would undoubtedly crack if his teeth hit it wrong. It was as crude as James Stranden. He hadn¡¯t intended to think about his old schoolmate this way, but it happened.


    His eyes saw much. If there was a God, he must have taken great care when making Liam¡¯s sharp eyes.


    What did these eyes see?


    Take Philip, for example. His hands shook throughout their conversation, amon sign among addicts.


    Philip joked about being an alcoholic, iming the drink tasted sweet like honey after a long period of abstinence. But this wasn¡¯t true.


    He wasn¡¯t interested in his drink; the ss he poured remained untouched. An alcoholic, especially one who had abstained, would lose control in such a convivial atmosphere, yet Philip had taken only a few sips before setting his ss down. Alcohol was off the table. He didn¡¯t react to pipe smoke, so he wasn¡¯t trying to quit smoking. That left few possibilities. For the upper ss (and even the lower ss) in Ennd, opium was readily essible.


    Despite derations from many in the British Empire to eradicate the drug casting a shadow over society, opium had long been prevalent in London. Like an ant¡¯s nest, once one spot was discovered, it would hide elsewhere. Liam had once infiltrated an opium den while chasing such people, witnessing a hellscape with an entrance but no exit. Thus, they called these ces dens.


    Poor Philip was an opium addict.


    His lips and nails were blue. Constantly wiping his cold sweat with a handkerchief and remembering his cold, mmy handshake, Liam concluded Philip¡¯s addiction had been progressing for some time.


    Philip muttered a few more times before leaving. Liam had a good idea why he left.


    Now James¡¯s head was about to hit the floor, nodding off and greeting the air as if his neck might snap. Watching this, Liam thought it was a good time to excuse himself. James Stranden would only remember drinking together, fulfilling Liam¡¯s role as a friend of the groom. Thus, he put down his ss and rose, using his intoxication as an excuse. No one stopped him; there was no one to stop him.


    As he scratched his head a couple of times and rolled his stiff shoulders, a woman¡¯s piercing scream echoed through the mansion. His slight intoxication instantly vanished. The retired officer who had been drinking with him also jumped up, showing his soldierly instincts in response to a human cry.


    James, startled awake by the loud noise, groggily asked, ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± But Liam had no mind to answer.


    Jane!


    His head knew Jane Osmond¡¯s voice wasn¡¯t that high-pitched. Jane was more likely to hit someone than scream.


    But there were few women in this mansion, so if the gods of probability yed a strange trick, Jane could also be in danger.


    Another scream echoed through the mansion.


    The tipsy feeling was gone. Sober, they all ran out of the study. James grabbed a passing maid and asked loudly, ¡°Did you hear that scream?¡±


    The maid, looking bewildered, asked, ¡°A scream, sir?¡±


    Her expression, as if she were looking at a madman, made everyone exchange nces.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear two screams just now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been cleaning here the whole time. I didn¡¯t hear any screams. If someone had screamed twice, everyone in the mansion would havee running!¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying I imagined it? Liam, you say something!¡±


    But Liam Moore heard nothing. He felt as if the ground was melting beneath his feet. Then he began to run. He had no time to pay attention to the shouts from behind.


    £ª£ª£ª


    Liam Moore burst in.


    The ever-buttoned-up man, always wearing a tie, had two buttons undone. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Even his usually neat hair was slightly mussed, looking almost pressed down. I was so used to his smooth, well-groomed face that I was startled by this sight.


    He looked like a man who had visited while severely drunk, muttering ¡°Moore¡± repeatedly, almost like a madman.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked, but he didn¡¯t answer. Was he really out of his mind?


    He hade into the room, gripping the doorknob as if copsing, bending over and breathing heavily. His shoulders heaved visibly. He had clearly rushed here.


    But why?


    He stood nailed to the doorway for a while, so I finally had to prompt him by calling his name.


    ¡°¡­Liam?¡±


    Only then did Liam Moore, with his pale face, lift his head. His face was stricken with fear.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    Correction. His pale face showed both relief and fear.


    As usual, Liam Moore wouldn¡¯t tell me anything. I knew that. We stood there, exchanging bewildered looks, frozen like stuffed animals. He was choosing his words, but I knew he wouldn¡¯t reveal any truths to me.


    I had long noticed his odd inconsistencies. Through Lucita¡¯s loving advice, I had naturally inferred that he was hiding something from me.


    Ah. I had never felt more directly that secrets could poison a rtionship.


    His eyes dropped. I naturally looked down, avoiding his fear and inexplicable relief. I didn¡¯t know what expression he was making, but I felt I shouldn¡¯t know.


    I pulled a shawl over my shoulders, covering myself tightly before I heard Liam Moore¡¯s voice. It was surprisingly steady given his disheveled appearance.


    ¡°I heard a woman¡¯s scream, and I thought you were in danger.¡±


    ¡°What danger could I be in here?¡±


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s a drug addict, and I suspect there might be a murder suspect among us who killed Justin Besson¡­ Besides, it¡¯s not bad to be overly cautious about danger.¡±


    A drug addict? A murderer and a drug addict, just a gathering of the like-minded.


    Perhaps because of Amelia Jokins¡¯s story, I couldn¡¯t stop my thoughts from bing caustic.


    I blinked away my negative emotions and turned my head. A calm, yet sharp expression, typical of Jane Osmond, settled on my face. I didn¡¯t have to try hard for that. I quipped at him.


    ¡°So you suddenly barged into ady¡¯s room?¡±


    Liam flinched at this. He took a step back as if he realized his intrusion.


    Enough. Why pretend now? It felt absurd, but I kicked a chair across from me. The chair at the tea table slid silently. Liam Moore hesitated, then finally walked over with slumped shoulders.


    ¡°Anyway, I had something to discuss with you, so this is good timing.¡±


    ¡°Say whatever you like.¡±


    He looked cooperative, folding his hands and turning his gaze to me as if trying to make up for his rudeness.


    Seated, he no longer looked like the drunkard he had seemed. His hair was still messy, but his disheveled clothes were nowpletely in order. He looked ready to listen to me.


    Well, then I could discuss this surreal situation with him (even if I had to risk being treated like a mad person).


    I hoped Liam Moore was less rational than I was. That his sensibility and ethics would take precedence overmon sense. That he was a just person and felt disgust for those who had touched the forbidden territory of murder.


    I confessed.


    ¡°James Stranden already had a wife.¡±


    And I immediately muttered a silent curse.


    Liam Schofield Moore, you damned bastard.

 Chapter 26: Misery (3)

    He made a face that said, ¡°How on earth does Jane know this?¡± and then quickly hardened his expression, realizing his mistake. Unfortunately for him, I was someone who could catch even those fleeting moments.


    Liam smiled bitterly as he watched my trained observational skills catch that brief slip. This was entirely his own doing, and it was also his misfortune.


    If he didn¡¯t want to get caught, he shouldn¡¯t havee to me in such an unguarded state. It¡¯s like he¡¯s begging me to notice. In truth, he came running in out of fear. With so many secrets that he¡¯s afraid to reveal, why did hee to me?


    If anyone heard my thoughts, they might lecture, ¡°You two need to have a serious talk,¡± but sometimes even the obvious is hard to achieve.


    I didn¡¯t hold back myughter this time. Iughed hollowly.


    ¡°You knew, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Liam Moore. He knew, and that¡¯s why he didn¡¯t want toe here.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t nning to tell me unless I found out on my own, were you?¡±


    He mumbled something briefly. I wasn¡¯t going to give him a chance to make excuses. I shot back at him relentlessly. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about making excuses. Do you think I haven¡¯t seen you before?¡±


    Finally, he rubbed his forehead and sighed deeply before speaking. It was an apology. One short word.


    I felt deted. If he had kept making excuses or denying it, I might have yelled, but his straightforwardness took the wind out of my sails.


    ¡°¡­Did you also know that his wife was murdered?¡±


    ¡°I saw the obituary in the newspaper about the death of the Indian aristocrat¡¯s daughter. I didn¡¯t know it was murder.¡±


    ¡°¡­The killer is James Stranden.¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s expression hardened. He leaned forward slightly, making eye contact. It was the look he had when he discovered a ¡®case.¡¯ The passionate eyes I remembered.


    ¡°Tell me more, in detail.¡±


    Amelia Jokins, her background, James Stranden¡¯s gambling, the suspicious people frequenting his mansion, the isted wife and her murder. The woman I met. A crime that might happen again. The salvation of Christine Besson.


    After unloading all this, Liam just sat there, staring at me, as if he had forgotten how to react. It seemed he was quite astonished by how much I had uncovered without his knowledge.


    His gray eyes were sharp. As always, they were bright and clear. The previously pale face had regained some color and now showed some calmness. He was clearly able to think again.


    ¡°Have you been investigating this sincest evening?¡±


    ¡°¡­Yes, I have.¡±


    He pondered deeply for a moment with his forehead in his hand, then looked up.


    ¡°It would be best if we could stop the wedding. You could convey this without upsetting her, right? But we have no solid evidence, only supernatural experiences¡­¡±


    Frankly, he wouldn¡¯t believe that I met Amelia Jokins either. ¡°What? You met a dead person? Are you out of your mind?¡± That¡¯s what he would probably say. I appreciated how easily Liam believed me, but that was because he knew he was in the wrong.


    Liam asked me a question.


    ¡°In this situation, do you think Christine Besson would call off the wedding just based on this? Without suspecting us?¡±


    He was right. Christine Besson, weakened by her brother¡¯s death, would be the type to cling to someone, not the type to storm off.


    ¡°We have to persuade her first. Maybe we¡¯ll need to tell a white lie.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­¡±


    I raised my index finger decisively.


    ¡°We¡¯ll say we were hired by a distant rtive of Amelia Jokins. While investigating her sudden death, we discovered that she was already married. She was healthy, never even caught a cold, but suddenly fell ill and died, coughing up blood. It was too suspicious. So we started looking into it and found James Stranden¡¯s debts and records of shady dealings. That¡¯s why we¡¯re here. Arge sum of money went missing. But where would that money go? Something fishy is going on.¡±


    The story, concocted from Amelia Jokins¡¯ testimony, was somewhat flimsy, but there were suspicious points. Even if it wasn¡¯t concrete, it was enough to make someone wary.


    Liam Moore now seemed to admire my boldness, and I felt the same. The skill to weave such a tale was quite impressive. I was half-satisfied with my own story, thinking, ¡°As expected, the blood of Koreans, skilled in agitation and fabrication, runs through me!¡±


    ¡°My assistant, where did you learn such eloquence?¡±


    Iughed heartily.


    ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s the effect of early education?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m now in awe.¡±


    The brilliance of early education in South Korea shines. Be proud, adults obsessed with private education. The escape route for children fleeing early education is gaming.


    People trained in political games from a young age through various games end up like this. Be careful. Don¡¯t casually beta-test unknown games thinking, ¡°Surely, I won¡¯t get immersed in a game.¡±


    ¡°If I were the bride and heard that, I¡¯d walk out immediately.¡±


    My thoughts were interrupted.


    Bride Liam? Liam Schofield Moore in a veil?


    I asked yfully.


    ¡°Really, in a dress?¡±


    He finally rxed and smiled.


    ¡°In a dress.¡±


    After this not-quite-reconciliation, Liam Moore became very cooperative. He answered questions promptly and didn¡¯t even try to think of any clever retorts. He probably realized he had crossed a line today. Indeed, he had, but seeing him reflect on his actions cooled my anger bit by bit.


    He sat quietly as I nned how to ¡®disrupt the wedding,¡¯ listening intently. Even when I scratched my head and said, ¡°Should I just shoot James Stranden?¡± he remainedposed.


    What was his reaction?


    ¡°You don¡¯t have the experience, so shooting would require practice. Just tell me, and I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    Of course, what I learned about Liam Moore today (that he hid the truth from me) was just the tip of the iceberg. Liam Moore had many secrets, and undoubtedly, there were much bigger ones hidden behind his polished facade.


    But for now, solving this case and preventing future victims was the most important thing. If I got swept up in personal grievances and fought, it would only frustrate me.


    Whether it¡¯s unfortunate or fortunate, it¡¯s uncertain when I might leave this 19th-century Ennd, so I have plenty of time to dig into Liam Moore.


    So today, I won¡¯t pry further. I am an adult who understands the virtue of silence.


    Whatever he is hiding, whether it¡¯s an apple, a fig, or a fruit dripping with sin like blood, trying to deceive me with a serpent¡¯s tongue, or if he genuinely cares for me, I will find out someday.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I woke up to a blinding light. After blinking several times, my vision returned. My body felt heavy.


    I remembered falling asleepte at night, chatting in a room that wasn¡¯t mine. I remembered Liam mumbling ufortably. Then I must have fallen asleep, and now it was this time.


    7 a.m.


    As Iy there, the lighting through the window grew stronger. The fire in the firece had died down, leaving only a few red embers between the ckened logs. The chill ofte autumn was gradually filling the room.


    Ignoring it, I got up and opened the window.


    My eyes filled with the silence. I watched the morning mist cross the harvested wheat fields and spread to the mansion.


    Where did ite from? I wondered briefly. Is there ake nearby? I didn¡¯t know. Maybe it came from an artificial reservoir.


    There was a fresh smell of water and crushed grass. The day was dawning.


    Ah, looking at the sun, a red mass rising and coloring the horizon, I thought.


    ¡°It¡¯s perfect weather for a wedding!¡±


    And to disrupt that wedding.


    It took quite some time to get dressed, so I started preparing immediately.


    I added more logs to the dying fire to warm the room, then took out my clothes. Normally, I¡¯d wear severalyers of petticoats and then a skirt, but today I dressed lightly in case something happened.


    I secured the .45 caliber six-shot revolver, my reliable partner on my thigh. Instead of a solemn prayer, I murmured, ¡°Please, don¡¯t let me have to draw this gun.¡±


    After tidying up my clothes and thoroughly pinning up my hair, I heard a knock on the door. A sharp, punctual sound.


    I checked the time. 7:50 a.m. I raised my voice to answer.


    ¡°Come in.¡±

 Chapter 27: Misery (4)

    As soon as permission was granted, Liam Moore grinned, holding the doorknob.


    ¡°Ready for the wedding?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    I lifted my head confidently and replied. He extended his elbow, and I ced my hand on it. His gaze was now fixed ahead, revealing the sharp angle of his forehead and nose. Watching him, I spoke again.


    ¡°They have to believe us.¡±


    He looked at me briefly before turning his eyes away with a familiar, kind smile.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. You have a way of earning people¡¯s trust.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°Miss Christine Besson.¡± Thus, I dered, intruding into the bride-to-be¡¯s room early in the morning.


    ¡°You must not marry him.¡±


    Ah. Instead of the speech I had nned in my head, the main point slipped out. Christine Besson¡¯s face was filled with confusion and anxiety, observed by another. Quickly, I tried to correct myself.


    ¡°¡­Where do I start? First, we run a detective agency in London. We came here upon receiving a request to investigate.¡±


    ¡°A request?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Have you heard of Amelia¡­ Stranden?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Christine asked. Then, as if realizing something was wrong, her face turned pale. She must have sensed that something was amiss.


    A woman¡¯s intuition is remarkable. Although I called her Amelia Jokins, introducing her as Amelia Stranden for this purpose worked as intended.


    ¡°She is the former wife of James Stranden. We were hired by her rtives to find out about her. They lost contact with Amelia Stranden.¡±


    Liam Moore stepped in to exin. I continued the story.


    ¡°Mrs. Stranden had already passed away. While investigating her death, we discovered something suspicious. The financial flow surrounding this family was strange. Suddenly, there was a lot of money, but then it started dwindling after her death. It aligned perfectly with her death. We suspect that James Stranden marries, kills his wife, and embezzles her wealth. He livedfortably after his previous wife¡¯s death but seems to be reaching his limit now. Seeing that he¡¯s decided to remarry.¡±


    Christine¡¯s face changed repeatedly as the exnation went on. For a while, she muttered that it couldn¡¯t be true.


    Her gaze shifted to the wedding dress hanging nearby, then back to me. She seemed unwilling to believe it, as if trying to forget the story.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it.¡±


    Of course. I expected her to say that.


    ¡°¡­Miss Besson. There are nows in Britain regarding the property of married women right now. With your brother dead, you are the sole heir. You must realize how dangerous your situation is.¡±


    She shook her head twice.


    ¡°He is the only one who loved me despite my background.¡±


    Indeed, for money.


    A Creole could never live as an English person. ording to the white people¡¯s eugenicist thinking, they believed Creoles had impure blood. How could they ept someone like that into British high society? They would always be outsiders, treated as foreigners even in thend from which half their blood originated.


    It¡¯s a disgusting era! They loved the money earned from exploiting colonies but despised the Creoles who brought wealth to the British Empire. It¡¯s revolting.


    So I understood why Christine Besson didn¡¯t believe me. She wanted to trust someone kind-hearted.


    ¡®It¡¯s pitiful.¡¯


    Thinking that, Christine pulled the bell cord. A maid entered the room promptly, bowing her head.


    ¡°¡­Mary. Help me change my dress. I¡¯d like you to leave now.¡±


    The maid called Mary approached obediently and began helping Christine change out of her dress. Even for an indoor dress, there was a corset tightening her waist.


    Liam had already stepped out, and I turned back into the room for onest attempt to persuade her. Mary was untying the strings behind her. Christine still had her gaze fixed on the wedding dress.


    ¡°Miss Besson.¡±


    Her regretful eyes made it impossible for me to say more. Her eyes seemed to already know something, looking at the design of the dress that didn¡¯t suit her¡­.


    ¡°¡­I can¡¯t go through with this marriage.¡±


    And then everyone in the room felt that something was wrong, as a ck stain began to spread over the corset.


    As the strings loosened, the stain spread faster. I knew what it meant. There was only one kind of liquid that spread in that way on clothes.


    ¡°Damn it, Liam! Help!¡±


    Christine doubled over in sudden pain, her face turning pale as if she¡¯d been kicked in the stomach. She gasped for breath, clutching her abdomen. Seeing her hand stained with blood, she looked at me with a face that didn¡¯t understand what was happening, like a confused child.


    I caught her as she copsed, Mary screaming and falling to her knees. My heart pounded in my chest.


    ¡°Mary, get help, now!¡±


    I had assumed James Stranden¡¯s crime would happen after the wedding. So I thought preventing the marriage would keep her safe.


    But James Stranden was far more ruthless than I had imagined. I couldn¡¯t guess when he had set this up. Did he want her to die on the wedding day?


    I pressed firmly on her abdomen to stop the bleeding, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Blood cirction increased, worsening the bleeding.


    Damn it, damn it!


    ¡°Christine, stay with me!¡±


    The woman in my arms was fading away.


    Her skin was too coldpared to her hot blood.


    Her body temperature was dropping. Christine Besson¡¯s breaths were shallow andbored. Her head grew cold. Blood flowed like water. It was endless, like a faucet had been turned on.


    My God! Death was pooling at my feet. Pressing down alone couldn¡¯t stop the bleeding. It felt like an hourss had been turned over. Until everything inside was drained, until she died, this bleeding would continue.


    All efforts to save Christine were in vain.


    I tried to grasp her life. But I couldn¡¯t stop it from slipping through my fingers. No matter how many times someone gets stabbed in the movies and still fights back, reality is far different. I kept biting my lip. Please. Please.


    Her name was no longer on the quest list. As if she had been erased. If only this were an MMORPG game. Then, I could use an overpowered healing spell to save even a dead NPC. Desperation made my mind search for useless hopes.


    ¡°Christine. Can you hear me? Don¡¯t fall asleep. Help is on the way.¡±


    Her eyes had lost focus. Her slightly parted lips were already turning blue. Her pale face moved as she mumbled incessantly. Her body convulsed.


    ¡°I¡¯m cold. So cold¡­¡±


    Christine, clutching my hand, kept asking. Her voice was confused.


    Why is this happening to me? Am I hurt? I¡¯m bleeding? It hurts. My stomach hurts so much. Mom. I¡¯m so cold. Where is James, Jimmy? Brother. Brother. Where is my brother? I¡¯m so sleepy, Jane¡­.


    Fear gripped me. I was scared. Death seemed to be speaking to me, someone who had been indifferent to the world, thinking of people as NPCs in a game.


    Is this really a game? You know now, being here. Do these people feel like mere characters in a game? Does this hot blood and these dying breaths feel like data leakage to you?


    While I tried to calm her and stop the bleeding, Liam Moore returned, carrying a medical bag.


    ¡°Remove her corset, Jane.¡±


    He said as soon as he arrived. Without hesitation, I removed the corsetpletely. When I lifted the blood-soaked undergarment, a horrifying sight greeted me.


    The wound was worse than I thought. Moreover, inside the thick fabric of the corset, a thin, long piece of metal was embedded. Yes, it looked like a rapier de stuck in there. Shorter but unmistakably, it was a de.

 Chapter 28: Bloody Mary, bloody marry (1)

    ¡®How could you not notice something like this stabbing into your body?¡¯


    While I was speechless with shock, Liam was already rummaging through his bag and pulling out some medicines. After assessing the width and depth of the wound, he gave a calm and peculiar order.


    ¡°Step back.¡±


    Why? If I let go, she¡¯ll die. But Liam¡¯s face was resolute. Ah, I recognized the bottle in his hand. ¡®If you pour this on shallow wounds,¡¯ he had exined before. Without hesitation, he poured it on the wound, which started bubbling and frothing white. As the wound cleaned, blood and foam flowed down and pooled on the floor. The clear liquid formed a puddle big enough to reflect the woman¡¯s pale face. Yet, he continued pouring the medicine (nearly emptying the bottle) and started with a new one.


    ¡°Liam, stop¡­¡±


    And then I witnessed something astonishing. Like water being pumped from the ground, the wound that had been spewing blood began to heal. It was a speed of recovery beyond human capabilities. Before I knew it, the wound, about the size of a fingertip, left only a white scar.


    Impossible. But the man who made the impossible possible stood before me.


    He ced a hand over the healed area, closed his eyes, and then looked up. His gray pants, vest, and even his white shirt were soaked in blood.


    ¡°The worst is over. If we get her to the hospital now, she should be fine.¡± Liam Moore smiled.


    How?


    Are you a healer? Or an alchemist? How did you do it? Even the renowned alchemists couldn¡¯t do this!


    I swallowed the words that almost escaped my mouth. The tension left my body. I copsed, muttering like a mad person, ¡°She survived,¡± repeatedly. The man patted my shoulder.


    The woman now seemed peaceful. No, wait. She was stabbed. How can she look peaceful? Correction: she no longer seemed like she was about to die. The signs of shock were subsiding. Her breathing returned.


    The blood pooled on the floor was about 1.5 liters, likely mixed with the medicine Liam had poured.


    At least she wasn¡¯t going to die. Thank goodness. As I stared nkly at the blood pool, I finally noticed my own disheveled state.


    ¡°¡­Oh. Right. Mary.¡±


    Mary, who was supposed to bring help, hadn¡¯t returned.


    We couldn¡¯t move her alone. We needed more people to safely transport her to a hospital in London, which meant taking a train. Was there a doctor nearby? Hopefully, but if not, we¡¯d have to rush to the station. It¡¯s still morning, so there should be trains. First, calm down. We need more people.


    Reluctantly, I stood up. Liam looked at me with worried eyes.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it better to wait for people?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s quiet outside. The scream was loud enough, someone should have heard it.¡±


    Liam rolled his eyes briefly before grabbing my skirt and imploring,


    ¡°¡­If anything happens,e back here.¡±


    I forced a reassuring smile and dashed out. I had no intention of saying something like, ¡°What could go wrong?¡± to reassure him. That would jinx it.


    The house was empty. No visitors, no staff, not even the groomsmen who had been milling about. I thought to check on James Stranden, but he was nowhere to be found. In a house that size, you should hear footsteps or voices, but there was nothing. It felt like everyone had fled.


    I scanned the house map in the corner of my vision and saw movement in the second study. Could it be Mary? No, such a room would be private. Likely the owner. I decided to confront the scoundrel upstairs.


    The study door was ajar, and I smelled burning.


    When I opened the door, James Stranden was there, eyes wide open, bleeding from the neck. He wasn¡¯t alive anymore.


    Mary was next to him, breathing heavily, also covered in blood with a swollen face. It looked like he had set the curtain on fire.


    She watched the mes slowly spread, then turned to see me. I couldn¡¯t speak, but Mary dropped the candlestick and showed me her bare hands.


    ¡°I did it.¡±


    Sheughed, like a prisoner tasting the sea breeze, with a smile only someone who had broken free could muster.


    ¡°Why¡­?¡±


    ¡°The master ordered me to kill thedy.¡±


    The young maid seemed furious.


    ¡°He said if I stabbed her in the corset, no one would know.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do it.¡±


    I said. Crime ismitted by people. It only happens when someone decides to do it. If no one wanted to kill, there would be no victims.


    ¡°¡­He threatened my younger sibling.¡±


    Ah, ckmail.


    We know all too well how the power given by the cursed ss system torments the lower sses. If Mary were a bit older or more experienced, she would have realized James Stranden wasn¡¯t such a big shot. Compared to the bigwigs in London, he was a mere insect!


    I spoke again.


    ¡°Was it the same reason you killed James Stranden?¡±


    ¡°And because he was going to kill me too. He said if I didn¡¯t die quietly, he¡¯d harm my sibling. So I did it. He said I had to die. That way, he¡¯d be a poor husband who lost his wife. Dead people don¡¯t talk, so if I died, it would be over. But Miss, isn¡¯t death equal regardless of status? Dead people don¡¯t talk, and that applies to the master too.¡±


    The young maid rubbed her forehead with her somewhat clean hand and approached me.


    As we talked, the fire began to spread from the curtains to the floor and walls. Ashes from the burnt curtain fell like fireballs. The smell of burning choked me slightly.


    Mary nced at James Stranden once more and, as if making a decision, spoke up.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here. As they say, dead people don¡¯t talk. No one will know what happened. On the wedding day, this incident will seem like a curse. The Stranden family is finished. So is this mansion. All the things built with thedy¡¯s money must be burned.¡±


    Her bloodstained little hand gripped mine. She spoke repeatedly, emphasizing every word, showing her determination.


    ¡°The fire will soon engulf the whole mansion. You should go. Tell thedy I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    She pushed me out and locked the door, leaving behind her words.


    As the door closed, the young maid smiled brightly.


    ¡°Mary!¡±


    I pounded on the door. I tried to shoulder it open, but it only budged slightly. She must have bolted it from the inside.


    The mes that reached out from the room grew fiercer. Once they caught the oil-treated wood, they wouldn¡¯t die down. They climbed from the walls to the ceiling.


    How could it burn so quickly? I couldn¡¯t understand.


    When I arrived, the fire had just started, but in the short time we talked, half the mansion was aze. The heat felt like a snake¡¯s tongue. It wouldn¡¯t stop. That¡¯s what makes fire so terrifying. It spreads endlessly with the right fuel.


    I pounded on the door again, shouting. My shoulder ached, but saving a life was more important.


    ¡°Open this door, Mary! Damn it! Listen to me!¡±


    After about five attempts, I stepped back, holding my numb shoulder.


    I couldn¡¯t stay there forever. The fire was spreading fast, and if I dyed any longer, my life would be at risk. I might die trying to escape. Without a gas mask, I knew most deaths in a fire were due to suffocation. I was already starting to feel heavier.


    In the end, I gave up trying to open the door and quietly turned to leave.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I love the chapters¡¯ titles¡­ this author is so good w them and they¡¯re all so fitting too¡­

 Chapter 29: Bloody Mary, bloody marry (2)

    I hoped that no one else remained in this house.


    Fortunately or unfortunately, it seemed that besides Mary and me, no one else was left in the mansion. Liam Moore seemed to have taken Christine and escaped. He was always quick to sense danger.


    As I ran through the burning hallway, I began to understand Mary¡¯s decision. A maid who had killed her master, or whose master had been killed, would be employed by no one. She would not be needed anywhere. To those who believed that knocking over a salt shaker brought bad luck, a maid from a ruined household was akin to an ill-omened crow.


    Whether by her own choice or not, living or dying must have seemed equally impossible for Mary. She had surely given up.


    I thought about Mary as I descended the stairs. I felt a slight sense of guilt for having burdened that young maid with the murder of James Stranden. If I had had more time, if I had known more about the tragedy surrounding this mansion, neither Christine nor Mary would have had to go through this. If anyone was to me, it was me for beingte.


    But could I give up on Mary just because of that? If Mary gave up on herself, there would be no one in this world to care for her. I can only protect myself. Mary must do the same. So, she must not give up on herself. If she did, I would drag her back to life by force if necessary.


    Yes, I know. It¡¯s madness to run back into a burning mansion after barely escaping the mes chasing me.


    The quest was a failure. The NPCs had acted unpredictably, and it seemed there was no set quest flow in this game. Finding out who killed Christine Besson¡¯s brother (likely someone close to James Stranden) or uncovering the truth behind the incident was doomed from the start. In fact, I had half-forgotten that it was something I was supposed to do. The system didn¡¯t enforce it. This world was driven by interactions and my actions were shaping the story.


    The murderer was dead. The maid wanted to burn with the mansion. But I couldn¡¯t ept that. I started running toward the mes again. I thought I heard an rm. Something glittered around me. Yes, this was my choice.


    Retracing my steps, I felt the heat burning my skin. Even so, I headed back to the point where the fire was fiercest. Crazy? I knew that!


    ¡°Crazy, really crazy!¡±


    My throat hurt from inhaling the hot air. I might have been burned. This could take a long time to heal. I was doing something stupid. I coughed involuntarily from the acrid smoke filling the area but there was no time to hesitate.


    Back at the door, I lifted my skirt and pulled out the revolver strapped to my thigh.


    Please, let this gun not explode in my hand. Let it hold up until I fire six rounds into that locked door!


    I saw the firmly locked door and without hesitation, aimed at the hinges and fired. The wood, weakened by the fire, easily gave way and the door fell back with a thud, revealing a startled Mary behind it. She had been sitting in a chair, seemingly ready to ept the mes calmly.


    But not in front of me. Not anyone I knew. Saving everyone in front of me might be foolish, but I would do it.


    Taking a deep breath, I called out to her.


    ¡°Mary!!!¡±


    Mary, who had half-risen from her seat, shouted back.


    ¡°Are you crazy? Why did youe back here?!¡±


    She wasn¡¯t someone who would be easily scared. I shouted back just as loudly.


    ¡°Why are you just sitting here? Are you an idiot?¡±


    ¡°What, what did you say? Idiot?¡±


    Yes, an idiot. Only an idiot wouldn¡¯t be afraid of dying. Every human is born with a fear of death. That¡¯s why science and medicine advance.


    Not afraid? Even God, the Devil, and Liam Moore out there fear death.


    I strode over and grabbed Mary¡¯s hand. I looked around the room. We couldn¡¯t leave through the door I had just entered. The whole mansion was on fire now; going out that way would mean we¡¯d burn to death. It was toote.


    Luckily, there was an open window. Thank you, God. There¡¯s no absolutew that we must die here.


    I tore a petticoat to cover Mary¡¯s nose and mouth, then headed for the window. Mary looked at me in terror.


    ¡°This is the third floor!¡±


    ¡°I know, Mary.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re definitely going to break something!¡±


    ¡°Ah, better than roasting to death.¡±


    I seemed to have picked up some of Liam Moore¡¯s recklessness. Muttering to herself, Mary kept talking about the height and the risk of falling.


    In the chaos, I tore down the remaining curtains and wrapped them around Mary. Then, I draped the rest over my shoulders.


    Holding Mary tightly in my arms, I ced my foot on the window sill and saw the garden below. It was quite high. It wouldn¡¯t just be an arm or a leg that got broken. I hoped we wouldn¡¯t die; I couldn¡¯t imagine doing this again.


    I leaned slightly and made eye contact with Liam Moore, who was looking up at me, pale. His lips moved silently. I couldn¡¯t hear him. Sorry. But I could guess he was calling my name.


    Right. You think I¡¯m crazy?


    I couldn¡¯t help butugh. What to do. Facing death, I strangely felt likeughing. Maybe I was sure I wouldn¡¯t die.


    Would this heavy, soft fabric cushion the impact of the fall? Landing on the grass might help a bit? I didn¡¯t know. But.


    ¡°¡­Jump, guest.¡±


    I heard a voice.


    The fierce heat that had been engulfing us momentarily subsided. A gentle, kind voice was asking me to jump. It seemed only I could hear it because Mary, still trembling in my arms, didn¡¯t react.


    Behind me, Amelia Jokinsughed cheerfully.


    ¡°Jump.¡±


    And I threw myself out of the window.


    I heard Liam shout.


    £ª £ª £ª


    A ringing sound filled my ears. Darkness. I couldn¡¯t see anything.


    Where am I?


    ¡°¡­Liam?¡±


    Liam. Liam. Liam. I could hear my voice echoing far away.


    This ce seemed endless. I couldn¡¯t easily move my feet, and I held my breath in tension. I turned my head here and there. I seemed to be standing on two feet. When I cautiously lifted and lowered my foot, I heard a sshing sound. Ah. Was it water?


    No one was there.


    Just a moment ago, I had been at the Stranden mansion on the outskirts of London, but now I seemed to be somewhere else. What happened? This wasn¡¯t a scene I had ever seen before, even in the moments when I had repeated save and load countless times.


    I suddenly thought I was close to ¡®logging out.¡¯ It felt like that. I was detached from the world, and this ce was somewhere between reality and virtual. It strongly felt like if I left here, I could return home.


    But without knowing the way out or the path, it was just an unending hope.


    After rubbing my eyes a few times, I finally began to see silhouettes in the faint light. After a long time, I could see in front of me. It was so pitch dark that I had thought I was blind.


    Thank goodness. I felt relieved and took a step forward. I walked through the water that endlessly pooled, into the darkness, the deep darkness.


    ¡°¡­¡­What is this all about?¡±


    There was no UI, no inventory, no save files visible. Was this the effect of the shock from dying? I didn¡¯t know. If Liam were here, he would have given me effective advice.


    I walked endlessly, sometimes stopping, sometimes lying down. The shallow water created gentle ripples that spread out. I heard whispers.


    ¡¸¡­¡­.¡¹


    Murmuring.


    Many voices whispered. No, dozens. No, hundreds, thousands¡­ even more¡­ so many! They whispered, speaking in my mind, watching me from the darkness. They whispered. My head throbbed. Blood dripped from my nose. Murmuring.


    ¡¸¡­Once¡­.¡¹


    Murmuring.


    ¡°Speak clearly, don¡¯t mumble!¡±


    It was when I shouted, unable to stand it any longer. Something heavy pressed down on me. I knelt, trying to resist the overwhelming pressure, but I couldn¡¯t stand up. My resistance was futile as my head was submerged in the water.


    Through my nose and mouth, liquid forced its way in. It was suffocating, tasting salty and metallic, with a slight viscosity. It tasted like iron. Bad thoughts crossed my mind.


    ¡°Stop, stop! Are you feeding me this because I shouted? Let¡¯s talk like civilized people¡ª¡±


    Wait. Am I even a civilized person? As soon as I thought that, my barely lifted head was pushed back down. Damn, damn.


    The voice became clear once but seeing me struggling, unable toe to my senses, back to being submerged in the ¡®liquid,¡¯ it returned to whispering.


    Only then did the pressure disappear. Breathing returned, and I coughed up the liquid I had swallowed. It was ck.


    ¡°Damn, this is blood.¡±


    ¡¸¡­¡­But, ¡­¡­this is¡­.¡¹


    I couldn¡¯t understand.


    ¡¸¡­Go.¡¹


    Go away, huh? When I asked that back, I heardughter. At the same time, light pierced my eyes.


    The ringing sound filled my ears again.

 Chapter 30: Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary (3)

    ¡°¡­In¡­, ¡­Jane!¡±


    The voice calling me, the hands shaking my shoulders, brought me back to my senses. When I opened my eyes, a man was holding me against the sun. The light shattered into fragments, filling my vision, making it blurry. It felt like oil covered my eyes. The sharp sunlight and cool air stung, but the arms holding me were warm. I felt like I could fall asleep like this.


    He shook me, and when he saw my eyelids open, he sighed with relief.


    ¡°Oh, thank God.¡±


    His voice was trembling terribly. Though his expression was hidden in the shadows, I quickly recognized him.


    Liam Moore. He repeatedly checked my pulse and lifted my eyelids, finally rxing.


    Why is he like this? I¡¯m fine. When I tried to speak, my voice came out raspy. My head throbbed. My tongue felt dull, as if numbed. Moving slowly, I managed to utter his name, though my pronunciation was mangled.


    ¡°¡­Liam.¡±


    The man lifted his head. My vision gradually returned. The overwhelming light adjusted, and things came into focus, like adjusting a camera lens. Only then did I clearly see Liam Moore¡¯s face.


    It was pale. His face looked parched. His lips were chapped and bloody, and his strong shoulders were trembling badly.


    Is he crying?


    When I ced my hand on his twisted cheek, he closed his eyes for a moment and then buried his face in my hand. His eyshes were wet. Is he really crying? What on earth is happening?


    Next to him was Mary. Thank goodness she¡¯s safe, although her eyes didn¡¯t look good. She was wiping her swollen face with the curtain, sniffling quietly so as not to startle me.


    ¡°You fell and didn¡¯t get up for a long time¡­.¡±


    Did I?


    I don¡¯t remember. Did I faint?


    A headache surged, and when I reflexively lifted my other arm to touch my head, excruciating pain shot through it. Ouch! I screamed. The sensation was dull. Only then did I realize my arm was splinted. This can¡¯t be happening.


    ¡°Your arm took the brunt of the fall.¡±


    Liam Moore whispered somberly, his tear-filled gray eyes fixed on me. He hadn¡¯t let go of my waist and kept mumbling. He seemed distraught. Yeah, given what he saw, it¡¯s understandable.


    ¡°I ran over, but you didn¡¯t wake up.¡±


    I can imagine it. He must have rushed over frantically. Even when I was about to jump, he had a look on his face like the world was ending.


    It¡¯s easy to imagine how devastated he must have felt seeing me not get up. I ended up causing Liam Moore unintended distress. I get the feeling he won¡¯t leave me near a window again.


    I managed to sit up, feeling like I¡¯d been hit by a truck. I wanted to grasp the situation around me. The man supporting my back was talking nervously.


    ¡°You were officially dead for two minutes.¡±


    ¡­Sorry. I suddenly wanted to lie down again.


    Liam¡¯s exnation went like this:


    When I fell, there was a terrible sound. It was like something breaking. He immediately checked on me, but I was limp and showed no sign of movement. Since I had been holding Mary tightly, it seemed my arm hit the ground first.


    When he checked my state, my pupils were dted, unresponsive to light, and my breathing was faint. There was no response. While checking my pulse, it happened. My weakly fluttering pulse stopped! Despite attempts at emergency care, it was no use. That continued for two minutes.


    I came back from death at the moment Liam had almost given up on reviving me.


    ¡°¡­I thought you were dead.¡±


    Sorry.


    I mumbled, trying to offer an excuse.


    ¡°¡­I knew it was dangerous, but¡­.¡±


    ¡°I thought I had lost you forever.¡±


    Liam lifted his head. Mary, now somewhat calmed down, chimed in.


    ¡°That¡¯s right, miss. This gentleman was so worried.¡±


    I felt guilty. I ended upforting Liam and apologizing for a while.


    Liam Moore, who had been looking at me with aplex gaze, eventually rxed his shoulders with a sigh. He looked suddenly exhausted.


    What should I say? I stayed in a strange ce. Was I in aa? I looked for you, but you weren¡¯t there. I came out covered in someone else¡¯s blood. Something was there. Not just me, something else. If this happens again, will I go back there?


    But I couldn¡¯t say any of that. I couldn¡¯t tell him I¡¯m not from this world, that I might disappear, that going home is my only goal. I didn¡¯t want to add to Liam Schofield Moore¡¯s burdens today.


    I leaned my forehead against his shoulder. He shivered.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired. Let¡¯s go home.¡±


    A smile appeared on Liam Moore¡¯s face, as if painted there.


    ¡°¡­If that¡¯s what you want.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    Christine Besson was not in any danger. Throughout the journey back to London, she seemed fine except for being a bit tired. Though she slept the whole time in the sleeping car, Liam assured me her health wouldn¡¯t be affected.


    I updated my save file.


    A doctor on the train examined my right arm and concluded I needed to keep it bandaged for about a month. Other than that, I had no bruises or internal injuries. He said it was as if the heavens had helped.


    With two injured women, Liam couldn¡¯t leave my side and stayed right next to me.


    Mary¡­ decided toe with us. She said she would look for a job in London until her brother regained his health. She didn¡¯t want to give up and spoke cheerfully.


    The further we got from that house, the brighter her face became. Was Amelia Jokins not the only one wasting away there? Mary looked out at the swaying scenery, and as we neared London, she eximed in awe. She looked like a girl her age.


    As for me¡­


    ¡­¡®I¡¯ felt dazed. There was no pain. The status screen showed no abnormalities. Yet the surreal experience earlier left an unsettling feeling. My mind wavered, then settled, like ripples in a pool of blood. Because of ¡®me¡¯.


    The face reflected in the window now seemed natural. If someone asked who I was, ¡®I¡¯ could answer Jane Osmond. It felt simr to identifying with a game character. But it was more like Jane Osmond was taking over my ce, erasing ¡®me¡¯.


    Memory. Memory. My memories are intact. I have parents, grew up in a peaceful and ordinary family, and have no siblings.


    I always wished I had a sibling. My parents raised me with utmost care and didn¡¯t want to burden me. The only thing they opposed was gaming? They didn¡¯t want my eyesight to worsen. So I felt a bit bored and lonely, thinking it might be better if I had siblings.


    I didn¡¯t get into a university in Seoul. I wasn¡¯t outstanding like the protagonist of some novel or drama, only interested in what I wanted to learn and do, so my grades were average. Just average. Enough to get into a national university.


    And¡­


    I can¡¯t remember. What I liked, what foods I enjoyed, people, books, songs I liked or disliked, none of thates to mind. It¡¯s like my desires were castrated, as if a part of my brain was cut off.


    My face too. I remember the ck hair and ck eyes typical of Asians, but nothing else. Mom. What did Dad look like? Now when I think of my parents, I see an unfamiliar foreign couple. When I think of ¡®my¡¯ face, I see a foreign woman with brown hair and green eyes.


    Who am ¡®I¡¯?


    No one in this world remembers me, so even I seem to be forgetting myself.


    Iughed a little. The woman in the windowughed too. Janeughed. Iughed. When I turned my head, she moved with me.


    Liam Moore was looking at me.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    I murmured. He approached, bending his waist.


    ¡°Who am I?¡±


    The moment I impulsively asked, I immediately regretted it. His expression froze, showing concern that I might have amnesia due to the head injury.


    I took out my notebook and opened thest page.


    Christine Besson was not in any danger. Throughout the journey back to London, she seemed fine except for being a bit tired. Though she slept the whole time in the sleeping car, Liam assured me her health wouldn¡¯t be affected.


    A doctor on the train examined my arm and concluded I needed to keep it bandaged for about a month.


    Nothing happened, and I just closed my eyes.


    I want to go home.


    ¡ª¨C


    this chapter had me hooked every line while tranting, i really cant wait to see more of Liam¡¯s pov¡­!

 Chapter 31: Colleague (1)

    tter.


    I woke up to the sound of the train wheels ttering as they rolled along the tracks. I must have dozed off under the influence of the medicine. I recalled Liam Moore handing me a small spoonful of a potion.


    ¡°It¡¯s a painkiller,¡± he had said in his strict, doctor-like manner, which I found both amusing and endearing. I had followed his advice, partly because I was exhausted. I thought that if I struggled enough, I would be able to return home, but there was no sign of that happening despite my extended stay here.


    How long would I be trapped here? Would I ever get home? What if I grew old and died here? I wanted to be home before the New Year. It was almost December. Soon, it would be the New Year. You can¡¯t imagine how terrifying it is to celebrate ¡®another year¡¯ in a foreignnd, as someone else.


    I blinked a few times. The medicine was effective. The pain that had battered my body had dulled into a mild, unpleasant sensation that no longer affected me. Thank goodness. If I had been in pain with every breath, I might have truly wanted to die. The only downside was that even death wouldn¡¯t free me from this ce.


    When I opened my eyes, my mind was foggy. Though my body was sluggish, my mind quickly cleared. Seeing my refreshed face, Liam¡¯s expression softened. He reached out and touched my forehead. His hand was warm, feeling so real that it made me shiver. It felt unsettling.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I mumbled, pulling my head away.


    ¡°You still have a slight fever. Your body seems to be in shock,¡± he said.


    ¡°People¡¯s body temperature is supposed to be warm.¡±  ¡°Well, that¡¯s true, but¡­¡±


    I turned my gaze out the train window. The distant view of London was visible. Or perhaps not so distant after all. Each time the wheels turned, London seemed to draw nearer, almost as if the view in the mirror was warning that it could get even closer. It felt like we were plunging into the jaws of London rather than being chased.


    Farewell to the pastoral and idylldscapes. We were now greeted by a web of murder and crime. The heart of Ennd. The pride of the empire on which the sun never sets. Oh, London¡ªboth hideous and beautiful!


    A long whistle blew. With a hiss, the train came to aplete stop. The once-quiet hallway became noisy as people began to disembark with their luggage. Stepping out of thepartment, I heard the cheerful voices of people greeting each other. Some embraced enthusiastically as they met.


    As I stood holding the door handle, Liam came to support me. Somehow, he knew that several Scond Yard officers were on the tform. I saw Christine being helped off by Mary and immediately assisted into a waiting carriage by an officer.


    Liam managed to carry all the luggage with one hand while escorting me. We were among thest to leave the train. As we slowly descended the steps, a voice eximed in shock.


    ¡°My God, Miss Osmond!¡±


    Inspector Henry Brixon was among those who hade to greet us. His eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of my arm in a splint, and when I staggered from dizziness, he looked even more rmed. He then turned a reproachful gaze on Liam Moore.


    It was as if Liam had failed to protect me or was being med for not being the one injured. Inspector Brixon wasn¡¯t typically the type to reprimand others this way, which made me more bewildered. Why was he so sensitive about my condition?


    As I looked up at Liam, our eyes met. His gray eyes curved into a soft smile.


    ¡°You should exin, not me,¡± he said.


    I stepped forward from his embrace and gave Inspector Brixon a gentle smile.


    ¡°I fell down the stairs and hurt my arm,¡± I said.


    Inspector Brixon sighed deeply. ¡°My goodness, Miss Jane¡­¡± he murmured.


    Perhaps I shouldn¡¯t have said anything. But I couldn¡¯t tell him that I had been dead for two minutes because I fell from the third floor.


    I can¡¯t say, ¡°I was at a colleague¡¯s wedding and found out the groom was a psychopath who kills wealthy single women. The bride almost died, but we saved her. I decided falling was better than burning, and my heart stopped for a bit.¡±


    I just kept repeating that I was fine with a vague, awkward smile. Reassured that I had no other injuries, Inspector Brixon finally apologized, feeling sorry for holding me up when I needed rest.


    Liam gently wrapped his arm around my shoulder again. As the police moved away, he covered me with his coat, perhaps to hide me from someone waving in the distance.


    Wait, that person looks familiar. Blonde, slender, someone I¡¯ve met before¡­


    ¡°Lucita?¡± I whispered, surprised.


    Liam flinched. ¡°Jane, don¡¯t look. It¡¯s not good for you.¡±


    What¡¯s his problem now? I pounded his side with my free hand.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look. She¡¯s bad news for you,¡± he murmured sadly.


    Funny thing, though¡ªI found myself softening at his tone. Though I pretended not to care about Liam Moore¡¯s feelings, maybe I actually did¡­


    Lucita approached,ughing. She wore a ck coat and a wide-brimmed hat. She looked like ady, or maybe someone returning from a funeral.


    ¡°Dear Liam Moore! No matter how much you hide this adorabledy¡ª¡±


    ¡°You should leave if you don¡¯t want to test my patience,¡± he said in a stern tone.


    Lucita ignored him and peered into his coat, where she found me. Her red eyes curved into a smile. Beautiful.


    ¡°Hello,¡± she greeted.


    ¡°Uh, hello,¡± I replied awkwardly.


    Liam sighed and rubbed his temples. Lucita, still smiling, looked at me with deep red eyes. But all I could think was, Wow, her eyes are pretty.


    No, wait.


    ¡°Lucita, your eyes¡­¡± I began.


    ¡°My eyes?¡± she asked, her smile widening.


    ¡°Your pupils have changed. They used to be more elongated.¡±


    Maybe she had contact lenses? Lucita suddenly asked, ¡°Miss Jane Osmond, would you like toe with me?¡±


    Liam tightened his grip around my waist.


    ¡°What would I find there?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Exciting cases, sinister and dangerous people, the chance to catch murderers. And, of course, secrets about Liam Moore¡­¡±


    Honestly, thest part tempted me. Secrets about Liam Moore? That sounded intriguing. If I could follow Lucita and find out more¡­


    ¡°Shush, Moore. A gentleman should respect ady¡¯s wishes,¡± Lucita said, brushing off Liam¡¯s attempts to protest. She gently caressed my cheek.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t end up this battered. I protect my people well¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop joking, Lucita,¡± I interrupted. Though I felt a bit sorry, there was no sincerity in her words. Liam Moore might have been capricious, but Lucita was just as bad.


    ¡°¡­You have something to say, don¡¯t you?¡± I prompted.


    ¡°Sigh¡­¡±


    Lucita rummaged through her belongings and handed me a letter sealed with red wax.


    ¡°My request to you, Jane Osmond.¡±


    ¡­Express? Train?


    ¡°The details are in there, but there¡¯s an auction held by those who stole my jewel. The London ck market is well-known, but I haven¡¯t identified this auction¡¯s host yet.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s someone like Plurititas again, I¡¯ll pass,¡± I said, eyes wide. Lucitaughed, then grasped my hands.


    ¡°Please, smart and clever Miss Osmond.¡±


    ¡°My boss is right here,¡± I said, indicating Liam.


    ¡°Please.¡±


    I can¡¯t refuse when asked like this. So, just hours after arriving in London, we had to move to a different tform to board another train.

 Chapter 32: Colleague (2)

    Liam Moore appeared visibly displeased. Had he asked for some time to pack his belongings? We were negotiating with Lucita, but unfortunately, the auction was happening tonight, so there was no time. Consequently, Liam Moore and I found ourselves stuck on this train for several hours.


    He seemed unustomed to such situations. Usually, it was he who was capricious, doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, driven by his whims. Now, he had to move at someone else¡¯s request. He was being dragged along, and I could only imagine how ufortable that made him feel.


    Above all,


    ¡°Such auctions are fraught with danger,¡± Liam recited.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    Then why? His expression seemed to ask. He appeared caught between wanting to argue further and being unable to ept the current situation. Although he had followed along, he knew my health wasn¡¯t normal, which likely exacerbated his anxiety.


    This happened sometimes. The most cold-hearted man in all of Ennd would turn into a child when it came to matters concerning me. I chuckled quietly.


    ¡°We owe Lucita a favor.¡±


    ¡°¡­The Brothers of Turc,¡± Liam Moore muttered with a groan. Exactly. Although the information wasn¡¯t free, I had indeed upset Lucita during the process of obtaining it. There had also been friction with the mad scientist Plurititas. And hadn¡¯t Liam thrown a sh grenade in 19th-century London?


    Given the various offenses, it was difficult to refuse her request outright. Lucita had likely taken risks to gather information on that cult, the Brothers of Turc. I thought of it as a debt that had to be repaid eventually.


    ¡°You¡¯re not in the best condition either. Having your heart stop isn¡¯t something ordinary people experience. I¡¯ll be with you to ensure nothing happens, but you must take care of your body for a while.¡±


    Liam repeated his advice several times, pleading with me not to act rashly or get into fights.


    His concern made meugh for some reason.


    ¡°For a while, I won¡¯t be able to shoot a gun.¡±


    I repeated a line Liam Moore had once said.


    Liam started to say something, but then he realized I was mimicking him and frowned, embarrassed.


    ¡°¡­You make me reflect on myself in many ways.¡±


    Iughed.


    Liam Moore eventually burst outughing too. Hisughter was a consistent, mechanical sound.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Our cabin was one of the most expensive on this train, equivalent to a suite in a hotel.


    Of course, it was a ticket provided by Lucita. That elegant woman exuded luxury from head to toe, so it was only natural she would seek the best, even if it wasn¡¯t for herself. At least, that was my guess.


    Thanks to her, we were enjoying a veryfortable train ride while carrying out our mission.


    Lucita wanted to send a doctor with us, but Liam objected, not trusting someone whose background he couldn¡¯t verify. Liam Moore¡¯s distrust of people was always like this.


    Liam Moore even donned a simple disguise, hiding his ck hair under a wig and wearing sses, though his grey eyes remained unchanged. It seemed excessive, but the other side of this luxurious train ride was far from beautiful.


    An underground market would be held on this train. No one would be selling legal goods, and it would attract those with money looking to buy illegal items.


    Thus, there were bound to be people on this train who bore grudges against Liam Moore. We had arrested more than a few criminals, and if one of the escaped ones recognized him and picked a fight, it would be disastrous.


    Moreover, I was somewhat known among criminals too. They might not know me as well as they knew Liam Moore, but they knew there was a brown-haired woman with green eyes who apanied that pesky detective.


    I also wore a wig, hiding my hair. My green eyes were ordinary enough that I could pass for a noblewoman with blonde hair and blue eyes if needed.


    Walking down the corridor with a coat borrowed from Liam and guided by a staff member, I thanked him with a soft smile and a nod. Liam Moore tightened his lips, likely trying to stifle augh. What a jerk.


    Our cabin was at the front. As we entered, a clear sky was visible. It was fascinating how the sky seemed to change colors just by leaving London.


    Therge cabin, almost like using an entire train car, had big windows giving the illusion of watching scenery on a TV screen. Being a first-ss cabin, it had minimal shaking. Money indeed buysfort.


    The room had everything: arge bed spacious enough for three adults to roll around in, a tea table, chairs, and even a sofa. I felt a surge of gratitude toward Lucita.


    I had never spent much money on such travel. The best I had experienced was a pension during an MT (membership training) trip. Seeing thisvish setup made me wonder if all rich people lived like this, enjoying the daily umtion of wealth.


    Despite myself, I felt excited. I threw myself onto the plush bed. It was as soft as it looked, like hugging amb. I looked at Liam Moore and the bed alternately in surprise, and Liam chuckled. He then sat at the edge of the bed without feeling any weight. His grey eyes looked warm.


    ¡°If I knew you¡¯d like it this much, I would have brought you sooner.¡±


    I closed my eyes slightly, savoring the softness. It felt like floating on water. Fighting off drowsiness, I murmured,


    ¡°Experiences like this are more fun with someone else¡¯s money, Liam Moore. Don¡¯t you know that?¡±


    ¡°Ah. Spending our money feels a bit off?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. If we don¡¯t fully enjoy it, it feels like a loss.¡±


    Liam Moore murmured as if it was a revtion,


    ¡°I wonder where you learned such a brilliant mindset.¡±


    ¡°Well, I had a good education from my mother.¡±


    Okay? If you slip up, it¡¯s my mother and me, two birds with one stone, okay?


    Liam seemed to understand the hidden meaning and skillfully changed the subject, though not to a much better topic.


    ¡°But it¡¯s troubling¡­ I know Lucita can be mischievous, but I didn¡¯t expect there to be only one bed.¡±


    Honestly, I didn¡¯t mind. We could share the bed, no problem. It was wide enough that we wouldn¡¯t even touch each other.


    To be clear, sharing a cabin had more advantages. We wouldn¡¯t have to run around looking for each other, and being in the same room made it easier to discuss our ns. If we solved the case quickly, we could enjoy the rest of the train trip. We¡¯d have a luxurious andfortable five-day journey, eating meals prepared for us.


    The only odd thing about this perfect n was the invitation. It was the strangest part. I unfolded the invitation that came with the tickets andid it on the bed. It only said, ¡°You¡¯ll find out when the timees.¡± There was no information about the host, the auction time, or location, which was suspicious.


    Could the invitation hold any information?


    The paper was slightly heavy, thick, and very stiff, like a card. It could be used for watercolor painting but was so high-quality that an artist might never afford to touch it.


    I ran my fingertips over the paper. Let¡¯s see. The texture on both sides was simr, and there were no ink smudges on the writing. Usually, the manufacturer¡¯s seal would be on the back, but there was none, suggesting it was custom-made.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we just share the bed? Liam Moore, doesn¡¯t this paper look French?¡±


    Liam, tilting his head, also ran his fingers over the paper.


    ¡°¡­Ah, it certainly seems so.¡±


    Wait. Liam Moore lifted his head, realizing the former part of my sentence. ¡®Share the bed?¡¯ he asked silently.


    ¡°Of course. You wouldn¡¯t expect me to let you sleep on that tiny sofa for the whole trip, would you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true, but we¡ª¡±


    ¡°If the issue is about an unmarried man and woman, it¡¯s already a problem right now.¡±


    Indeed.


    Fortunately, Liam Moore had been looking after me attentively, and the staff on the train mistook us for a loving couple. If we had been at odds from the start, it would have been difficult to maintain our disguise. We were lucky.


    ¡°So, ¡®darling,¡¯ let¡¯s get married.¡±


    Liam, who was about to get up, slipped and fell.


    Bang!


    Liam i would also have the same reaction if THE jane osmond asked me to marry

 Chapter 33: Colleague (3)

    ¡°Hey, are you okay? Hey! Liam!¡±


    As I crawled across the bed on my knees and peered over the other side, Liam was sprawled awkwardly on the floor, his long limbs bent at odd angles, looking utterly confused.


    ¡°What¡ªwhat are you saying?¡± he shouted in a slightly high-pitched voice.


    ¡°Marriage. YOU AND ME. Okay?¡±


    ¡°But, I didn¡¯t bring a ring.¡±


    What is he talking about now?


    ¡°Give me a little time, I wasn¡¯t prepared¡­ Marriage has procedures¡­¡±


    What on earth is he saying?


    ¡°We haven¡¯t even gotten engaged¡ª¡± I couldn¡¯t listen to any more. I interrupted him, worried that if I let him continue, I might really end up as Jane ¡°Moore.¡±


    ¡°I mean a fake marriage. We just need to pretend to be married. It¡¯s not unusual for couples to be close. People will just see us as a happy wife and her husband. During this trip, I have no choice but to live as Jane Moore temporarily. So please cooperate, darling.¡±


    ¡°Jane Moore,¡± Liam muttered, sitting awkwardly on the floor. ¡°Jane Moore.¡±


    He sounded like a madman, repeating the name several times. Then, he rubbed his face vigorously and said something iprehensible.


    ¡°Li¡­ smon¡­¡±


    What?


    As my gaze sharpened like lightning, he quickly got up, turned his head to hide his expression, and lifted me up. Despite his injured arm, he carried me carefully to the door. It was surprisinglyfortable. And his strides were so long that we reached the corridor in just a few steps!


    Is he embarrassed? Just because he attached my surname to his first name?


    Desperately trying to hide his expression, his neck veins bulged from clenching his jaw, and I could see his ears turning faintly red.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    ¡°Hold on.¡±


    His voice sounded like he was struggling to control himself, trying to hide his embarrassment and shame. After a while, he set me down and returned to his usual cheerful self.


    ¡°Shall we go, madam?¡±


    What a ridiculous and pretentious man. If he thinks this will make me forget his embarrassment, he¡¯s mistaken. I sighed and ced my arm in his outstretched hand. He nced at my intact left hand and then pulled me closer to his side. He was ying the devoted husband. I¡¯ll let it slide this time, but there won¡¯t be a next time.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, darling.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    We passed by many people as we moved towards the dining car. People were surprisingly uninterested in each other and even less in what others were doing. An elderlydy looked at my broken arm with pity, but Liam¡¯s firm grip around me discouraged any conversation.


    Would this affect the event? I briefly thumbed through the notebook in my pocket, reviewing our actions and checking the save slots. Slot 1 was the most recent, saved on the train back to London. After some thought, I saved our progress in slot 2. So far, so good. I was in good shape.


    I need to make saving a habit. This reality makes me forget it¡¯s a game sometimes. The people around me no longer feel like NPCs; they seem alive, with breath, warmth, and pulsing veins.


    I ordered tea, without milk or sugar, and a sandwich because I was hungry. Liam ordered the same, adding a piece of sugar and some milk to his tea.


    ¡°So, honey,¡± I said, making Liam flinch and shudder as if he was choking. He seemed to suppress it desperately. I gently patted his arm and pushed the sandwich towards him.


    ¡°When does our ¡®schedule¡¯ start?¡±


    After clearing his throat, Liam replied, ¡°Well, dear, I think it¡¯s best to wait until dinner.¡±


    Ugh. It¡¯s so cheesy. I hadn¡¯t even touched the sandwich, but my appetite vanished. Still, I grabbed a piece, feeling the emptiness in my stomach. The sandwich was delicious, with crispy bread, ham, and vegetables, mixed with a tangy and slightly sweet sauce. It even had cucumber, though I would¡¯ve preferred pickles.


    Liam took my hand, hisrge fingers curling around mine, squeezing firmly. The waiter, delivering a sweet dessert, saw this and smiled warmly.


    No, it¡¯s not what you¡¯re imagining. But for now, we are a married couple. Mom, this is how I¡¯m living in London. I tried to suppress the urge tough.


    Liam started writing on my palm with his fingertip.


    ¡®I think there¡¯re¡­ watchmen.¡¯


    Watchmen? Are we being watched?


    I kept smiling and whispered, ¡°Us?¡±


    ¡®Not us. Watching for suspicious behavior.¡¯


    I tried not to move my eyes. An average person wouldn¡¯t notice this kind of surveince. If they did, or if they scanned the crowd conspicuously, they¡¯d reveal that they ¡®know something.¡¯ I had to pretend I was unaware.


    And then I noticed something odd. Liam had used the plural form of ¡®watchmen.¡¯


    ¡°How many?¡±


    His response came.


    ¡®9/10(Nine tenths).¡¯


    Almost all of them.


    ¡­That¡¯s too many.


    Liam¡¯s gray eyes softened. He stopped writing on my palm and gently kissed the back of my hand. His warm, moist lips lingered for a moment before pulling away.


    He yed the loving husband so well that it almost felt like we were truly married. His eyes conveyed warmth, affection, and respect, making it easy to believe it wasn¡¯t just an act.


    Immersion is crucial in disguise, but could these emotions be mere imitation? It almost felt like he had genuine feelings for me.


    I swallowed hard, reminding myself repeatedly that this isn¡¯t that kind of game. <Misty London> is a horror game, not a dating sim. With that thought, my restless heart calmed down instantly.


    I naturally withdrew my hand and brushed a strand of his fallen hair. Then, I looked out the window. The rhythmic sound of the train and the sight of meadows and sheep outside made me feel a sudden sense of confinement. Though I didn¡¯t have ustrophobia, it felt suffocating.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired. Let¡¯s go back to the cabin,¡± I said.


    With 90% of the passengers being watchmen and the rest observing them, I didn¡¯t want to stay here any longer. The constant act was exhausting.


    Liam, catching my signal, stood up and carefully helped me.


    ¡°Maybe you should take a nap, dear.¡±


    ¡°¡­Maybe I will.¡±


    The waiter kindly saw us off as we left, and we walked away from the clinking cutlery and light chatter.


    I felt eyes on us but then sensed them withdraw. We seemed to have diverted suspicion slightly, a small relief.


    Back in the cabin, all my strength drained away. When I wobbled, Liam quickly caught me.


    ¡°Careful.¡±


    All this trouble just for a cup of tea. I had been so tense halfway through that I couldn¡¯t even tell if I was drinking tea or eating a sandwich.


    The air in the train felt stale. Maybe it was the earlier conversation, but I felt on edge. Was that why? My head was starting to throb, and I felt cold.


    Seeing my pale face, Liam touched my forehead and then his own. He said I had a slight fever. Maybe it was because I hadn¡¯t taken the medicine he had prepared.


    He gently picked me up and carried me to the bed,ying me down with surprising care. He even unbuttoned my jacket and took off my shoes. He seemed experienced in caring for the sick.


    ¡°I can do it myself,¡± I muttered, feeling like a child as he helped me out of my jacket.


    ¡°I know. But you need to rest if you¡¯re sick.¡±


    Then, hemitted the outrageous act of grabbing my calf and massaging it. Hisrge, hot hands pressed and kneaded the tense muscles.


    Honestly, it did feel good¡­


    But seriously, this guy! Massaging my legs out of nowhere?

 Chapter 34: Colleague (4)

    I wanted to give him a piece of my mind for his shamelessness, but I didn¡¯t even have the strength to lift a finger.


    Wow, I must be really sick. Do whatever you want with my legs¡ªmassage, chew, pull¡ªjust go ahead. I justy back and let him take care of my legs. The pillow beneath my stiff neck weed me, feeling soft and fluffy despite being stuffed full. There was even a warm water bag tucked in somewhere, warming my cold body.


    But then¡­


    ¡°¡­Is it okay to touch me like this?¡±


    ¡°Normally, no. But as a husband, I can¡¯t just leave my wife in difort.¡±


    His cheeky response made me irrationally angry. What a convenient excuse.


    I mustered the strength to lightly p his thigh, causing Liam Moore to exaggerate his pain. Seeing him yell ¡°Ouch!¡± at my weak hit made him even more annoying.


    ¡°Stop exaggerating.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not exaggerating.¡± This grown man was giving me a pitiful look with drooping eyes. Oh, for heaven¡¯s sake. Enough. I waved my hand dismissively. Liam stopped massaging and sat up close.


    ¡°Those people watching earlier. Do you think they were hired by the host?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible. Maybe the host¡¯s influence extends throughout the entire train.¡±


    ¡°Must be incredibly wealthy.¡±


    Liam Moore had a speechless expression, trying to estimate how much he could extort from the host ¡°illegally.¡±


    It¡¯s well-known that we charge wealthy clients a lot, but take on cases for those in need at a low cost or almost free. I always set the prices, doubling what Liam suggested. It felt great when the rich begrudgingly tore out checks from their checkbooks.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll be fair. Besides, the host is a criminal anyway.¡±


    ¡°Jane, you seem very unwell right now.¡±


    I know. That¡¯s his way of saying I¡¯m talking nonsense, right?


    My thoughts wandered as freely as my mouth. Honestly, my head was throbbing, so I just let my body rx.


    I should rest. As I thought that, my vision blurred like a power switch had been turned off. I let sleep take over.


    And then, darkness.


    Before I fell asleep, I think I mumbled his name, Moore. I heard a softugh.


    * * *


    When I opened my eyes again, it was evening. The cabin was dark with the lights off. Night falls quickly with the early sunset. The sky outside was already a dark, inky blue.


    The first thing I did was look for Liam Moore. I turned my head, but he wasn¡¯t beside me or on the sofa


    ¡®Did he step out for a moment?¡¯


    After a nap, my head felt lighter. The earlier headache seemed to be due to nerves.


    Feeling more rxed, I remembered the notebook I had tucked away. I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. It was a habit to record the progress. It¡¯s good not to forget things. We sometimes forget our existence, and that¡¯s fatal. I can¡¯t give up the things that make me who I am.


    I pped my cheeks a couple of times to wake myself up and left the cabin wearing the lowest boots I had brought. Except for the sound of the train running, everything was quiet.


    Is everyone asleep¡­? What time is it? The in-game time wasn¡¯t visible.


    Ah, the system¡¯s glitching again. I sometimes wondered if this part was unfinished because of all the errors and strange happenings. But I can¡¯t fix it; I just hope it will work again someday. That¡¯s how I progress through the story.


    Fortunately, the notebook works fine. With it, I can feel safe. If something happens, I can go back a bit.


    I peeked into the adjacent room, but there was no one inside. The luggage was there, but the room felt devoid of warmth, as if the person had vanished, leaving only their belongings.


    ¡°Where did they go¡­?¡±


    Everyone on this train car was like that. I opened every cabin door, but no one was there.


    Ah, is this it? The ¡®beginning of the auction¡¯?


    I decided to explore the train. Maybe I could talk to someone still around or find a clue. Just in case, I kept my voice low.


    Our cabin was in the fifth car. This train had over ten sleeping cars and three dining cars. Including the staff quarters, it was quite long.


    Should I head to the end? Or go forward? I guess I¡¯ll have to check both. I saved the game again and headed backward.


    The sixth car was quiet. No one was in the dining car either. No staff in sight. Where on earth is everyone? I started to run as I walked.


    Nothing.


    Same for the next car¡­ and the one after that¡­


    The atmosphere became more menacing as I approached the end of the train. The tenth car was riddled with bullet holes, and the next car¡¯s windows were sttered with blood. In the next car, I found long bloodstains and scratch marks on the floor.


    Someone is here.


    Someone is killing people.


    The scratch marks dragged along the floor and stopped at the next door. That must be where they died.


    There was finally someone in the next car. Half of their body was soaked in blood, but at least it was a person! I felt a bit guilty that there was nothing I could do for this corpse, but joining Liam Moore was more important. I walked past the body.


    When I opened the door to thest car, a hot, metallic smell hit me.


    Instinctively, I felt something was terribly wrong. It was an unbelievable sight.


    There were huge marks on the walls, and red stains sttered everywhere. Seeing how far the blood had sttered, I wondered what kind of brutal weapon could do this. Not just any madman¡ªwas it a bomb? A shotgun?


    How did I sleep through that noise?


    One side of the train¡¯s wall was torn to shreds. Through the ripped wall, I could see the scenery outside. On the floory scattered body parts. It looked like they had been torn apart by a strong force. That blood¡­


    I felt nauseous. I suppressed a retch by covering my mouth and cautiously backed away. Something that shouldn¡¯t exist was in the centre of that gruesome scene.


    I saw it. Or rather, I couldn¡¯t tell if I saw it. Because there was nothing there. It existed and didn¡¯t exist at the same time. I couldn¡¯t make sense of it, stunned into silence.


    Something was moving, but its shape was invisible. Only by concentrating hard could I see the outline of something undting. It blended into the surroundings, making it hard to discern! All I knew was that it had its back to me.


    I must not attract its attention. I had to quietly retreat the way I came.


    It made a grotesque sound as it chewed on something, its transparent body pulsing faintly in and out of sight. It was huge. How did that thing fit in a train car? It looked at least 12 feet tall.


    That thing had been on the train, and I didn¡¯t notice? It was ughtering people?


    I silently closed the door and turned away. Now was the chance to escape while it was preupied. My mind screamed warnings. Stay calm, Jane, stay focused. Watch your step. Don¡¯t make any noise to alert it. I took a deep breath.


    I turned. One step.


    Good. It¡¯s going ¡ªdamn it. Things never go as nned in life.


    As soon as I turned, I locked eyes with a corpse slumped in a train seat. Its eyes were closed before, but now they were open. It blinked. I almost screamed but held it back with superhuman effort. The corpse whispered.


    ¡°Miss, Miss.¡±


    I thought it was dead. The man quietly begged me. He was alive, though covered in blood.


    ¡°Please take me with you. I don¡¯t want to die here.¡±


    What could I do? I slung him over my shoulder. I couldn¡¯t ignore a living¡ªand savable¡ªperson. Some might call it foolish, but I couldn¡¯t sleep with the guilt of abandoning someone who could be saved. I deeply empathized with his desire to live.


    When I put a finger to my lips, the man nodded.


    We were incredibly lucky to escape unscathed. The man stifled his breath the entire two cars out, and I walked silently, focusing on every step.


    But the problem was¡­


    The thumping I felt from a nearby car.


    It was chasing us. It must have been following the scent of fresh blood from the man, who kept bleeding. It was no trouble for it to track us. But it was toote to leave him behind.


    Already toote. My nerves warned me. Run.


    ¡°Heh heh.¡±


    A chilling, almost vulgarugh echoed. At the same time, something grabbed me, pulling me back. Thud, thud, went the drumbeats. Maybe it was my heartbeat.


    My vision darkened. Familiar words, though I hadn¡¯t seen them in a while, appeared.


    [You died.]


    Damn it. Not this route.

 Chapter 35: Colleague (5)

    [1]


    Loadingplete.


    Unlike before, there was no dark scenery. I felt good physically, even refreshed. But thinking about how I died to that strange monster made my whole body ache, despite feeling fine.


    This time, I decided to move forward. There¡¯s something behind me. As soon as I opened the door to the next carriage,


    ¡°Die, you monster!¡±


    I heard a gunshot along with a shout.


    Blink.


    [You died.]


    £ª £ª £ª [2]


    ¡°What the¡­?¡±


    Seriously, what¡¯s going on? I can¡¯t go forward, can¡¯t go back, so what am I supposed to do? Just sit here waiting for the inevitable flow of time to lead me to my death? Should I wait piously for death toe? Honestly, I¡¯m pissed off.


    It¡¯s absurd to die without knowing why. There¡¯s a monster, but I don¡¯t see how I fit into its monstrous narrative. Did I get shot in the head or something? No, I did get shot. But why?


    Frustrated, I ground my teeth. I couldn¡¯t let myself be caught off guard again, so I grabbed my gun. The chamber was fully loaded with new bullets.


    Seeing the full revolver always gave me a sense of security. It was my lifeline. Somehow, it seemed like my English was improving less than my shooting skills in 19th century Ennd. If someone asked me now, ¡°Where did you learn to shoot?¡± I might answer London instead of Hawaii.


    I cautiously opened the door to the next carriage, holding my gun with both hands. It was the dining car. Peering through the crack, I saw a passenger frantically scanning the area in terror. I decided to call him ¡°Passenger 1.¡±


    As soon as I entered, I had to move quickly. I could do this. Even if I couldn¡¯t, I had to.


    ¡°Die, you monster!¡±


    The moment the door opened, a bullet flew to where my head had been. I narrowly avoided it and immediately dove to the side, using a seat as cover. Facing the shooter with just a chair between us, I yelled,


    ¡°I¡¯m human! Don¡¯t shoot! Don¡¯t shoot!¡±


    Then I heard a scream and an eerieugh. I felt like crying.


    The creature, having heard the gunshot, appeared. It was now more distinct, possibly having been fed. I saw it clearly.


    It was an indescribable lifeform. A massive, jelly-like blob rippling in the air. Its transparent body now had a slight reddish hue. The outlines of its grotesquely swollen internal organs were faintly visible through its membrane, unlike any lifeform on Earth. Everything about it was iprehensible and abnormal.


    A giant squid? An eyeball? A squid¡¯s head with tentacles? I couldn¡¯t tell. The only recognizable feature was its mouth. At the end of its tentacles were giant suckers. I could imagine how it fed, but I didn¡¯t want to dwell on the horrifying and repulsive thought. It felt like my sanity was slipping away.


    The pulsating body tore through the door and squeezed into the narrow entrance. Both Passenger 1 and I screamed simultaneously.


    We instinctively knew we were going to die horribly. The tentacle shot out in the blink of an eye. My heart sank with cold dread. But it was fine. Death woulde faster than I could perceive.


    I closed my eyes, epting the inevitable.


    ¡°This route is a dead end.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    [3]


    So, this is how it¡¯s going to be. Determined to kill me at all costs?


    I¡¯ve had three game overs in a sh, each death unique. I forgot how hard this game was.


    I remembered being chased by a murderer early on. It was simr then. I died two or three more times trying to figure out the gimmick before realizing, ¡°Ah, I shouldn¡¯t go out at dawn.¡± But this is different.


    Going forward is dangerous. I have to wait until Passenger 1 either dies or meets another survivor. The door is set to trigger a gunshot when it opens. Think of it as a closed area for now.


    ¡®Do I have to go back where the monster is?¡¯


    First, I needed to experiment. Maybe all this chaos was because I arrived too early, and I needed to adjust the quest¡¯s direction.


    Anyway, there¡¯s no one else in the back of thispartment except the man whose status¡ªalive or dead¡ªI couldn¡¯t determine. He might be the key to oveing this situation. So, I should take him along.


    Let¡¯s not waste time opening thest train car like before. I already know what¡¯s there. I¡¯ll carry him back here and see if Passenger 1 is still around.


    My prediction was spot on. Passenger 1 was gone. Without a gunshot, he must have fled forward. With the man draped over my shoulder, I closed the door, and he spoke.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°No problem.¡± I replied, continuing to walk.


    ¡°Can you walk? Tell me where and how you¡¯re hurt.¡±


    ¡°My shoulder¡­ the tentacle pierced my shoulder and started drinking my blood. It drained all my strength¡­¡±


    So, you can¡¯t walk. He¡¯s as pale as a corpse. His sunken cheeks and emaciated body made me think he¡¯d copse if I set him down.


    Does this happen when that monster drains your blood? It¡¯s like a real vampire. He¡¯s definitely an adult male, but surprisingly light, making it easy to carry him to the next carriage.


    I blocked the entrance with a stick to buy some time, though I didn¡¯t expect much. If it can crush a train, it can break a wooden stick.


    At least I made it this far. Save. I saved and moved to the next carriage. I had to hurry. No one knew when or how it might catch up.


    The man on my back didn¡¯t speak, just trembled the whole time, making me worry he might die. I was trembling too. Stop shaking! Stop shaking!


    ¡°Hey. Don¡¯t die, okay? Seriously, don¡¯t die.¡±


    ¡°Huh? Oh¡­¡±


    The man mumbled, then weakly chuckled. Fear struck me again, and I reiterated,


    ¡°Even if you feel like you¡¯re going to die, don¡¯t give up. Sometimes, if you just hold on, you can make it through.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I won¡¯t die.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re shaking like someone who¡¯s about to.¡±


    Seriously, no. The game¡¯s im to deliver realistic horror was echoing in my mind. Up until now, everything had been surreal. Why was it suddenly bing realistic? If the person I talked to and saw dies, I doubt I could stay sane.


    Cold sweat ran down my back. I kept talking to him, and he slowly responded.


    In the next carriage (the second one), I finally reunited with Liam Moore. Beside him stood the professor we had met before. Both were stunned to see me return with the half-dead man.


    ¡°How¡­?¡±


    The professor muttered.


    How do you think? I retried three times to get here. But I didn¡¯t say it out loud. I just awkwardly smiled and set the man down. His blue eyes looked at me.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Blue eyes. I examined his state, trying to gauge his chances of survival. He was surprisinglypliant.


    ¡°Uh, he¡¯ll be fine. He should survive for about three hours.¡±


    ¡°Three hours.¡±


    ¡°If that thing outside doesn¡¯t kill us, maybe sixty more years.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a significant increase.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Be happy.¡±


    But why did it feel like none of us here would live long?


    I felt someone¡¯s gaze and turned to see Liam Moore staring at me with wide eyes.


    ¡°Jane, did you see what¡¯s out there?¡±


    I did, but not this time around.


    I chose my words carefully. He wouldn¡¯t know if I had seen it or not, given he had been unconscious.


    ¡°Um¡­ It was transparent, but seemed to have a reddish tint at times. It looked like a giant octopus with lots of appendages. Honestly, it was disgusting. It made my stomach turn.¡±


    I looked around nervously. Liam Moore kept his eyes on me, assessing if I was just scared or something worse.


    Was he sick? Everyone I met ended up dying.


    ¡°¡­Did you notice anything else? Any sounds?¡±


    Herschel, the professor, asked softly.


    ¡°Laughter. I heardughter.¡±


    And for a moment,


    How do you know it made sounds?


    I turned my head. Herschel was deep in thought, chin in hand. Both he and Liam Moore seemed to have some idea of what ¡°that thing¡± was.


    ¡°Do you know what¡¯s out there?¡± I asked Herschel. As he was about to answer,


    ¡°Jane!¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s scream rang out.


    Bang.


    I lost consciousness. The familiar subtitles appeared.


    Why? I asked, and the game started again without my consent.

 Chapter 36: Fragmented (1)

    Ah, damn it. I forgot to save it.


    The only good thing is that I¡¯m in the dining car. If I had to go back there, carry the man, and go through countless steps again, I might just run to thest car and scream, ¡°Kill me now!¡±


    ¡°Where were we?¡±


    ¡°You were¡­ checking my injuries.¡±


    Right. I look at the door. It¡¯s blocked.


    I heft the man again and start walking. I don¡¯t know where the strength ising from, but my body is surging with energy. Maybe it¡¯s because I know I can¡¯t do this a second time.


    Liam. Liam. Liam!


    I¡¯m almost running now. Carrying an adult man, I race to the car where Liam Moore is. If I let my guard down, it¡¯s death. And I want to live long.


    ¡°Liam¡ª!!¡± ¡°Jane?!¡±


    The door bangs open, and Liam looks at me, startled. Skip the rest, don¡¯t say anything. Only I get to speak here. I quickly blurt out:


    ¡°There¡¯s a monster, it¡¯s pretty big and invisible. It¡¯s red, sometimes you see it, sometimes you don¡¯t. It¡¯s got lots of legs, like a squid or an octopus. Oh, and itughs, like ¡®kikiki¡¯. That¡¯s all. No questions. If you know what it is, exin it right now, and let¡¯s discuss how to survive. Are there any other survivors?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re behind. I¡¯m keeping watch,¡±


    ¡°Great! Let this man in.¡±


    I only said what I needed to. There¡¯s no time. I handed the man to Herschel Hopkins, who was still gaping at me with his mouth wide open. The pale, skinny man, handed over to someone else, looked at me.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. You won¡¯t die.¡±


    I reassured him with thest shred of sanity I had left. I thought about offering morefort, but it wasn¡¯t necessary since everyone on this train would probably die after me anyway.


    Speaking of which, what happens to them when I respawn? That thought briefly crossed my mind before disappearing.


    I hiked up my skirt. The professor coughed and looked away. Ignoring him, I drew my favorite revolver and aimed it at the door.


    Where was I attacked again? Honestly, I don¡¯t even remember the direction. But it¡¯s true that being near the door increases the chance of getting killed. This time, I made sure to save solidly. If I die, reviving here is better.


    The train shook once.


    Something, like an instinct, warned me. Run away. And another thing said. It¡¯s toote.


    An invisible thing crashed through the window. At the same time, Herschel Hopkins grabbed me and threw himself over me.


    Liam, wait, professor, Liam!


    £ª £ª £ª


    The familiar subtitles¡­ didn¡¯t appear!


    Consciousness returned first. Then my body started waking up. I couldn¡¯t move a finger, but my eyes opened. I never knew this could happen.


    The ringing in my ears and the tingling all over my body kept me awake. My vision flickered. I heard a crackling sound of static amid the deafening tinnitus. My head hurt so much, and I felt something hard behind me, probably from being thrown to the floor.


    Slowly¡­ very slowly, my sight returned. The pain was bearable. My broken arm hurt a bit, but other than that, I didn¡¯t feel like I was dying.


    I¡¯m alive. I¡¯m alive!


    Everything around me was quiet now.


    ¡°Ugh,¡±


    A low groan came from a little distance away. Herschel Hopkins was lying among the ss shards, a bit away from me. It seemed like he had been thrown off trying to protect me.


    I crawled on my knees toward him. His tightly shut eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. His blue eyes gradually regained focus. His neatlybed hair was disheveled.


    ¡°Professor,¡±


    Herschel slowly rose, exhaling a blocked breath. Then he asked me,


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    I shrugged. Luckily, neither of us was seriously hurt. We had a few scratches from the ss shards, but we escaped death.


    And then, I remembered Liam Moore. At that moment, the flickering train lights went out.


    The air was thick with dust. Now that the train¡¯s lights werepletely out, it was impossible to see what was happening.


    It would be nice if moonlight coulde in. Is it a good idea to call for Liam here? What if it attracts it? I was about to go crazy with worry. Now that I¡¯m safe, I care about others¡¯ safety too. It felt pathetic, making me want to cry a bit. I just hoped I wouldn¡¯t have to apologize to him.


    Herschel held me tightly and whispered,


    ¡°If it¡¯s that friend, he¡¯ll be fine, Jane.¡±


    ¡°Who could be fine against that monster?¡±


    I doubted a gun would work. Honestly, I had heroically drawn my gun, but I thought it wouldn¡¯t help. That thing can¡¯t be killed. Not with human weapons.


    I was lost in thoughts, wondering where that creature came from, if it was normal, or if this was even real. I heard a sound. Something was approaching.


    At the same time, the door banged open. I trembled uncontrobly but tried to breathe calmly and aimed my gun.


    Once the clouds clear, once I can see, I can shoot. Even if I can¡¯t kill it, I have to shoot. There are too many people behind me.


    If I can¡¯t stop it here, all the survivors will die. I wondered why I had to take responsibility, but I couldn¡¯t ignore it.


    I had another thought. Should I just shoot myself in the head and start over?


    I was scared. I feared confirming that Liam Moore was dead.


    Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have left the room. No, if I hadn¡¯t gotten on this train, if I had just gone back to my house at 13 Bailonz Street.


    But¡­ if this was going to happen anyway? What about these people then?


    I felt like crying. I just wanted to go home. I missed the 21st century. If my existence threatened these people, I couldn¡¯t bear it. I felt like giving up a little.


    Just then, moonlight streamed in through the broken window. The shattered ss glinted. The darkness inside the train slowly faded. The deep shadow of fear that had fallen over all of us lost its power in the cold light.


    Soon, the presence on the other side would be revealed. Whether it was Liam Moore or the monster. Whether we live or die.


    Herschel¡¯s arms tightened around me, ready to shield me. I didn¡¯t intend to just watch, but¡­.


    As if mocking our worries, there stood a man.


    The darkness hadn¡¯tpletely lifted, but it was clear. It was him. Liam Schofield Moore was alive. Dear God, I wanted to praise the unknown entity at this moment. He¡¯s alive! He¡¯s alive! I lowered the gun that was almost at my chin.


    The man¡¯s hair was aplete mess. His jacket was nowhere to be seen, and only a torn shirt and vest remained. He leaned against the doorframe, covering his face with one hand. In the other hand, something gleamed in the moonlight¡­.


    ¡®A sword?¡¯


    He held a rapier. I wasn¡¯t sure, but it didn¡¯t look like an ordinary sword. It seemed to glow on its own. No, it seemed to absorb the moonlight. Its color was so clear, it felt like looking at a ss sword.


    I didn¡¯t know where Liam Moore got that. But if it helped him survive, whether it was a machine gun or a rapier, I didn¡¯t care. I was just grateful.


    ¡°Liam!¡±


    I hurriedly ran to him. He staggered two steps closer but still didn¡¯t lower the hand covering his face.


    The air around him was sharp. It felt like thousands of needles were bristling. My body¡¯s hairs stood on end, but as I got closer, the tension eased.


    I grabbed Liam, suddenly afraid. Why was he covering his face? Was he hurt? In pain?


    ¡°Liam, are you hurt? Please tell me you¡¯re not.¡±


    His lips, which had been tightly closed, slowly opened. He moved his mouth very slowly, and a chillingly low voice leaked out.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    His usual grumpy tone was gone. He took a moment to catch his breath, then pulled me close. His feverish skin touched mine. His embrace was broad and warm, and I could feel his wildly beating heart through the thinyer of clothes. He didn¡¯t seem hurt, just very exhausted. I had never seen him this drained.


    Liam buried his forehead in my shoulder and savored the warmth for a while, then slowly murmured. It was a whisper like a passing breeze, barely audible if I hadn¡¯t been focused.


    ¡°I¡¯m d you¡¯re safe.¡±


    What a fool. Aftering back all messed up, that¡¯s all he had to say.

 Chapter 37: Fragmented (2)

    His whisper left me unsure whether tough or cry. I must have worn an ambiguous expression, because the man, upon lifting his head slowly and seeing my face, smiled. Liam spoke soothingly.


    ¡°I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    Another hand reached my cheek.


    ¡°That monster¡­,¡± I stammered.


    ¡°It¡¯s dead. It was a bit difficult, but it¡¯s dead.¡±


    I wanted to ask how he killed it, whether it was rted to his secrets. Though he might have guessed my question, he merely smiled softly. Seeing that smile¡­ what could I say? It didn¡¯t matter anymore. If it was something he didn¡¯t want to reveal, I¡¯d let it be.


    I knew this world was strange. I had an inkling that this wasn¡¯t the London I knew, nor the 19th century. Even when monsters from stories came to life, I thought, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s finally here.¡± My reason denied their existence, but my instincts knew.


    This is real, Jane Osmond. This is reality.


    Liam¡¯s ck hair was slightly dusted and clung to his forehead. His eyes, under delicate eyshes, reflected only me. He was looking at me, and I was staring into his violet¡ª Violet?


    When I pulled his cheeks closer, Liam made a foolish noise. Wait a minute. Your eyes are strange.


    ¡°Your eyes¡­,¡± I started.


    But perhaps it was my momentary illusion, for his eyes returned to the color I remembered. Like the London sky, a somber yet warm hue smiled back at me. They were somehow vibrant. Perhaps I even found them lovely.


    Liam Moore opened his mouth and called my name.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    Simultaneously, the world shattered.


    The world was melting away.


    The surrounding scenery changed.


    Like a curtain falling, like a theater emptying after a y¡¯s end.


    It all felt like a dream.


    The veil that enveloped this ce had long been lifted. Through the breaking fragments, a familiar train appeared.


    The luxurious wallpaper and wainscoting were unscathed. The massive scars left by the monster¡¯s tentacles vanished, and a gentle light shone as if nothing had happened. Although this seemed normal, it felt oddly out of ce.


    Then, what I had seen?


    The windows weren¡¯t broken. The monster¡¯s traces seemed to have remained in that ce. The train was quiet but brimming with life. The presence of living people was palpable.


    Ah, we¡¯re back. It finally felt like we had returned to what I knew. The recent events felt like a surreal experience, like a dreadful nightmare. Did that really happen? Was it my hallucination?


    But the man still clinging to me, in a mess, grounded me in reality. Having someone who shared the same experience was a greatfort.


    Suddenly, curious people appeared in the corridor, peering out. Some passengers even screamed upon seeing us.


    I couldn¡¯t grasp how to handle this chaotic situation. As I stood, dazed, looking at thepletely changed, now normal train, Liam ced a hand on my shoulder. He gripped it once, then rxed.


    A low voice whisperedfort.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    Then he straightened up, no longer leaning on me. His demeanor was distinctly different from before.


    When I first saw him, he seemed on the verge ofmitting murder. Now, how should I put it? The sharp aura surrounding him was gradually dissipating, bing more serene. He felt like the person I once knew. Perhaps it was because I had never seen him so tense before. I wasn¡¯t sure.


    I looked at his disheveled appearance and reached out to smooth his hair.


    Well, anyone would be shaken after seeing a monster. If someone remained mentally intact after that, they¡¯d be more like Van Helsing than an ordinary person.


    Now, the only thing I had to worry about was the cause of what happened to us.


    Herschel soon approached, looking considerably tidier. Though he rotated his shoulders a few times, he seemed neither severely injured nor sprained. He lifted his hands, adjusting his hair to the left and right, then shook his coat once to rid it of remaining ss shards. His movements were as fluid as ying the piano.


    However, despite his graceful demeanor, he was still not in the best condition. His clothes had holes, and there was a scratch on his prominent nose from a ss shard. A thin line marked his cheek. Considering the monster had thrown him, it was hard to say if the wound was big or small.


    The ss shards on the floor glittered momentarily before dissolving into the air. Blinking, I asked.


    ¡°Did the ss just¡­ disappear?¡±


    ¡°Hmm, it seems so.¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s response was clear. He didn¡¯t seem surprised at all.


    ¡°Uh, you look like you expected this.¡±


    Liam shrugged.


    ¡°The broken windows returning to normal, this disappearing, it¡¯s not that strange, is it?¡±


    His calm and nonchnt demeanor somehow made me agree. His words, for some reason, often lent credibility to the absurd.


    ¡°Though the ss disappears,¡± a voice interrupted. It was a middle-aged man, one hand behind his back and the other adjusting his shirt cor. As his hand moved, the wrinkles in his clothes magically smoothed out. He continued speaking.


    ¡°It seems the bloodstains on our clothes remain, Miss Jane.¡±


    Herschel nced between Liam and me, gesturing to my shoulder with his eyes. Following his gaze, I saw my clothes in a mess.


    Ah. It must have been from carrying the injured passenger. The man¡¯s bleeding had been severe, and half of my blouse was soaked with blood, making me look like I¡¯d barely survived a deadly ordeal. It was a ghastly sight, no wonder people screamed.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to cover that. Shall I lend you my coat? It seems Mr. Moore doesn¡¯t have anything to offer.¡±


    ¡°Yes, please, Professor.¡±


    I smiled faintly at how familiar Herschel had be with me.


    I felt this way in Old Paradise Gardens too, but I had never met someone so sociable. Perhaps it was because I spent my time with the unsociable Liam Moore.


    If Herschel Hopkins shared half his sociability with Liam, he might not get chased off crime scenes by the police so often. And he wouldn¡¯t have the nickname ¡®Bastard Moore.¡¯ Of course, when called ¡®Bastard Moore,¡¯ Liam would make barking sounds and shamelessly frustrate the officers. It was a bad habit.


    Having something to cover myself with was a relief. Liam¡¯s coat was likely discarded, torn to shreds. I gratefully epted and wore Herschel¡¯s coat. It was slightly big and heavy, but wearable.


    At that moment, I noticed Liam Moore quietly sticking close to me. With his round eyes, he mouthed, ¡®Why?¡¯


    Suddenly, the thought made me naturally mutter,


    ¡°¡­He¡¯s quite gentle¡­¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    I heard Herschel chuckle softly. Had I sounded like a hopeless romantic?


    £ª £ª £ª


    There was a slight sense of unease. I felt like I had forgotten something.


    Ah, the next car. That¡¯s right. Looking at the closed door, I realized I hadn¡¯t checked on the survivors. They must be shivering in fear, not knowing what had happened.


    I extricated myself from Liam¡¯s embrace and moved toward the door. Liam Moore seemed to want to stay in my arms a bit longer but followed quietly, like a younger brother.


    That gentleness persisted until we reached the door. Inside, I could hear the sounds of people confused by the changed surroundings.


    When I opened the door, numerous eyes turned to us. They all looked terrified. Among them was the passenger who had shot at me twice and the man I had saved while dying.


    Fortunately, they were all alive. I had worried that the recent events might have affected them, but seeing them safe brought relief.


    They were bewildered by what had happened to them and kept asking about the ¡®monster.¡¯


    I replied,


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s gone. You can return to yourpartments now.¡±

 Chapter 38: Fragmented (3)

    It might have sounded to you all like I said the people survived. The passengers with relieved faces began to leave. Even the first-time passenger, whoa had never seen me before, left. The man who had been revived started to walk out with the support of others, looking much better than before. Thank goodness.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    I heard a murmured gratitude from the man as he passed by, which made my heart flutter slightly. But I tried to suppress it. After all, I had done nothing. I just sat there, crying in a panic. It was Liam who killed the monster and saved these people. Yet, the man thanked me. Did I even deserve to hear those words?


    ¡°If you hadn¡¯t brought him here, he wouldn¡¯t be here now.¡±


    Liam Moore, looking a bit more stern, responded while patting my shoulder. It was because of that.


    If there was one person I managed to save, it would be that man. It might seem insignificantpared to what Liam did, but still¡­ it was a relief that none of these people had died. Finally, the tension eased, and I managed a small smile. Yes, let¡¯s think of it that way. Be content that everyone is safe.


    Then, very btedly, I remembered something that had been pushed to the back of my mind. Why had I forgotten so much in such a short time?


    Lucita¡¯s request!


    Right. The ck market job wasn¡¯t over yet. ¡°What about the auction¡­?¡±


    I asked urgently in a slightly shrill voice. What if we missed the auction because we were stuck here? Unresolved cases are the greatest dishonor to me.


    Ah. Liam sighed and scratched his cheek. After a long pause, he finally spoke, looking a bit sheepish.


    ¡°Well¡­ you see¡­¡±


    I had a bad feeling. His demeanor suggested, ¡®How should I exin this?¡¯


    No way. My mind began to jump to the worst conclusions. But perhaps I had be someone who could think a bit unrealistically now, considering the ¡®supernatural¡¯ things¡­


    I asked hesitantly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that ce we were just in was the auction house.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Seriously? Really?


    It felt like a different space from what we knew. Almost like another world existed beneath our own. Is this even possible? Creating another space and holding an auction there? Einstein would roll in his grave.


    As I stood there with my mouth agape, Liam slowly answered.


    ¡°There¡¯s such an auction method.¡±


    I gave up trying to understand.


    Sure, whatever. There¡¯s magic, strange doctors who use magic, monsters. Werewolves and vampires would be fascinating. In fact, maybe Count Saint Germain is still alive, and there¡¯s alchemy too? Sure, why not.


    I looked at Liam with a somewhat cold gaze. Instead of feeling excited, I felt¡­ tired.


    ¡°Why does such a method exist?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡±


    Liam hesitated. Perhaps it was hard to exin. Herschel, noticing this, began to exin instead.


    ¡°For anonymity. They don¡¯t want to be discovered by the general public and want to quietly do illegal things. It¡¯s like only selected people can participate in a party.¡±


    ¡°Then what about the monster?¡±


    Liam raised his hand. Yes, go ahead, Liam Moore.


    ¡°¡­Spaces created like that sometimes vary in security depending on the skill of the creator, and there are things that slip through the weakened gaps.¡±


    ¡°The one who created this space wasn¡¯t very skilled?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°So, um, do people outside notice anything while we¡¯re inside?¡±


    ¡°No. They know something disappeared, but even if they exist in the same space, they don¡¯t perceive each other. It¡¯s a separate dimension.¡±


    Wow. It¡¯s like they held an auction in a semi-dungeon. Then how did I end up there? I couldn¡¯t understand. As I pondered with my chin in my hand, Liam approached.


    ¡°Let¡¯s rest for now. You saw ¡®something like that,¡¯ so you need a break.¡±


    ¡°Does seeing something make you need a break?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much.¡±


    I was full of questions.


    Herschel nced at Liam but started walking ahead with a smug smile. Watching him, Herschel came up to me and whispered.


    ¡°He¡¯s worried about you.¡±


    ¡°I know. He¡¯s always worried.¡±


    Herschel responded with an ambiguous smile.


    ¡°¡­Most people don¡¯t care that much.¡±


    Ah. Human nature breaking down.


    I understood. Liam Moore cares only for people he likes, and even then, only briefly. Honestly, I know his attitude changes like boiling soup.


    Liam Moore keeps a distance from everyone, remaining moderately awkward. Nothing is precious to him, and he doesn¡¯tmit to anything. He wouldn¡¯t scream in agony even if someone were on the verge of death.


    Such a cold and capricious person, why does he treat me like the back of his tongue? I can¡¯t imagine. It¡¯s also true that I wonder if his interest has an expiration date.


    As I slowly followed Liam, I spoke to Herschel.


    ¡°Earlier, Liam had a knife in his hand.¡±


    He looked at me with a subtle expression. He probably didn¡¯t want to show it, but he didn¡¯t expect me to notice. He must have misjudged me, thinking my insight was that poor.


    ¡°Well, um¡­ it was there until just now. It disappeared. Is it simr to that space earlier?¡±


    As Herschel was about to respond,


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    Liam, opening thepartment door, looked back at me. He extended his hand. Did he hear? I wasn¡¯t sure, but his expression seemed calm.


    ¡°Go ahead and ask, Jane. Liam is ready to answer.¡±


    Herschel said.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if that was true. There¡¯s no way Liam Moore¡¯s secrets would be revealed so easily, nor would he confess everything just because we encountered a monster.


    But Herschel pushed me forward with firm conviction. Later¡­ um. I¡¯ll have to return his coat.


    Approaching Liam with a quiet smile, I held his hand. Thepartment door closed. The noise outside was now separate from us. The train continued its quiet journey.


    Everything was peaceful.


    £ª £ª £ª


    It was our detective, Liam Schofield Moore, who broke that peace.


    He led me to the sofa and naturally took a seat across from me. Then, leaning slightly forward, he met my gaze. His elbows rested on his knees.


    The light, either from an oilmp or a gasmp, illuminated half of his face. It had a slight reddish hue, either from the light or his physical activity, I couldn¡¯t tell. But it wasn¡¯t bad. Maybe I even found it somewhat charming. Shadows flickered across his sharply defined nose.


    I watched, slightly entranced, before squinting my eyes.


    ¡°You must have many questions.¡±


    Liam Moore began.


    ¡°Too many. I¡¯ve had many from the start.¡±


    ¡°But I can¡¯t tell you everything now. I want to protect you as much as possible.¡±


    Here, I wanted to borrow dear Lucita¡¯s words.


    ¡®The longer you hide something, the less it helps.¡¯


    If Liam Moore didn¡¯t want to see me driven to madness by frustration, he had an obligation to have a candid conversation with me immediately. At least he should exin why he¡¯s doing this and why he has to hide things from me. Protection requires understanding. Protection without understanding is merely an unteral constraint.


    I asked, sinking into the sofa.


    ¡°Why do you want to protect me?¡±


    He seemed to be choosing his words. Unsure of how much to tell me.


    If Herschel were here, his words might have been simpler, but he had separated us from Herschel. So, he probably thought this space was meant for just him and me. Whether this was an extension of the ridiculous daytime y or not, I didn¡¯t know.


    After a while, the man who had been carefully choosing his words finally began to speak slowly.


    ¡°Because of the gaze. People who know a lot change from their core. You¡¯ve already faced many threats just by being with ¡®Liam Moore.¡¯ Poison was delivered to you, remember? And the horses of the carriage you were about to board went mad. Such threats, malicious and insidious attempts to endanger your life. But I¡¯m not trying to stop you from solving cases. You love this work. I deeply respect that choice.¡±


    He knows well.


    ¡°So, it¡¯s fine. You have enough strength to handle it. Besides, human affairs can be solved by humans. But there are things that distort the essence.¡±


    I squinted andughed.


    ¡°You talk as if your work isn¡¯t quite ¡®human¡¯.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Liam mmed up like a pricked m.

 Chapter 39: Fragmented (4)

    Damn it. Why is he so quick to shut his mouth? Can¡¯t he be a bit loose-lipped for just one day?


    But if I pushed him further, Liam Moore would probably burrow even deeper into the couch. So, I tried to soothe him.


    ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s put that aside. I won¡¯t ask too many questions. Just answer what you can from what I¡¯m curious about.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡±


    ¡°What was ¡®it¡¯ earlier?¡±


    I knew it. Liam muttered. Your curiosity wouldn¡¯t let you pass that by.


    If he knew so well, he should have never hinted at it in front of me! I smirked and crossed my legs. The blood on my clothes had dried, causing my blouse to stiffen and rustle. I¡¯ll have to throw it away. It¡¯s ruined. I should have cleaned it immediately, but I didn¡¯t.


    Meanwhile, Liam raised a finger.


    ¡°¡­I¡¯ll exin two simple concepts first. The world is not singr.¡± I wasn¡¯t surprised. Actually, my secret is probably more shocking. If I told him I came from over a hundred years in the future, he would definitely shake his head in disbelief. ¡®Jane, don¡¯t joke about that,¡¯ he¡¯d say. If that ever happened, I¡¯d have to predict something years ahead to prove it.


    Anyway, his truth didn¡¯t faze me. Being trapped in a game that became reality, another world or parallel universe wouldn¡¯t shock me.


    Then he raised another finger.


    ¡°And there are more things living between worlds than you might think. What appeared on the train is a being from there. It¡¯s a grotesque flesh-eating creature that sucks blood to sate its hunger. If it drains someone¡¯s blood, they die without exception. Think of it like a jellyfish, but a bit more horrific and brutal.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like a vampire story. Please tell me Nosferatu doesn¡¯t actually exist.¡±


    ¡°Sorry to disappoint you.¡±


    Damn! Really?


    The manughed, amused by his own words, making it hard to tell if he was joking or being serious. I couldn¡¯tugh; I had just been told that a creature I thought existed only in ssics might actually be real. Liam Moore shrugged.


    ¡°We call it a ¡®Star Vampire.¡¯¡±


    I repeated after him.


    ¡°Star¡ª¡±


    But Liam Moore quickly silenced me by cing his finger on my lips, then looked off into space before turning back to me.


    ¡°You can¡¯t. This is all I can tell you. Keep it in your mind but never speak of it again. It¡¯s better to forget it. Treat this story as if it never existed. Saying its name is like¡­ a two-waymunication with the entity itself. When I call you ¡®Jane,¡¯ you recognize me,¡±


    I muttered along,


    ¡°If I call it¡­ it recognizes me too.¡±


    Liam Moore chuckled darkly, his face etched with exhaustion. It was as if he had faced something beyond human understanding. He looked worn out. Even steeped tea leaves wouldn¡¯t be as drained of color. He seemed faded, like an old photograph.


    I suddenly felt like he wasn¡¯t entirely human.


    Three times. I had almost lost my mind three times. I was so terrified, disgusted, and horrified that I wanted to blow my own head off. But Liam Moore spoke of it casually, as if it was an oldpanion. This was the first time I saw him revealing such a secret. It wasn¡¯t the face of someone overwhelmed by umted stress.


    What had he gone through? What made him so drained? His gray eyes held a color that no human should possess. His pale, sickly face bore the mark of death.


    The man gritted his teeth and turned away from me. He wanted to hide his face, even if it meant hiding forever in the shadows of thentern.


    At that moment, I realized how weak and simultaneously strong a person could be.


    He had seen these things his whole life.


    I felt certain of it. And Liam Moore didn¡¯t want to show me what he saw. He feared I would end up like him¡ªfaded and lost, losing my original self.


    Knowing this, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a deep pity for the man before me. Here was a person swimming desperately to survive in a vast, endless ocean. Pity blurred my judgment.


    Liam Moore.


    ¡°Liam Moore.¡±


    He raised his head at the sound of his name, his deep eyes wavering.


    How do I appear in his eyes? What kind of image?


    To me, he was a stranger, someone with a side I didn¡¯t know. Maybe the things I missed, the fleeting glimpses, were his truths. If so, he was truly the first of his kind that I had ever met. But,


    I reached out my hand, and at that moment, he seemed very young, as if he had just found his true age. I tousled his hair gently.


    He looked bewildered. Seeing that, I couldn¡¯t help butugh. My smallughter brought a bit of light back to his dry expression, like raindrops falling on parchednd, his clouded eyes gently trembling.


    ¡°But someday, if necessary, if I ask, you¡¯ll have to tell me more.¡±


    His eyes stayed fixed on mine, like it was the first time he had seen something like this.


    The stranger answered,


    ¡°I will.¡±


    The following words reassured me that he was still the Liam Schofield Moore I knew.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do as you say.¡±


    My words always remained with him,


    and he never pushed them away but held them close.


    It felt refreshing.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Not long after, Liam Mooreined of fatigue. It was probably because he had overexerted himself.


    I, on the other hand, felt too queasy to sleep after the earlier tension. My heart was still pounding, and my head ached.


    Liam, now resting his head on a corner of the sofa, was dozing off. Seeing his head droop precariously, I couldn¡¯t just leave him like that. I gently encouraged him,


    ¡°You need to wash up and sleep. You look like a muddy puppy that yed in the rain.¡±


    Liam Moore mumbled, halfughing,


    ¡°Does that mean¡­ I¡¯m a dirty dog?¡±


    This guy, really?


    ¡°I know you¡¯re tired and half-listening to me, but seriously, look in the mirror. You¡¯re a mess. Did that octopus from earlier give you a beating?¡±


    ¡°Do I look like someone who¡¯d get beaten up?¡±


    His grumpy voice made meugh. He seemed annoyed that I called him ¡®a mess.¡¯


    ¡°Anyway, you can¡¯t lie next to me looking like that.¡±


    Liam protested,


    ¡°There¡¯s no ce to wash here. No bathroom.¡±


    Ah, right. Neenth-century trains didn¡¯t have washing facilities. Most train journeys were short. For long journeys, there were sleeper cars, but the plumbing wasn¡¯t advanced enough to connect water tanks throughout the train. It wasmon to use hotels with indoor plumbing during longer trips.


    Would there be one here in this game?


    I checked the map just in case. Of course, there were nobels for a bathroom or shower. Damn. Figures. What a nuisance.


    Resigned, I poured the drinking water onto a dry towel and began wiping Liam Moore¡¯s dirty face. He mumbled about it being cold but obediently offered his face.


    ¡°We¡¯ll stop the train tomorrow¡­ and stay at a hotel¡­¡±


    Liam¡¯s words slowed down. Iughed.


    ¡°Right. We¡¯ll wash then. For now, just sleep like this. You have a change of clothes, right?¡±


    Liam, eyes closed, answered,


    ¡°Mmm.¡±


    I rummaged through the trunk and handed him pajamas.


    While Liam drew the canopy to change, I took off my blood-stained blouse and put on my pajamas. The dried blood on my shoulder came off with a few wipes of a damp cloth.


    Liam patiently waited for me to finish changing. He didn¡¯t seem to being out, indicating his patience. After making onest save, I approached the bed and drew back the canopy.

 Chapter 40: Fragmented (5)

    A head buried in a pillow is visible. Labored breathing is audible. ¡­So he was just sleeping, not waiting. Seeing his neatly folded clothes, he must have been conscious until then, though he fell asleep right after. Anyway, the man looked neat.


    Suppressing a smile, I grabbed a book and climbed into bed next to him.


    He seemed deeply asleep. I called his name just in case, but he didn¡¯t wake up. If there was a loud noise, he would certainly wake up startled, but I had no intention of disturbing his sleep. Turning on the small bedsidemp, I turned the pages of my book.


    I couldn¡¯t get the thought of that monster out of my mind. Liam Moore said it would be better for my health to forget it, but can one control their mind like that? The image of it throwing me aside was still vivid. My heart races again. My breathing quickens. I was so powerless in front of that non-human creature that I couldn¡¯t even fire a shot properly. How did Liam manage it?


    ¡®Could he possibly not be human either?¡¯


    Suddenly, I looked at Liam Moore with a sly nce, chilled by the thought. He was still deeply asleep. I could hear his breathing and see his body moving slightly. He was breathing and had body heat, so he couldn¡¯t be anything other than human.


    I remembered the first time we shared this t. He clearly said he was a light sleeper, but it didn¡¯t seem so now.


    ¡°Liam,¡± I called softly. He didn¡¯t wake up. His disheveled ck hair covered his forehead, and his stern eyebrows were rxed like a gentlemb¡¯s. His eyelids didn¡¯t twitch. He wasn¡¯t pretending to sleep.


    After staring at his cheek for a while, I reached out and pulled the nket up to his shoulders. ¡°You¡¯re a really strange guy.¡±


    The man stirred and curled up. Watching him, my panic gradually subsided.


    I need to forget. I really shouldn¡¯t dwell on it. I sincerely hoped I would never encounter that thing again.


    £ª £ª £ª


    In the morning, I was awakened by a knock on the door.


    I didn¡¯t know when I fell asleep, but I felt refreshed as if I had slept for over ten hours. I squinted for a moment and ced my hand on my forehead. Sunlight was streaming in through the partly lowered canopy.


    My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when I turned my head and saw Liam Moore¡¯s face right next to mine. We had been at quite a distance, so when did he get this close? Was it because he was cold? But the inside of the nket was very warm, so he probably didn¡¯t feel the chill.


    There was another knock. I wanted to stay in bed longer. I got up and put on a thick robe.


    What time was it? I looked around to check what time this impudent visitor was waking us up. The in-game time was still not showing. It seemed the function waspletely broken. I had no choice but to take out my pocket watch. 8 o¡¯clock. We had more than enough time to get up and have breakfast.


    ¡°¡­I¡¯ming.¡±


    Worried that this visitor might wake Liam, I replied as I walked to the door.


    When I opened the door, a familiar middle-aged man stood there. It was Herschel Hopkins. He poked his head in briefly to check if Liam was awake, but unfortunately, Liam Moore was still sound asleep.


    ¡°Miss Jane,¡± he whispered, ¡°Have you had breakfast yet?¡±


    I hesitated, wondering if I should leave Liam. Would he be surprised to wake up and find me gone?


    ¡°Liam is still asleep. We might have to eat a bitter.¡±


    Herschel smiled cheerfully.


    ¡°He¡¯s always been ate riser since he was a child.¡±


    ¡°¡­Really?¡±


    No way. He really doesn¡¯t sleep much. I couldn¡¯t help but stifle augh at what he said next.


    ¡°He¡¯s just pretending.¡±


    ¡°My goodness.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t imagine Liam Moore as a young, sleepy child.


    He seemed like someone who was born an adult. No matter how I thought about it, I could only imagine him saying, ¡°Mother, good morning. Did you sleep wellst night?¡± The first thing he would say after learning to read would be, ¡°I¡¯ve identified the culprit of this case!¡± He would probably call his peers ¡°thou¡± in an old-fashioned way. He must have been an easy child to raise, never getting into trouble and always being loved by adults.


    ¡°When he was a child? Liam Moore as a child? How old?¡±


    Herschel quietly held up nine fingers.


    No way. I pictured a small boy with ck hair up to my waist.


    ¡°Wait a moment. I¡¯ll change my clothes and be right out.¡±


    Suppressing myughter, I closed the door. I had to hear this. My annoyance at having my morning disturbed melted away with the story of Liam Moore that I didn¡¯t know.


    I hurriedly put on new clothes and stepped out of the room. If I stayed inside any longer, I would surely start giggling at his face, whether he was awake or not. Liam Moore as a child!


    As I walked to the dining car with Herschel, I broached the topic.


    ¡°¡­What was he like? Liam Moore at nine years old.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Miss Jane. Let¡¯s hope that opening this Pandora¡¯s box isn¡¯t a mistake.¡±


    ¡°Considering that curiosity is what kills most people, I think your warning is appropriate, Professor. But I¡¯m still curious.¡±


    I was a bit worried. After hearing this, how could I face Liam? I felt like an incredible story was waiting for me.


    Herschel smiled contentedly at my cheeky answer. He looked like a professor who had found a promising new student, handing them three pomegranate seeds and dragging them into graduate school¡­.


    We soon found a vacant seat and sat down. As soon as we settled in, Herschel began his tale.


    ¡°So¡­ it was about twenty years ago. I was in my mid-thirties when I heard from a friend that his son was causing all sorts of trouble. At that time, I had just started teaching at Cambridge as a professor, so I used the vacation to visit his house.¡±


    A scene unfolded. An unfamiliarndscape. Idyllic green meadows, salty sea breezes blowing in.


    ¡°Mr. Moore¡¯s father was a ssmate of mine in college, a renowned archaeologist. After marrying his wife, he stopped traveling around different regions, but he had a passionate and strong adventurer¡¯s spirit. Just as I was getting married, we made a promise to be godfathers to each other¡¯s children. Unfortunately, I had no children, but Arthur had a son he was raising¡­.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    The carriage rocked gently. I was inside it, sitting opposite Herschel, seeing through his eyes. In front of me, a still young man (who already had some gray in his hair) held a fedora in his hand, gazing out the window.


    The man had received a letter. Arthur Moore. From his friend.


    [Dear Herschel,


    As you know, raising a child in this beautiful coastal area is nothing short of a blessing.


    Buttely, Liam has been having issues. I don¡¯t want to simply call it a problem. We are first-time parents, but I don¡¯t want to diminish what Liam is going through by calling it ¡®just a first-time issue¡¯. We don¡¯t want to see him as a troublemaker. He is our beloved son, and that will never change.


    Considering you deal with many young people at the university, you might be able to provide meaningful help to our child. The tutors have all been driven away by him within days. We don¡¯t want to hurt him further. We need your help.


    ¨C Your old friend, Arthur Moore.]


    Herschel recited the letter verbatim.


    A distant cliff came into view, dark blue waves crashing below. This ce had more meadows than mountains. The mansion stood on a slightly elevated area. It was far more beautiful than the Stranden Estate. There was a well-paved road for carriages. The gardens on either side were beautifully maintained.


    As the carriage approached, a guard at the entrance opened the gate. Slowly driving along the path, I saw forests andkes. All within the estate grounds.


    Theke was shrouded in morning mist, but it would soon dissipate under the sunlight. The beautifully constructed stone mansion had one side filled with numerous windows, and the roof was dotted with small towers. Arthur Moore affectionately called this ce ¡°Nifoisse Hall¡± because, in winter, the entire mansion would be nketed in white snow.


    Arthur Moore stood at the entrance with a fountain to greet us.


    The horses came to a halt. Herschel had been ready to disembark even before the carriage stopped and jumped out as soon as it did. The two ck-haired men facing each other looked like brothers.


    Upon seeing Arthur Moore, I immediately thought, ¡®This is what Liam will look like when he gets older.¡¯

 Chapter 41: Fragmented (6)

    They say sons resemble their fathers. Arthur Moore, except for the color of his eyes, was a spitting image of Liam Moore. His skin was slightly tanned, and his build was more robust and brimming with vitality, but in that face, there was Liam. It almost brought a sense of nostalgia.


    ¡°Arthur!¡±


    ¡°Herschel! My God, when did you get so old?¡±


    ¡°Is there anything you can¡¯t say? Try teaching kids at Cambridge for three years and see what happens.¡±


    Arthur Moore let out a heartyugh, augh that was startlingly simr to Liam¡¯s.


    ¡°I¡¯m not in the habit of torturing myself.¡±


    His witty banter was also a familiar echo.


    It had been a year and a half since his son pointed at the void. Arthur Moore began to exin as they walked.


    ¡°At first, I thought it was just a child¡¯s prank. But as days went by, it got worse. He would scare people by recounting stories about them and those around them as if he had seen everything. ¡­Herschel. Liam is different from us. I know that. Please talk to him, and try not to get angry.¡± When Herschel Hopkins finally reached the study, he was greeted by a tomb of books. Cushions and nkets were piled by the bay window, and numerous books were stacked all around. It seemed like every book had been pulled from the shelves.


    ¡°Liam?¡±


    Arthur Moore called out loudly.


    ¡°Yes, Father.¡±


    A small head popped out from between the book stacks.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be out soon.¡±


    And then¡­ and then¡­ I almost screamed.


    It was a boy with ck hair covering his forehead. His cheeks were chubby, his eyes wererge, and his features were delicate and pretty. Although hecked the innocence typical of his age, he looked well-loved.


    ¡°This is a friend of your father. He¡¯s visiting during the holidays and will stay for about a month.¡±


    Then Herschel stepped forward.


    ¡°So you¡¯re Liam. I haven¡¯t seen you since you were two!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll let M know you¡¯re here. Meanwhile, could you chat a bit?¡±


    ¡°Spending time with a little gentleman is my pleasure. See youter.¡±


    It was only after his father left that young Liam spoke up. He kicked the floor lightly with his small feet, showing signs of shyness.


    ¡°¡­You¡¯re a professor.¡±


    ¡°Pardon me, what?¡±


    Even his voice was adorable.


    Sorry, Liam. Should I be seeing this? You were really cute when you were young. Watching all of this, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a slight sense of guilt. I knew I would imagine this cute scene whenever Liam Moore caused trouble in the future.


    ¡°You, sir. You¡¯re a professor. My father doesn¡¯t call people he met at Eton friends. Only university people are considered friends. Since it¡¯s the holidays and you¡¯re here, you must be someone who teaches, so that means you¡¯re likely a professor. Your behavior towards children isn¡¯t quite fitting, so you¡¯re probably used to dealing with adults rather than kids.¡±


    Herschel and I both gaped.


    ¡°You have dogs, don¡¯t you? One¡­ no, two? You love them like they¡¯re your children.¡±


    ¡°How did you¡­?¡±


    Young Liam pointed at his trousers.


    ¡°The only good thing about being a kid is having a low line of sight. You see things adults overlook. You have dog hair on your trousers. It¡¯s from a small dog. White. Different kinds of hair, so at least two. And if you put them on yourp, you must love them dearly. Usually, a man with a wife who adores his dogs this much doesn¡¯t have children yet.¡±


    Oh. That was a bit¡­ harsh. I realized anew that the current Liam Moore had, if anything, developed some social skills.


    But Herschel was more magnanimous than I had anticipated. Despite Liam¡¯s rudeness, he showed no sign of anger.


    ¡°Little Moore, you have quite an eye. Why do people dislike you? Such a clever young person.¡±


    Liam returned to his ce, clutching a cushion. He offered Herschel one too, indicating he no longer saw him as an adversary. Herschel sat down, and I watched as the sunlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow on their heads.


    ¡°Shall I make a guess?¡±


    Herschel Hopkins asked yfully. Liam¡¯s gray eyes turned to him.


    ¡°You saw something others couldn¡¯t, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    This time, it was Liam who was surprised.


    * * *


    Several more pages fluttered past.


    Liam Moore was wary of Herschel Hopkins for a week, but after that, he opened up and started to follow him around, calling him ¡°Uncle.¡±


    Liam Moore saw what could not be seen. Be it secrets or habits, he noticed everything.


    Herschel Hopkins taught Liam Moore many things. For instance, the necessity of concealing what he knew. That people couldn¡¯t see things the way he did, and they would never understand his way of thinking.


    Liam seemed not to fully grasp this, but considering how previous tutors had fled, he decided Herschel¡¯s words held some truth.


    ¡°So what should I do?¡±


    ¡°Well, if you grow up, people might recognize your extraordinariness as a talent. They¡¯re quite stubborn. Adults never acknowledge that a child can be superior to them. So they keep iming the child is odd and end up stifling their uniqueness.¡±


    ¡°Those people need to relearn child psychology. It should be a mandatory course at universities.¡±


    My goodness. That cynical nature was innate. What kind of advice was that from a supposed sage? Iughed, incredulous, lounging on the sofa and letting young Liam Moore¡¯s words wash over me.


    ¡°What should you do if another tutores?¡±


    ¡°Act like a good kid.¡±


    ¡°Pretend not to notice secrets.¡±


    After pondering for a moment, Liam asked with a frown.


    ¡°What if they¡¯re really bad people?¡±


    Herschel shrugged.


    ¡°In that case, tell me or Arthur. Arthur will certainly pay attention to your stories.¡±


    * * *


    Herschel visited Nifoisse Hall every holiday. As the years went by, Liam Moore grew.


    Arthur Moore felt relieved, thinking his son¡¯s issues had been resolved, and that Liam Moore was growing up to be a well-behaved, good child. Whenever this happened, Liam would just shrug, but he seemed d that his parents were less worried.


    He somewhat overcame his habit of staring into the void. Looking back, young Liam Moore might have been seeing ¡®monsters¡¯ or something of the sort.


    Even as a teenager, one thing he couldn¡¯t change was his habit of sleeping in. Liam Moore always slept with the curtains drawn and woke up past nine. A teenager of the British Empire struggling to get up¡ªquitezy for someone from a country where the sun never sets.


    ¡°That¡¯s a bad habit. When you get married, your wife will scold you.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll just get scolded¡­ It¡¯s all part of love, anyway¡­¡±


    ¡°But what if the person you like thinks you¡¯rezy?¡±


    ¡°¡­Then I¡¯ll just pretend otherwise?¡±


    His slightly lower voice from puberty came from under the covers. Herschel Hopkins chuckled, tapping the bundled-up cocoon of nkets lightly.


    ¡°Hey, Liam Moore.¡±


    The cocoon answered.


    ¡°Yes, Professor Hopkins?¡±


    ¡°I know public school isn¡¯t fun, but don¡¯t think the teachers there are fools.¡±


    The cocoon wriggled. A head with messy hair emerged. His face was a bit slimmer than when he was younger, and his almond-shaped eyes still sparkled, sharp and perceptive. But unlike now, he still had a hint of childishness¡ªless polished.


    Teenaged Liam grumbled.


    ¡°The kids are stupid, and the teachers are no better. What can I learn from that?¡±


    ¡°Maybe conservative customs and bureaucracy. And a sense of superiority?¡±


    ¡°Wow. I want to drop out.¡±


    This brat. I suppressed the urge to give this cheeky calf a good whack. This was just a memory, something that had already happened. I had no right to interfere. It was like watching a cutscene in a game. But how could he talk about dropping out? His parents¡­ no, I should stop this scolding.


    ¡°In society, there will be more people like that. But look. There¡¯s always someone like you who points out the ws in public schools. One day, such a person will break the system. To do that, you need to know it best.¡±


    ¡°To break the system, you must be part of it.¡±


    Liam muttered. The morning lecture seemed to have fully awakened him. He slowly got out of bed, and¡­ sixteen? Seventeen? He had caught up to my height and then some. Looking at his suddenly too-short sleeves, he grumbled.


    ¡°I¡¯m growing too fast. My clothes get short after just a few nights.¡±


    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s a good thing. How¡¯s your sleep these days?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask. It¡¯s so noisy I can¡¯t sleep.¡±


    That?


    And the shback ended.


    guys we got child Liam before gta6

 Chapter 42: Fragmented (7)

    Herschel Hopkins was smiling softly. Compared to his young and vibrant self of the past, he had aged considerably. Wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, and the skin around his mouth had sagged a bit. The signs of aging were clear. His hands, too, showed wrinkles, and his strength had wanedpared to his youth. Yet, he still possessed a gentle charisma that seemed to grow stronger with age.


    He took a sip of tea and looked at me. ¡°Isn¡¯t he a funny guy?¡±


    I recalled the image of Liam from my memories. A chubby-cheeked boy, mature for his age, often reciting words with a precocious air. He also had a wild, untamed spirit like a rebellious horse. So many thoughts flooded my mind at once. He was lovable, sometimes cheeky. His younger self was like that. But none of these thoughts escaped my lips; I just smiled.


    What should I say? It felt as if the distance between Liam Moore and me had slightly narrowed. Though he might not feel the same, having seen him as a child made it inevitable for me.


    After a brief pause to choose my words, I finally managed to speak. ¡°¡­He was quite the pretender, wasn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t think of him aszy, Miss Jane. I now feel like he¡¯s half my nephew.¡±


    That made sense. To Liam Moore, Herschel Hopkins was a mentor, an understanding friend, and almost like a brother to his father. Even though Liam now addressed him with a casual ¡®you,¡¯ bordering on disrespect.


    ¡°When did Liam start calling you ¡®you¡¯?¡±


    ¡°When did he start calling me that?¡± Herschel replied. ¡°Yes.¡±


    If it were me, I¡¯d call him uncle or maybe mister.


    Then, a voice answered from behind me. ¡°Oh, it was after I graduated from college, ma¡¯am. We started meeting for work, and sometimes personal feelings had to be set aside.¡±


    I almost jumped out of my seat. I choked back a scream and hurriedly sipped my tea. A strong arm wrapped around my neck from behind. I was caught talking about him! More than that, I wasn¡¯t sure how to face him. In my mind, he was still the cute, young boy. Seeing the grown Liam Moore might make me cry out, ¡°Why did you grow up so much?¡±


    The man whispered in my ear. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°Just a moment.¡±


    My ears were burning. I couldn¡¯t scream. I knew that. Why now? Please, give me a warning when Liam Moore is about to appear. Please.


    ¡°¡­Herschel. You said something unnecessary again, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Herschel watched my flushed face and replied with a mischievous smile. ¡°Oh, of course. I was telling her about the time you decided to put on airs in front of ¡®ma¡¯am.¡¯¡±


    Ah.


    I just wanted to go home.


    The man beside me protested. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be airing out the past like that, Herschel.¡±


    Herschel, propping his chin on his hand, watched with amusement as Liam fumed. I really wanted to shut my eyes tight.


    ¡°How much did you hear?¡± Liam asked me, but just then, the waiter arrived with breakfast, sparing me from answering. My cheeks were burning. If looks could pierce, my cheeks would have had holes in them.


    ¡°I need to eat.¡±


    ¡°Fine. You can eat, but Herschel, you¡¯re not getting any.¡±


    ¡°This is elder abuse,¡± Herschel muttered. ¡°I knew youcked respect for your elders, but now you torment old men too. Even though I¡¯m your godfather.¡±


    That¡¯s right. Herschel Hopkins was nearly sixty. Even if he ate three meals a day, he¡¯d feel his age. Depriving him of breakfast wasn¡¯t right. I nudged Liam¡¯s side.


    ¡°Little Moore, don¡¯t take away the professor¡¯s meal.¡±


    And I¡­ well, I admit I misspoke.


    Liam Moore turned to me, eyes wide. His gray eyes were trembling with shock, as if wondering how I knew his childhood nickname. If I told him I saw him as a child, he might jump out the window immediately.


    ¡°The professor said he used to call you that. Little Moore.¡±


    ¡°Damn you, Hopkins!¡± Liam muttered, shoving the sd te back to Herschel and burying his face in his hands. I chuckled. Finally, Liam Moore, his forehead pressed to the table edge,mented.


    ¡°How much did you say¡­?¡±


    ¡°Well. From when you were nine until about¡­¡± I trailed off, unsure of his exact teenage years. Herschel chimed in.


    ¡°Until he was sixteen. All the big incidents.¡±


    ¡°Just how much of a pretender you were.¡±


    ¡°Oh, if I¡¯d known you were so concerned about Miss Jane, I would have been more discreet.¡±


    Herschel and I lightly pped hands. Liam Moore, clutching his head, didn¡¯t seem to notice. I was cutting my eggs and bacon with my left hand, struggling with the force. If I were using chopsticks, I¡¯d have given up on the meal. Eating bacon with a spoon? Absolutely not.


    Liam, who had been pressing his forehead to the table, saw my struggle and took the fork from me. He methodically cut the food on my te, as if he were dissecting Herschel. His twisted personality hadn¡¯t changed.


    He pushed the neatly cut food back to me and rubbed his forehead. A long mark from the table edge stretched across it.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    Liam¡¯s voice was incredibly low. He was awake, but his voice was still hoarse. That¡¯s right. He must have woken up at nine. Given his previous behavior, it was astonishing.


    ¡°Yes, my morning-sleepy darling.¡±


    ¡°¡­Yes. I do have morning sleepiness.¡±


    In the end, Liam conceded. He muttered, fists clenched as if ready to hit Herschel¡¯s back.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t pretentious. It was necessary to improve my habits¡­¡±


    ¡°Habits you haven¡¯t fixed in over twenty years.¡±


    ¡°¡­Jane. I¡¯m really dying of embarrassment.¡±


    Oh. Don¡¯t die. Losing someone like you would make all of Ennd mourn. Smiling, I leaned my head on Liam¡¯s shoulder. It hadn¡¯t been long, but acting like a couple felt natural. Liam reflexively put his hand on my shoulder and cleared his throat.


    ¡°Every morning, you¡¯d wash up, put on your gown, and enjoy a cup of tea with the newspaper, my darling.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re trying to kill me with embarrassment, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    He protested softly. His voice now had a hint of moisture. Was he crying? Are you crying?


    Yes, but I didn¡¯t say that. I just smiled, dipping the egg whites and toast into the broken yolk and popping it into my mouth. It tasted very sweet.


    Just then, the conductor announced, ¡°This train will arrive shortly ¡ª and will be stationed here for the day. Passengers, please gather your belongings.¡±


    Strangely, the name of the station wasn¡¯t audible.


    I turned my head. Herschel raised an eyebrow and stood up, leaving only the tomatoes on his sd te.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to eat breakfast?¡±


    I suddenly remembered Liam hadn¡¯t eaten anything. When I asked, he shook his head. His ears were still red.


    I made a mental note not to forget this moment.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Back in my room to pack, I inadvertently realized a disconcerting fact that I couldn¡¯tugh off. The surroundings were brimming with life.


    Already living in reality, the expression ¡®brimming with life¡¯ might not have been entirely appropriate. But it was true. Everything felt incredibly ¡®alive.¡¯ It shouldn¡¯t have felt this way.


    ¡®No.¡¯


    Of course, it had been quite some time since I started feeling the temperature, sensations, and breathing¡ªeverything that sustains human life. Honestly, I couldn¡¯t even remember what it was like before. Even if I asked myself, nothing came to mind. It felt natural, as if I had always lived this way.


    But at least, the game had always maintained an appearance ¡®like¡¯ reality. It still let me know it was a game.


    ¡®No.¡¯


    The one thing that still made me aware this ce was a game was the voices. No matter how much people around me talked,ughed, got angry, or cried, to me, their voices sounded uniform, like a broken radio. There were no intonations or pitch changes. It was just the same British ent, indistinguishable.


    I denied it again.


    ¡®This can¡¯t be happening.¡¯


    Liam Moore turned, carrying my suitcase for me. My expression must have been odd¡­ I guess.


    ¡°Jane?¡±


    His voice was surprisingly ¡®kind.¡¯


    just know that it¡¯s about to go down¡­ ??

 Chapter 43: Who am I

    A chill ran down my spine. Something cold and mmy seemed to creep up my back, wrapping around my neck, whispering to me.


    ¡®You¡¯re done for.¡¯


    I heard the words clearly. The sunlight felt dizzying, my head ached, and an overwhelming nausea washed over me. My heart pounded wildly, and then,


    ¡°Jane. Jane. Look at me.¡±


    Liam Moore rushed over, dropping his bags and gripping my shoulders. His hands were warm, his voice was warm, everything was warm, but it shouldn¡¯t have been. It just shouldn¡¯t have been. This had to be a game.


    I must have been having a seizure. I couldn¡¯t breathe properly. Even in my dizzy state, his voice in my ears didn¡¯t sound like a machine, it wasn¡¯t monotonous. It was alive. Very much alive, unlike the emotionless, t voice of a voice conversion program I remembered. I remember! I remember! My memory couldn¡¯t be wrong, it just couldn¡¯t be. If this was reality, I couldn¡¯t go home, and if it wasn¡¯t a game anymore, what would I be?


    ¡°Jane!¡±


    Finally, my head lifted. My body stopped resisting.


    A stranger stood there. Gray eyes, ck hair. It was Liam Moore I knew, but at the same time, he was a Liam Moore I didn¡¯t know. He looked at me with a ¡°concerned¡± face, his voice was worried, his voice¡­


    ¡°I¡­ I, I mean¡­¡±


    Why¡­ why did his voice have emotion? Why did it sound like he was ¡°worried¡± about me? Why were his eyes warm and his voice genuinely human? He always looked like a human, but why now? How?


    I did nothing. No interaction. There was no interaction button to begin with!


    Where did it go wrong? When did it start breaking?


    Everything around me was alive, moving on its own. I didn¡¯t even realize it.


    When did their eyes start showing emotion? When did their voices start having inflection? When did the game¡¯s features start disappearing? But before that, is this really a game?


    My knees gave out. The man holding me gasped in surprise. I dropped my head, staring nkly at the floor. Liam, who had knelt down with me, was saying something, but I couldn¡¯t hear it. It was cold.


    I mumbled.


    This isn¡¯t the ce. I don¡¯t belong here. I¡¯m not even British. I want to stop. I want to go home. It was fun, it¡¯s a great game. I get it, I really do. The historical uracy, the incredible graphics, it¡¯s all so real. The voice acting is great. Everything is great. The difficulty is just right. Please let me go home.


    ¡°Jane, please, tell me what¡¯s wrong. Let me help you!¡±


    I gasped for air, opening my mouth to force in oxygen. Tears welled up in my burning eyes. No. Iughed. Iughed so hard my stomach hurt, and my body ached as if I had been beaten, feeling light and cold. The sound of myughter echoed.


    After a long while, I barely managed to call out his name.


    ¡°Liam Schofield Moore.¡±


    No more thoughts came to mind.


    ¡°I feel like I¡¯m alive¡­¡±


    And then Liam Moore¡¯s (perhaps slightly fearful) question reached me.


    ¡°¡­Who are you? What have you done to Jane?¡±


    I snapped back to reality. No, I couldn¡¯t let it show.


    Suddenly, a thought shed through my mind. The story of someone who told a dreamer they were dreaming, and everyone stared at them.


    What if the game¡¯s NPCs realized this was a game? It was a chilling thought.


    My trembling hands pulled out a notebook. What have you done to Jane? What aughable question. She was nothing more than an empty doll, waiting for someone to inhabit it. If I turned off the game, she would either stop, disappear, or remain forever unchanged. Without me, you too,


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Liam Moore asked again, his voice low and filled with anger. He seemed to view me as something that had taken over Jane¡¯s body. That was half true.


    My face was wet. Probably covered in tears. I didn¡¯t want to show this face. I didn¡¯t want him to see my face stripped of all pretense and coldness.


    The man was about to angrily question me again but stopped when he saw my face. Yes. He understands. No monster that took over a human body would wear such an expression. I answered.


    ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know¡­¡±


    I¡¯m sorry. I apologize repeatedly. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll tell you next time.


    The screen brightened. No, was it going dark?


    [Loading¡­]


    The words appeared. It felt like someone was writing them directly.


    Me¡­.


    And then the page turned back.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I saw the back of Liam Moore rising from his seat.


    When did it start? My body and mind followed the stored state, and the temporary madness that had shaken my head earlier disappeared, leaving only a cold, calm mind to wee me. It felt like being doused with ice water. The fever spiked and then suddenly cooled, making me feel cold.


    Jane Osmond. Me. I don¡¯t know the name. I don¡¯t know the face. I have brown hair and green eyes and live at 13 Bailonz Street, London. No¡­ but what isn¡¯t right?


    ¡°This isn¡¯t it¡­.¡±


    Liam turned his head, eyes wide open. He reacted to my voice. Liam Moore, who knew nothing, I thought, what should I do with you?


    Reason was steadily looking at this situation again. My brain, no longer in seizure, was finally thinking.


    What was the problem?


    When did it change?


    I didn¡¯t know what was disappearing, and even if I did, I had no way to stop it. It was like holding sand. The tighter I squeezed, the faster it slipped through. There was only a way to lose. This is the way it is. It will eventually drive me mad.


    What should I do to remain sane?


    I thought again, finding the answer in Liam Moore¡¯s words. He always said so. Don¡¯t know too much.


    I wanted to ask if he had foreseen this. But I feared that asking would trigger another seizure, so I kept my mouth shut.


    Forget it. If you can¡¯t understand, forget it, and if you understand, pray to stay sane. There aren¡¯t many choices. There will be even fewer in the future.


    It felt like shards of ss were flowing through my veins. My throat felt prickly as if I had swallowed a sandstorm, and my head was dizzy. The fever that had cooled was rising again. The train wobbled. It rocked up and down like a boat. Ah, maybe it was my vision that was swaying¡­.


    I staggered. The floor came closer. But there was no pain. Liam Moore¡¯s eyes turned back to me, and he appropriately caught and held me.


    ¡°Jane!¡±


    Always. He¡¯s always watching. If he knew I wasn¡¯t his Jane, his attitude would change as quickly as flipping a hand, but I still held onto hope¡­.


    This manufactured affection is poison. We were running in parallel. He would surely mistake it for being in touch with me, but it wasn¡¯t. I was running towards an unknown end, and no one noticed me.


    Maybe if we got closer, you¡¯d recognize ¡®me¡¯¡­.


    I don¡¯t me you. Only those who deserve it can me. I was just curious. Names are supposed to help us recognize each other, so why don¡¯t you know me?


    His gray eyes were slightly transparent, darker towards the center. It looked like shining fragments were swirling around. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was my hallucination, but my fevered mind spat out thoughts. There¡¯s a universe in your eyes.


    ¡°Are you alright? What happened? Should I call a doctor?¡±


    ¡°I, um,¡±


    I squeezed out a hesitant answer.


    ¡°It¡¯s probably the aftereffect of seeing that yesterday. I suddenly felt a chill.¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s hand covered my forehead, blocking my view. His body heat, which I usually found hot, felt surprisingly cold now. Maybe because I had a fever.


    Soon his hand slipped, caressing my cheek. His calloused hand wasn¡¯t smooth, but it brought back the stability I had lost. As my breathing calmed, the lingering touch slowly withdrew.


    This means nothing. Just as I am nothing here and to these people¡­.


    ¡°Let¡¯s head to the hotel. You need to rest.¡±


    With those words, I lost the grip on my fleeting consciousness.

 Chapter 44: The Accursed Man (1)

    It was a dark scene. A destendscape greeted me with emptiness.


    The ground was covered in a warm liquid that sshed with every step I took, soaking my feet. I now know it was blood¡ªboth its taste and the texture when it touched my tongue matched.


    And the whispers that filled this ce.


    I let out a smallugh. Maybe I even felt a bit relieved. The situation was already surreal, and anotheryer of unreality wouldn¡¯t change much. I couldn¡¯t afford to cry or be terrified by mere whispers.


    I wanted to go home. I needed to go home. To do that, I had to stay sane. I couldn¡¯t have another seizure like the one I had earlier.


    I heard the whispers.


    [¡­]


    ¡°I can¡¯t hear you.¡±


    [¡­] ¡°I said, I can¡¯t hear you.¡±


    [¡­]


    ¡°Is this your doing? Making the voices clear, erasing in-game time, and removing interaction buttons? Is this all your work? Did you trap me here?¡±


    No answer came this time. The previous pressure was gone, and only the sound of breathing remained. By now, I couldn¡¯t tell if it was my own breathing or the whispers.


    I stomped the ground nervously.


    ¡°I¡¯m asking you!¡±


    A moment of silence. Then the air began to vibrate. It felt as if the entire space¡­ wasughing. A colossal, vast vibration that shook my skull and brain reverberated far, far away.


    It loved me. I could sense that. Simultaneously, something intangible brushed softly against my cheek.


    The whispers came again. This time, I could understand one word.


    [Jane.]


    £ª £ª £ª


    It was blinding. I mumbled.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    An apology quickly followed, and then I heard the rustle of curtains being drawn. The man was still sitting next to me. Perhaps¡­ Herschel had closed them instead. I wasn¡¯t sure.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    I asked. Liam Moore frowned slightly, then smiled. As if relieved, he rested his forehead near my shoulder. Freshly washed. I could smell soap, or maybe it was perfume or oil. It was the familiar scent he always carried. Strangely, it calmed me. He murmured,


    ¡°It was my fault for not considering your stress. Dealing with extraordinary people, I couldn¡¯t predict how you¡¯d react.¡±


    His voice was low.


    ¡°It happens.¡±


    I murmured back. Slowly, I got up. Liam tried to dissuade me, saying, ¡°You should lie down a bit more.¡± But I wanted to get up.


    We had arrived at the hotel. People must have been quite rmed when I copsed on the train.


    ¡°I need to wash up.¡±


    ¡°Do you need warm water? Should I request it?¡±


    ¡°No. Cold water will do.¡±


    Only after soaking in cold water did Ie to my senses. The anxiety crushing my chest disappeared, but¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure. It felt like I was losing my mind.


    Maybe I really was Jane Osmond. Born to a middle-ss family in London with my parents and younger brother.


    The quest list was no longer visible. All I had left was a notebook and the map in the upper right corner.


    Who would help me? Liam Moore?


    What more do I have to do here? I¡¯ve done all I could. I worked through the episodes, striving to see the end. And all for this? To be trapped in a lousy game, unable to die?


    Do you want that?


    A surge of anger rose within me toward the intangible being. Whatever it was, if I found the entity that trapped me, I would kill it.


    I am not a kind, good-natured person. I just try to act morally, not wanting to oppress others with my better traits. If I can do something, I believe I should, and it brings me joy if others are saved by it.


    Do I seem pretentious? I turned my gaze to an entity surely watching me from somewhere. I asked, do I look hypocritical?


    Fine. I admit it. Some might point fingers and call me a hypocrite. Or maybe an insane killer with dual personalities? This is a bit of a stretch.


    Anyway, I did what I had to do as the only person from the 21st century in this morally devoid 19th century. And that thought won¡¯t change. If I can save one person by dying once, it¡¯s worth it.


    And I said aloud something I must never forget.


    ¡°This is a game.¡±


    Then I plunged my head into the cold water and lifted it. Water trickled down my eyelids. It tasted a bit salty, or maybe that was just my imagination.


    Yes, this is a game, Jane.


    I sighed, took the notebook and pen from the pile of clothes beside me. These things would no longer change me. This notebook, unchanged by numerous retries and reloads, was myst bastion. I started writing down my remaining memories on its nk pages.


    There wasn¡¯t much to write. Tragic, really.


    Things I like. After hesitating for a long while, I started moving my hand.


    ¡­home-cooked meals, kimchi, spicy ramen¡­ Honestly, I wasn¡¯t sure if I liked them, but I wrote down any food that came to mind. As a secret, I even jotted down some food brands.


    And finally, something I must never forget and must not be discovered.


    This is all a damn game.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I don¡¯t remember much after that.


    We stayed one night, then returned to the train. The hotel was cozy, but that was all. I slept and woke up, then slept again, hoping that something might change when I opened my notebook. Progress, normal. Me, normal. Herschel urged me to speak up whenever the stress became too much, but I would never confide in him.


    Honestly, I never got the chance. Soon enough, the auction began.


    The invitation gleamed. The letters moved as if alive. Reality was being reversed. Watching a new reality ovey itself, Iughed. The spectacle was too grand. It was as if they were boasting.


    ¡°Why do criminals always hide their actions yet still want to show off?¡±


    Liam, who had stepped into the space that opened around the invitation, shook his head.


    ¡°Who knows¡­.¡±


    ¡°Maybe they thought they wouldn¡¯t get caught. I probably will never understand their minds.¡±


    And then, as if deeming it safe inside, he extended his hand to me.


    What if it hadn¡¯t been safe?


    I wondered briefly, but took his hand, which felt strangely unfamiliar, and followed him into the crafted reality.


    It felt like passing through a thin membrane. It was cold and damp. I rubbed my cheek, shivering. The air here was different, I realized for the first time.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t analyzing a crime from the perspective of a criminal enough?¡±


    I asked.


    ¡°With criminal profiling, we might never fully understand those filthy rats. Their malice is beyond imagination. Even now, look. Oh. This is interesting.¡±


    Of course, I felt more disgusted than interested.


    It was the train, specifically ourpartment. A familiar space, yet unfamiliar at the same time. And there stood the man I had saved before.


    ¡°Wee to the auction.¡±


    ¡­Ah. So this is how it¡¯s going to be.


    ¡°Wee, Jane Osmond, and Liam Moore.¡±


    Our disguises had been pointless. The enemy already knew us. Especially me, which was curious. How? Being less knownpared to Liam Moore had been a significant advantage in solving cases. I couldn¡¯t guess how much they knew.


    The man bowed gracefully and kissed the back of my hand. The damp sensation sent chills down my spine. Did the nature of a space follow its creator? I couldn¡¯t help but wonder.


    ¡°Due to the previousmotion, it seems you couldn¡¯t obtain what you desired. Hence, this meeting. Stepping out before fully recovering was quite painful.¡±


    He was right. The host still had lingering effects from the blood drained by the Star of¡­ Ah. Initially, he had gained a bit of weight, but he was still gaunt and seemed to struggle with every word, taking a deep breath between sentences. Although he was smiling, his face was drenched in cold sweat, and his eyes gleamed with fever.


    I looked at the man and spat out,


    ¡°Liar.¡±

 Chapter 45: The Accursed Man (2)

    ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t hold the auction. We couldn¡¯t invite everyone, so we had to create this small space. If you want to talk to us, it¡¯s best to drop the act. You should know this much if you¡¯ve been keeping an eye on us, right? Are you usually this oblivious?¡±


    I had gone to great lengths to secure this, only to find out the host couldn¡¯t hold the auction? So what was all my effort for?


    However, the host seemed to take even my harsh words in stride.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    ¡°I never gave you permission to call me by my first name.¡±


    ¡°Miss Osmond.¡±


    ¡°How dare you add ¡®Miss¡¯? I¡¯m older than you.¡±


    Liam nced at me, his eyes questioning, ¡°Really?¡± ¡°You too, Liam Moore. You¡¯re younger than me. If you don¡¯t want to call me Ms. Osmond, you¡¯d better behave.¡±


    T/N: Originally, Noona was used here, but I don¡¯t think it fits so I went with Ms. Osmond¡­


    But¡­ as soon as I said it, I regretted it a little. I momentarily forgot that the two men here were both crazy in their own ways.


    ¡°Yes, Ms. Osmond.¡±


    ¡­That was a terrible answer. I rubbed my ears and declined the host¡¯s escort, taking a seat. The man in the navy suit leaned back on the sofa, exhaling in satisfaction.


    ¡°I know what you¡¯re looking for. The jewels.¡±


    ¡°It would be nice if you also knew whose jewels were stolen,¡± Liam Moore said coldly. He hadn¡¯t taken a seat and was standing behind me, likely guarding against any unexpected guests.


    ¡°Of course, I know,¡± the host shrugged.


    ¡°It¡¯s Lucita¡¯s treasured item. She must be furious by now. Right?¡±


    Come to think of it, Lucita¡¯s eyes did seem strange. Our first meeting was odd, to say the least. I frowned, recalling her eyes that seemed to burn with intensity.


    I remembered the nickname Liam Moore used to call her.


    ¡®The One Who Has Not Yet Declined.¡¯


    What could decline mean in this context? I knew the dictionary definition, but it didn¡¯t seem to fit the name given.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it magnificent? Lucita¡¯s anger is priceless. Among the ¡®Invaders¡¯, she¡¯s the oldest¡­.¡±


    Invader? Oldest? Another story I didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°¡­It¡¯s best to return what you stole. If you want to ruin your life, do it alone.¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s voice was now filled with difort. The thief¡¯s brazenness must have twisted his insides.


    ¡°Did Lucita order you? Did she act like the ¡®First Invader¡¯ to you? Liam Moore, sometimes I envy your connections.¡±


    If I listened any longer, I might hit this guy, so I raised my hand to stop the conversation. Liam looked like he was about to do the same.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, but Lucita asked us. Save your nonsense for when you¡¯re alone.¡±


    A shrill scream cut off my words, but I couldn¡¯t tell which part was so shocking.


    ¡°What¡ªdid you say?¡±


    The man shouted in disbelief, his voice rising despite his condition. I sighed, answering with a mix of frustration and exhaustion.


    ¡°She asked politely. Said, ¡®Please.¡¯¡±


    ¡°No, no, that¡¯s surprising too, but! You seriously don¡¯t know what I¡¯m talking about? Really?¡±


    A small silence passed between the three of us, and I blinked for a moment.


    ¡°So¡­ Lucita isn¡¯t, like, a big shot in the underworld or something?¡±


    ¡°Oh my God, Liam Moore! What have you been doing with this girl? You brought her in front of Lucita knowing she knows nothing?¡±


    I heard a cracking sound from the hand gripping the sofa. It was a bad sound, as if Liam Moore was crushing the man¡¯s skull instead of the furniture. Liam muttered lowly.


    ¡°Shut that mouth.¡±


    He was about to hit him. I held Liam back.


    ¡°Liam, don¡¯t hit him. That¡¯s Lucita¡¯s job.¡±


    ¡°Lucita is going to hit me?!¡±


    The extremely excited man blushed and his eyes sparkled. I sighed, releasing my grip.


    ¡°Well, maybe a bit of a beating is okay.¡±


    That cursed mouth needed to be shut.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The man who was obsessed with Lucita sighed and pulled out a small box from his pocket. It was slightly bigger than a ring case. The smooth, pitch-ck velvet hinted at its value.


    We had used a bit of underhanded tactics to get it. Not violence, but I did threaten to tell Lucita about his shabby state.


    Strangely, he seemed more terrified of showing Lucita his unkempt appearance than of facing physical harm. I didn¡¯t understand it, so I simply took the box he pushed towards me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to check it?¡±


    Lucita¡¯s fanatic asked.


    ¡°Lucita will check it herself. If something¡¯s wrong, you¡¯ll¡­¡±


    I made a slicing motion across my neck, and he fell back clutching his stomach.


    ¡°Oh! Where did you learn such thuggish behavior? Jane¡ª¡±


    ¡°Are you calling me by my name?¡±


    ¡°Ms. Osmond.¡±


    Enough. I gave up talking further. This guy was beyond my control. If my headache, which had subsided, started throbbing again, it would be his fault.


    Just then, Liam Moore, who had been watching my condition, spoke up.


    ¡°Are we done here?¡±


    He seemed eager to leave. Liam, who had been eyeing the damp space distastefully, looked at the invitation and spoke like Herschel. In other words, like a ¡®professor¡¯.


    ¡°The work is sloppy. Poorly done. It might seem perfect to you, but it¡¯s amazing it hasn¡¯t been caught until now. At this rate, you¡¯ll be a meal for an intruder sooner orter.¡±


    Suppressing augh, I coughed.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We were already half an appetizer. Stop teasing. Being ipetent isn¡¯t a crime.¡±


    Oh. Liam seemed to understand. Lucita¡¯s fanatic muttered.


    ¡°I¡¯m listening, you know.¡±


    Not that I cared.


    £ª £ª £ª


    As soon as we left that space, Liam Moore grabbed some paper and a pen. He seemed intent on sending a telegram to Lucita at our next destination.


    Meanwhile, I was left with Lucita¡¯s fanatic. It was awkward. Though I had thrown harsh words at him boldly, being alone with him was ufortable. I fixed my gaze on the air, avoiding his persistent stares. I couldn¡¯t afford to look to the side.


    ¡°Ms. Osmond.¡±


    Ugh.


    ¡°I was wrong. Just call me Osmond.¡±


    This was real madness. That¡¯s all I could think of. My disdain made him chuckle. People like him always enjoyed strong reactions, which only made me more averse.


    Before long, Liam Moore, who had been hovering by the window, approached me. At that moment, the auction host whispered to me.


    ¡°Do you know that man¡¯s nickname?¡±


    ¡°¡­Bastard Moore?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what people call him.¡±


    Again. I heard words as if distinguishing people. Why do Liam and his otherworldly friends always speak as if separating ordinary from extraordinary? And now, even this thief spoke like that.


    ¡°Then¡­?¡±


    The man whispered with a grin.


    ¡°The Cursed One.¡±


    Liam Moore still watched with disdain as the host clung to me. I wasn¡¯t sure whether to be shocked, surprised, orugh at what I¡¯d just heard.


    Cursed?


    Sure, I thought of myself as half-cursed, so it wasn¡¯t entirely surprising, but at the same time, I wondered.


    Who could possibly curse this man?


    Liam Moore would likely just blow on a needle prick and move on. Somehow, I was sure curses wouldn¡¯t affect him.


    The hostughed at my puzzled expression.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t tell you? Didn¡¯t teach you anything? Oh my¡­ so irresponsible. If you¡¯d heard even one of his many nicknames, you wouldn¡¯t want to be in the same room.¡±


    But it made me angry. Only I could criticize Liam Moore.


    Although I wasn¡¯t his Jane, it was ¡®me¡¯ who spent time solving this series of events with him. Thus, I had a stake in Liam Moore¡¯s reputation. Even if we had some rocky moments and unpleasant experiences, Liam Moore wouldn¡¯t remember them now, so it didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°Enough. It was my choice. Go back to yourpartment.¡±


    The host seemed curious about my attitude but let himself be pushed out without a word. As he was about to leave, he added.


    ¡°I¡¯m in the seventh car. Mypartment. Ask me anything if you¡¯re curious!¡±


    ¡°No need.¡±


    I shut the door on his brazen face. Ignoring the lingeringughter, I sighed heavily.


    ¡°How did someone like that get attached to Lucita?¡±


    ¡°Be sure to tell Lucita that. She¡¯ll be delighted.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow and smiled.


    ¡°No thanks. You¡¯re going to contact Lucita?¡±


    Liam nodded.

 Chapter 46: The Accursed Man (3)

    As we arrived at the next station, I spotted a familiar face in the crowd. It was impossible not to recognize it, given the presence that stood out like a beacon amidst the throng. Draped in a coat slung casually over one shoulder and puffing on a pipe, the woman exhaled long streams of smoke with every breath, like a scene from an old ck-and-white film. I couldn¡¯t help but feel a slight sense of admiration.


    As she stared at the train, the woman suddenly waved at me with a wide grin. Her red eyes curved mischievously. I knew her very well, after all¡ª


    ¡°Lucita!¡±


    How did she know we were here? We¡¯re quite far from London.


    The absurd thought crossed my mind that perhaps she¡¯d received a telegram. Considering the letter left at 13 Bailonz Street, Lucita¡¯s sudden appearance was somehow exinable.


    More than Lucita catching up with the train overnight, I was astonished by Liam Moore sending a telegram from a moving train. I squinted at Liam and Lucita in turn. Liam avoided my gaze, his tightly shut mouth resembling a guilty cat.


    Ah, you¡¯ve done something again. It seemed there had been somemunication unbeknownst to me. Perhaps a phone call. Best not to dwell on it.


    ¡°Dear Miss Osmond!¡±


    Lucita spread her arms wide with a bright smile. Though she seemed ready for a hug, I wasn¡¯t brave enough to leap into her arms. Lucita¡¯s fan, having disembarked from the seventh carriage, gaped in awe. Seeing Lucita in person for the first time, he was probably bewildered by the audacity of someone who dared to steal her cherished possessions.


    I retrieved a velvet box from my pocket. Lucita looked like she wanted to dive at us right then.


    ¡°I found it. Just confiscated it. The kid who stole it is a bit¡­¡±


    I tapped my temple, and Lucita twisted her lips knowingly. Judging by her predatory gaze, she was deciding what to do with the thief who had stolen something precious enough to chase us here.


    ¡°That little brat?¡±


    I considered correcting her for calling a grown man a brat. Lucita opened the box to check its contents, then handed it back to me. Apparently, she couldn¡¯t hold onto it while delivering due punishment.


    ¡°Lucita!¡±


    A desperate voice rang out. The organizer, grinning foolishly, was trying to tter her.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone like this in my life.¡±


    Lucita seemed baffled, her face flushed with an odd, almost displeased, hue. The person running towards her was unfamiliar to her, likely a first-time encounter.


    Most people, in my recollection, feared Lucita. The man who opened the door at her mansion followed her devotedly, calling her mistress, but showed no signs of genuine affection.


    Lucita, flustered by kindness! It was somewhat amusing.


    ¡°Miss Osmond.¡±


    Lucita turned to me at that moment, her cheeks glistening in the sunlight. Her sculptural beauty, praised by the greatest artists of the time, smiled.


    ¡°That¡¯s a gift for you.¡±


    ¡°¡­What?¡±


    Who in the world retrieves their own gift?


    Ah, it was me. I stared at the box and Lucita in bewilderment. She gestured for me to open it, and under her persistent gaze, Iplied.


    Inside was a transparent gem, quiterge, set snugly in a case. It was about the size of a child¡¯s fist, resembling a crystal or diamond, but eerily transparent and almost hypnotic.


    Threaded with a golden string to be worn as a ne, it seemed far too valuable to wear casually. Liam Moore gasped, recognizing its significance.


    ¡°It¡¯s a very old jewel. Acquiring and taming it was quite an effort. It should be useful to you, Miss Osmond. It¡¯s a masterpiece crafted with the utmost care.¡±


    Did she craft it herself?


    I touched the gem¡¯s surface absentmindedly, feeling a thrilling satisfaction, almost as if it were filling me up.


    ¡°No one but you can use it.¡±


    ¡°What is this?¡± I asked. Lucitaughed.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing special. Just an old crystal.¡±


    Liam didn¡¯t interrupt but subtly held my sleeve, keen to understand Lucita¡¯s intent in giving this to me.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need a means to protect yourself. This serves that purpose. You encountered ¡®Marauding Raiders¡¯ on the train, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Marauding Raiders?


    ¡°Well, yes. That monstrosity.¡±


    I nearly blurted out the name naturally but caught myself. In this line of work, there¡¯s a way of speaking obliquely about certain things, much like avoiding names to ward off evil.


    ¡°When Miss Osmond encounters such things¡­¡±


    Lucita¡¯s voice, like a whisper from a cave, was seductive yet invoked primal fear. However, it wasn¡¯t directed at me. Her grin, baring fangs, was full of animosity and a touch of anger towards those things.


    Daring to cause trouble here, she began.


    ¡°¡­this will help you.¡±


    She ced the ne around my neck, her cold hands brushing against my skin. Initially heavy, it soon felt so light I almost forgot I was wearing it. Lucita¡¯s innocent smile met my awed expression.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Moore. I wouldn¡¯t harm yourdy.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried. Just¡­¡±


    ¡°Not using it will bring more hardship than any drawbacks from using it. You don¡¯t want that either.¡±


    Drawbacks? I squinted and asked.


    ¡°Are there any issues with using this?¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    Both fell silent. Liam spoke first.


    ¡°Remember when I killed the ¡®Marauding Raider¡¯?¡±


    Of course. I¡¯ll never forget. Liam Moore seemed on the brink of breaking then. Though he recovered quickly, he wasn¡¯t entirely unscathed.


    I nodded, prompting Liam to continue slowly.


    ¡°You might experience slight fatigue and headaches, not as severe as that. It¡¯s best not to overuse anything. Even medicine can be poisonous if overused. For self-defense, it should be fine.¡±


    Still dubious, I saw no harm in epting it. It was a gift intended to protect me, after all. Smiling lightly, I thanked Lucita, who returned a gentle smile.


    ¡°You¡¯re wee.¡±


    She shrugged nonchntly.


    ¡°Now that I¡¯ve given the gift andpleted the task, and found the cheeky thief¡­¡±


    Liam Moore, gently holding my shoulder, asked Lucita.


    ¡°Are you leaving?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to have a good time with that kid.¡±


    Her smile seemed a bit ominous. I quickly grabbed Lucita.


    ¡°Lucita, please, don¡¯t hit him too much.¡±


    Lucitaughed heartily, her face suggesting I was worrying over nothing. Yet, why did herughter make me feel even more uneasy?


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Miss Osmond. I know my limits.¡±


    No, I don¡¯t think you do.


    Nevertheless, Lucita elegantly curtsied and began walking away. I could only bid her farewell.


    If I hadn¡¯t heard her murmur as she drifted away like the wind¡­


    ¡°I¡¯ve found a perfectly moldable talent, ready to be shaped.¡±


    Her fan was still grinning cluelessly. Did he realize it wasn¡¯t a time to smile? Hearing the sound of his life unraveling in real-time, I sighed and looked away.


    Liam rested his chin on my head, watching the man being dragged away by Lucita. After a moment, he spoke up.


    ¡°Shall we go home?¡±


    It seemed impulsive. He looked surprised by his own words. Perhaps I wasn¡¯t the only one exhausted. Liam Moore buried his head in my shoulder, mumbling.


    ¡°I¡¯m sick of train travel for a while¡­¡±


    For once, I agreed wholeheartedly. The auction and its incidents had made me wary of ever getting involved again.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±


    13 Bailonz Street awaited us.

 Chapter 47: Side Story. The Rough Stone and Ripples

    It was a time when a boy was transitioning into a young man. Life at Eton was unbearable. Amidst a crowd of arrogant children basking in their sense of superiority derived from the ss system, he stood out like a rough stone. To the students of Eton College, Liam Schofield Moore was just an odd and peculiar boy.


    Children from the upper echelons, whether they liked it or not, always heard about their parents¡¯ connections, and in their first term, they would scout each other out. Seeing the eyes that judged who could be a new connection made the ce feel more like a small society than an educational institution.


    Liam Moore hated it. It was annoying to think about where they heard rumors about his family and how they knew about his godfather.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you ¡®that¡¯ Moore?¡±


    When someone first approached him with those words, Liam Moore felt a bit disdainful. He thought, for these kids, their family¡¯s background is all they have to brag about.


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®that¡¯ Moore?¡±


    ¡°You know. Who in Ennd doesn¡¯t know about Sir Moore?¡±


    At this point, unfortunately, or perhaps a bit arrogantly and conceitedly, Liam Moore retorted,


    ¡°There are many great Moores in my family. Which Moore exactly?¡± ¡°Does it matter? It¡¯s all about connections anyway.¡±


    Ah, so that¡¯s why Father hated Eton, he thought. It was somewhat amusing that he pushed his son into Eton despite despising it.


    When Eton was first decided, Liam Moore protested. If he could, he would haveid down at Nifoisse Hall and resisted. Of course, it wouldn¡¯t have worked. ¡°Oh? He¡¯s lying down? Easy to move. Take him away.¡± That¡¯s what they would have said.


    ¡°Father, if you dislike it so much, why are you sending me to Eton?¡±


    Instead, he argued like that, and Arthur Moore gently whispered,


    ¡°Son, some things need to be experienced personally to be understood deeply.¡±


    Yes, I hate it, so you should go and hate it too. We need to have shared experiences to avoid ideological conflicts within the family.


    That was Arthur Moore¡¯s educational principle. At this point, Liam Moore wanted to echo his father¡¯s favorite saying,


    ¡°Father, I don¡¯t have a hobby of torturing myself.¡±


    But do things ever go as people wish?


    Liam Moore eventually graduated from Eton, entered a prestigious university following its curriculum, and became part of a gentleman¡¯s club.


    This series of processes felt like a factory nurturing the privileged ss.


    One of the first friends he made at university used the term ¡°bourgeois pig,¡± and Liam Moore somewhat agreed with it. If you eat what is given and grow fat, you be a pig. A well-fed animal eventually bes ham. So, it was clear that he had to live like a rough stone.


    Around this time, he also distanced himself from home.


    The Moores were, to put it nicely, capable people, and to put it bluntly, perfect in terms of connections.


    Looking back, the Moore family was always like that. Though it was his own family, Moore¡¯s people were all the same¡ªonce they focused on something, they threw themselves into it. Look at his father, Arthur Moore. He would jump out of bed if a relic was discovered. They were often highly schrly. One sold their soul to medicine, and another ancestor loved the country so much he went to war and died.


    While telling such stories, Arthur Moore would say that sometimes, people prioritize fields over people. Liam Moore thought that both were equally undesirable.


    Liam Moore suspected that he would eventually be like the Moores, but if he had to be acknowledged by these noisy kids, he¡¯d rather live as ayabout for the rest of his life.


    When he became known as ¡°Liam Moore of the Law School¡± at university, he liked it even less. Naturally, he didn¡¯t make any friends and always stayed alone, which made people either admire or criticize him. Some said he was pretending to be noble alone.


    ¡°He¡¯ll never make it to the courtroom.¡±


    Who said that again? He remembered it was a senior, but couldn¡¯t recall the name. Did he know his brother got pped embarrassingly for juggling five girlfriends? His idolization of his brother, believing even the p marks were the result of a ¡°great duel,¡± was pitiful.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure of that.¡±


    Watching the guy mutter that, Liam Moore propped his chin. What a joke. Would someone die if they didn¡¯t make it?


    Well, in the end, Liam Moore half-gave up pursuing his major after graduation.


    He had the Moore family background and didn¡¯t directly sh due to his father¡¯s and godfather¡¯s influence, but he didn¡¯t want it enough to bear the scrutiny and take it as a career. So, instead of pursuing his major, he used his talents to be a detective.


    Seeing the top graduate start working as a detective and gradually bing known in the newspapers, alumni meetings were filled with exasperation.


    ¡°Why does he keep popping up just when we forget about him?¡±


    Someone shouted.


    ¡°Oh, I see you missed me. Well, you could be awyer with those grades because I stepped back, right?¡±


    ¡°That bastard!¡±


    His godfather once fell over backward hearing that he got grabbed by the cor at the first alumni meeting.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The talk of keeping Liam Moore out of the courtroom turned out to be nonsense. Naturally, given his involvement in cases, entering the courtroom was as natural for Liam Moore as it was for Scond Yard.


    As a result, it was obvious how much Liam Moore, stirring up as a private detective and meeting his old ssmates, got on their nerves. His nickname, ¡°Bastard Moore,¡± greatly contributed to this. At such times, Liam Moore would add, ¡°My middle name is Schofield, not Bastard.¡± He knew it was childish.


    He met Jane about two yearster.


    It was on the day he turned twenty-seven. His fifth or sixth assistant had run away. They packed their bags and fled, shouting, ¡°I can¡¯t work with you and live to see another day!¡±


    Liam Moore had no choice but to post an ad in the newspaper looking for an assistant and tmate. Exactly one hour and thirty-seven minutester, there was a knock at the door.


    It was a young woman. She seemed to be around his age or a year or two older.


    ¡°You said you were looking for an assistant and tmate?¡±


    She had a faint, watery impression. Her neat and upright appearance spoke of her character. She never bowed her head unnecessarily, initiated the handshake, and introduced herself.


    ¡°I¡¯m Jane Osmond. Hiring me wouldn¡¯t be a bad choice.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    And now, they were gathered around the firece, enjoying December.


    Downstairs in the t, a girl Jane had found was working. Mrs. Mayer, thendy, was now old and not as spry as she used to be, and needed someone to help with the housework. The girl was a perfect fit for the job.


    ¡­Was her name Mary?


    T/N: it¡¯s the maid from chapter ~30 !! She¡¯s back !!!!


    The girl looked up to and followed Jane. Even though she was no longer a maid, she still called Jane ¡°Miss.¡±


    She was an employee who received fair wages, not just taking care of Liam and Jane but managing the entire boarding house. Hence, Liam also called her ¡°Miss Mary,¡± and Mary called him ¡°Mr. Moore.¡±


    Even when Mary came up to help clean the t where Liam and Jane lived, she always called Jane ¡°Miss.¡± Jane¡¯s constant embarrassment at this was adorable. She no longer struggled against it, showing she had given in to the girl¡¯s earnest eyes.


    The three of them often sat together for meals and sometimes went out to eat together.


    Jane said it felt like having an additional younger sibling these days. Liam agreed. It felt like three people living together. When he said that, Jane smiled.

 Chapter 48:

    T/N: The chapter is not with a name. I think it¡¯s still a side story, but I¡¯ll leave it as the author put it.


    ¡°We need to put up Christmas decorations.¡±


    With Mary¡¯s nagging in his ears, Liam Moore blinked. Christmas? That was more than two weeks away. He wasn¡¯t sure what expression he had on his face, but Miss Mary¡¯s frown deepened as she raised her finger.


    ¡°Mr. Moore, if you keep living so stiffly and austerely, you¡¯ll never, ever! get to hold a woman¡¯s hand in your life!¡±


    ¡°Is that so, Miss Mary?¡±


    Hispliant response only emboldened Mary further. For the first month, she couldn¡¯t even look him in the eye. Now, it seemed she had learned to boldly make demands.


    ¡°Clean up those beakers! Empty their contents! Even a witch wouldn¡¯t live like this. Look at Hansel and Gretel¡¯s candy house! Always keeping the windows closed and brewing suspicious concoctions is giving Miss Jane headaches! Are you really a detective?¡±


    It¡¯s medicine, he wanted to argue but held back, nodding his head instead.


    ¡°¡­I¡¯ll reflect on that.¡± A man nearing thirty being told off like this. Even back in his Eton days, he had never been scolded to keep his room tidy. The teachers had given up on making teenage boys keep their rooms clean.


    Mary put her hands on her hips and lifted her chin.


    ¡°From now on, we¡¯re decorating for Christmas. Hang some stockings, put up some fir branches.¡±


    Fir branches. That brought back memories of Nifoisse Hall.


    The sweet scent of cinnamon, the crackling of logs in the firece, and one of the few Christmases when his father¡¯s acquaintances visited. They used to cut down a fir tree from the nearby forest and decorate it. Whatever they did to the tree, it remained green and fresh until the snow melted, as if it had taken root inside the house. There were days when he pondered when he could open the presents piled under the tree.


    ¡°Should I go chop down a fir tree?¡± he asked impulsively, smiling at the youngdy who seemed to be tempted by the idea.


    ¡°Would Miss Jane like that?¡±


    In truth, Liam Moore had no idea what Jane Osmond liked. Or perhaps he had never thought to ask. Thus, he couldn¡¯t answer Mary¡¯s question. He suddenly felt embarrassed.


    Jane was always running to crime scenes, examining the most gruesomely deceased without flinching and catching the culprits. Her skills surpassed most investigators. Liam even shuddered when she deduced that the blood behind his ear wasn¡¯t the victim¡¯s.


    The number of criminals caught thanks to Jane was considerable. Her keen eye for crime scenes was remarkable. Watching her attribute credit to others and stand aside as if she had done nothing was frustrating for Liam.


    That was all he knew about Jane Osmond over the past two years.


    But now, seeing a more varied side of her, Liam Moore felt a newfound courage to ask for the first time.


    So¡­ what do you like?


    Your favorite color, food, song, book¡­ people. He wanted to ask and know everything.


    You are bing clearer to me.


    To him, Jane Osmond had always been like a watercolor painting. It wasn¡¯t about her spirit; it was her face. Her impression was always vague, like watered-down paint, except when facing a case, where her green eyes gleamed like des. Apart from that, she seemed to have no likes or dislikes.


    Are we getting closer? Such naive hope began to rise.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Liam found himself lingering near her, ncing at the book she was reading. Harrison Bow¡¯s third edition of anatomy. Something for medical students. When he sat on the sofa, her attention turned to him¡ªa vast improvement from the past when she ignored him.


    ¡°Interesting?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Just reading it. I don¡¯t know much about this stuff,¡± she repliedzily.


    No, you really do know. You seem like you learned this from somewhere.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize memorizing bone names was this hard. I¡¯m studying things I never imagined I would.¡±


    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s no one more suited to college than you,¡± he teased.


    Sheughed, a sound like a bell that lingered in the room.


    ¡°I hate it. It feels like double majoring. You¡¯d agree if you knew how awful my professor was.¡±


    ¡°What was he like?¡±


    She leaned on his shoulder and whispered.


    ¡°Ten-page handwritten reports, every week.¡±


    ¡°I thought Jane Osmond was the icon of coolness, but it turns out you¡¯re more diligent.¡±


    She hit his thigh lightly. It didn¡¯t hurt. Both she and Liam knew it would take more than that to cause him pain.


    Liam exaggerated, tapping his leg childishly. If his father, Arthur Moore, saw this, he would doubt whether this frivolous person was really his son. But he did it because it smoothed the furrows on her brow.


    She burst intoughter, gently rubbing his thigh, murmuring, ¡°I didn¡¯t hit you that hard.¡±


    Of course, Liam wanted to exin that this gentle rubbing was more dangerous, but he held back, not wanting to be a cad. A gentleman shouldn¡¯t make ady ufortable.


    ¡°Jane, I¡¯m curious about something.¡±


    Her green eyes met his. He brushed aside a stray hair and asked.


    ¡°What do you like?¡±


    Her smile faltered for a moment, perhaps from confusion. Or maybe not. She seemed unfamiliar as she pondered the question.


    ¡°Like?¡±


    ¡°Things like animals, food, colors.¡±


    ¡°I¡­.¡±


    After a long pause, she began to speak.


    She liked ck-furred cats, red and blue colors, didn¡¯t have a favorite food, and was trying to appreciate London¡¯s gloomy weather. Her tone was too objective, like she was talking about someone else.


    Liam changed the subject.


    ¡°ck cats?¡±


    He blinked, adding that people usually found them unlucky. Sheughed, patting his head as if he were a child.


    ¡°Did I ever tell you that¡¯s all because of Edgar An Poe?¡±


    ¡°Oh, the horror story¡¯s influence must have been significant¡­.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just prejudice. They¡¯re actually adorable.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡±


    Liam shrugged. Somehow, her touch felt like she was petting an animal. But he never imagined she thought of him as a ck cat, so he just lowered his gaze and enjoyed the petting.


    Mary often scolded him, ¡°Don¡¯t smile like an idiot in front of Miss Jane.¡± But some things in life don¡¯t go as nned.


    For instance, seeing her green eyes curve into a smile. In those moments, he felt he had no control over himself. Like a train, his mind, which had faced many cursed beings without flinching, weakened only before those eyes.


    At some point, she had be a top priority in his life.


    The words he muttered during his reckless youth returned to mock him.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t you say you hated people? That it was foolish?¡¯


    His cheeks burned, probably because of the many logs in the firece. Or perhaps because she had discovered a past he should have buried and forgotten forever. Eternity isn¡¯t far away.


    ¡°Little Moore,¡± she called. She sometimes used his old nickname to tease him, but Liam didn¡¯t mind.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Your face is red.¡±


    Why?


    ¡°Maybe because¡­.¡±


    Maybe it¡¯s because he wanted to take her to his seaside hometown.


    Liam Moore epted the warmth spreading across his face and closed his eyes.


    Alright, I admit it. Prioritising someone isn¡¯t such a bad feeling.


    AJNWFEJDNAJ!????? LIAM MOORE???? i was not expecting this much fluff after everything that happened in thisst arc but i appreciate it very much so

 Chapter 49: Track down (1)

    [December XX, 4 AM. University College Campus.]


    He was being chased.


    He ran, frequently looking over his shoulder to see how close his unidentified pursuer was. The fog began to gather on the empty sidewalk blocks. He knew what this meant.


    The hunt had begun.


    Being the prey instead of the hunter was not a pleasant experience. But he couldn¡¯t stop. Stopping here was dangerous. He had to think like a hunter. Where should he go? He muttered to himself. Not a dead end. That¡¯s too dangerous. He couldn¡¯t predict how long this fog wouldst, but he had to escape at least until morning.


    ¡°Where are you? Where are you?¡± His shout echoed on the empty street. He kept running, but the fog only thickened, as if it was being drawn up from the Thames. He should have brought a gun. The dimming gasmps made his vision increasingly obscured.


    There were no sounds of pursuit. The fog spread like a serpent, licking at his pants and dragging at his steps, making his entire body feel heavy.


    Someone was here.


    He could feel the presence. An oppressive, predatory presence. No sound, but it was definitely following him not far behind. It seemed to be watching him, not approaching easily. What was it waiting for? For him to get exhausted and give up? Such a leisurely attitude could only mean one thing.


    It wanted to crush him, pull him down, and prevent him from escaping¡­


    ¡°Where did it all go wrong?¡±


    He muttered. But no matter how much he thought about it, there had been no signs. Today, he simply had many tasks, and when he finally looked up from grading, it was already thiste. He never expected this while returning to his dormitory.


    He had been chased for a long time, yet dawn showed no signs of breaking. Eventually, he slipped into a building to hide. Inside, deeper inside. Into a windowless room! A room where once the door was locked, nothing could get in!


    After locking the door and blocking the entrance with furniture, he finally felt a sense of relief. He had made the right choice. The fog no longer followed him. He had escaped the pursuit.


    ¡°Damn it¡­.¡±


    His voice was hoarse from running. His legs, released from tension, could hardly stand.


    He rummaged in his pocket and took out a matchbox. With a deft motion, he lit a match. The damp tobo leaves slowly caught fire. He took a deep drag, regaining hisposure. He needed to contact someone.


    Then he noticed footsteps. There was someone else in the building. The sound of regr footsteps echoed down the corridor, and each time they did, the presumedmp light flickered, casting shadows.


    A caretaker? Right, it¡¯s time for rounds!


    His guess was correct. He heard the sound of a caretaker checking and tidying empty ssrooms, eventually reaching the room where he was hiding.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    A familiar voice. Where had he heard it?


    ¡°Why is this locked? Is anyone in there? Students, you¡¯re not allowed to sleep in the ssrooms after drinking¡ª¡±


    The caretaker grumbled for a while, then seemed to give up when the door didn¡¯t open. The footsteps receded. The man felt relieved.


    ¡°¡ªOh,e on.¡±


    And then froze at the following voice.


    The voice came from the corner of the seemingly empty ssroom. He saw a gleam in the darkness. Bright yellow eyes. The eyes, shining like those of a beast, became clearer. Something detached itself from the clinging darkness on the wall and began to speak in a human voice. A voice he knew very well.


    But how? There was no way it could be here¡­.


    His thoughts ended there.


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°Died in a locked room?¡±


    I was eating breakfast and my mouth fell open.


    London had been rtively quiettely. Small crimes like pickpocketing and petty theft urred asionally, but the reliable police of London could handle those.


    But a death? And a mysterious one in a locked room?


    Liam, reading the telegram, wore a troubled expression and handed it to me. The policeman who had delivered it also looked puzzled.


    ¡°A locked room?¡±


    The content of the telegram requested our cooperation since they couldn¡¯t understand how someone could die in a locked room.


    Someone died, and right in the middle of a university campus! The name of the university was somewhat familiar. It hadn¡¯t even been open for a hundred years yet.


    Liam frowned, deep in thought as he reread the telegram.


    ¡°Died in a locked room. A teaching assistant¡­.¡±


    He kept repeating it, caught between bewilderment and astonishment.


    Is that even possible? Usually, locked rooms have some kind of trick or aren¡¯t truly locked. It¡¯s nearly impossible for someone to die in apletely sealed room unless it¡¯s suicide! But since it wasn¡¯t suicide, Scond Yard must have requested our help.


    The policeman, sensing my confusion, offered additional exnation. I¡¯d seen him a few times while going back and forth from Scond Yard. I didn¡¯t know his name, but he seemed to be the one handling the telegrams at 13 Bailonz Street.


    Right. From Scond Yard¡¯s perspective, having Liam handle their cases must be intimidating. It proved their ipetence.


    ¡°The students were confused when the ssroom door was locked for their 9 AM lecture. They had to force it open and found¡­.¡±


    ¡°Found the body.¡±


    ¡°Blood everywhere, even sttered up to the ceiling. Matches were scattered around, and the man was lying in the centre of the room.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t see it yourself?¡±


    The policeman widened his eyes in surprise. Why so shocked? He just exined it all himself. I sighed and took a sip of tea.


    Clink. Liam looked up at the sound of the cup being set down. His grey eyes sparkled with enthusiasm despite his pale face.


    ¡°We have to go.¡±


    ¡°This case is certainly intriguing.¡±


    The policeman shook his head as if exasperated by our reaction.


    ¡°You find this interesting?¡±


    Liam Moore nodded while stuffing three biscuits into his mouth (moments like this made me doubt he was a London gentleman). He looked like he hadn¡¯t eaten for days. Seeing this, I tore off a piece of bread and offered it to him. He epted it with a small smile.


    We hadn¡¯t had a proper mealtely. After the train incident, there was no pretence between us. Our mornings stretched longer, leading tote meals, and this morning¡¯s visit from the policeman disrupted even that.


    I kindly brushed the crumbs from his lips. Liam blinked.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t eat sandwiches at the crime scene, right?¡±


    I joked. Liam chuckled, and Mary, peeking through the door, sighed.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The campus air was tense. Understandably so, given the mysterious death of a teaching assistant. Students nced at us, recognizing Liam Moore, the famous detective, and his assistant. Some were more interested in recent news, whispering amongst themselves.


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s Mr. Moore! Who is he?¡±


    ¡°You fool, he¡¯s the famous detective! And the woman next to him?¡±


    ¡°His wife? No, she¡¯s his assistant!¡±


    With so many NPCs around, I was used to the [Mrs. Moore Event] urring. It had been a while.


    The path to the building where the assistant died was gloomy, with asional glimpses of sunlight through thick clouds. This ce? Usually, assistants would be in professors¡¯ offices, right?


    Liam asked, timely.


    ¡°Which department was the assistant from?¡±


    ¡°Literature. Shakespeare and such. We learned from interviews that he stayedte grading assignments for a professor.¡±


    Liam raised an eyebrow, his expression questioning the policeman¡¯s unusual efficiency. The policeman grumbled.


    ¡°Identifying the victim is standard procedure, Mr. Moore.¡±


    The ssroom where the body was found was deep within the building. Why would the assistante this far inside? The building itself wasn¡¯t easily essible, located in the most remote part of the campus. Even if he stayedte grading, whye to such an isted, enclosed space?


    The gathered people parted. Inside, older individuals were clustered, the younger ones all in uniforms, their affiliations clear. Only key decision-makers among the faculty seemed present, as students were kept away.


    As I saw the blood before me, I muttered.


    ¡°Good heavens.¡±

 Chapter 50: Track down (2)

    At that moment, other officers inspecting the scene recognized us.


    ¡°Mr. Moore! d you¡¯re here!¡±


    Normally, iam Moore would have responded, but today he was unusually quiet. As he stood motionless, I reluctantly took charge, examining the crime scene. It felt as if our roles had reversed, like I was the detective and he the assistant. With that thought, I began surveying the blood-sttered ssroom.


    Blood had even sprayed up to the ceiling. Burnt matchsticks were scattered everywhere. Had they tried to light the darkness? I couldn¡¯t tell.


    Bloodstains began at the wall. Droplets trailed down, spreading like the prongs of a crown. I guessed that the blood had first been shed there and then moved towards the center. The amount of blood increased exponentially.


    My eyes followed the blood trail. Based on the blood spatter analysis Liam had taught me, there should have been more stains where I was standing. But there were none. This meant¡­ the blood had been blocked and then burst forth again. The culprit must have been drenched in blood too. The blood spatter was everywhere except for where it had been obstructed.


    There was only one way such bloodstains could be created: an attack from the front.


    There were no windows. Only one entrance. When the dead man was found, something had been blocking the door, making it difficult to open. The apanying officer said it was a drawer, which had been pushed to the corner.


    ¡°Looks like he barricaded himself in,¡± I said to the person next to me. ¡°Indeed. Unless he intended to make ast stand here.¡±


    Yes, he had blocked the entrance. The scene pieced itself together in my mind. He must have fled to this secluded spot, knowing theyout well from his time at the school, deliberately choosing a sealed room to keep others out.


    I approached the body to inspect it closely. The many in the center of the room, his muscles twisted in rigor mortis, his face frozen in a look of terror. It seemed death had left him with nothing but fear.


    As I quietly bent over the body, one of the apanying officers nced at me. I wondered silently, what did you see that left you like this?


    The man¡¯s lifeless eyes stared into space, reflecting my image in their ssy depths. I lingered, looking into his face for a while. The surrounding officers gave me uneasy looks, perhaps finding it unsettling that I seemed so ustomed to murder. I turned away with a sigh.


    I pitied the dead and despised the one who had done this. No one had the right to take another¡¯s life.


    Ignoring the sinking feeling, I made the sign of the cross, though I was an atheist. In London, following local customs was a way to show respect.


    Liam Moore, who had been observing from a distance, finally approached. He silently closed the man¡¯s eyes, though rigor mortis made it difficult. The man looked more peaceful with his eyes closed, and for that, I was grateful.


    ¡®Why had Liam stayed away?¡¯


    His reaction was unusual. Liam typically roamed crime scenes like they were his living room, shrugging off reprimands andining about Scond Yard¡¯s strictness to me.


    But today, he was silently focused on the victim, his gray eyes filled with gloom. His shoulders rose and fell slowly. The veins in his hands stood out as he pressed them into the floor, seemingly ready to dig into the wooden nks.


    We had be close enough to understand each other¡¯s subtle signals, and I could tell that Liam was¡­ angry. I didn¡¯t know why, but he was furious.


    ¡°Liam?¡±


    ¡°Later.¡±


    He whispered in a restrained voice, so softly that I wouldn¡¯t have heard if I weren¡¯t close. His expression and tone revealed no emotion.


    Liam muttered that he had seen enough, and said he would look around the area before leading me outside. His face remained hard, like a frozen winter window.


    The dry grass crunched beneath our feet. He matched my pace, indicating he hadn¡¯t lost his temper entirely.


    ¡°It¡¯s a murder.¡±


    After a long silence, he spoke from a distance away from the scene.


    ¡°I figured as much. There must have been someone else there.¡±


    But how could anyone enter a sealed room?


    My mind recalled a simr scenario.


    ¡°What if they were already there, waiting?¡±


    My experience on the train had taught me to think differently. What if someone had been there from the start, like the host of a predetermined space? Using a ¡®semi-dungeon¡¯?


    Liam¡¯s expression showed he didn¡¯t know whether tough or frown at my spection. His concern about knowing too much was written all over his face, so I frowned and nudged his side.


    ¡°Don¡¯t overthink it.¡±


    ¡°I know. Just worried.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s called overprotectiveness.¡±


    Liam¡¯s expression softened a bit. He rubbed his left hand with his right, thinking deeply, before speaking.


    ¡°We need to check the victim¡¯s dormitory.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    The dormitory was a single room. It had a desk, a bed, and a bookshelf.


    To have a single room, he must have been a good student. And he was an assistant too. Was he nning to pursue a PhD? He seemed like a diligent student.


    There were open books and a messy bed. He must have had a busy day. With a slightly sad feeling, I touched the window frame where the faint sunlight came through. It felt like I was glimpsing the victim¡¯s life, like fragments of someone else¡¯s memories beingid out before me. I wasn¡¯t sure if I should be seeing them. The small, dusty room made me uneasy.


    ¡°I knew him.¡±


    Liam¡¯s voice, cold and businesslike, startled me. I couldn¡¯t turn to face him. His voice was so devoid of emotion that it seemed almost clinical.


    ¡®But can anyone speak so dispassionately about someone they knew?¡¯


    I couldn¡¯t imagine how it felt to see someone you knew be a victim. Liam seemed calm, but I didn¡¯t believe it.


    He continued.


    ¡°He often came to the social club.¡±


    ¡°¡­That¡¯s why you were so shocked.¡±


    So that¡¯s why. Liam Moore approached the desk, muttering to himself. I turned naturally to focus on the items.


    Books, books, books, a bag, crumpled paper. A flower in a vase sat in a sunny spot. Everything seemed ordinary and quiet, as if the room¡¯s owner might return at any moment. The now-ownerless room evoked an indescribable feeling.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    After a while, Liam Moore spoke softly.


    He dropped me off at 13 Bailonz Street, saying he had somewhere to go. He didn¡¯t return for several hours.


    As I waited for Liam, dark clouds gathered outside, and a cold winter rain began to fall. It felt ominous and eerie. Though it often rained in Ennd, experiencing my first winter rain here gave me that impression.


    It felt like a sign or a premonition.


    When he finally returned around 9 PM, Liam¡¯s face was hard and tired, his expression sharp. But his face softened when he saw me waiting in the living room. He approached with a gentle smile.


    His effort not to transfer his bad mood to me was evident. It wasn¡¯t a healthy attitude. Bottling up emotions was always harsh on oneself.


    Liam loosened his tie and spoke.


    ¡°Did you eat?¡±


    His tone was light. He often switched to that tone, though I didn¡¯t know why. Was it to appear cheerful? Or perhaps to indulge himself around me? I put down the book I was reading and replied.


    ¡°No. I was waiting for you. Didn¡¯t expect you¡¯d be thiste.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. My fault.¡±


    Why apologize right away? I chose to starve myself. Liam¡¯s exaggeratedly gentle demeanor made me reconsider teasing him. I gestured, and he bent down. Our eyes met.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. It¡¯s no big deal. Let¡¯s eat together tomorrow. You didn¡¯t eat properly today. You skipped breakfast, lunch, and dinner.¡±


    ¡°¡­I ate, sort of.¡±


    ¡°A piece of bread doesn¡¯t count as a meal, Little Moore.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Professor.¡±

 Chapter 51: Track down (3)

    As I brushed the roughened face I hadn¡¯t seen in a while, Liam gave a small smile. He then closed his eyes, burying his face into my palm for a long time. His wet hair tangled around my fingers. So he came back after beingpletely drenched in the rain. Foolishly. His face, chilled from the cold, looked more exhausted than usual.


    I felt a sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. It reminded me of that time. On the train, when Liam Moore was on the verge of breaking down.


    ¡°Do you want a hug?¡±


    I asked impulsively, surprised at myself for saying it. Liam didn¡¯t answer but reached out to me without a moment¡¯s hesitation, pressing one knee into the sofa.


    ¡°You can sit on myp.¡±


    I made the joke to lighten the mood. Liam Moore chuckled softly. The gentle vibration of hisughter transmitted through our touching bodies. Then he shyly whispered to me.


    ¡°I¡¯m heavy.¡±


    Of course. Liam Moore is heavy.


    I felt his breath. With both of us sitting on a single-seater sofa, we were practically glued together. He wasn¡¯t sitting on myp, but he was leaning almost entirely against me. Though I had my arm around his neck, it felt more like he was the one holding me. After all, he was over six feet tall, and I was smaller than him. I nced away briefly. Liam Moore¡¯s heart was really beating fast. Though his body was cold and his coat slightly damp from the misty rain, it didn¡¯t feel that unpleasant.


    He had a cool scent like mist, as if he had brought the rain clouds with him. After basking in the warmth with his forehead resting on my shoulder for a while, Liam Moore suddenly lifted his head. His damp bangs had dried nicely. Sitting near the firece made hisplexion look much better than before.


    I should feed him something. I wondered if he¡¯d like the gosh I made with Mary for lunch.


    ¡°We should eat something before it¡¯s toote. Our stomachs might stick to our backs at this rate.¡±


    ¡°¡­You really care about meals, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Liam murmured as if he found it curious. I replied.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe a ghost that starved to death is haunting me.¡±


    Actually, it¡¯s the spirit of a nation that eats rice, but how could I exin that?


    ¡°Hey. I¡¯m actually Korean.¡±


    If I said that, Liam Moore wouldn¡¯t just go, ¡°Oh, really?¡± Of course not! This is the 19th century! Korea? Where¡¯s that? He¡¯d be more likely to say. Ah, right, it¡¯s called Joseon now. But he wouldn¡¯t know that either.


    Suddenly, I felt confused about what I was doing here.


    Unfortunately, my appearance was very Western and I looked like an ordinary British woman, so I couldn¡¯t im I was from a small country in East Asia. Though the gap between my mind and my appearance had somewhat resolved, there were moments when my twenty-some years of history felt distinctly clear.


    And that would probably never be resolved unless I went back.


    I lit the stove. While I always missed the conveniences of the 21st century, in moments like these, I missed the induction cooker the most. With an induction stove, you could heat a pot with a few button presses, but here, controlling the fire was tricky and food often burned with just a bit too much firewood. I cried a bit when I first burned a fried egg.


    In the 21st century, there¡¯s induction cookers, cell phones, Wi-Fi, and food delivery. Imented what I was doing here, leaving all that civilization behind.


    Ah. At least there was one thing. A refrigerator. I didn¡¯t know they had refrigerators in the 19th century. It wasn¡¯t electric but an icebox that kept things cold with ice, yet it was still a double-door fridge. It could hold most ingredients. I wished for electrification toe sooner. I didn¡¯t expect it to catch up with my time.


    The heat rose, and a slow bubbling sound began. Over it, Liam Moore¡¯s voiceyered.


    ¡°Do you remember the case of the person who went missing a week ago?¡±


    ¡°The one from the boarding house?¡±


    Of course, I remembered. They disappeared without a trace from their room. They hadn¡¯te out for days, and when the door was forced open, no one was inside. It was reported to Scond Yard. This was a story Inspector Jefferson had shared with us. ¡°Miss Jane, isn¡¯t this truly bizarre?¡± he had said.


    They didn¡¯te out after entering. To leave the room, they would have had to pass by people, so disappearing without anyone noticing was impossible. I remembered the faces of those who had told us the same thing.


    Liam and I had also investigated this case personally but ended up with nothing to show for it. Meanwhile, it faded into a minor issue in London and was forgotten without any clue of the whereabouts. It wasn¡¯t surprising. Disappearances were toomon here. Except for the wealthy.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t that case closed?¡±


    ¡°It was. We thought it was just a mysterious disappearance. But there¡¯s something strange. A few days before, there was a simr disappearance. And now another one. They all have amon point.¡±


    Liam Moore opened his mouth.


    ¡°¡ªThey are all members of our social club.¡±


    ¡°Damn.¡±


    His dark eyes fixed on me. He was perched on the sofa armrest, watching me. He seemed to be waiting for what I would say next.


    That familiar ominous feeling reared its head again. This was no ordinary case. My mind screamed that this was not a simple coincidence, but an act of malice targeting specific individuals.


    ¡°Is it just targeting social club members? Or is there another motive?¡±


    I asked.


    ¡°Well, either way, it doesn¡¯t seem like it¡¯ll stop at this.¡±


    I agreed with him. If this was a serial killer, they wouldn¡¯t be satisfied with just three cases.


    You can¡¯t establish a connection to serial killings with just three cases. I knew that. Two were missing, one was brutally murdered, the methods differed. The body left on disy also suggested a certain malevolence. It wouldn¡¯t have been done without significant ill intent.


    ¡­But we couldn¡¯t just wait for another victim to confirm our hypothesis.


    What if a new victim emerged in the meantime? If, and I hated to assume, the crime targeted only members of the social club¡­


    Then, really then¡­


    ¡°The professor might be in danger.¡±


    Liam Moore slowly raised his head. His vacant eyes seemed to be reying my words. He appeared to be trying toprehend what I had said. His slightly parted lips moved.


    ¡°And you, too.¡±


    This time, I couldn¡¯t read any expression on his face.


    From behind, the sound of the gosh burning reached us. Yet neither of us could move a muscle.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The next day, another incident urred. This time, it was another suspicious death.


    We learned about it through a newspaper article. A body had been found floating in the Thames. Of course, this was familiar. Bodies surfaced in the Thames almost daily. Mostly dead fish, but human bodies weren¡¯t rare either. Several people threw themselves from the bridges each year.


    Liam frowned as he looked at the explicit photo.


    ¡°This is really too much. Such disrespect.¡±


    The newspaper he set aside was a third-rate tabloid in London, known for sensational and ridiculous rumors. Unlike dailies or weeklies, I couldn¡¯t understand why anyone would trust such a publication. This paper¡¯s favorite topics were supernatural and bizarre events. I could predict tomorrow¡¯s headline: a werewolf sighting somewhere.


    ¡°What¡¯s so bad? Oh, my God. These people have no respect for Londoners having breakfast while reading the news!¡±


    I nced at it briefly, then recoiled and put it aside. There was a mummy, apparently. The taste of butter suddenly seemed awful. The bread that had been delicious moments ago now tasted nd. Liam, however, was too busy eating his eggs to care about the newspaper¡¯s photos. He acted as if this was nothing.


    I sighed, reaching for a teacup to cleanse my pte. The drink inside was as ck as a poison. This is it. The rich aroma tickled my nose. Coffee.


    It had been a century since American ports turned sea water into tea. Meanwhile, coffee consumption in London had skyrocketed.


    I honestly thought tea leaves were consumed more. Ennd is thend of tea, after all. But surprisingly, many people drank coffee. I heard coffee imports surpassed those of tea leaves. Thanks to that, coffee was avable everywhere. I became a regr at various coffeehouses around London,piling a list of the best ones.


    asionally, traditionalists who loved the old tea culture would frown at my taste. They¡¯d say, real elegance is in tea. Even now, people think like that? I found it hard to believe. It¡¯s not even the real tradition. Every time, I would tell them to drink their tea while I drowned in coffee.


    Because I frequented coffeehouses and drank copious amounts of coffee, Liam ended up bringing coffee beans home. I looked at the strong brewed coffee with satisfaction. This is it. This is Korean tradition. ¡ªThough it wasn¡¯t the ¡®real¡¯ tradition.


    Now, every morning, the house at 13 Bailonz Street smelled of coffee. I was promoting coffee to visitors, but not many people wanted what they called ¡°burnt bean water.¡± Maybe Liam Moore, slightly mad from staying up all night, or young folks?


    ¡°But it¡¯s certainly suspicious. It feels artificially created.¡±


    Liam¡¯s words pulled me out of my reverie. Finishing his sentence, he fumbled for a cup and downed it.


    ¡°Uh. That¡¯s mine.¡±


    That was my coffee.


    ¡°¡­¡±

 Chapter 52: Track down (4)

    Liam set down his cup with a faint smile as the rich vor hit him. Perhaps it was too strong a stimtion for his pte so early in the morning. ¡°Let¡¯s discuss the case, then,¡± I suggested, pulling a newspaper from the corner and pointing at it with a butter knife.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like someone who jumped from a bridge, does it?¡±


    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Was it before or after?¡±


    ¡°Checking the lungs would be quickest.¡±


    A drowned person¡¯s lungs are distinct from those of someone thrown into the water post-mortem. However, to verify this would require navigating a maze of procedures. London hasws governing autopsies, which allow authorized individuals to perform them, but as private detectives and not police, we faced significant challenges.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to rely on their efficiency. Hopefully, there¡¯s an avable coroner who isn¡¯t swamped with work.¡±


    ¡°There probably is. Given the state of the body, someone will rush over.¡±


    The corpse was foundpletely desated, devoid of any blood. It was peculiar for a body washed up from the Thames to be so dry. It even led to sensational headlines like ¡°The Return of Nosferatu!¡± Hopefully, no one took these cheap gossip rags seriously. Vampires, in the 19th century? Wait. I remembered something simr. I couldn¡¯t decide whether tough or be concerned.


    ¡°What should we do?¡±


    ¡°I need to step out for a bit,¡± Liam replied.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Was it midday? Since returning, Liam Moore had be noticeably quieter. Though he conversed with other club members before, he hardly spoke at home. Not that he said nothing at all.


    ¡°You¡¯re up? Sleptte.¡±


    ¡°I was just tired.¡±


    Simple conversations like these were rare and often ended abruptly, leaving me at a loss for words.


    For several days, he came homete, stayed in the living room for a while, then went to his room. He either woke upte or left the house after only a few hours of sleep. Our interactions dwindled.


    He seemed troubled, but I didn¡¯t bring it up. It was better than seeing him force a cheerful demeanor. Instead, I watched him move through the slightly open door, guessing his thoughts.


    Maybe the person we found was a member of the ¡®club¡¯ too. He always tensed up at the mention of it, so I couldn¡¯t press further.


    Today was no different. Liam emerged from his room, looking weary, rubbing his cheek. He pulled on a coat over his rolled-up sleeves, clearly not in his right mind.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± I asked.


    ¡°¡­Meeting someone.¡±


    ¡°Will you be backte?¡±


    ¡°Probably.¡±


    And with that, he left. Was he avoiding me? Mary frowned as she nced at his departing figure during our coffee time.


    ¡°Mr. Moore seems strange,¡± she said, sipping her coffee. I found it odd too, but I didn¡¯t expect Mary to notice. Then again, Liam usually announced his destination.


    ¡°He¡¯s having some trouble, but are you worried about him?¡±


    ¡°No! Not worried at all!¡± Mary protested, clearly anxious, making me chuckle. Her ears turned red, and she looked away.


    ¡°Just, it¡¯s strange to see him like this¡­ not even a word to you¡­¡±


    ¡°I know. I believe you.¡±


    ¡°Really! I¡¯m not worried about Mr. Moore!¡±


    It felt like watching a bickering sibling pair. If I mentioned this, Mary would probably scream and run. As for Liam¡­ well, he had a knack for handling kids, as if he grew up with siblings.


    Before I could say more, Mary admitted, ¡°Actually, I¡¯m a little worried. Just a little.¡± Then she hurried away, leaving meughing.


    ¡®What to do now?¡¯ With no cases to dig into and everyone gone, I was alone. The only expected visitor was the postman. Did I have letters to send? I hadn¡¯t written any since arriving in London. I wondered how my brother was doing. When was thest time wemunicated? I could hardly remember. We got along well as children. Would he respond if I wrote now?


    After some hesitation, I pulled out some stationery. It felt awkward. What should I say? I stared at the nk paper, feeling overwhelmed. I hadn¡¯t written anything personal recently, only telegrams about case records.


    ¡°No choice,¡± I muttered. Start with a greeting, at least.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I spent the afternoon idly, expecting Liam to return by evening. I eventually had dinner alone as he still hadn¡¯te back. I resolved to talk to him properly this time.


    Was it just my imagination, or was he avoiding me? Avoiding eye contact, avoiding encounters. Why the sudden change?


    I heard him returnte at night. He hesitated outside my door before going to his room. Did he have something to say? Why just leave?


    I was puzzled. Should I follow him? But I couldn¡¯t muster the courage. My resolve to talk seemed futile as Icked the bravery to open the door. Maybe Liam felt the same.


    About two hours after the lights in the living room went out, I quietly left my room. A faint light came from Liam¡¯s room, but there was no sound.


    Peeking inside, I called, ¡°Liam?¡±


    No response. Taking it as permission, I entered.


    ¡°Goodness, what a mess,¡± I sighed.


    Clothes were draped over the chair, books piled on the floor in three towers. Chemicals glittered on the wooden desk, and a brass bnce held a mineral chunk.


    I finally found Liam curled up and asleep on the bed. It looked ufortable, yet he slept.


    ¡®Has he been sleeping like this for days?¡¯ No wonder he looked worse.


    I picked up a document from the floor: a list of mysterious deaths from recent years. Newspaper clippings, too. Had he raided the library? Carefully, I put it back and approached the bed.


    Themp on the nightstand casts a dim light. His sleeping face, even tense in sleep, appeared through the fading glow.


    What is troubling you so?


    Questions rose that I couldn¡¯t ask. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. What drove him to such lengths? His solitary struggle was both frustrating and pitiful.


    I sat on the bed, careful not to make noise. I watched him for a long time, captivated by his presence.


    Only soft breathing filled the silence. The reality of his presence settled in as my ears adjusted to the quiet. Gentle breaths and warmth reassured me he was real.


    As I stopped seeing Liam Moore as a game character, reality hit harder.


    This is real. Your remembered civilization is gone. You¡¯ve fully be a part of this world now.

 Chapter 53: Track down (5)

    ¡°Liam.¡±


    Saying his name now feels as natural as breathing. The initial aversion, once as irritating as sand grains, has vanished over time. Maybe it¡¯s because we¡¯ve spent over a month together. It could also be because we¡¯ve been through so much in a short period¡ªnot too long, not too short.


    As Liam Moore let down his guard, I found myself doing the same. After we solve this case, I n to nag him about his bad habits. He doesn¡¯t need to work himself to the point of self-destruction. I muttered to myself as I sighed.


    ¡°Why are you sleeping so ufortably¡­.¡±


    Not even using a nket. If you catch a cold, you¡¯ll be the one suffering. And you haven¡¯t changed your clothes. What¡¯s with that?


    I unbuttoned his ufortable vest and loosened his tie. The sleeping man remained motionless. It felt a bit disappointing, as if he was avoiding me, though he was just asleep.


    ¡°You used to look at me so intently all the time.¡±


    Those gray eyes, once filled with warmth, now avoided mine. I had grown ustomed to the way his gaze lingered on me, and now he turned away. If this was how it was going to be, he shouldn¡¯t have started in the first ce.


    ¡°If you¡¯re not going to look at me anymore or start to keep your distance, you shouldn¡¯t have looked at me at all.¡± I muttered, finding it somewhat amusing. What is this? Comining to a sleeping person. I should just remove his tie and leave.


    This British man had even failed to take off one of his shoes. My eyes caught it, and as a Korean, I shuddered at the sight. Even though my mindset was half British by now, some things ran too deep to ignore.


    For instance¡­ climbing onto a bed with shoes on. Such a person was a heretic. I hadn¡¯t done much since arriving here, but this was something I needed to make known. Let¡¯s not wear shoes indoors.


    I pulled off his shoe with a pop and set it aside. This scene reminded me of an exhausted fathering home from work, making me smile a bit. My gloomy mood lifted slightly.


    ¡°Young man, take off your shoes indoors.¡±


    I muttered to the sleeping man, then pulled the nket over him. I hoped whatever was making him so sensitive would be resolved quickly. I wanted things to go back to the way they were. I missed the lively and carefree Liam Moore. I looked at his dark ink-colored hair for a while, then gently stroked it. The sleeping man mumbled softly.


    £ª £ª £ª


    [Dear Jonathan,


    How are you? I¡¯m doing well. Lately, London has been quite chaotic, and I¡¯m worried about you. While people around me take good care of me, I¡¯m not sure how you¡¯re doing. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve been in touch with Father. Nheless, I don¡¯t n to return to that house. I¡¯m sorry, Jonathan. Take good care of Mother on my behalf.


    Things here aren¡¯t as bad as you worry. Perhaps you¡¯ve seen my news in the papers. I¡¯ll visit you soon. Are you still living at your old address? If you¡¯ve moved, let me know. I sent a telegram to your workce.


    Winter is cold. Christmas is approaching. Stay well and healthy.


    ¨C Your sister.]


    £ª £ª £ª


    As soon as it was light, I went to see Herschel Hopkins. Before we parted on the train, Herschel had given me a note with his address and mentioned he would show me a picture of a young Liam Moore. Although it didn¡¯t matter much now (as I had already seen his memories), I was worried about him. He was the only club member I knew.


    I took a carriage to a residential area about 15 minutes away. Before leaving, I told Liam I was heading to Herschel¡¯s, but he didn¡¯t respond. He seemed to be asleep. He hadn¡¯te out of his room since sunrise. I silently offered my condolences to his shattered sleep pattern.


    Lost in thought, I arrived at the address on the paper. The house had a small front yard. As I knocked on the door and waited for a response, I nced around the property.


    There was a garden, which would have been beautiful in the spring. Though it was winter and the flowers were all withered, it was clear Herschel took great care of it. He seemed knowledgeable about gardening. I hadn¡¯t known that before.


    There was no response from inside. I knocked again.


    ¡°Professor Herschel?¡±


    Strange. I thought he¡¯de out quickly.


    I started to feel a bit uneasy. I hoped nothing was wrong, but I couldn¡¯t help but think, ¡°Could he be thetest victim of this case?¡±


    I knocked again, louder this time, and called out.


    ¡°Professor!¡±


    After a moment, I heard shuffling from inside. Herschel Hopkins slowly opened the door and peeked out.


    ¡°Are you hurt?¡±


    He was limping and looked extremely tired. His usually neat hair was disheveled, and dark circles surrounded his eyes. He had a bit of stubble on his cheeks, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. He was wearing a heavy indoor gown, looking a mess. It was truly strange.


    Embarrassed to be seen in such a state, Herschel gave an awkward smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I slipped on the stairs yesterday.¡±


    Behind his slightly turned shoulder, I saw the damaged stairs. The wooden nks had rotted and broken. I muttered to myself.


    ¡°Oh, my God.¡±


    Herschel grumbled.


    ¡°At my age, I need to be more careful, but sometimes I forget I¡¯m not young anymore.¡±


    Come to think of it, he looked a bit thinner than thest time I saw him. He might be skipping meals. Professor, you need to live long¡­.


    Did I look too concerned? Herschel lightly cleared his throat.


    ¡°Is Liam doing well?¡±


    Should I say he¡¯s doing well? I¡¯m not sure. At least he¡¯s sleeping¡­ I didn¡¯t want to burden Herschel with worries about Liam.


    ¡°Of course. He¡¯s doing well. He¡¯s been a bit on edgetely, but that¡¯smon when things don¡¯t go his way. He¡¯lle around on his own.¡±


    ¡°Let me know if he gives you too much trouble. I¡¯ll give him a stern talking-to.¡±


    I chuckled briefly.


    ¡°Professor, Liam isn¡¯t nine years old anymore!¡±


    He¡¯s not at the age to write reflection papers for misbehaving. Though, if he did, it would be a logically structured piece with the six principles of writing. But I¡¯d rather not have to read that.


    Herschel stepped aside to let me in. Though not unsteady, his steps werebored, so I helped him along. Holding my arm, he muttered a word of thanks. He was heavy, but not so much that I couldn¡¯t support him, so we moved slowly.


    Both the godfather and the godson have a knack for making people worry.


    ¡°Would you like some tea?¡±


    Herschel asked.


    ¡°I¡¯d be delighted.¡±


    I replied.


    Cranberry jam cookies and tea were ced in front of me. Steam rose from the teapot. He flipped an hourss and waited, then poured the tea for me with precise movements. He seemed used to serving tea to others.


    Herschel sipped his tea. The clear crimson liquid swirled in his cup. After some small talk, I asked,


    ¡°Is everything okay?¡±


    Herschel blinked slowly twice.


    ¡°Is everything¡­ okay?¡±


    ¡°Things have been so chaotictely. There was even a death at the university. I was worried.¡±


    He chuckled.


    ¡°There are always students who would love to see a professor dead.¡±


    That¡¯s true. But, professor, hold on. I jumped up.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you being too casual about this?¡±


    The godson and godfather are alike. I wondered where Liam got his habit of making dark jokes about their own safety. Apparently, it came from this man. Herschel even mimicked wiping away tears.


    ¡°Miss Jane, if anything happens to me, the culprit is a graduate student¡­.¡±


    I asked worriedly.


    ¡°Are you ensuring they graduate properly?¡±


    Herschel sheepishly avoided my gaze.


    Is this man asking for trouble?

 Chapter 54: Missing (1)

    As a college student, I nced sharply at Herschel. Hastily, he offered an exnation.


    ¡°It was a joke.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t joke like that. It¡¯s scary.¡±


    I broke a cookie in half, eating one part and pushing the other toward Herschel. It was delicious, a cookie with fruit jam hardened like candy.


    Herschel, seemingly not having much of an appetite, nibbled at the corner of the cookie while we continued our conversation. When I asked if he felt any eyes on him or if anyone had threatened him, heughed, saying it felt like an interrogation. Of course, I couldn¡¯tugh along.


    Satisfied that he was safe, I checked the time and stood up to leave. Herschel, noticing how I enjoyed the cookies, handed me the whole box.


    ¡°Give some to Liam too.¡±


    ¡°I will. I should get back and make sure the kid eats lunch.¡±


    ¡°Make sure he doesn¡¯t avoid his vegetables.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Iughed at Herschel¡¯s insistence.


    Not eating vegetables, huh? This insincere person. Tonight¡¯s dinner is broli soup. I¡¯ve decided.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When I got home, Mary greeted me warmly.


    ¡°Miss! You¡¯re back?¡±


    ¡°Mary. Have you eaten?¡±


    Mary nodded and smiled brightly, extending her hand.


    ¡°Let me take your coat.¡±


    Sometimes, Mary treated me like a youngdy. I often felt embarrassed and would refuse, saying I could do it myself, but she always insisted.


    ¡°I¡¯ll iron it and return it.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s really no need¡­.¡±


    ¡°I want to do it. Oh, please check on Mr. Moore. There seems to be quite amotion upstairs. Things must not be going well. The door is locked, so I couldn¡¯t even look.¡±


    Liam? That doesn¡¯t sound right. If something¡¯s not going well, he usually buries himself under the covers in a corner of his bed, not causing a ruckus.


    If he¡¯s stuck on a case, he usually gets depressed, skips meals, and shuts himself in his room. This is strange. Maybe I should check on him.


    After quickly preparing a few simple dishes downstairs, I went up. I set the food on the sofa table and knocked on Liam¡¯s door. He should be up by now or at least awake.


    ¡°Liam. Get up. It¡¯s already noon.¡±


    But there was no response from inside. I couldn¡¯t just stand there forever, and if Liam Moore was really tearing things apart in frustration, I had to stop him.


    What if he¡¯s crying inside? Am I underestimating how fragile he is?


    I turned the doorknob gently. It was a bit stiff, but after a few tries, it opened. The room was pitch ck. It looked like a hideout for criminals. I made a sarcastic remark.


    ¡°Are you some child of darkness? Why is this room so dark¡­?¡±


    Then I lost my words and could only stand there, staring into the room.


    He must have been conducting another experiment. I tried to think that, but my mind assessed the situation with brutal rationality.


    Sunlight flickered through the torn ckout curtains, giving an eerie feeling. Like lightning, the sunlight irregrly illuminated the room. The window was open, and the furniture was in disarray. And¡­


    Ah.


    I recognized this smell.


    A heavy, metallic scent filled the air. Did you know that blood smells like trampled roses? The sense of life ebbing away, the liquid flowing from artificial wounds evoked the scent of crushed roses. It¡¯s strong and nauseating.


    The room¡¯s air was thick, filled with a pervasive stench that spoke of one undeniable fact. My legs buckled. Clinging to the doorknob, I muttered.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be happening.¡±


    Iughed. Really, this can¡¯t be happening.


    ¡°Liam, stop joking. This isn¡¯t funny.¡±


    But it wasn¡¯t a joke at all. If this was a joke, Liam Moore was the world¡¯s biggest bastard. Because in the middle of the room, there was nothing but broken ss and a pool of blood.


    There seemed to be something more, but I had no gloves or anything else. So¡­ I had to go to the police without knowing what had happened to Liam Moore. I understood that.


    Oddly, my feet wouldn¡¯t move. Don¡¯t hesitate. You have to go. You have to go quickly to avoid losing any evidence. Evidence can easily be contaminated, and this is a private house. Who knows what variables there might be? But why can¡¯t my legs move?


    I took a breath. I raised my head, blinked my eyes, and even turned the doorknob¡ªall under my control. But why did my legs betray me?


    I wanted to go in and check. My heart said so. I wanted to rush in and cling to any remaining thread of hope. But my head said:


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    It¡¯s true. I¡¯ll be right back. The words I muttered sank shapelessly. No, it seemed ridiculous.


    After being stabbed to death in the fog, I thought about what I would think if I saw Liam Moore. I thought he might look at my death with a cold face, without any emotion, just knowing he once knew a woman like me. Of course, I thought of him as a piece of data back then, but now I realized something clear.


    The truly cold one was me.


    Not a single tear fell. What was there to me? The fact that I didn¡¯t immediately rush into the room was really chilling. Yet my head naturally defined this ce as a ¡°crime scene.¡±


    My grip on the doorknob loosened. Only then did my legs move.


    Seeing my pale face as I descended, Mary seemed to guess that something terrible had happened upstairs. Or maybe I brought the smell of blood like rain clouds bringing rain.


    I staggered, pulling on a coat. It¡¯srge. Whose is it? The sleeves were a bit long, but I didn¡¯t care. I had to hurry.


    My mind was a mess. Only one thing was clear.


    Liam Moore was the new victim.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I headed straight to Scond Yard, preserving the crime scene as best as I could. Giving the coachman five times the usual fare, I discovered that even a carriage could drift.


    ¡°Move aside, move aside! Hyah!¡±


    People screamed or protested as we passed, but we arrived much faster than expected. It was worth paying extra to avoid haggling and change-making.


    Arriving in a hurry, I dashed toward the entrance.


    ¡°Miss? Do you have any business, Miss!¡±


    A woman with a pale face, wearing a man¡¯s coat over her dress, running inside must have caused quite a stir. Unable to stop me, a policeman followed me inside. People stared, but I ignored them, looking for Tobias Jefferson with my eyes.


    I had just reached the second floor when the officer grabbed my shoulder to stop me.


    ¡°Hey, Miss. You can¡¯t just¡ª¡±


    In my defense, I was extremely nervous. So I did something not veryw-abiding (though working as Liam¡¯s assistant had asionally led me to do some illegal things). I pulled out a gun and pressed it lightly to the officer¡¯s side. Thanks to our close proximity and the coat, others couldn¡¯t see it, but the officer swallowed hard.


    I had no intention of actually shooting. Sometimes, threats work better. I whispered in a low voice.


    ¡°Stay quiet. If you interfere, I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do.¡±


    Threatening a police officer probably wasn¡¯t allowed. Oh well. If they fined meter, I¡¯d just pay it.


    Right now, I had no time for propriety. Recognizing themotion, Inspector Tobias Jefferson saw me and rushed over.


    ¡°What on earth¡­ Jane?¡±


    He was the type who could recognize if someone was armed. Seeing me pressing a gun to his subordinate¡¯s side, his eyes widened.


    ¡°¡­Let go of her shoulder.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir¡­.¡±


    As the officer released my shoulder, I holstered my gun. Watching the ck revolver disappear into my coat, Jefferson sighed tiredly, rubbing his face. For a moment, he looked extremely aged.


    I felt a bit guilty seeing that. A woman pulling a gun in the middle of Scond Yard would exhaust anyone.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s urgent.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright. That one¡¯s a rookie, not very flexible. I¡¯ll have to make sure anyone from Bailonz Street gets immediate entry from now on¡­. So, what¡¯s the matter? Did Liam send you?¡±


    ¡°Well, actually¡­.¡±


    Where should I start?

 Chapter 55: Missing (2)

    I think Jefferson understood why I threatened the officer, but the rest was problematic. What should I say next?


    Liam Moore is missing? He disappeared, leaving only a pool of blood, and we have no idea where he is or why his life was threatened?


    These words lingered on my tongue, unspoken. If I said them, there would be no turning back.


    ¡°Inspector.¡±


    I forced a smile. Actually, I wasn¡¯t sure what expression I had. Jefferson looked worried, as if he saw something unsettling on my face.


    ¡°Shall I make you some tea upstairs?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    I cut him off instantly.


    ¡°There¡¯s no time. We can¡¯t risk contaminating the crime scene.¡± The mention of the crime scene made Jefferson lower his voice, his instincts as an experienced officer kicking in.


    ¡°Do you need assistance?¡±


    ¡°Discreet and cautious people.¡±


    I had to do it. Jane, you have to say it.


    ¡°Liam¡­ there¡¯s only blood. At 13 Bailonz Street¡­.¡±


    I exined, breathless and fragmented.


    ¡°¡­ My God.¡±


    Inspector Jefferson groaned, rubbing his forehead repeatedly. He must have recalled a simr case.


    ¡°It¡¯s the same perpetrator as the previous cases. The methods are nearly identical. Even homes aren¡¯t safe¡­¡±


    ¡°I understand. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll be there soon. rke!¡±


    Even before I finished speaking, Jefferson was already summoning his team.


    He gently patted my shoulder. His fatherly concern almost made me rx the tension I¡¯d been holding. Jefferson spoke softly.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be okay. Liam is a strong young man. He won¡¯t let anything happen to you.¡±


    ¡°I hope so¡­.¡±


    A weak voice slipped out.


    Inspector Brixon, noticing the urgency in Jefferson¡¯s and my expressions, approached without asking questions. Instead, he cautiously asked,


    ¡°If it¡¯s alright¡­ may I apany you?¡±


    ¡°Please do, Inspector.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Several carriages pulled up in front of Scond Yard just then. We boarded one, and Jefferson gave the destination to the driver before we set off.


    I think I was anxious the whole ride. The gray London sky felt ominous, as if mocking me. It made me angry, seeing it loom above as if it were sneering at our plight.


    Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.


    I suddenly realized I was tapping the armrest with my fingers and clenched them quietly. Jefferson and Brixon exchanged uneasy nces. Brixon, fidgeting, watched my reactions, but I didn¡¯t know what expression to put on.


    We had vaguely suspected that Liam¡¯s club might be targeted, but we never imagined he would be in real danger. Liam, who had captured monsters, how could a human harm him? We believed he would be fine. In hindsight, it was a na?ve judgment.


    A pool of blood at 13 Bailonz Street greeted us, and I wanted to copse.


    Could this be a dream? A hallucination caused by my anxiety? But no matter how many times I blinked, reality remained unchanged.


    The officers murmured condolences, their voices buzzing like cicadas. Is it summer now? Though it was winter, I felt suffocated as if standing too long under the sun. The ground seemed to sway beneath me.


    The officers gathered evidence. Most items were ordinary household objects, but I couldn¡¯t stop them from taking the torn curtains and blood-soaked documents (a list of missing persons).


    ¡°They¡¯ll leave the rest. They¡¯re Liam¡¯s belongings.¡±


    Jefferson approached, his voice mechanical.


    ¡°Thank you, Inspector.¡±


    At least Mary stood by me, helping me stay on my feet. Poor Mary, after watching the officers, finally broke down in tears. Someone handed her a handkerchief, and she blew her nose loudly.


    ¡°I never imagined something like this could happen to Mr. Moore¡­.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be alright, Mary. Don¡¯t cry too much.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ <i>sniff</i>¡­ want to cry¡­ <i>sniff</i>¡­¡±


    If Mary saw me break down, she wouldn¡¯t be able to handle it. So, I chose to lift my chin and maintain a nk expression. It felt like someone had poured ster over my face, probably Liam Moore.


    Then I heard a voice calling me.


    ¡°Miss Osmond.¡±


    It was Henry Brixon. He held out something wrapped in a handkerchief.


    ¡°Have you seen this before?¡±


    It was¡­ a dried ck flower.


    ¡°A flower¡­?¡±


    The lifeless, dry flower was even stained with blood, crumbling into powder with the slightest movement. Was this ckness blood, or was the flower originally this color?


    ¡°From its appearance, it seems it¡¯s been preserved for quite a while. Has Liam Moore ever received such a flower?¡±


    When could this have been delivered? I couldn¡¯t recall.


    The packages we received often contained malicious intent, so both Liam and I had to verify their safety before taking them in.


    Some packages had hidden triggers to explode upon opening, dead animals, or letters threatening imprisonment. Poisoning the packaging or inside was almost considered benign.


    We were implicitly cautious: never open anything carelessly, never let anything in easily.


    To my clear memory, Liam Moore had never received a flower. I had never checked such an item. If he had received it, it must have been when I wasn¡¯t around.


    I murmured faintly,


    ¡°No. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen it.¡±


    ¡°It was found in the middle of the blood pool. It looks like a signature left by a serial killer¡­.¡±


    ¡°What kind of flower is it?¡± I asked.


    Brixon, studying the flower, murmured,


    ¡°It looks like a dahlia. No¡­ it is a dahlia. But it blooms during summer¡­¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    After the officers left, I stared at Liam Moore¡¯s empty room.


    Could he be dead?


    I inadvertently muttered this thought out loud, then quickly covered my mouth. No, don¡¯t think that way. Assume he¡¯s alive¡­ I had to find any trace of him.


    But what could I find? The room was empty.


    They took the curtains. His books, sks, and chemicals were spared only because I fiercely opposed their removal. However, they took items directly rted to the case. Anything stained with blood was confiscated. The room felt hollow. Liam Moore¡¯s belongings were gone, making it seem emptier.


    The blood on the floor was also gone. Being a home, we couldn¡¯t leave bloodstains for long. If it soaked into the floor, it would rot. Though it was winter,e summer? That was unbearable. So, Mary and I spent hours scrubbing Liam Moore¡¯s blood from the floor. We might need to rece the boards.


    George (thendy¡¯s son) peeked in to help but retreated at Mary¡¯s sobbing.


    Mary had been crying ever since I returned from Scond Yard. Her loud crying seemed to absorb my sadness.


    She wept, ming herself, saying if she had checked upstairs, he would have been safe. But I knew, if the kidnapper was capable of this, Mary would have met the same fate. Liam Moore might have fought back, but Mary would have been helpless.


    At least one of my dear ones was safe. I consoled myself with that thought.


    There was amotion outside. I had an idea of what it was. With the police in and out, it was clear something had happened to the two entrics living here.


    People often gossiped outside our window.


    ¡°Did you see her face?¡±


    ¡°How did she look?¡±


    ¡°She seemed unaffected. The person she lived with disappeared.¡±


    ¡°Creepy.¡±


    Some even said, ¡°It¡¯s because they were poking around, that¡¯s why they got into this.¡±


    I wanted to yell out the window but didn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t want to seem pathetic or hysterical.


    Why did this happen to us?


    For disrupting criminal organizations? For catching murderers? For handing over someone who threatened to poison the water supply to Scond Yard? We just did what we had to do!


    I let out a small, bitterugh and sat on Liam¡¯s bed, staring at the darkening sky for a long time.

 Chapter 56: Dahlia (1)

    I had to think about what happened. I mustn¡¯t stop thinking. Only then, it felt like he would still be alive. I needed evidence to confirm that he wasn¡¯t dead. I needed hope.


    ¡°First¡­ I heard a breaking sound¡­¡±


    I couldn¡¯t erase the bloodstains on the wallpaper. From that, I inferred the situation.


    There must have been a struggle. Liam Moore wouldn¡¯t be taken down easily. He would have drawn that strange sword to fight back. In the process, some furniture would have been broken, and the torn curtain was likely due to the sword as well.


    The attack¡­


    He was struck once. The blood loss wasn¡¯t significant. Although he was attacked in the middle of the room, he quickly moved and positioned himself. The second attack was fatal. There were marks on the wall where he either hit or leaned against it. The palm print was his size. I knew.


    The image of a wounded Liam Moore leaning against the wall flickered before me. Unbearable sorrow surged, choking me. My heart, now truly mine, thumped heavily with genuine emotion.


    Only after being left alone did I speak.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡± I whispered, pressing my hand against the now dry stain on the wall, wishing it still had warmth.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    The room was silent. No response came. I bit my lip and asked,


    ¡°Where are you?¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    Bailonz Street was noisy from the morning.


    I pondered all night. Thest page of my notebook had nine slots, storing significant past events. Thest saved event was in slot 7, capturing the evening after the campus incident.


    It seemed I could just retrieve it, but¡­ if doing so made Liam Moore suffer twice, I wouldn¡¯t forgive myself.


    Liam Moore must have been attacked after I left. But what if I prevent that moment, only for him to be attacked again? Could I prepare for that? Repeating until I know everything isn¡¯t a good choice.


    I don¡¯t know. My mind is in chaos. I decided to dy retrieving the file. If Liam Moore¡¯s death is confirmed, I¡¯ll consider going back. For now, I decided to do my best in this cycle.


    What should I do to find Liam Moore?


    While thinking this, I heard amotion outside. Amid it, Mrs. Mayer handed me a pile of letters. Thendy, Mrs. Mayer, cried, ¡°Jane, what should we do?¡±


    I consoled the elderly woman for a while before returning to the living room.


    Just then, there was a knock on the door. Reporters were knocking on the door of 13 Bailonz Street, 2nd floor, since early morning.


    I was fed up with everything. What happened to us was just a sport to them, making me irritable. I shouted,


    ¡°I said no interviews!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me, Miss Jane.¡±


    An familiar voice called out. Herschel Hopkins was there. He was silent for a moment before speaking.


    ¡°They say something happened to Mr. Moore.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    Neither I nor Mrs. Mayer sent a telegram. I opened the door.


    He hesitated, then handed me a newspaper. I began to read the article aloud.


    The front page featured our house, with the headline ¡®Detective, Missing?¡¯ inrge letters. The serious faces of the policeing and going were clearly visible. Inspector Jefferson, who was trying to stop the photographer, was also in the corner.


    ¡°¡­a missing persons case urred on Bailonz Street. The victim is a 29-year-old private detective¡­¡±


    ¡°Do these damned reporters have no sense of ethics?¡±


    ¡°To add a more pessimistic note¡­ the police seem to be investigating this as a crime motivated by revenge.¡±


    I crumpled the newspaper in frustration and threw it away. The crumpled papernded in the corner. It wasn¡¯t something I would usually do in front of Herschel Hopkins, but it was the only way to vent my anger.


    Revenge? Revenge? Ridiculous. Those who hold grudges against us can¡¯ty a finger on Liam Moore. I¡¯ve beaten a few myself. The major criminal organizations have long been dismantled and couldn¡¯t seek revenge.


    ¡°It is a crime, but none of the ones we caught would do this.¡±


    ¡°You never know.¡±


    I twisted my lips in a grim smile at Herschel Hopkins¡¯ calm words. I didn¡¯t know what to do.


    ¡°I promised Arthur I¡¯d look after Mr. Moore while he was in London. But, maybe¡­¡±


    I knew what he was going to say. The letters piled up this morning said the same thing. Regret, condolences, they made me sick! They were spewing this nonsense because of this newspaper.


    I rubbed my forehead. My nerves, overwhelmed by the thought of Liam Moore¡¯s death, felt like they would burst in anger towards this London that wanted him dead more than anyone. I asked the controlled question, though I couldn¡¯t stop my voice from trembling.


    ¡°Are you saying he might be dead? That I should give up?¡±


    ¡°¡­It means we might need to prepare for the possibility of a funeral. You need to be prepared.¡±


    Hah.


    Assume his death without even searching. I swear, I won¡¯t bury an empty coffin in Liam Moore¡¯s grave, nor will I put his body in it.


    I let out a breath in frustration. Herschel hesitated, then held my trembling hand and spoke.


    ¡°Miss Jane. I understand your anxiety, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Professor!¡±


    Herschel, bending to meet my eyes, was startled.


    I didn¡¯t mean to shout. I took a deep breath and asked quietly,


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried?¡±


    You¡¯ve known him since he was nine. How can you tell me to give up so easily?


    Herschel pressed his lips together, then spoke.


    ¡°Of course, this situation is¡­ regrettable. But sometimes, someone needs to think rationally.¡±


    Then he released my hand.


    ¡°I will also look into it. This is when we should use our connections. Though I dread facing Arthur¡­¡±


    Herschel left as quickly as he came. Mrs. Mayer was downstairs, dealing with reporters hoping for a scoop. I heard her shouting.


    Meanwhile, I made up my mind. I couldn¡¯t sit around. I needed to go out and find something.


    Liam Moore¡¯s coat caught my eye.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Sorry, Liam.


    I stole his clothes. My pants, shirt, and innerwear were resolved with my own (custom-made) clothes, but I didn¡¯t have an overcoat. However, he wouldn¡¯t have minded me wearing his clothes.


    I added height with insoles, tucked my hair into a hat, and applied makeup to disguise my features. ¡®Jane Osmond¡¯ became a young gentleman. I even lit a cigarette to make myself smell like smoke. I hid my smooth neck with a scarf.


    I remembered Liam¡¯s advice.


    ¡°Walk heavily. Don¡¯t force your voice.¡±


    The thick clothes concealed my figure. I grabbed a cane, one with a metal core for self-defense.


    ¡°Coachman!¡±


    I slipped out the back door and hailed a carriage.


    ¡°Where to, sir?¡±


    After some thought, I said,


    ¡°To University College.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    Luckily, no one recognized me. I walked across the campus, barely spoken to. I headed naturally to the lecture hall where the first incident urred.


    One thing that hasn¡¯t changed from the 19th to the 21st century is that sses continue even if someone dies on campus. The professor¡¯s voice leaked through the slightly open door. A student waiting in the corridor nced at me, making me nervous, but didn¡¯t seem to recognize me.


    I had matches, right?


    My mind reconstructed the crime scene.


    The man was in the center.


    Was it a message to those who followed? If someone could kill unnoticed, they could also hide the body. They could have made Liam Moore disappear too. But they left it clearly as a warning.


    ¡®A warning to someone.¡¯

 Chapter 57: Dahlia (2)

    I might not know exactly what Meridian is, but it¡¯s practically a deration of war.


    ¡®Look, I¡¯m going to kill you all from now on.¡¯


    Liam must have realised that too.


    The deceased was also a member of the social club. Could there be a mon thread¡¯ among them?


    ¡®The dormitory.¡¯


    I hoped the belongings in the dormitory were still there. Since it had only been two days since the incident, they might not have been cleared out yet.


    I nonchntly told the guard on the first floor of the dormitory that I was here for a police investigation. The guard, while somewhat sceptical, mentioned that the bereaved family had not yet collected the belongings.


    I¡¯d have to take a quick look around.


    I climbed the stairs and headed to the single room dormitory. There were a few condolence flowers ced in front of the door, likely left by students. The inside was still as chaotic as ever. Nothing had changed since Liam and I had visited. Everything was as it was.


    But one thing caught my eye. It was the white flower that once exuded a serene atmosphere. In just two days, it had dried up and turned ck, despite the water still in the vase.


    It seemed familiar. Although the location was different, I had seen such a dry flower before. Inspector Brixon¡¯s voice echoed in my mind.


    ¡®It looks like a dahlia.¡¯


    Could it really be just an incredible coincidence? Finding the same flower at both crime scenes?


    I carefully wrapped it in a handkerchief and tucked it away. I needed to show this to someone. But who?


    Flowers don¡¯t dry out in such a short time. Turning ck as if burned is even rarer.


    It¡¯s not an ordinary urrence. It must be rted to the world Liam sees.


    Lucita had said she wouldn¡¯t be in the country for a while. So, I couldn¡¯t seek her help. Even if she returned, Liam Moore might be found as a corpse by then. I wanted to prevent that at all costs.


    But I didn¡¯t know the location of the social club, and the only person I knew was Herschel, who seemed tock information as well¡­.


    ¡°Take me to Halleden.¡±


    It was a terrible decision. I knew it. How could I forget his eerie smile and those eyes burning with fluorescence!


    But I had a hunch. For some reason¡­ I felt he might help me.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Halleden Avenue remained unchanged. The ck iron fence and the gloomy garden, with a mansion standing out in stark contrast to the surrounding houses.


    It was undoubtedly a beautiful mansion, but I couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of rejection.


    ¡®Having to meet that creepy man again.¡¯


    Just in case, I had prepared a new cover story on the way here by carriage, but I hoped it wouldn¡¯te to that. I didn¡¯t have the talent to open a closed door and return to Bailonz Street like Liam Moore.


    To avoid dragging the coachman into this, I sent him away.


    A doll-like butler, for some reason, was waiting at the front door. Seeing him, I immediately realised.


    Plurititas knew I wasing.


    Crossing the corridor I once ran through with Liam Moore, I gripped my cane tightly with tension.


    I thought we¡¯d go to the study. But contrary to my expectations, the butler led me to the greenhouse inside the mansion. It might sound strange, but that¡¯s the only way to describe it. The mansion¡¯s structure was unique. From the outside, it looked ordinary, but it was actually square-shaped, enclosing the greenhouse in the centre.


    Inside, a tall, thin man stood, seemingly asleep with his eyes closed in the sunlight. He slightly tilted his head back and spoke.


    ¡°You¡¯re the youngdy who apanied him before. Liam Moore must be in quite a hurry to send you alone.¡±


    I removed my hat and faced him. His fiery blue eyes stared at me. His dazzling hair shone eerily in the sunlight, and he had a charmingly sharp gaze, but¡­.


    I knew. Something enormous was lurking within his shadow, hiding its presence. Something not human was disguising itself as a person, pretending to be kind, and no matter how hospitable he appeared, it was nearly impossible for me to smile back at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m Jane Osmond.¡±


    I extended my hand. Plurititas alternated his gaze between my hand and my face while maintaining a mask-like smile. After a long pause, I added.


    ¡°¡­It¡¯s a handshake. Usually, people introduce themselves when they meet, right?¡±


    ¡°Oh, forgive my rudeness. It¡¯s been nearly a decade since anyone offered such an audacious greeting¡­¡±


    Hisrge, w-like fingers intertwined with mine. They were cold and mmy. When I said handshake, he sped my hand tightly. I looked at the man holding my hand with mixed feelings.


    He seemed fascinated by my hand. Had he never seen a human hand before? He examined it from various angles with interest.


    ¡°There¡¯s warmth. I can feel the bones moving. Look at this¡­ the pulse beats so delicately, it¡¯s like a tiny fairy running around¡­.¡±


    Ugh. Does he think I¡¯m an experiment? This is ufortable. I tried to move my hand slightly, but Plurititas¡¯ next words froze me.


    ¡°This is a ligament, and a tendon, and a muscle¡­ truly fascinating. The ones I made can never move as smoothly and naturally as this. I never realised how difficult it is to imitate human movement so perfectly.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t joking. If I moved any more, Plurititas might really cut off my wrist. I had a feeling since he coveted Liam Moore¡¯s head. It was unsettling. I swallowed nervously.


    Does he think he¡¯s¡­ Victor Frankenstein or something? Why is he so obsessed with the human body? Liam¡¯s talk about the End Stares to mind.


    Is he actually an alien? A real alien?


    I suddenly wanted to joke about teaching him the finger-gun greeting. But he wouldn¡¯t get it¡­.


    ¡°Let go now. I¡¯ll let you hold it more if we finish our talk.¡±


    I said.


    Honestly, I expected Plurititas to be unyielding, maybe even refuse to let go of my hand. After all, the memory of him pressing down on Liam and me whileughing maniacally was still fresh. I remembered his voice crackling like a broken radio and the overwhelming pressure.


    But now, he was merely smiling, habitually fiddling with his white hair. He even obediently released my hand! Then he guided me to a seat.


    ¡°It¡¯s about Liam Moore, right? It¡¯s obvious.¡±


    ¡°¡­Yes. It¡¯s about Liam Moore¡¯s disappearance.¡±


    ¡°Oh, wasn¡¯t he dead?¡±


    Plurititas leaned back in his chair, smiling. I felt a sudden surge of anger and plopped down in the seat across from him. No. Don¡¯t talk about someone else¡¯s death so lightly.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s a disappearance. This¡­ um¡­. I think it¡¯s targeting Meridian and the club. Liam and I deduced as much.¡±


    ¡°You mean Greenwich.¡±


    So it¡¯s called Greenwich. Good to know. ¡­Isn¡¯t Greenwich the name of an observatory?


    ¡°Yes, there. There have been four victims so far. All from Greenwich. People disappear or die regrly, but the method and the means are utterly iprehensible.¡±


    Plurititas, who had been watching me with smiling eyes, asked.


    ¡°You thought I might know?¡±


    It sounded like I hade to him treating him as some notorious criminal. I shook my head. Don¡¯t offend him. He¡¯s even more unpredictable than Liam Moore.


    ¡°I hoped I might get some advice from you. You¡¯re old and¡­ a schr, right? You must be knowledgeable.¡±


    Plurititas, with all ten of his fingertips touching, opened his mouth with a regrettable tone (which didn¡¯t sound regrettable at all).


    ¡°I have much more talent in the sciences, so I have no connection with curses or the like.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    So, it¡¯s a different field.


    He shrugged and propped his chin with his hand. The butler ttered noisily as he brought tea.


    ¡°Help yourself.¡±


    With his light permission, I reached for the teacup. Sensing something ominous, I didn¡¯t bring it to my lips, and felt his persistent gaze. There was a silent pressure.


    Reluctantly, I took a sip. The tea was very bitter and astringent, with a formaldehyde-like pungent smell. Is this even for drinking? Is it actually formaldehyde?


    Only afterpletely swallowing it did Plurititas speak.


    ¡°But you brought something¡­ interesting.¡±

 Chapter 58: Dahlia (3)

    ¡®Did I bring something?¡¯


    I tilted my head in confusion as he watched me with a grin, revealing his teeth. His long, spider-like fingers pointed at me, or more precisely, at my coat pocket.


    ¡°Take out what¡¯s in your pocket.¡±


    With a puzzled expression, I retrieved the withered dahlia I had brought just in case. How did he know?


    Plurititas¡¯s expression became peculiar. I heard a curious murmur, ¡°Hoo¡­¡±


    ¡°This is something I didn¡¯t expect.¡±


    Then, he violently grabbed the dahlia. With a snap, the dahlia¡¯s stem broke off. It shattered into pieces as it hit the table.


    ¡°What is this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just an ordinary flower now,¡± Plurititas replied. ¡°But it seems someone took some drastic measures with it before. While I can¡¯t use it, I can read its traces. Time is quite terrifying.¡± Plurititas shrugged as if he were deeply troubled. Yeah, I get it, you look younger than your age. I watched the dahlia crumble in his hands.


    ¡°It looked like it was delivered to Liam. When I wasn¡¯t around.¡±


    ¡°Did Liam Moore receive this?¡±


    ¡°No. It was found in another Greenwich member¡¯s room.¡±


    Plurititas mercilessly crushed the dahlia into powder and spread it across the ss table. It looked like ashes. His spider-like fingers pointed at the powder.


    ¡°It appears to be just a regr flower, but when the targetes into contact with it, it automatically tracks their location. It¡¯s a sort of tracking device.¡±


    ¡°A tracking device¡­¡±


    It was a term I hadn¡¯t heard in a long time. In the 19th century, machines were rare, and people discussing such topics were often considered dreamers. Can humans walk on the moon? Can people fly in the sky? Asking such questions usually gets onebelled as crazy.


    My face must have looked strange. The man clearly seemed knowledgeable about science and engineering. Plurititas¡¯s white eyebrows went up, though it was hard to notice.


    ¡°The sender can track the receiver until they capture them. It¡¯s fascinating. Whoever it is must have a lot of malice.¡±


    He added with some wit, ¡°Of course, Liam Moore isn¡¯t someone who would die just because of a curse.¡±


    True enough. Even if Liam were cursed a hundred times, he would finish knitting, enjoy his snack, and then say, ¡®Oh? I¡¯m cursed? Should I at least faint?¡¯ He¡¯s that kind of person.


    ¡°So this isn¡¯t the first time.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°Have other victims received this too?¡±


    ¡°Very likely.¡±


    I stared at the powder and asked, ¡°Is there any way to trace it back? Using the signal or something? It would be good to identify the sender.¡±


    Plurititas looked at me with interest and shrugged. ¡°If it were a machine, it might be possible. But curses aren¡¯t my specialty.¡±


    ¡°You should have learned it, given how long you¡¯ve lived.¡±


    ¡°You ungrateful young person.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s how young people are.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just like Liam Moore.¡±


    He shook his head.


    ¡°Anyway, this is as far as I can help. The rest is up to you.¡±


    Well, it couldn¡¯t be helped. I held back a sigh.


    ¡°Running around is what I do best¡­¡±


    At least it wasn¡¯t aplete loss. The dahlia was a smoking gun for solving the case. So my job now was to find the members of Greenwich and check if they had received a dahlia recently. If someone had, I needed to act quickly to protect them. With luck, I might even catch the attacker.


    Then, out of nowhere, he said, ¡°I¡¯d like to take a cast of your hand.¡±


    Despite the situation, he stared at my hand with longing eyes, smacking his lips. My patience was wearing thin.


    Now I understood why Liam left quickly after achieving his goals. Plurititas tended to cling if you stayed too long. Not just cling, but also try to cut off your head.


    I cautiously asked, ¡°What will you use to make the cast?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll start with a drawing, then use ster. For structural understanding, I¡¯d like to open it up, but fortunately, there¡¯s enough data in drawings. Bringing in a new specimen would be a waste of resources.¡±


    Is he crazy? This man confessed he wanted to dissect my hand without my consent. I looked at him with a bit of disgust.


    ¡°No need to worry. I won¡¯t open it up.¡±


    How could I not worry? I wiped my face dry with anxiety.


    ¡°Get the ster quickly. No drawings, I don¡¯t have time. I¡¯ll give you ten minutes.¡±


    Plurititas smiled contentedly like a well-fed cat.


    £ª £ª £ª


    In any case, Plurititas let me go. Unlike with Liam Moore, he didn¡¯t threaten me. He just handed me a gift aspensation for the satisfactory specimen and cooperation, telling me to open it outside. What is it, a bomb?


    ¡°But be careful.¡±


    He warned like an old man who had lived long.


    ¡°Hunting people that way is rare. There¡¯s nothing easier than catching a defenceless prey. If hunters are in London, it¡¯s not entirely safe. They could be near you, wearing human skins.¡±


    It was a cryptic warning.


    ¡°You¡¯re easier to target than that annoying and spoiled Greenwich member.¡±


    ¡°Geez.¡±


    I nodded meekly, acknowledging my defencelessness.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be careful. I¡¯ll be going now.¡±


    He grinned mischievously.


    ¡°Let me know if Liam Moore¡¯s head is intact.¡±


    So he wanted me toe back. He sounded like a grandfather saying, ¡®Hurry and go!¡¯ before the holidays.


    ¡°Yes, Grandpa.¡±


    I mumbled nonsense and quickly ran out of the house. Surely, he wouldn¡¯t drag me back just because I talked back once?


    Even as a cold gaze lingered on the back of my neck, Plurititas said nothing more. He just watched me with a strange smile, like a picture. Nothing happened until the ck iron gate opened and closed. Once outside, I finally rxed. I actually met Plurititas! And it wasn¡¯t in vain!


    I stepped away from the mansion and opened the box. Lately, I¡¯ve been receiving more gifts. Inside the box was a in silver ring, set with a gem that resembled Plurititas¡¯s eye colour. It was wrapped in velvet. It seemed like a high-quality, custom-made piece. Inside the lid, there was a small note: ¡°Reacts to danger.¡±


    How does it react to danger? Can it monitor me?


    It was a creepy thought. Why did he choose a gem simr to his eye colour? Normally, gifts match the recipient¡¯s eye colour. It¡¯s someone else wearing it, after all.


    Feeling uneasy, I spoke to the ring, ¡°Um, Plurititas¡­? Can you hear me? This ring doesn¡¯t have such functions, right? Eavesdropping is a crime¡­¡±


    No response. It seemed like just a ring.


    Putting aside my difort, I ced it on my right finger. It was too big for my finger, fitting only on my thumb. It felt heavy. I wouldn¡¯t forget I was wearing it.


    ¡®Next time, I should bring a gift too¡­¡¯


    I walked out of the residential area. I pulled my hat down to cover my eyes. Just around the corner, I could see people bustling about. It was a busy street.


    People in various outfits passed by. There were many street stalls, and some people were selling eggs in baskets. And then¡­


    ¡°Excuse me.¡±


    A hand grabbed me, causing me to turn around. The person had their face wrapped in a scarf. Their coat was twice their size, and they wore thick gloves, making it impossible to identify them.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    I asked.


    ¡°Sir, how do I get to Greenwich from here?¡±


    A ridiculous question. But not unfamiliar. For a moment, I wondered which Greenwich they meant, but I naturally answered.


    ¡°Try heading to the train station. The station attendant can guide you better than I can.¡±


    And the person immediately disappeared into the crowd.


    ¡­What was that about?

 Chapter 59: Dahlia (4)

    I didn¡¯t have time to ponder the question. I alternated my gaze between the hand my mysterious conversation partner had gripped and the direction they had disappeared, then turned my head.


    ¡°Driver!¡±


    I heard the sound of the horse¡¯s hooves slowing. The carriage driver greeted me as I boarded the carriage, and his voice came from beyond the wall.


    ¡°Where to?¡±


    ¡°Bailonz Street. I¡¯ll need to stop briefly along the way, so please wait for me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course!¡±


    My heart pounded loudly. I rummaged in my pocket and pulled out my notebook. The leather-bound notebook was still filled with my handwriting. There were various conversation records and brief notes about the people I had met. I updated one of the slots.


    At least with this visit, it seemed I had gained something helpful. It felt like Plurititas had been useful for the first time.


    If he had known, he probably would have told me to get lost after breaking my wrist. £ª £ª £ª


    On my way back, I stopped by Herschel¡¯s house. The driver said he¡¯d wait for me at the front gate.


    ¡°It won¡¯t take long. Ten minutes at most.¡±


    ¡°Take your time to chat.¡±


    ¡°One passenger can determine my livelihood, so I can¡¯t afford to.¡±


    The driverughed brightly at my response. I intended to give him extrapensation for the time I was taking anyway.


    I hoped Herschel was home. I needed to apologise for the anger I showed that morning and tell him about Dahlia.


    Crossing the garden, I knocked on the door. Herschel, surprised to see a young man standing there, brightened up when I lifted my hat slightly.


    ¡°You had quite a good disguise. Especially the cigarette smell.¡±


    ¡°Thanks to a good teacher. I smoked a cigar, something I normally wouldn¡¯t do.¡±


    ¡°¡­Was it a Cuban cigar, one of his cherished possessions?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know much about cigars. Even less about where they came from. Unlike Liam Moore, I couldn¡¯t identify a cigar¡¯s origin just by its ashes.


    ¡°If it had a ck background with a gold band, it probably was.¡±


    Herschel wiped away non-existent tears, saying, ¡°Poor Liam.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Professor. Liam would understand.¡±


    ¡°Of course, he would¡­¡±


    Herschel didn¡¯t ask much about why I hade looking like this, but I exined anyway.


    ¡°There were too many reporters outside.¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°There were really a lot.¡±


    Herschelughed, saying, ¡°They¡¯re like sewer rats living in London.¡± The thought of sewer rats rushing towards sensational food made me shudder. It was truly dreadful.


    ¡°They even carry cameras. Those big ones.¡±


    I wanted to avoid articles like ¡®J Miss¡¯s Sorrow! The Rtionship Between Detective and Assistant!¡¯ I mean, our rtionship was a bit strange. An unmarried man and woman living under the same roof, sometimes being overlyfortable with physical contact¡ªit was no wonder people got confused.


    But if such an article spread all over London, I¡¯d kill the journalist who wrote it and then myself.


    ¡°If you request, the police can disperse the reporters.¡±


    Herschel said, taking my coat.


    ¡°Then they¡¯d think there¡¯s really something going on and follow even more closely. That¡¯s their nature. Have you eaten?¡±


    Was it my imagination, or did the house look disorganised? It was a bit chaotic yesterday, but today it seemed even more neglected. Herschel had always been a gentleman who meticulously managed his appearance, so it felt odd.


    Herschel, who seemed lost in thought, responded.


    ¡°What did you say just now?¡±


    ¡°I asked if you¡¯ve eaten.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. One must eat well, for bone health¡­¡±


    This was strange. Even though I hadn¡¯t known him long, Herschel always paid attention to what I said. He wouldn¡¯t be this absent-minded.


    I hid my doubtful expression as best as I could and followed Herschel into the kitchen.


    The sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu grew stronger. The deeper we went into the house, the more chaotic it seemed. There was no warmth in the house. It didn¡¯t feel like a ce where someone lived.


    Though Herschel Hopkins said he had eaten, the stove was covered in dust, and there were no signs of food preparation. The dishes were neatly arranged, and the firece was out, making the kitchen feel like an icebox. The cupboards, too, were empty. It looked like someone had rummaged through them and left. There was nothing that could be considered food.


    What could he have eaten here? More importantly, could a house fall into this state in just one day?


    I worried that the cookies Herschel ate yesterday might have been hisst meal.


    ¡°Um,¡± I hesitated before asking, ¡°Professor, are you alright?¡±


    Herschel looked puzzled. But what else could I say? That his house was in disarray? That he seemed off? I had no way to exin my sense of unease further.


    At this point, I felt I shouldn¡¯t tell Herschel about meeting Plurititas.


    So I roughly changed the subject.


    ¡°Have you received any gifts recently? Particrly white flowers. Dahlia.¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    He responded quickly.


    ¡°Dahlia? Is that in vogue these days?¡±


    Vogue?


    ¡°Someone at the social club mentioned receiving those flowers¡­¡±


    I silently cursed.


    This is a big problem. Another person dying is out of the question. I couldn¡¯t understand why someone would kill people so quietly.


    ¡°Ha¡­¡±


    If they wanted to distribute dahlias, they should just give the flowers. Why kill innocent people? I sighed, rubbing my face with my hands.


    ¡°Do you know that person¡¯s address?¡±


    ¡°Wait a moment¡­¡±


    Herschel rummaged through his pocket notebook and handed me a piece of paper. It seemed to have a member¡¯s address written on it. As soon as I sat down, I stood back up, prompting Herschel to ask worriedly.


    ¡°Are you alright? I have an appointmentter¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m fine. Take care, Professor¡­¡±


    Herschel smiled softly as he handed me my coat. He also handed me my hat.


    Noticing his empty left hand, I asked without thinking.


    ¡°Professor, where is your ring?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer. I asked again.


    ¡°Professor?¡±


    ¡°¡­Miss Jane.¡±


    The atmosphere suddenly became heavy. Something felt off. I didn¡¯t know what, but something was wrong.


    He mumbled dreamily, unfamiliar words spilling from his lips. He seemed lost in thought, not fully present.


    He took a step towards me, eyes wide open, looking like someone under the influence of drugs. His eyes gleamed fiercely like a beast¡¯s.


    ¡°Professor, is there something you want to say?¡±


    Instinctively, my hand gripped my cane. I could hit him under the chin and subdue him. But something was strange. The emotion I sensed from him made it even stranger.


    This wasn¡¯t just hostility; it was a clear intent to kill. One of the emotions Herschel Hopkins would never show me.


    Herschel wanted to kill me? That was impossible. I thought maybe he wasn¡¯t really Herschel.


    My mind raced with all sorts of thoughts, and then his hand reached out. It was aiming for my neck. It looked like it was about to grab me. My back hit the wall.


    ¡®Should I hit him or not?¡¯


    I shouted onest time.


    ¡°Professor! Snap out of it!¡±


    Herschel blinked twice, like waking from a dream. He looked at his hand reaching for my neck, then quickly withdrew it with a pale face. His forehead was covered in a cold sweat. He panted heavily.


    ¡°What have I done¡­¡±


    His murmured voice was filled with shock.


    Then, with a terrifying momentum, he rushed forward and pushed me out of the house. I was almost dragged out. The grip on my shoulder was strong, feeling more like the grip of a man in his prime than a middle-aged man.


    My right thumb throbbed. The ring Plurititas gave me glowed and squeezed my finger. The pain was so intense, it felt like my finger was being cut off.


    Though Herschel regained his senses, his hand continued to twitch as if convulsing. It felt like he was desperately suppressing something. It seemed like if he let his guard down, he would choke me.


    I was thrown out of his front door. Only after I waspletely outside did he step back. I didn¡¯t understand what was happening, but I knew Herschel Hopkins was not in a good state.


    Herschel spoke.


    ¡°Don¡¯te back here.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    I was stunned.


    But he didn¡¯t exin further and mmed the door shut with a loud bang.

 Chapter 60: Fade In (1)

    Standing in front of the closed door, I stared at it in bewilderment. It showed no sign of reopening, and I couldn¡¯t just stand there forever.


    ¡°Sigh¡­¡±


    I turned around, still dazed. As I left the garden and turned my head, I saw Herschel Hopkins watching me through a window.


    Even from a distance, I could tell one thing for sure: Herschel Hopkins looked scared. I felt an overwhelming urge to rush in and ask, ¡°Is someone threatening you?¡±


    Like godfather, like godson. The thought hit me again. What¡¯s the harm in asking for a little help? Why does he keep so many secrets from me?


    But soon, the curtains were drawn, leaving the house looking as eerie as an abandoned ce. I didn¡¯t linger any longer.


    I pulled my hat down low. All that was left in my hand was a piece of paper with a neatly written name and address.


    [Owen Cassfire, 37 Blemich Street.]


    Strange behaviour aside, I hoped the information he gave me was reliable. I couldn¡¯t understand Herschel, but I tried to be understanding, assuming he had his reasons. Yet, I still felt uneasy.


    * * *


    [37 Blemich Street.]


    The address written in my notebook wasn¡¯t far from here, nor was it far from Bailonz Street. So I chose to walk rather than take a carriage. The coachman, seeing me leave in a hurry, nced at me with curiosity. Thankfully, he didn¡¯t seem to realise I was a woman, thanks to the hat.


    ¡°Shall I take you to Bailonz Street?¡± the coachman asked.


    I felt a bit guilty as I leaned against the carriage.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯ve remembered another ce I need to go to, so I¡¯ll have to turn back from here,¡± I said, handing him 3 pounds and 1 guinea (21 shillings). It was a generous fare for a short ride, perhaps influenced by Liam¡¯s sense of value.


    The coachman beamed, forgetting any inconvenience.


    ¡°No need to apologise. Have a splendid day, sir!¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The sound of the carriage¡¯s hooves faded away cheerfully. I walked slowly, reflecting on what had just happened.


    Herschel had suddenly changed, and the ring from Plurititas warned me of imminent danger. Did this mean Herschel Hopkins was a threat? It didn¡¯t make sense. Despite his earlier hostility, it didn¡¯t seem like he wanted to harm me out of his own will.


    Maybe I was too optimistic about the situation. But could Herschel¡¯s frightened expression have been an act? Was he that good an actor?


    ¡°Hey, what are you doing in front of someone else¡¯s door?¡±


    A gruff voice startled me. I hadn¡¯t even knocked yet. Deep in thought, I had already reached the door at the address.


    A man was peering out through the partly opened door, looking annoyed. He seemed to be in his thirties, with a sharp and sensitive demeanour. His red ponytail was tied messily, strands sticking out haphazardly. He looked like he had just woken up, yawning and scratching his head.


    His ent was distinctly Scottish, which surprised me, being used to London ents.


    ¡°Is this 37 Blemich Street?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯vee to the right ce.¡±


    ¡°Are you Owen Cassfire?¡±


    ¡°You even know my name. Are you the police? I¡¯ve been living an honest life.¡±


    Usually, people who say such things aren¡¯t really honest. But his eyes were clear, and his hands weren¡¯t trembling, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Criminals often leave traces that are easy to spot.


    Blemich Street was a residential area with modestly priced houses, often inhabited by the young and poor. Some of them made money through illegal means. Thankfully, this man didn¡¯t seem to be one of them.


    ¡°What¡¯s this about? Did someone die nearby? Are you investigating?¡±


    I exined, ¡°I¡¯m not the police. Actually, it¡¯s about Greenwich¡­¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes sharpened instantly. He pulled me inside and mmed the door shut, as if worried someone might overhear.


    ¡°That woke me up,¡± he muttered, pushing his shaggy hair back to reveal his bright golden eyes.


    ¡°Where did you hear that name? Have you been talking about it openly?¡±


    ¡°Well, Herschel Hopkins gave me your address.¡±


    The tension in his grip rxed. He seemed reassured now, knowing the name.


    ¡°Liam Moore was the one who told me about Greenwich.¡±


    That¡¯s right. Liam Moore was the one who first informed me about the social club. Even though it was Plurititas who mentioned the club¡¯s name, looking surprisingly youthful for his age.


    The man looked half incredulous.


    ¡°Did that guy really tell someone about the club? I can¡¯t believe it!¡±


    Damn. Liam Moore, why was your life so unreliable? Why did you have no reputation to speak of? Couldn¡¯t you live a bit more decently?


    There was no time to argue about the club¡¯s name, so I began exining step by step.


    ¡°I came here because of the dahlia. Herschel Hopkins said you received a dahlia.¡±


    The man shrugged.


    ¡°I did. Yesterday, a white flower with a card was delivered to me. I asked the club members, thinking one of them sent it, but no one did. Strange, huh?¡±


    ¡°It seems that recent events are rted to that dahlia. The club members have been targeted by crimes one after another, so Liam has been investigating.¡±


    The man seemed to understand, stroking his chin before sighing deeply. He motioned for me to follow him inside.


    ¡°What are you doing? Come in.¡±


    You didn¡¯t say I coulde in. Annoyed at his rudeness, I frowned slightly and followed him. The sound of slippers scraping the floor echoed.


    The house was small with two rooms. The living room was mostly used for daily life, with only a sofa and a table under arge window. It felt empty, as if it was only used for sleeping.


    The man flopped onto the sofa and pointed to a single chair. I took a seat as he began to speak.


    ¡°I know he¡¯s missing. I saw the article. London was abuzz with ¡®The Detective¡¯s Disappearance!¡¯¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not exactly pleasant. It feels like they¡¯re turning crime into gossip.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s London for you,¡± the man muttered, blinking slowly.


    I took off my hat, revealing my hair pinned up high. The man stared at me for a moment before realisation dawned on him.


    ¡°Ah! You¡¯re¡­ right. You live with him, don¡¯t you? What¡¯s your name? He often talked about you.¡±


    ¡°Jane Osmond¡­ Wait, Liam talks about me?¡±


    I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s been saying, but this could get awkward. I scratched my ear, trying to hide my embarrassment. The man, watching me with interest, smirked.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t William tell you?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t.¡±


    Wait. I asked again.


    ¡°¡­William?¡±


    ¡°Yes, William.¡±


    William? He¡¯s Liam. Well, I know Liam can be short for William, but still¡­


    ¡°¡­Not Liam?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s his nickname and alias.¡±


    Great.


    It had been a long time since I felt like I knew nothing about Liam Moore. I didn¡¯t even know that the man missing in a pool of blood didn¡¯t go by his real name. Though it was just a nickname.


    I couldn¡¯t understand why he hadn¡¯t told me his real name. Didn¡¯t he trust me? Was I not close enough to him? I felt a bit hurt. I wanted to grab Liam Moore and demand why I had to hear his name from someone else.

 Chapter 61: Fade In (2)

    The silence stretched out. I was lost in thought for a while. The man, seeing my reaction, shrugged lightly.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t know, did you? Don¡¯t be too upset. He¡¯s always like that. Acts ording to his mood, does what he wants, and honestly, he has a narrow social circle. Most of his acquaintances from university have distanced themselves. Only Hopkins and I have stuck around. Oh, and you.¡±


    The man, who had his head on a cushion, yawned briefly. His eyes were unfocused, clearly drowsy. He yawned again and mumbled.


    ¡°Sorry, I haven¡¯t slept well these past few days. He¡¯s dumped a ton of work on me. You can p me if I fall asleep.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t bold enough to p a stranger.


    ¡°Then I should tell you something that¡¯ll wake you up. You¡¯re the next target of the murderer who spreads those dahlia flowers.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    I meant it. He didn¡¯t seem to believe me.


    ¡°There¡¯s some kind of curse or spell on the dahlias that tracks the recipient¡¯s location in real-time. So, you¡¯re currently in danger of losing your head at any moment. This isn¡¯t the time to be lounging around.¡± The man, who had been half-buried on the sofa, opened his eyes again. He shook his head and pped his cheeks loudly, then sat up straight and looked at me.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done quite a bit of investigation on your own, it seems.¡±


    ¡°Well, I had some help from people in the know.¡±


    The man squinted slightly, as if trying to judge the truth of my words, then spoke slowly. His eyes, though still shadowed, seemed more alert. He now looked at me withplete trust.


    His golden eyes softened.


    ¡°So, what do you need me to do?¡±


    I stated my request.


    ¡°I need your help finding Liam.¡±


    * * *


    The man asked me to call him Owen.


    Owen didn¡¯t exin much but said he could help a little in finding Liam Moore. Even that small promise felt like a lifeline to me. If I could just find Liam Moore!


    ¡°But for that, we need a medium.¡±


    ¡°A conductor¡­ or something like that?¡±


    ¡°Yes, something like that. We need to go to William¡¯s room.¡±


    So, we moved from Blemich Street to Bailonz Street, ignoring the stares of passersby as we went up to the second floor.


    As I climbed the stairs, I thought that Liam Moore mighte back. I felt like he might open his door at any moment and call my name, ¡°Jane.¡±


    But the second-floor t was empty.


    Owen moved naturally between the living room and Liam Moore¡¯s room, as if familiar with the houseyout. He took out a few chemicals, looked through them, and selected a mineral sample.


    ¡°There are too many pieces of furniture in the living room. We need a bare floor,¡± he said, so I led him to my room. He then took out a cigarette case.


    ¡°Smoking is prohibited indoors,¡± I warned him.


    ¡°I know. This is, um, camouge.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s in it?¡±


    He lightly tapped the bottom of the cigarette case, and a white stick popped out. At first nce, it looked like a cigarette, but it was too thick to be one.


    ¡°It¡¯s chalk. You¡¯re about to see something you¡¯ve never seen in your life.¡±


    What was I supposed to be looking at? Was he going to light the chalk on fire?


    In the middle of my room, he drew a single circle with the chalk. That was it. A single round circle. No borate words or designs. Then he ced the sks inside the circle. The rest he threw carelessly into a corner.


    ¡°What¡¯s all this for?¡± I asked, still clueless.


    ¡°These are things he¡¯s used recently. The fresher the trace, the easier it is to find. It¡¯s also easier with things he¡¯s touched often or for a long time. Oh, by the way, are you and William¡­?¡±


    I frowned.


    ¡°What kind of rtionship do you have?¡±


    Owen smiled slowly.


    ¡°I know William, but I don¡¯t know much about you.¡±


    ¡°Does this help?¡±


    ¡°Oh, immensely. He¡¯s attached to you. Think of it like tuning a frequency. Like a radio.¡±


    I hesitated for a moment and then said, well, we¡¯re just an assistant and a detective.


    It seemed unlikely anyone would believe that. Owen seemed to think the same, raising his eyebrows as if to say, ¡®Is that all?¡¯


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s always been clueless about women¡¯s feelings.¡±


    I really didn¡¯t want to know that.


    Anyway, Owen started cing items one by one inside the circle, humming a tune. asionally, he tilted his head, seeming to struggle a bit. He whistled lightly, but nothing significant happened.


    ¡°This is strange. It¡¯s like the workaholic isn¡¯t thinking about work.¡±


    Then he invited me into the circle. I took his extended hand and stepped inside the circle. At that moment,


    ¡°¡­Found him.¡±


    His voice was filled with tion. Owen Cassfire¡¯s eyes were burning with an intense golden light.


    From the tips of our intertwined fingers, something like nt vines began to grow slowly, wrapping around our hands. I could hear a song. The whistle turned into a melody. Golden vines rooted and spread out into the distance. I could see it with my eyes. No, Owen could see it. I was sharing his senses.


    ¡°Jane Osmond is here, so he can¡¯t think of anything else.¡±


    It looked like a thin thread of light. Why did it remind me of Ariadne¡¯s thread? It was zipping through the streets of London, and people seemedpletely unaware. They didn¡¯t even notice something brushing past them.


    ¡°Can you see it?¡±


    ¡°The light?¡±


    ¡°People.¡±


    He continued.


    ¡°Notice how ordinary people react to this.¡±


    ¡°No one¡­ seems to notice it passing by.¡±


    Owen Cassfire said,


    ¡°That¡¯s proof you¡¯re not an ordinary person. The moment you see it, it¡¯s already toote. The moment you realise it, you¡¯re fully involved. You just received confirmation that you¡¯vepletely stepped into this. Maybe that¡¯s why William has been so paranoid. Oh, poor guy.¡±


    I didn¡¯t understand what he was saying. Was I not supposed to see this? The fact that regr people didn¡¯t notice it seemed to be the normal reaction. So, does this mean I¡¯m no longer an ordinary person? Why? Because of what?


    ¡°If you know too much, it happens. That¡¯s why you need to keep your distance. But it seems impossible.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Owen Cassfire smiled slyly.


    ¡°Because William Moore is more concerned about you than you realise.¡±


    What?


    ¡­What?


    The connection with Owen broke. My vision returned to normal. For a moment, it was blurry, then I saw the floor with the circle drawn on it. My vision wavered as if someone was ying a kaleidoscope on my cornea. Swirling, sparkling, colourful scenes passed by.


    A house. A family home. A gnarled tree. A two-story house. Not old. Empty. A firece!


    ¡°Did you find it?¡±


    I asked, rubbing my still-dazzling vision. Erasing the chalk circle with his foot, he replied.


    ¡°It¡¯s near the Devil¡¯s Acre.¡±


    * * *


    The Devil¡¯s Acre.


    A region near Westminster Abbey. Charles Dickens coined the name around 1850. It was once an infamous slum, but now it has been somewhat renovated with rental housing. At least the system is functioning better, and welfare is gradually improving.


    The current Devil¡¯s Acre is characterised by emptiness and destion. Though the area is still not fully developed, and police patrols are frequent, it¡¯s nothingpared to real crime-infested areas. Byparison, it¡¯s almost angelic.


    Those who remember the old days still call it Devil¡¯s Acre, and Owen Cassfire seemed to be one of them.


    He moved ahead, whistling, and I could see the shining vines stretching out like threads towards a specific direction.


    ¡°Convenient, right?¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my specialty. William has a different talent.¡±


    Owen chuckled briefly and pulled my hat lower over my eyes. Annoyed by the obscured view, I heard his voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying you should forgive him. You must be feelingplicated, and it¡¯s probably still hard. It¡¯s a confusing world, after all. But that guy must have had his ownplicated feelings. He¡¯s quite childish. So, go give him a good scolding and some harsh words. And once you¡¯ve calmed down, listen to what he has to say.¡±


    When I lifted my hat, Owen Cassfire was already a few steps ahead. I quickly followed him.

 Chapter 62: Fade In (3)

    The street was quiet, with a light fog lingering in the air. People hurried along with their coat cors turned up, and as soon as they entered the residential area, the human presence vanishedpletely. asionally, a house with lights on could be seen, but the overall atmosphere was eerie and gloomy.


    As soon as I entered this street, the ring on my thumb tightened around my finger. It was a dull pain, but persistent enough to be bothersome. What on earth did Plurititas give me? I don¡¯t know. Is it warning me that this ce is dangerous?


    At the same time, a scene appeared before my eyes. Trees, the ones I saw earlier. And a house. The house without ss in its windows, staring at me like a gaping hole. It was eerie and foreboding. Owen¡¯s vines extended inside the house.


    ¡°There it is. Do you see it?¡±


    ¡°It looks like a haunted house.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s strange. It¡¯s not a rental property, is it?¡±


    What?


    Upon closer inspection, the other houses had signs or cards saying ¡°For Sale¡± on the doors or front yards, but this one had no markings at all.


    ¡°Who bought this house?¡± ¡°It¡¯s possible someone did. Maybe they¡¯ve already noticed we¡¯reing.¡±


    This was bad news. If the person who kidnapped Liam Moore knew we wereing, it would be very difficult for us. If they were waiting for us, could I handle it?


    ¡°You can go back.¡±


    I said, saving the recent events in my notebook. It was a habitual action I took whenever I moved to a new area. I pulled out my revolver. I should have brought more bullets.


    ¡°What nonsense are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Nonsense? Where?¡±


    ¡°How can you go in there alone without knowing what¡¯s inside?¡±


    Owen Cassfire approached, ttering.


    Would the front door be locked? Actually, it didn¡¯t matter since the windows were missing, but it would be preferable to use the door when bringing a wounded Liam Moore out.


    ¡°Ah, fine. We¡¯ll go together then.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t be responsible if he got hurt. Ah, whatever. Let¡¯s just go in. The vine shimmered as if urging us to go deeper inside.


    The door opened naturally. The house was devoid of any furniture. The few items that were there were covered with white cloths, giving the ce a ghostly, chilling appearance.


    ¡°You seem ustomed to handling a gun, miss.¡±


    Owen¡¯s whisper reached my ears.


    ¡°Hush.¡±


    I put a finger to my lips. The vine stopped. The small guiding light bent down and stuck to the floor.


    ¡°The floor¡­?¡±


    Owen pped his hands lightly.


    ¡°A basement. There must be a basement here!¡±


    But as we explored the house, we hadn¡¯t seen any stairs leading down. There were stairs going up, but none going down, so we couldn¡¯t imagine there was a basement.


    Could it be hidden? I hurriedly searched the room. Candleholders on the wall, the firece, nothing. Owen crawled around on all fours, pressing on the floorboards.


    ¡°We definitely need to go down here¡­.¡±


    Could it be that if you move a candlestick, a staircase appears? But my attempts were futile; the candlestick didn¡¯t move. I wanted to stick my head out the window and shout for a hint. Is this an escape room or something? While I fumbled with the candlestick, Owen called out.


    ¡°Miss?¡±


    I turned my head.


    ¡°This looks suspicious.¡±


    Owen was halfway inside the firece, pressing the bricks around. I carefully peered inside. The structure was strange for a firece. That is,


    ¡°This, there¡¯s no chimney?¡±


    ¡°Wow, did they want to kill everyone by suffocating them? I¡¯d like to see the face of the person who built this.¡±


    I agreed. With this structure, a fire or smoke would flow back into the house, causing carbon monoxide poisoning for anyone inside.


    And then, when I ced my hand on the floor, it sank. Before I could react, Owen and I were sucked into the firece.


    I screamed. Owen screamed. The firece hole quickly receded.


    The floor flipped. The dark basement weed us. Gravity pulled us to the bottom.


    Thud. Thud. Thud. Bam! Ugh! Oh my! Damn! Thud!


    Rolling down, we crashed to the floor andy there groaning from the impact. My bones ached all over.


    During the fall, my knee might have hit Owen¡¯s head, but it wasn¡¯t my head, so it should be fine, I thought. Oweny there for a while, crying out, ¡°You hit my head, you hit my head!¡±


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    I asked.


    ¡°Do you think I am?¡±


    Owen snapped back. His pouty tone suggested he was more hurt emotionally than physically, but there were no signs of a concussion.


    ¡°Since you¡¯re talking fine, I guess you¡¯re okay¡­.¡±


    ¡°Damn it, you sound just like William!¡±


    Owen grumbled, rubbing his forehead vigorously.


    ¡°They say people be alike when they live together.¡±


    I chuckled, helping him up.


    Turning my head, I saw the entrance we fell through. The hole that swallowed two people was slowly closing. Below it was a steep, cliff-like rock wall.


    No, it wasn¡¯t a wall. At first, I thought it was just a cliff, but on closer inspection, it was a very steep and dangerous stone staircase, like a basement staircase. It looked almost like a slide. It seemed we had just tumbled down from there.


    The ceiling was extremely high, and the space was vast enough to look like a naturally formed canyon.


    A slow, droning sound filled the space. Was it crying? Sleep-talking? It was hard to pinpoint.


    I didn¡¯t need time to adjust to the darkness. The faint light emanating from the bizarre drawing on the floor illuminated our surroundings.


    ¡°Ugh.¡±


    Owen groaned softly.


    In one corner were dried-up mummies, without even a chance to decay, lying around. Some had already turned into skeletons. The stench was unbearable, sticking to the air.


    There were an enormous number of them. Had so many people disappeared in London? How could nobody question their disappearances while they were being taken?


    I felt a sense of horror. At this moment, I felt disgust towards the one who created this space.


    ¡°What is that¡­?¡±


    Then I saw the bizarre glowing drawing. It depicted stars, moons, celestial bodies, wings, and other things all at once¡­.


    At the centre of it, I saw the man I had been looking for. Even from a distance, I could tell. It was Liam Moore.


    ¡°Can you tell what the drawing is about?¡±


    I asked. Owen Cassfire kept staring at the drawing on the floor, his neck drenched in cold sweat.


    ¡°It¡¯s madness. This isn¡¯t something an ordinary person could create. That, that¡­ it¡¯s a new creation made by weaving existing things together.¡±


    ¡°What purpose would they have for doing this?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but it can¡¯t be good. At least, maintaining that thing is definitely costing William his life.¡±


    The man muttered, ¡°William¡¯s life,¡± scratching his head nervously. I heard him curse softly.


    ¡°If we forcibly remove it and the rebound hits William, he could die. I can¡¯t do this alone. We need help from Greenwich¡­.¡±


    Water constantly dropped from the stctites on the ceiling, forming puddles on the floor.


    Drip.


    Drip.


    I wanted to rush to Liam Moore right away, but I couldn¡¯t understand the meaning of the glowing drawing on the floor and couldn¡¯t act recklessly. Owen also held my arm tightly, preventing me from running out.


    ¡°Wait¡­. Something¡¯s wrong.¡±


    I knew it too, but I couldn¡¯t pinpoint what was wrong.


    A beam of light aggressively shot from Owen¡¯s hand, reaching the ceiling like a re.


    ¡°¡­!¡±


    When it reached the ceiling, we saw it. The horrifying and grotesque truth.


    Why do humans always hurt themselves out of curiosity? The truth is safe only when it remains in the dark. Realising this once again, I felt a deep, bitter understanding.


    It was a mass of muscles. An organic tangle of unformed blood vessels and flesh. What was it? I couldn¡¯t tell. It looked like spider webs, or maybe tendons.


    The thing clinging to the ceiling pulsed regrly, emitting a noise like a chorus of wails. Did it have eyes? Was it a living being? We couldn¡¯t even tell if it recognized our presence.


    The long, hanging objects asionally swayed, dripping liquid that pooled on the floor.


    ¡°It¡¯s hanging something.¡±


    I whispered. Owen Cassfire, now pale, stared fixedly at the ceiling, his eyes wide.


    At that moment, one of the masses split open, and a dried-up mummy, without a drop of moisture, fell out.

 Chapter 63: Fade In (4)

    I wanted to scream. The entire cave was a web made of flesh. It felt as though it was saying that the only thing that had entered was prey.


    Owen, who had grabbed me, looked desperate as he spoke.


    ¡°Listen carefully, miss. Right now¡ª¡±


    ¡ªBang!!!


    Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Or maybe my eyes couldn¡¯t keep up with what was happening.


    When things returned to normal, Owen Cassfire was no longer beside me. He had been hurled by an invisible force and was now crumpled against the wall, his body twisted unnaturally. Blood was seeping from his abdomen, where a shard had pierced him. Through the torn fabric, I could see the broken bone protruding.


    Who could possibly throw a grown man like that?


    ¡°Owen!¡± I screamed. At the same time, I sensed a presence behind me. It was something I couldn¡¯t ignore.


    Turning slowly, I saw Herschel Hopkins half-emerging from the stairway, reaching out. His face was a mix of surprise and relief as he called out to me. ¡°Miss Jane, are you alright?!¡±


    What is he talking about?


    ¡°What?¡±


    The question of whether I was ¡®alright¡¯ seemed absurd. Owen Cassfire had been trying to warn me and was concerned for my safety. If there was anything truly dangerous, it was the grotesque, mysterious flesh hanging from the ceiling.


    However, Herschel¡¯s demeanor suggested he was wary of the man who had been with me.


    ¡°Stay away from him! Owen Cassfire is behind all these incidents! We need to escape now! It¡¯s dangerous here!¡±


    What? My eyes widened in confusion. Owen was the culprit? I was overwhelmed by too much information.


    Herschel quickly descended the stairs, continuing to exin.


    ¡°The missing people werest seen with Owen. It seemed odd when he suddenly reappeared and started talking about Dahlia. At first, I thought he had received a gift too, but after questioning around, there was amon testimony. They had seen a red-haired man.¡±


    I swallowed hard. Did Owen discover this ce because he was the culprit? Then how did Herschel track us down?


    Something didn¡¯t add up. There was a crucial piece missing, and I couldn¡¯t figure out what it was. What was I missing?


    ¡°Anyway, we need to leave quickly. This ce is not safe at all.¡±


    Now, the ring on my right thumb was squeezing tightly, as if trying to sever my finger. It seemed to be warning me about Herschel¡¯s approach, emitting a sharp light.


    Herschel¡¯s gaze fixed on my finger as he slowly approached.


    ¡°Miss Jane, what is that?¡±


    ¡°No, Professor.¡±


    I aimed my revolver. My finger was burning, but I could still shoot.


    ¡°Don¡¯te any closer.¡±


    His performance was convincing. For a moment, I almost believed him. His face looked so sincere, as if he truly cared for me.


    But¡ª


    ¡°Miss Jane, you must trust me.¡±


    Herschel Hopkins¡¯ eyes, as he took a step toward me in the darkness, were different from the ones I knew. They were the eyes of a beast, glowing yellow, with slit pupils like those of a goat.


    Though he spoke like a human, his movements were unnatural, as if he were being controlled, his joints moving independently. His smile remained, but each step felt increasingly unsettling.


    The most peculiar thing was the tear flowing from one of his eyes.


    ¡®This isn¡¯t his own will.¡¯


    Something was clearly controlling Herschel¡¯s body. Initially, I thought he was being threatened, but no. He was sending me a message. This wasn¡¯t really him speaking.


    Click. I disengaged the safety on the revolver and spoke with a hint of certainty.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    If something had taken over Herschel¡¯s body, I was confident I could shoot it. Absolutely.


    And the thing using Herschel¡¯s appearance spoke.


    ¡°You catch on quickly.¡±


    This wasn¡¯t the Herschel Hopkins I knew. His smiling face was unfamiliar.


    Though we hadn¡¯t known each other long, I could tell. Over the past few days, I had seen how different Herschel¡¯s behavior was. Distinguishing the ¡®real¡¯ Herschel wasn¡¯t difficult. The one who had thrown me out of his house in fear didn¡¯t want to hurt me.


    Now it all made sense.


    The yellow eyes continued to watch me, no longer pretending to be human.


    ¡°What did you do to the professor?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. He¡¯s alive. He resisted a bit during the process, but he¡¯s quite obedient now, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    Had something taken over Herschel Hopkins¡¯ body?


    He flexed his fingers and shrugged.


    ¡°Poor fellow. If he hadn¡¯t been involved, he could¡¯ve lived a long life.¡±


    I held my breath and stared at him. Could anyone live a long life without being involved? The malice emanating from him was unimaginable. To him, ¡®long¡¯ had a vague meaning. An overwhelming pressure filled the ce. I barely managed to ask what I had been curious about.


    ¡°Why Liam Moore?¡±


    ¡°He was quite bothersome.¡±


    That¡¯s it?


    ¡°That¡¯s it. But since you haven¡¯t done anything, I¡¯ll give you a chance. You can leave now. Forget everything that happened here and return to your life. Forget Liam Moore. Pretend he never existed.¡±


    It was a sweet temptation. The promise of survival was indeed sweet.


    At the same time, my rational mind mocked my wavering heart. I couldn¡¯t leave Liam Moore behind. I couldn¡¯t let him die. I swallowed hard, looking alternately at Liam Moore lying in the circle and the strange Herschel.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t, you¡¯ll have to face your end here.¡±


    Could I kill him? The thought suddenly struck me. Could I kill ¡®it¡¯? The presence it emanated was far from human, and I wasn¡¯t even sure it could be killed.


    That¡¯s not ¡®a person.¡¯


    I probably couldn¡¯t kill it. I might be able to stop it temporarily, but never permanently. I was powerless and would lose Liam Moore forever.


    An irresistible fear was approaching.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright. You¡¯ll die here, Herschel Hopkins will be found injured, and Owen Cassfire will be med for this gruesome murder spree. I¡¯ll return to the shadows, and it will all be over.¡±


    I barely managed to ask.


    ¡°What¡¯s the reason for doing all this?¡±


    ¡°Oh, child. You¡¯re so curious.¡±


    It chuckled, sitting down. Shadows obediently formed a chair for it. It didn¡¯t seem to consider me a threat at all, acting leisurely.


    ¡°It¡¯s almost merciful to exin to a child who¡¯s going to die anyway. Yes, stay with that boy. You can check his condition. Oh, how merciful I am.¡±


    Arrogantly allowing me, I slowly backed away. It watched me with amused eyes as I approached Liam Moore to check on him.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    I whispered. As I turned over the prone Liam Moore, I was terrified. What if he was dead? What if he had left me forever? I didn¡¯t want to confirm it. Carefully, I ced his head on myp.


    His face, peaceful as if asleep, looked serene.


    ¡°Liam¡­¡±


    A tendril from the ceiling¡¯s flesh hadtched onto his mutted wrist. No¡­ maybe it wasn¡¯t justtched on. It was deeply embedded, greedily sucking the life out of Liam Moore.


    Red tendrils bulged along his blue veins, pulsating as they fed. Every twitch caused Liam¡¯s expression to twist in pain.


    Hey discarded in the center of the vast chamber, blood seeping from his chest wound with every breath. It felt like he had been thrown here to die.


    I was toote.

 Chapter 64: Fade In (5)

    Now Liam Moore seemed barely alive. My hands trembled naturally, likely because I wasn¡¯t ready to lose him. I touched his neck. A faint, almost imperceptible pulse flickered under my fingers. It felt as though it might stop at any moment.


    ¡°He¡¯s held on for a long time. Even when he was thrown to be its prey, he kept resisting. It must have been a pain like having his nerves severed. Anyway, like father, like son, right?¡±


    I had to keep talking. I had to buy time until I could think of something.


    ¡°What is this painting? Why is Liam Moore in a ce like this?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing special. I just needed a bit of Liam Moore¡¯s power. Got quite a lot, actually.¡±


    The voice exining all this was gradually changing, sounding less and less like Herschel Hopkins. It was now a young man¡¯s voice. I could see something behind Herschel. ck horns, those were the first things I noticed.


    Herschel fell helplessly to the ground as the figure stepped over him and slowly ascended onto the painting. Just then, my vision blurred. It felt as though a thin veil covered my eyes, making it hard to discern its shape. Darkness was gathering.


    [I was bored. Waiting so long made me hungry. But these impudent little creatures kept interfering. They are just ants, but if they keep crawling up your leg, what do you do?]


    A ck shadow approached me. [You crush them. This is an example. It doesn¡¯t really mean anything. No need to put in so much effort. But confusion and fear are excellent spices.]


    It spoke.


    [Run. Don¡¯t look back. Humans are inherently ugly. They can¡¯t be altruistic, and if they can just save their own lives, that¡¯s enough. You¡¯ll act like a typical human. So run.]


    I wanted to. The whisper was so sweet, I wanted to believe it. It felt as if it were trying to sever my will. Had Herschel suffered something like this?


    I stopped myself from nodding involuntarily. If this was to be the end, I wanted it to be my decision.


    Then a thought emerged. In this ce where there was no solid ground, my remaining resolve whispered. But what about the others left here? Owen and Herschel?


    I bowed my head and gently stroked Liam Moore¡¯s cheek. There was still warmth. His eyelids slowly fluttered open.


    ¡°Hello, Liam.¡±


    I smiled. The man squinted his eyes weakly. His cracked lips parted slightly. A faint, wheezing sound came out as he called my name.


    ¡°Shh. It¡¯s okay. Everything will be alright.¡±


    His feverish grey eyes looked at me. That alone grounded me in reality. He made me exist. My mind cleared. I knew what I needed to do.


    It¡¯s strange. While something, be it a god, a devil, or a monster, was urging me to abandon you and flee, you gave me the strength to move forward. Even if it meant facing an abyss or unending despair.


    ¡°Jane, how¡­¡±


    His hand reached out to me. After several failed attempts, he finally grasped it. How did Ie to be here? Well,


    ¡°I came to save you, you reckless, stubborn detective.¡±


    So I¡¯m sorry. A meaningless apology fell to the ground.


    He seemed too weak to understand my words now. He was too exhausted. Where should we go? To which point in time should I flee to save him?


    [Are you not going to run?]


    Then the horned beast asked.


    I saw ten horns. A ck shadow, speaking like a dragon, lowered its head to look down at me. Its eyes were filled with curiosity, as if anticipating my choice.


    With his battered body, Liam Moore pulled me closer. His lips whispered.


    ¡°Leave me.¡±


    There was no undoing this. What was destined to happen had to happen. That was the natural order. But humans are not creatures that move strictly ording to rules. I am simply one of those people¡ªstubborn, unable to give up, yet desperately struggling.


    ¡°Indeed, you¡¯re right.¡±


    My voice trembled horribly. Even the mist covering my corneas couldn¡¯t block out the power reaching out to me. My hand felt heavy. Through the hazy vision, I could see the light emanating from the ring on my thumb, barely shining in the vast darkness, warning me.


    But I was certain, the greatest threat to my safety here was none other than,


    ¡°Liam Moore.¡±


    It would be me.


    I deliberately put on a cheerful front as I spoke. The gun felt heavy. My fingers ached. But I could do it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me.¡±


    ¡°Jane¡­¡±


    His sleeve was pulled. Realising what I intended, the man hastily tried to get up, clutching his wound before copsing again. His coughing was incessant. His heaving lips glistened red. He desperately clung to my hand. But it was not hard to shake off his weakened grip. For the first time, I looked away from him first. His eyes widened.


    I gently stroked his hair. Saying goodbye to this moment of Liam. Perhaps asking for forgiveness, maybe.


    I pressed my lips softly to his forehead. Liam Moore¡¯s face contorted. He looked as though he was about to cry. Like a child. Holding his head, I whispered over and over.


    Don¡¯t look. It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m really okay.


    ¡°I wille back to save you.¡±


    ¡°No, Jane. Don¡¯t¡­¡±


    I¡¯m sorry. But this is the only way I know.


    A gunshot rang out. My mind went nk.


    [FO(Fade Out)]


    £ª £ª £ª


    So many choices appeared. Before Liam Moore disappeared, after he disappeared, after meeting Plurititas, after standing here.


    I could go back. The stories were speaking to me.


    Human rtionships are, how should I put it, a kind of umtion. The actions seen so far pile up and rebuild me.


    The very first version of me says, I never intended to go this far for Liam Moore. He was just an NPC, after all. What did it matter? I thought. It was even unpleasant. I believed he could never be a real person to me, just something that mimicked one very well.


    But at some point, it became natural. Liam Moore smiling at me, his body heat, seeing myself in his eyes¡ªthose things.


    To Liam Moore, I am Jane, and he pulled me into reality. All this happened as naturally as rain soaking through clothes. Just like that.


    Hesitation is always long. Looking at the blinking chapter, gazing at the save slots written in my handwriting, I fell into thought. The ck space imed to be my home until I returned.


    Now I¡¯m used to it. Like Liam Moore, this too.


    Many things change.


    I¡¯m redefining the justice I knew.


    ¡°It¡¯s a relief.¡±


    I murmured into the air.


    Just, it never happened. It¡¯s truly a relief that it didn¡¯t happen yet. Liam Moore won¡¯t have to see my death, and I won¡¯t have to see his.


    Time is like a wave. The memories engraved are lighter than anything, so perhaps, the same moment will never return. My choice made a moment the future and at the same time the past. Just as there is nothing exactly the same on the shore¡¯s waves¡­


    Lost in thought, a breeze-like touch brushed past me. The presence filling this space weed my visit. A faintugh was heard.


    ¡°What should I do?¡±


    ¡¸¡­¡¹


    ¡°Can I save Liam Moore?¡±


    ¡¸¡­¡¹


    ¡°What was that, anyway?¡±


    Meaningless words spread like ripples into the air. No answer. Perhaps it was waiting for my choice.


    Take pity on me, who wants to resist the nameless existence. The more the ripples echoed, the clearer my consciousness became. A song heard from a distant ce pushed me forward.


    ¡°Help me.¡±


    There are moments when determination wavers. When the firm heart cracks, and in the faint hope, one suffers, longing for salvation from someone, be it a person or a transcendent being.


    My tongue felt bitter. The astringent taste seemed to numb my sense of taste. Swallowing poison wouldn¡¯t be more painful than this.


    Despair is also like a wave. The heart is like a sandcastle. Without a sign of solidifying, it crumbles helplessly when pushed in. Where despair swept through, only broken resolve remains.


    Humans are indeed, funny creatures. I thought so. There are so many selfish people who care only about themselves, but strangely, the ones I¡¯ve seen put others before their own bodies. Is it because only good people are around? Or because their own lives aren¡¯t that important? Or are they just special? All wrong. Completely wrong. It¡¯s just, that¡¯s how it was. For these people, it was just natural.


    Even an ordinary person has the courage to lift their head once in front of great adversity.


    Perhaps it was because I was an ordinary person that I could resist the existence of trying to drag out the ugliness.


    My eyes burned. Reality was stinging. Yet it made me move forward again. That¡¯s why I begged.


    Don¡¯t just watch, help me. I¡¯m willing to offer anything. Help me.

 Chapter 65: Fade In (6)

    The void does not answer. It was unclear if it ever could. I stood there, waiting for the ripple I sent out to stretch into the endless void and for the swelling silence to return.


    Ssh. A small ripple came from the opposite side.


    At times, moments of hesitatione. But because I cannot stop, I move forward.


    My finger pressed the slot. Elegant, sharp handwriting. The forceful writing heralded a new beginning.


    I return to my world. Two drops of ink sttered. My vision brightened.


    £ª £ª £ª


    At that moment, I heard a voice calling me.


    ¡°Hey, miss.¡±


    Owen Cassfire was waving a hand in front of my eyes, slightly raising one of his red eyebrows. ¡°Yes?¡±


    I blinked. Only then did my consciousness clear. Had I been spacing out? Owen rubbed his forehead and shrugged.


    ¡°Why are you out of it? If you space out here, you¡¯ll get dragged away.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I was just thinking for a moment¡­.¡±


    Facing arge cave, corpses, and a house where bizarre creatures waited, I swallowed hard.


    Herschel Hopkins would surelye if I went in. Owen had received the dahlia. If he was the next target, it would know where to find him no matter where he went. But since he came here voluntarily, and brought me along, how convenient. It was a perfect opportunity to eliminate two people chasing this case simultaneously.


    ¡°By the way, Owen¡­¡±


    Owen looked back at me. I smiled awkwardly.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t Professor Herschel seem strange to you?¡±


    ¡°Herschel? All of a sudden?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s nothing serious, but¡­ he wasn¡¯t wearing his ring. I¡¯ve never seen him take it off before.¡±


    He stroked his chin in thought for a moment.


    ¡°He took off his ring?¡±


    ¡°Yes, his wedding ring.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s odd. He¡¯s not the type to abandon sentimentality now.¡±


    Herschel Hopkins? Owen muttered again, looking incredulous.


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible. He wouldn¡¯t give up that ring even if his finger was cut off. You wouldn¡¯t know how much he loved his wife. The old man can¡¯t throw away anything rted to her. He¡¯d probably ask to be buried with it.¡±


    I blinked a few times. Neither Liam nor Herschel had ever told me about Herschel¡¯s wife. So, I had no way of knowing what happened to him. Herschel Hopkins would never talk about his personal life to me.


    ¡°His wife¡­,¡± I began.


    ¡°She¡¯s deceased.¡±


    It was a dry response. Startled, I saw Owen¡¯s lips twitch into a bitter smile.


    ¡°It was murder. She was attacked while Herschel was away. It was their wedding anniversary. Since then, he lived like a madman, until Arthur and Liam helped him pull himself together. But he still hasn¡¯t forgotten her. That¡¯s just who he is. Have you been to Herschel¡¯s house?¡±


    I hesitated before nodding.


    ¡°Mrs. Hopkins loved the garden. Every year, he nted new flowers for her to see. When the window opened, the flowers would be in full bloom. Sometimes, if a flower bloomed in winter, he would gift her one.¡±


    So, that well-maintained garden had such a meaning. Knowing the backstory made me feel a bit guilty. I felt like I had intruded into Herschel¡¯s personal life.


    ¡°People around us always meet such ends,¡± Owen said quietly, hands in his pockets, nudging the gate open with his foot. The door swung open easily.


    ¡°Because we do dangerous work, we have many enemies. That¡¯s why we avoid forming important rtionships. Or if we do, we live our whole lives hiding our identities, but it rarely ends well.¡±


    The vine wrapped around Owen Cassfire¡¯s fingers. The man¡¯s face, looking to be in his mid-tote thirties, seemed somehow bitter. Golden light softly illuminated the darkness. His eyes were still fixed on the vine.


    ¡°We always end up losing our loved ones,¡± he said. And it seemed like a curse ced upon people like us, Owen Cassfire calmly recited.


    I wondered if that applied to Liam and me as well. For a moment, I thought about it.


    Owen, who had mumbled words that might or might not have been about us, started walking ahead. His steps were quick but I could follow. After all, the destination was clear, and I knew where we needed to go.


    I found the path to the firece without difficulty. Owen Cassfire held out his hand to me. I murmured to myself, hoping that what was about to happen would pass us by.


    I saw countless stairs. Then, a familiar, glowing picture came into view. Once the shock subsided, I could look around. If it weren¡¯t for the corpses, I might have found the scene majestic. It was almost overwhelming.


    ¡°William will be different.¡±


    I heard a strange statement.


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t see Owen Cassfire¡¯s face as he was walking ahead, but I had just heard words that would stay with me for a long time.


    ¡°¡­¡­You and William will be different.¡±


    Wow. Damn. Quickly reverting to his usual cheeky self, he pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket, twirled it around, and held it in his mouth. Why chalk? On closer inspection, it had transformed into a cigarette. Camouge. The man winked, chewing the unlit cigarette.


    ¡°Hey, Sir Owen.¡±


    ¡°Just call me Owen.¡±


    ¡°Is there a way not to get hurt if you fall from here? Like a falling technique?¡±


    Owen Cassfire looked back at me, puzzled.


    ¡°There is, but why?¡±


    ¡°Because I need to use it now.¡±


    And I kicked him with all the gratitude I could muster.


    ¡°Ahhhhhhh!¡±


    Owen flew out. At the same time, a great force swept through where he had just been. If I had been a secondte, I would have been caught too.


    A bright light shed once. Then I heard a voice shouting loudly. Judging by his loud voice, Owen must havended safely on the ground.


    Behind me, I heardughter.


    [This is an interesting trick.]


    It was a man¡¯s voice. It wasn¡¯t Herschel¡¯s. There was something about his voice that evoked the deepest, most primal fear in a human being. I felt like my neck was stuck in ce.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡±


    Ignoring my instinct to scream, I turned my head. And then I finally saw it.


    It was a dark-skinned man. Herschel Hopkinsy sprawled like a puppet with its strings cut, and the man standing over his body looked down at me with a fierce, sphemous smile.


    He was very tall and extremely thin. His curly ck hair seemed to float even without wind. If night could be personified, it would look like him. He was terrifyingly beautiful, but I felt that falling for his appearance would be a mistake. All shadows seemed to obey him.


    Resisting the urge to kneel, I took a step back.


    ¡°Miss!¡±


    Owen shouted from below.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at it! You must not look at it!¡±


    But his words didn¡¯t reach me.


    The man was wearing a ck robe that seemed to ripple as if alive. All my senses were forcibly drawn to him. My thoughts, my sight, my hearing¡ªall were stolen. He felt like a ruler, and his attitude naturally exuded that aura. Shadows gathered to form a crown of horns behind his head.


    I heard a scream. It sounded deeper than hell itself, a scream from chaos, like that of Tartarus.


    [You¡­.]


    Yellow, beast-like eyes fixed on me. Don¡¯t look, don¡¯t look, I knew that, but my body wouldn¡¯t obey. The king bared his teeth in a grin.


    [You are an amusing child. Have you brought me a new toy?]


    His mouth was full of ck blood. He would seize me, whisper to me, and throw me into eternal darkness!


    [Poor thing. You don¡¯t even know what you¡¯re doing. You don¡¯t know if what you¡¯ve been given is a blessing or a curse.]


    His face suddenly drew closer. ck blood dripped onto my face. A shiver ran through me. It felt like ants were crawling in my veins.


    I wanted to scream. But it wouldn¡¯t be proper to show fear to a king. The shouts of the shadows around me deafened my ears.


    ¡®Kneel! Kneel! Worship him and obey!¡¯


    The king spoke.


    [Did you want to hide from my sight with such a paltry trick?]

 Chapter 66: STAY WITH ME (1)

    I¡¯ve been discovered.


    I knew it. He knew the method I used to escape!


    His words broke my will. It felt as if I were being violently trampled.


    A ck hand, as if crafted from darkness, caressed my cheek. It had the texture of a corpse. The ring on my finger grew so hot it seemed like it might melt. My tongue felt paralyzed. I couldn¡¯t utter a word in fear.


    Voices stillmanded me.


    ¡®Bow your head!¡¯


    [Stop.]


    The king spoke. With a wave of his hand, he silenced the noise and stood up.


    [That¡¯s enough. The fun is over. Let¡¯s stop here.] In an instant, all the tension surrounding us vanished at his words. The king, retracting his threat, nced at the ceiling, then back at me. His bright yellow eyes focused directly on me.


    [Do as you wish with the rest. It wouldn¡¯t be any fun if I broke my new toy from the start.]


    I could breathe again. It was only then that I realised I had been holding my breath. As oxygen returned to my brain, my vision cleared. The overwhelming focus on the king before me was released. My head spun, and tears flowed naturally. My whole body ached as if I had been beaten. Clutching my throat, I bent over, desperately gulping air.


    ¡°Haah¡­ haah¡­¡±


    I heard the kingugh.


    [I¡¯m quite curious to see what you¡¯ll do next. I¡¯ll spare you. Adding a bit of mercy, and these.]


    But in return, you must make a deal with me.


    I knew I had no right to refuse. It was a one-sided demand, closer to an order. I would be swept away without a choice. This deal would never end well for me.


    [Scream for me. From now on, continuously. Keep me interested. And remember.]


    A whisper settled in my mind.


    [I did note to bring peace to the world.]


    Quoting the words of a god, he added,


    [The moment you growcent, I wille with a sword to kill everyone.]


    When I raised my head, the king was gone. There was nothing left.


    Simultaneously, the cave began to shake. The chorus of beasts echoed. The flesh of the ceiling began to awaken. Clearly, the king¡¯s presence had stirred them.


    Owen rushed over and lifted me, checking on my condition.


    ¡°Are you alright? Can you recognize me? What¡¯s our mission, and what¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°One question at a time, please.¡±


    Thankfully, he muttered, and after confirming I was sane, he nearly carried me down the stairs.


    ¡°That damn failed experiment woke up. We¡¯re screwed. We¡¯re seriously screwed. With William in that state, we can¡¯t fight,¡±


    He began to mumble about how he wasn¡¯t cut out forbat or particrly agile. By that standard, I was just an ordinary person.


    We ran, and finally, I held the living Liam Moore in my arms.


    ¡°Liam!¡±


    Just then, a creature that had awoken roared. Tentacles spread out. We¡¯re really screwed now! Golden sparks flew from Owen Cassfire, who screamed. Yeah, I believed in you! Do something! Go fight! Win! But despite my cheers, Owenughed.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°Then what do we do?!¡±


    ¡°Scream without resisting the approaching death.¡±


    ¡°Are you insane?!¡±


    I screamed. Aaah!


    Owen screamed too. Oh my!


    The tentacles howled. Roar.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The events of that day remain vividly in my mind. They said they¡¯d show me something I¡¯d never see in my lifetime, and they sure did. I thought I was going to die. It felt like dipping my foot in the threshold of death, then pulling it back, then contemting putting it back in.


    In my head, a mini Liam Moore was singing. Dip, dip, dip, dip, dip it in! What¡¯s this? But now, the problem is that I no longer have to do that.


    It all started with a ne Lucita gave me. It rang eerily. Then the tentacles, as if blocked by an invisible wall, couldn¡¯t reach us.


    Owen turned to me with a new face, and we, who had anticipated the end, were relieved to be alive. More precisely, we were d that death had been slightly postponed. But the limit was near. I shouted,


    ¡°Is there no way to contact Greenwich?! Something, anything here that could stop that thing¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes! There is! They cane right away!¡±


    ¡°Then do it, you bastard! I can¡¯t hold on!¡±


    It felt like a giant mosquito was sucking my blood in real-time. I felt dizzy, as if I were about to pass out from anaemia. Whenever my focus wavered, I pped myself to stay conscious. The transparent barrier wavered repeatedly. Stay focused. If we lose this, we¡¯re all dead. We can¡¯t do this again.


    My stomach churned. I felt like throwing up. But I managed to hold it back because Liam Moore¡¯s handsome face was resting on my knees.


    Seriously, Liam Moore, you should be grateful. The only reason I¡¯m holding back my vomit is because of your face. As death neared, my mind was filled with random thoughts.


    ¡°How long?¡±


    I urged Owen. My vision was turning ck. I recognized this feeling. It¡¯s the same sensation as when you lie down and then get up, and your ears momentarily go deaf and your vision turns dark. I didn¡¯t know what Owen was doing, but he kept sparkling beside me. I wasn¡¯t even surprised anymore.


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait, the coordinates¡ª got it!¡±


    And Owen Cassfire screamed at the top of his lungs without any decorum.


    ¡°Get your heavy asses over here, now!¡±


    After that, the worst-case scenario I had feared didn¡¯t happen. By some miracle, we didn¡¯t die prematurely and have to face heaven or hell. For once, I felt like thanking an unknown god. Though I didn¡¯t have the mental space to do that.


    Just as I was about to pass out from anaemia or low blood pressure, people began arriving one after another. Upon arrival, they were horrified by the writhing, bubbling, crying creature growing from the ceiling.


    ¡°You call us to deal with this?¡±


    ¡°Just do it! Otherwise, we¡¯ll all end up corpses!¡±


    Somehow, amotion started.


    They weren¡¯t particrly reliable, and honestly, even at that moment, I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d be much help. But thanks to them, we managed to capture the bizarre creature. Amid my fluctuating consciousness, I kept hearing various sounds, and lightning-like shes lit up before my eyes.


    ¡ªScreech!


    I heard a scream. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was from the creature or from me.


    I saw something burning and curling up like roasted squid in my dimming vision. The smell was terrible. It smelled like burning fat. Or maybe it was burning oil. It was nauseating.


    Finally, the surroundings grew quiet. Everything was over. The crackling sounds of burning were dwindling. It was over. The ne, having done its job, also quieted down. I felt like someone had rolled me up in a mat and beaten me. I was exhausted.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t die, right?¡±


    I asked Owen Cassfire. I felt like throwing up.


    Three seconds before I vomited, two seconds, the aftermath of the ne¡¯s power was now hitting me. Wasn¡¯t this supposed to be a minor inconvenience? Lucita is a liar¡­ Liam Moore, you liar¡­


    ¡°Both of you are the worst¡­¡±


    Then my consciousness was cut off, so I don¡¯t remember the rest.


    £ª £ª £ª


    asionally, I recall the noise. They kept talking among themselves, and without realising it, I got annoyed. Whenever that happened, everything went silent like a dead mouse, allowing me to rest in peace again.


    Since that day, after being rescued, I fell ill. It was a fever. It felt like ice was flowing under my skin. I was cold, and when my body warmed up slightly, it became unbearably hot.


    How many days passed in a state where I couldn¡¯t move a single finger? Finally, the sensations in my body began to return. Familiar voices reached me. They spoke, thinking I couldn¡¯t hear them.


    ¡°When will she wake up¡­¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no health issue¡­¡±


    They buzzed in my ears like flies. They hovered around me, chattering. It felt like they were urging me to wake up. Then, before long, everything would go quiet again. Maybe they had talked for a while, and I had fallen asleep.


    How much time had passed? It felt like a blink of an eye. I couldn¡¯t guess.


    Whenever the doctor visited, he would always inject something into my arm. I guessed it was either an antipyretic or a pain reliever.


    asionally, the weight of someone sitting on the bed could be felt. Someone must have been sitting beside me briefly. Was it you? The one I¡¯m thinking of?


    ¡°How are you today?¡±


    He would ask.


    At first, his visits felt unfamiliar, but after several times, I began to look forward to them. I waited so eagerly that I could distinguish each visitor by their footsteps. I could tell whether the visitor was a man or a woman by the force in their steps. Naturally, I learned who wasing to see me.


    Today, it¡¯s you again. I¡¯ve been waiting all this time.

 Chapter 67: STAY WITH ME (2)

    You gently stroked my forehead for a while, sometimes whispering kindly and telling me about your day. I vaguely remember hearing that Mary had visited. I wondered if my condition worried her.


    Then, you left reluctantly, perhaps because visiting hours were over or maybe because you hadn¡¯t fully recovered yet. Thest time I saw you, you were in terrible shape.


    When your lips left my forehead, the headache eased a bit. I wanted to hold onto you, who came every day to watch over me. But I felt trapped, as if in a diving bell deep under the sea, unable to move. My body felt like a prison.


    What if I never wake up?


    Suddenly, that fear reared its head. They say people go mad if they stay confined too long; I hadn¡¯t realized it applied to situations like this.


    ¡°¡ª¡ª, wake up,¡± a whisper came at the right moment.


    Yeah, I want to. The words I couldn¡¯t finish faded away.


    The pain receded, and constant sleep pulled my consciousness down, deeper and deeper.


    £ª £ª £ª When I opened my eyes again, it was night. The surroundings were pitch ck.


    Maybe I had slept enough; for the first time in a while, I felt clear-headed. I didn¡¯t want to sleep anymore. I touched my forehead, recalling countless memories. It was cold, suggesting the persistent fever was finally healed. My whole body was drenched in sweat, and I desperately wanted to rush to the bathroom and wash.


    How long had it been since I was this sick?


    Not since I had the flu as a child. But now, the dull pain in my body was overshadowed by the sharp pain in my forearm, likely from the needles.


    I wished the medicine could just be administered naturally while Iy still. Constant jabs had left my skin in tatters. They had ruined one arm and were working on the other.


    I wanted to see the doctor¡¯s face. ¡°Hey, doctor! Look at my arm; is this an arm or a beehive?¡± But I decided against it, not wanting to seem troublesome.


    ¡°Ahem.¡±


    My voice was horribly cracked after being sick for so long. It sounded like scraping metal.


    The price of recklessness was high. I had rushed into things without properly assessing the situation. I regretted not recognizing Herschel¡¯s contradictions when I met him in that cave.


    Although he hadn¡¯t seemed drastically different from before, I could have noticed something odd if I had focused more. In the end, it was my mistake.


    Slowly, I sat up. My bones ached from the fever. If Herschel heard this, he would scold me forining about dying so young.


    I wondered if he was okay. Since it didn¡¯t seem like he moved on his own will, his already frail body must have taken a hit. We would both be bedridden for a while.


    I looked around the room slowly. The faint moonlight seeped in, and my eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing me to see. It was a luxurious single-patient room.


    What happened next? Was it resolved well? Not knowing what had transpired, it was hard to guess what had happened. But seeing that I wasn¡¯t handcuffed to the bed, I assumed I was being treated kindly, possibly as a victim.


    I reached for the ss of water on the bedside table. My lips were constantly dry, and it distracted my thoughts. If I couldn¡¯t focus¡ª


    Oops. My weakened hand dropped the cup.


    ¡°Careful.¡±


    An unfamiliar voice spoke. I looked up to see smiling eyes. The touch of the hand that reached out felt warm, yet strange. It was¡­ fabric. Bandages were wrapped around the hand. Was her hand injured too?


    ¡°If you break the cup, the nurse will scold you.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    She moved closer. I could smell soap. Supporting my shoulder, she brought the ss to my lips and asked,


    ¡°Anywhere else hurting?¡±


    ¡°¡­Besides my arm?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s unavoidable. I went through the same for a while. But still, it¡¯s good to see you¡¯re fine.¡±


    After gulping down the water, my thirst finally subsided. She spoke to me while holding the empty cup.


    ¡°They found numerous missing people in that house. Thanks to that, Scond Yard is in an uproar. There seem to be more than fifty victims.¡±


    ¡°Really¡­?¡±


    I was lost in thought for a while before I finally looked up.


    We both looked terrible. If the hospital could, they would probably wrap us in bandages like mummies.


    ¡°In my dreams¡­¡±


    I began. Her eyes were still fixed on me.


    ¡°I heard your voice.¡±


    She widened her eyes. Her green eyes seemed to ask, ¡®Me?¡¯


    ¡°I think I always heard it. Whether I was asleep or awake.¡±


    ¡°How much did you think about me for that to happen?¡±


    Sheughed, showing a smile that suggested I was incorrigible.


    I can¡¯t even begin to guess the efforts you put into reaching me. How many paths you must have walked, or how many people¡¯s help you sought to finally reach me.


    ¡°While I was held captive¡­¡±


    I trailed off.


    I knew who he was. The king worshiped by the parasites gnawing at thisnd. He had many names, and it was nearly impossible for a human to know them all. He was a demon that could exist anywhere, anytime, in any form. He thrived on human despair and found pleasure in suffering.


    When I was tormented by phantom pains as if my blood were boiling alive, I heard your voice.


    ¡°You said you would save me.¡±


    Your voice at that moment sounded so sorrowful that I mistook it for Jane Osmond weeping.


    ¡°Maybe it was just my mind ying tricks on me in a desperate moment.¡±


    Or maybe I heard what I wanted to hear when my life was hanging by a thread. You always break me down, making me vulnerable. Just, for some reason. In front of you, even these trivial wordse out.


    ¡°But you really came to save me. So, what can I say¡­¡±


    ¡°Thank you foring?¡±


    You smiled. After focusing on my words in silence, you finally made a joke, and Iughed along.


    ¡°Yes. Thank you. You saved my life.¡±


    Jane Osmond, speaking like an elder, opened her arms.


    Before I could react, my body fell into them. There wasn¡¯t even time to be embarrassed. I was too weak and immediately copsed back onto the pillow.


    She held me around the waist for a while, just like that. I could feel her heartbeat. Maybe she could hear mine too.


    ¡°Will you tell me what happened?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to.¡±


    A muffled voice came from her embrace. It was funny. As I chuckled, my head bobbed up and down, and sheined.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯tugh, young man. You¡¯ll get attached!¡±


    I didn¡¯t add anything more but responded in my mind.


    Why? You seem to have already gotten attached to me. Of course, I did too. Even when you call me strange names, I find it delightful. Even when you nag or call me ¡°Little Moore,¡± I just love it. You¡¯ll say you never got attached.


    ¡°I heard it. Attachment.¡±


    I saw the top of her head. She looked younger with her hair down. This was the first time I¡¯d seen her with her hair down. I wanted to tease her, to poke her, probably because I was fond of her. I whispered softly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Ah! Be quiet!¡±


    Annoyed, she grumbled and muttered various regrets, from ¡°Why did I rescue you?¡± to ¡°I shouldn¡¯t havee to visit.¡± Jane pressed on my side as she spoke.


    ¡°Professor Herschel is under severe disciplinary action.¡±


    ¡°Even though he was controlled?¡±


    ¡°You knew?¡±


    Of course. When the godfather came out of the wall and swung a knife.


    ¡°So, next time, talk to me earlier. Instead of poking around on your own and keeping your mouth shut. Tell me you received this. You think your life might be in danger. So, ask for help.¡±


    She didn¡¯t seem to think I deliberately hid things from her. She couldn¡¯t imagine that I wanted to keep her from knowing, even if something happened.


    Understandably so, I didn¡¯t want to see her hurt. Even now, look. Her hand is bandaged, her face pale. Her cheeks are thinner than thest time I saw her.


    I didn¡¯t want to see this. I remembered words I once heard.


    ¡°Love no one.¡±


    Love no one, and you won¡¯t lose anyone.


    Yet, when I see these eyes, those words disappear from my mind. It seems the defense mechanisms in people aren¡¯t working properly. While this woman, who entered my mind like a thief in an empty house, made herselffortable, my mind could only smile as if it didn¡¯t care.


    Ah, God. She has a bad influence on me.


    I thought I could be fine if I kept my distance. But you tell me not to.


    Your eyes say so. They hold trust in me. There is no doubt in them.


    In contrast, the fact that mere distrust cannot create a crack in someone¡¯s heart makes me look at you. It makes me want to look at you even once.


    You make me want to look at you.

 Chapter 68: STAY WITH ME (3)

    I can hear the heartbeat. It¡¯s the most certain way to know someone is alive.


    I held Liam Moore tightly, my ear pressed against his chest, and closed my eyes for a moment. Despite my constant nagging, right now I just wanted to relish the fact that Liam was alive.


    He didn¡¯t respond to my words. Maybe he was reflecting on his actions. With a slight nce, I could see only his chin and tightly clenched lips.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    ¡°Yes, did you call me?¡±


    His reply came immediately. As I scolded him for a bit, I realized it wasn¡¯t fair to pressure him to be honest while I, too, had my own secrets.


    ¡°I met Plurititas.¡±


    So I revealed one of my biggest secrets (excluding the fact that this is all a game).


    His reaction was immediate. He jerked upright but fell back down from the pain in his chest. Coughing violently, he screamed in a strained, cracked voice. ¡°What? What did you say?¡±


    ¡°I said I met Plurititas.¡±


    Plurititas. Liam muttered the name, and a headache seemed to take over him. Both chest pain and a headache. I probably should have given him more time before telling him.


    ¡°His face is young, but he acts like an old man. Still, he recognized the device on the dahlia. Even though it¡¯s not his field of expertise.¡±


    ¡°Besides that, did he threaten you or take some part of your body as coteral, or draw your blood?¡±


    ¡°Oh, my hand. He wanted to make a cast of it, so I let him. He really just made the cast and sent me away. He even gave me a gift.¡±


    A gift. Now Liam Moore looked confused. ¡°What exactly did you do?¡± he asked, indicating how bad his rtionship with Plurititas had been.


    I ended upughing.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way he¡¯d give a gift to just anyone. And certainly not out of pure intention! You weren¡¯t supposed to meet him in the first ce. You just had a private audience with the one person you should stay far away from.¡±


    ¡°But he just gave it to me. Oh, here it is. This ring.¡±


    It was a ring with a bright blue gemstone, now devoid of its light. It had shone like a disco ball in the cave but seemed to have lost its power. Liam, holding the ring, looked at me with his mouth agape.


    ¡°¡­No way he¡¯d give it with pure intentions.¡±


    He kept repeating those words. Poor Liam Moore, he was truly shocked.


    ¡°It was okay to ept it, right?¡±


    ¡°Well, it just functions like a warning light. It¡¯s the giver that¡¯s the problem.¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t help it. I¡¯ll just buy him a cake next time.¡±


    ¡°Please, I beg you, don¡¯t shock me more than this¡­¡±


    He looked so desperate as he leaned on me, pleading. I almost answered affirmatively, but no, there was still one more thing.


    ¡°I also met Owen.¡±


    ¡°O¡ªOwen?¡±


    He shrieked.


    ¡°I also found out your name is William Moore.¡±


    Yes, William Schofield Moore.


    ¡°You managed to keep your mouth shut all this time, William Schofield Moore.¡±


    Even though he was sick, he energetically jumped up and knelt on the bed. If I had known I could take him from heaven to hell with just a few words, I would have done it sooner.


    Kneeling, William spoke.


    ¡°¡­I didn¡¯t mean to hide it.¡±


    For the record, I¡¯m not mad.


    ¡°Oh, really? I had to hear my roommate and boss¡¯s real name from someone else after two years.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Oh, the silence is long.


    ¡°And we¡¯re not just roommates, are we? Honestly, we¡¯ve been quite intimate for mere roommates, haven¡¯t we? And then you go missing? In that situation, a strange man tells me, ¡®Actually, his name is William.¡¯ Care to exin, Mr. William Schofield Moore?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    The apology came quickly. I might have felt better, but no, I was already feeling better. I¡¯m not mad.


    William was still watching my reaction. His almond-shaped eyes looked down, full of guilt. His ck eyshes cast a faint shadow like a curtain.


    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to.¡±


    ¡°At least you know you¡¯re sorry. I thought you were a shameless brute who felt no guilt being called by a nickname for two years.¡±


    ¡°Jane¡­¡±


    He was almost begging now. His pleading eyes might even have been watery. His ash-grey eyes trembled as they looked at me. Honestly, it was a bit satisfying.


    ¡°Oh dear.¡±


    An all-too-familiar voice interrupted. Now, recognizing voices, I saw the uninvited guest, Herschel Hopkins, holding the hospital door handle, stunned.


    I dreaded how this looked. With his godson kneeling in front of me like he had done something terribly wrong, how could I exin this? And I decided not to exin.


    ¡°Ah, just in time. Mr. Herschel Hopkins,e in.¡±


    I don¡¯t know what he took my permission as, but just in time. Look, your godson is kneeling! He hid his real name from me for two years! Before I couldment, Herschel cautiously asked. One knee was already down.


    Why are you kneeling?


    ¡°Should I¡­ kneel too?¡±


    Damn, the godfather and godson.


    £ª £ª £ª


    In the end, I had to make them both sit down. Both of them were weak and unwell. Kneeling was ridiculous. Although I¡¯m not entirely healthy either, these two were on a different level. Herschel Hopkins looked like a sickly old man, and Liam Moore¡­ What more could I say? The fact that he was awake might just be due to adrenaline.


    ¡°Alright, children.¡±


    I dered to the two men who were anything but children.


    ¡°Let¡¯s have a confession session.¡±


    Liam Moore raised his hand.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, from where to where should I confess?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a term children should use, Liam Moore. Points off.¡±


    ¡°Eton never deducted points from me.¡±


    He pouted. But this isn¡¯t Eton, and I¡¯m a mean adult who does as she pleases. Liam¡¯s mild rebellion was pointless. He blinked his eyes, looking up at me with drooping eyebrows. He tried to look cute, but too bad, it didn¡¯t work.


    ¡°As a hint, I like very honest answers.¡±


    I must have looked resolute because Liam¡¯s lips quivered. The dried blood made them look pitiful.


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°Mr. Moore.¡±


    Herschel, using the old title for Liam, stood with his back to the moonlit window, facing us. His tired face was shadowed in blue. Liam responded.


    ¡°¡­Hopkins.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s over now.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t say that.¡±


    Why are they baring their teeth at each other again? Herschel¡¯s expression was cold, almost as if he was pressuring Liam. He was urging him to tell the truth. I could sense that much. Herschel spoke again.


    ¡°¡­We need to know to prepare.¡±


    Prepare for what?


    Ah, and suddenly, Owen¡¯s story shed through my mind. What happened to Mrs. Hopkins.


    I couldn¡¯t even begin to imagine the extent of his regret. He loved his wife deeply, as they said.


    Herschel had already experienced the consequences of hiding something. Now, he was giving Liam bitter advice based on that experience. Regretes toote. It¡¯s obvious.


    ¡°We¡¯vested this long. I understand Mr. Moore¡¯s feelings, but you need proper protection now. There¡¯s no guarantee this won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t happen again. I won¡¯t let it.¡±


    ¡°What if, next time, it¡¯s Jane who disappears?¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s mouth shut tightly like a m. He bit his lips, and his eyes fell on me. Confusion, fear, and hesitation swirled in his ash-grey eyes.


    I looked into his eyes for a long time. I didn¡¯t speak or urge him.


    ¡°¡­Don¡¯t be reckless. We can¡¯t resist. We can only buy time.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    His voice was hoarse.


    I nced at Herschel Hopkins. He was smiling softly. When our eyes met, he gave me a warm smile, reassuring me. The old wedding ring was back on his finger.


    Honestly, I was a bit scared. I feared the world Liam Moore saw because I had seen a glimpse of that king.


    That king sensed my secret. Once discovered, I couldn¡¯t escape, no matter what I did. My struggles were useless. I only survived by piquing his interest. Such luck wouldn¡¯te again.


    I interrupted Liam Moore.


    ¡°I want to know.¡±

 Chapter 69: Run away from

    If I couldn¡¯t escape his gaze, at least I needed to know why he had descended to bring a sword to the world.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired of secrets. No, I hate being thrown into the unknown even more than secrets.¡±


    Herschel approached, cing a hand on each of our shoulders before stepping back, leaving all decisions to Liam Moore. Honestly, I was grateful. It felt like a conversation just the two of us needed to have.


    Liam Moore had his head bowed, rubbing his eyes, washing his face with dry hands repeatedly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be someone outside your realm,¡± I said. That seemed to hit home. He stood frozen as if struck by lightning, then sighed and lowered his hands from his face.


    ¡°Please, don¡¯t be rmed.¡±


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    ¡°And please, don¡¯t hate me.¡±


    Are you kidding? How could I hate you? Then I saw a pale violet hue.


    The air shifted.


    All the air in the room was moving. It was very sharp. It felt as if the particles of air were condensing sharply, an impossible sensation. Yet when it approached me, it softened, like a hedgehog hiding its quills. I had experienced this sensation before.


    I had seen this pale violet color before, too.


    ¡°My body hasn¡¯t fully recovered yet, so I can¡¯t do it like before¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­What?¡±


    ¡°I just showed you a fraction. It¡¯s faster to show than to exin.¡±


    William Schofield Moore smiled, his eyes crinkling. The gray eyes I cherished, resembling London¡¯s overcast sky, were now¡­


    ¡°¡­Your eyes.¡±


    They had turned violet. The color was still close to gray. If I hadn¡¯t looked closely, I might have thought it was just a trick of the light. It was a dilutedvender hue.


    He leaned in, and I took it as permission to look closer.


    There were fragments swirling in his eyes. They might have contained a gxy. I recalled hearing somewhere that we are all astronauts traveling through the gxy.


    He gently touched his forehead to mine. His hand rested on my waist.


    ¡°Jane. It might be hard to believe, but there are powers in this world that science cannot exin.¡±


    ¡°The supernatural?¡±


    ¡°Maybe something granted to someone, but yes, you could call it supernatural. Things people call miracles or magic. You could dismiss them as fairy tales or myths, but¡­¡±


    For a brief moment, I saw my homnd. Through our touching foreheads, he seemed to show me something. I didn¡¯t know what it was or what he did to me.


    But I saw thendscape of Korea. The sea. The winter sea¡­


    I knew. This wasn¡¯t the sea of Ennd or any foreignnd. The texture of the sand was different. How could I forget thend I had walked on for over twenty years? Even if my body was far away, this ce was always in my memory. The fishing boat lights floating on the distant horizon¡­


    ¡°Ah¡­¡±


    I sighed. Liam Moore asked,


    ¡°Did you see something?¡±


    I felt like crying a little. The salty sea breeze was gone now. Liam Moore¡¯s eyes had returned to their gray color. He had just shown me¡­a miracle. Rubbing his eyes, he confessed slowly,


    ¡°Magic exists, and we are living in an era where myths and monsters breathe.¡±


    I didn¡¯t react with disbelief or cause a scene. I¡¯m not stupid enough to deny clear facts. It just felt so surreal that I epted it could be true.


    Thinking back, the suspicious actions he had shown (likeing to Bailonz Street from Plurititas) all started to make sense.


    ¡°So,


    what are you?¡±


    ¡°Are you a magician?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Liam chuckled, then ced a hand on his chest, wincing in pain. After a few moments, he spoke again.


    ¡°Jane, what do you think I¡¯ve been showing you all this time? We¡¯re not the kind of people to do heroin.¡±


    This is crazy. The humor is almost painful after nearly dying.


    ¡°Yes, to put it simply, I¡¯m a magician.¡±


    ¡®Liam, you¡¯re a magician¡­¡¯


    I imagined Herschel saying that. No, that¡¯s not the genre we¡¯re in. I quickly erased the thought and blinked at him.


    ¡°I thought so. Normal people don¡¯t do such things.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m normal, too, except that my professiones with its own set of troubles.¡±


    ¡°What is Greenwich?¡±


    So you figured it out. Liam sighed deeply. Well, there¡¯s no point in hiding it now.


    ¡°Sometimes, things that don¡¯t belong to our world wander around London. Greenwich is a group of people who can see those things, a kind of secret society, if you will. They observe, guard, and monitor while these things just wander around. But if they cross the line or harm civilians, we intervene. It¡¯s self-defense.¡±


    So, it¡¯s a kind of vignte group.


    Liam tilted his head. His hair, which had grown longer while lying down, scattered over his forehead, covering his eyebrows and eyes slightly.


    ¡°If you can see it, you have the duty to protect it. So, naturally, there are forces that hate Greenwich. Many of us don¡¯t form deep rtionships. Some have even distanced themselves from their parents.¡±


    ¡°¡­Because they might get hurt?¡±


    He echoed my words.


    ¡°Because they might get hurt.¡±


    ¡°Those exposed to this for long periods have short lives. Greenwich is no exception. Being born human, they can¡¯t die as one. Some go mad, some be mere meat, and some can¡¯t forgive themselves for surviving.¡±


    Knowing a lot usually ends like this. Knowing isn¡¯t always a good thing, he added.


    ¡°It¡¯s inevitable. Call it an upational hazard. If we manage well, we won¡¯t go mad, but those who want to harm us won¡¯t let us grow old peacefully.¡±


    It¡¯s a brutal profession. Now I understand why he didn¡¯t want to reveal it. You can¡¯t just tell someone you have a job that drives you insane or gets your loved ones killed. In the early 20th century, you¡¯d be used of being a German spy.


    Not wanting to pity him, I cupped Liam Moore¡¯s cheeks.


    ¡°You are¡­¡±


    With his cheeks held, he murmured.


    ¡°¡­trying to say that you¡¯re nothing to me, that it wouldn¡¯t matter if you died, that I should just live my life.¡±


    I frowned.


    ¡°That¡¯s a bit hurtful.¡±


    ¡°¡­If you were nothing, if it didn¡¯t matter if I died, you could escape from all this.¡±


    How do I exin this feeling?


    It¡¯s amazing that he could think that way for a woman he had only known for two years (and only about a month and a half truly).


    ¡°So you tried to solve everything by yourself.¡±


    ¡°There were quite a few who approached you, asking strange questions out of the blue. They would have tested you. They wanted to know how much you knew about Liam Moore and how important you were.¡±


    Come to think of it, there were people like that. Even in the middle of summer, wrapped in coats, hats, and scarves, they would approach and ask me something. At the time, I just thought, ¡®Huh? An observatory? Do I take a train?¡¯ and they would disappear as soon as I looked away.


    There were a few more incidents like that. Even recently.


    ¡°¡­I thought I hid you well, Jane.¡±


    Liam Moore murmured something iprehensible.


    ¡°I thought I hid my thoughts and feelings for you well.¡±


    What is he trying to say? His gray eyes were still fixed on me.


    Come to think of it, it was like that from the beginning. From the moment I started this game with this character, Liam Moore¡¯s gaze was always fixed on me. Among countless people, he always found me, watching what I was doing.


    My mouth felt dry because of his gaze.


    Or perhaps it was because of a pair of eyes persistently following me.


    ¡°Jane Osmond.¡±


    He called my name. The words that followed were the most desperate and tender I had heard in this 19th-century Ennd. Liam Moore was smiling innocently.


    Warmth lingered, and regrets faded. His hands, neatly ced on the bedspread, were clutching the innocent nket.


    Kindness felt like a knife.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll keep hiding you well.¡±

 Chapter 70: You

    What does that mean? Why is he smiling?


    It feels as if a formless de is piercing my throat, choking me. I can¡¯t be the only one feeling this way. Liam Moore has a talent for carving up his own heart with a handleless de, a talent that inflicts pain on those who watch.


    The man who bowed his head to me confessed his sins in detail, his voice trembling.


    ¡°So that it won¡¯t harm you. I¡¯ll keep hiding from now on¡­¡±


    His words were very weak, trailing off until only a faint, trembling breath remained. I could feel the hot warmth wetting my hands.


    What should I do?


    ¡°Liam,¡± I called, after hesitating for a moment, lifting his tear-streaked face. The man, sobbing pitifully with his eyebrows furrowed, turned his head away as if to flee. It might seem fickle of me to say such things while holding him back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t run away.¡±


    Anything else is fine. You can do whatever you want. His eyes widened at my words, his tear-clumpy eyshes stark. His gaze felt like it was digging into me. He had an expression as if he knew nothing, yet he was cutting deep into me. His exposed sincerity spoke. ¡°Don¡¯t run away from me.¡±


    Maybe, now that I think about it, you created a boundary for me.


    You brought me here, Little Moore. You gave me the courage to resist the temptation to run away, to choose. You always made me move forward, even though I didn¡¯t know what awaited ahead.


    ¡°Even if you hide things from others, don¡¯t hide them from me. That would really hurt.¡±


    What will happen to us?


    I asked myself. Since it wasn¡¯t spoken aloud, Liam Moore would never know my question.


    What will happen to us? The doubt rose quietly, wondering if we would remain the same when you eventually recognise me, but it soon disappeared.


    Just. For now, I want to believe so. I erased part of myself to let you in, so maybe, just maybe, you might have a ce for ¡®me¡¯ too, if not as much as Jane Osmond.


    There¡¯s a word people use when epting the inevitable without resistance.


    ¡°Maybe this was destined to be this way.¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s hand cupped my cheek. His moist cheek unexpectedly came close. The blue moonlight lingered on his forehead and eyelids before flowing down his cheek.


    There are things that are unavoidable. For me, Liam Moore is one of them.


    Fate is a bit salty, yet very warm. It has been so for a long time.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The next morning, Liam Moore came to my hospital room early. He wore a loose white shirt and white cotton pants. I smiled as soon as I saw his face. His eyes were slightly swollen. It was clear he had cried a lot. Even you swell up, huh? I found it intriguing since the Liam Moore I saw on Bailonz Street was always impably groomed.


    ¡°My goodness, haven¡¯t you looked in the mirror?¡±


    With a tragic expression, Liam Moore ced his hand over his mouth and turned his head demurely, answering.


    ¡°I have. It was so dreadful I couldn¡¯t bear to look.¡±


    That. It¡¯s not that bad. Even though it was a bit swollen, it was cute. His usually tied-up hair was messy, making him look younger, and his casual attire seemed more natural. Was it my bias?


    Seeing my expression, Liam awkwardly lowered his hand and added.


    ¡°There¡¯s no one to look good for but you, so I¡¯m just staying like this.¡±


    ¡°Oh, didn¡¯t I tell you yesterday?¡±


    Liam widened his eyes, looking puzzled. Poor Liam. I replied kindly, watching him.


    ¡°Greenwich called for you. Oh, and for me too.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    He must feel like his vacation disappeared right before his eyes. I chuckled softly and patted his back.


    ¡°Do you not want to go?¡±


    Liam Moore grumbled softly, scratching his messy hair, then opened his mouth.


    ¡°I suppose it can¡¯t be helped. I was nning to leave as soon as I recovered, but now an unexpected schedule hase up¡­¡±


    He gestured as if whispering a great secret, so I leaned in to listen. His grand gesture was followed by light words.


    ¡°After we visit Greenwich, there¡¯s a ce I want to go with you.¡±


    Where? I wanted to ask more, but his lips brushed my cheek lightly and withdrew, making me forget my question. In the meantime, the mischievous culprit left the room without looking back. By the time I came to my senses and yelled, Liam Moore had already escaped far away.


    For a moment, I regrettedst night. I shouldn¡¯t have allowed him to get so close. In just a few breaths, people easily open their hearts.


    It was warm.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Liam Moore is truly a terrible person.


    Seeing him neatly prepare after just hearing that Greenwich called, I was honestly a bit sick of it. In stark contrast to my casual attire, he was dressed up from head to toe as if¡­.


    ¡°¡­Are you going to a party afterward or something?¡±


    ¡°I have a professional image to maintain too, Jane.¡±


    Fine. Let¡¯s call it the etiquette of wizards.


    His hair, lightly brushed back without a hat, had a few skillfully left stray strands that looked natural, and there wasn¡¯t a single wrinkle in his clothes. Considering we were at a hospital, not 13 Bailonz Street, it was even more absurd and impressive. Where did he get them so perfectly pressed?


    Liam Moore draped his coat over my shoulders and said,


    ¡°The way there will be a bit cold, so keep this on.¡±


    Colder than December in London? His voice predicting it was yful.


    The doctor slightly bowed seeing the two of us. Liam Moore acknowledged them as well. The doctor seemed to know about Greenwich. The doctor spoke first.


    ¡°Avoid excessive movement for a while, and especially do not use your right arm. Now that it¡¯s affected, focus solely on recovery for the time being. Guardian, please keep a close watch on the patient.¡±


    Liam shrugged. I knew that look. It was the ¡®what can I do if they say that¡¯ shrug. I lightly pinched his side.


    ¡°Do as the doctor says. If you don¡¯t listen, I¡¯ll feed you nothing but broli for every meal.¡±


    ¡°Oh! My goodness! Such cruel torture!¡±


    He¡¯s so picky. Ah, Ennd! If spicy dipping sauce were popr here, people would have probably given up on broli! When we get back, I should make a tangy-sweet sauce simr to it. Poor Liam Moore, who doesn¡¯t know the taste of nched broli.


    ¡°Anyway, no! Moving around might be one thing, but no detours, absolutely not!¡±


    ¡°Got it, got it.¡±


    So, it means it¡¯s best to avoid situations where Liam Moore would need to use his right arm? I slightly wrinkled my nose and pulled Liam Moore.


    ¡°The way to Greenwich is on the 4th floor¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do you think the people visiting are few? When do they expect me to attend the hearing?¡±


    ¡°Mr. William Moore!¡±


    Liam lifted the corners of his mouth mischievously.


    ¡°Jane, hold onto me.¡±


    I think I¡¯m getting a little used to his magic. Naturally, I wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling an unreal sensation at my feet.


    Already, from afar, I heard someone shouting curses at Liam for using his magic.


    ¡®Is this what a detour is?¡¯


    At the same time, he took a step.


    The floor melted away, turning into a surface like water. The logic of the world flowed away, and we slowly sank down without stepping on the ground.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to hold your breath.¡±


    The lips near my ear said.


    What are you talking about? Are we diving in? As soon as I opened my mouth, a rush of cold, refreshing water surged over my face. My nose and mouth werepletely submerged. This water temperature and rity were something rarely experienced in London.


    I let out a short scream. Bubbles. Blue light swayed above the water.


    Ake? My mind briefly questioned. A transparentke with light filtering all the way to the bottom¡­


    ¡°Ugh¡ª¡±


    As I spat out the water that had filled my mouth, the fact that Liam Moore was still by my side reassured me.


    Of course, I wasn¡¯t without anger. He should have at least exined. Why did I have to suddenly drink water? What a ridiculous guy.


    Yet strangely, neither my clothes, hair, nor skin were wet.


    Impossible. I had beenpletely submerged in prime clear ice water. Not just submerged, but dunked. Like Achilles being dipped in the River Styx by Thetis, I had been repeatedly dunked. So how was I perfectly dry?


    ¡°Am I waterproof?¡±

 Chapter 71: Greenwich (1)

    Was it because of the confusion? I rambled nonsense. Liam Moore, with his eyes reflecting a light purple hue,ughed silently.


    ¡°This is a bit too fast.¡±


    ¡°You really are impatient. It¡¯s rare to see someone in Britain with such a ¡®quick quick¡¯ mentality.¡±


    Liam rubbed his eyes tiredly. His already slightly swollen eyelids turned redder. I noticed that he rubbed his eyes every time their colour changed. Thinking about this, I stopped his hand from rubbing further. Liam blinked.


    Just then, a booming voice echoed.


    ¡°Dammit, William Moore! I told you to open the door properly ande in!¡±


    A mass of shaggy red hair appeared. Honestly, without that hair, I wouldn¡¯t have recognized him. Theid-back appearance from when we first met was gone, reced by a sharp-looking schr.


    ¡°¡­Owen?¡±


    ¡°Oh, thedy is here too.¡± Owen Cassfire adjusted his sses and winked lightly. He looked in the best shape among us.


    ¡°Anyway, I apologise for nagging in front of thedy. But you shouldn¡¯t be kicking doors just because you¡¯re in a bad mood. I told you many times, if you don¡¯t want to be mistaken for an intruder and dragged off¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Enter calmly through the entrance. But there were a lot of people, and Jane and I didn¡¯t want to bete for the hearing.¡±


    Liam shrugged lightly, as if it was no big deal to watch the Grand Master¡¯s reprimand. He pped his hands lightly.


    ¡°Should I thank you foring to greet us personally?¡±


    I was the one surprised by his informal attitude. Remembering the cynical and grumpy Liam who showed such behaviour towards James Stranden (the marriage scammer, if you need a reminder) or Scond Yard, seeing this sociable side of him felt strange.


    Owen, noticing my bewilderment,ughed heartily.


    ¡°Hey, you really have no credibility. Did you see thedy¡¯s expression?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m infamous in London. So, Sir Cassfire, when will you wee mypanion?¡±


    ¡°Oh my, my mind must have wandered.¡±


    Clearing his throat, Owen Cassfire sped his hands behind his back lightly. The gold-rimmed sses perched on his nose and the ornate chain glittered. His eyes, the same colour, also shone with goodwill. The neatly closed white robe made me feel like I was really in a neighbourhood of wizards (it¡¯s still surreal, but).


    Wow, my life really is unpredictable. Waking up in apletely different genre game.


    He recited formally.


    ¡°In the name of Greenwich and Meridian, I wee you.¡±


    Liam nudged me with his elbow.


    ¡°¡­Oh, thank you?¡±


    ¡°Well done. Let it be known here. The visit of Jane Osmond is guaranteed by William Schofield Moore and Owen Cassfire, and for as long as this authority continues, everything here, spells and people included, will treat you as one of Greenwich. Please enjoy your stay.¡±


    That was it. Though it was a grand greeting, it essentially meant, ¡®You¡¯ve got our endorsement, no one¡¯s picking a fight. Wee.¡¯ This roundabout way of speaking might be a wizard¡¯s trait. I chuckled a bit and followed the two men as they led me to the main hall.


    The scenery along the way was elegant, almost like a well-crafted movie set. Light poured in from everywhere, though I couldn¡¯t tell the source. Yet it didn¡¯t feel artificial at all.


    There were dozens of windows, but looking out of them, I couldn¡¯t see any familiarndscapes. Only an endless sky, a mix of blue and red, making it impossible to discern the time.


    The cream-coloured corridor shone so brightly that it reflected our images. Our footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, leading to a huge door at the end.


    Beyond the door was a round meeting room, like an ammonite or a lollipop spiralling inward. It was veryrge and tall. Liam guided me as I stood, bewildered.


    ¡°All seats are fixed here. Just follow me.¡±


    ¡°It feels like an opera box.¡±


    ¡°And poor Herschel Hopkins would be the starring actor.¡±


    Liam joked, trying to ease my tension, and turned his gaze.


    In the centre was a high podium, and above it was a giant globe¡­


    A globe?


    It was a hologram. A huge, transparent globe spun slowly. Red dots appeared and disappeared, as did yellow dots, with some remaining in ce.


    I had to remind myself again: This is all magic, not science.


    ¡°That¡­¡±


    ¡°Our dear Meridian. The eye that watches over allnds.¡±


    Wow. Now it really felt like a game. Although the genre had shifted from thriller suspense mystery to gothic horror, and now to fantasy.


    I half-gave up trying to understand.


    ¡°What are those dots?¡±


    ¡°Dangers. Hidden among people, waiting for a chance to devour.¡±


    Everyone wearing long robes simultaneously focused on the centre. Suddenly, Herschel Hopkins and the judge? chairman? were standing there. Liam whispered to me.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be that hard. It¡¯s simr to a courtroom.¡±


    Sure, and that hologram is just like a hologram.


    The chairman spoke.


    ¡°All proceedings in this hearing are confidential, and all members of Greenwich are bound not to disclose them.¡±


    In other words, keep your mouth shut.


    ¡°Recently, an unprecedented threat has appeared in Greenwich. Remembering the names of those we lost, we now wish to discuss this threat. Herschel Hopkins, please exin.¡±


    Herschel stood up. I was worried they might treat him like a serious criminal because of the disciplinary hearing, but it seemed my worry was unfounded. Herschel was just a witness, after all. He wouldn¡¯t know everything that happened.


    I¡¯m the only one who knows the full truth of this incident. Meeting the king, obtaining mercy under the guise of a deal, and thus securing a reprieve for all of us¡ªit was all my doing.


    Thinking about it, Liam Moore might be shocked if he knew what Owen and I went through after he was kidnapped.


    Herschel began to speak in a calm and natural voice, like a lecture.


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t been long since it invaded my mind. Disguised as a strange book, it created a gap in me through the form of letters. It was a book I had never seen in the library, so I opened it out of curiosity, and thinking back, that¡¯s when the mental interference must have started.¡±


    ¡°What were the characteristics of the book?¡±


    ¡°A ck book. Dark leather binding, even the paper was ck, and all the letters were recorded in white ink. When I first read it, it was a cookbook. Then it changed to a history book, and next, it showed an iprehensiblenguage. I began to interpret it.¡±


    Could it have been an ancientnguage? I felt a sudden curiosity about the text. Just hearing the story made me want to read the book, maybe because of its nature. It seemed the book lured people this way.


    ¡°And then, my memory was cut off.¡±


    Herschel Hopkins paused, thinking deeply, then resumed his analysis.


    ¡°I must have finished the interpretation. When I came to my senses, I was gripped by the fear that I had to burn this cursed book. No one should know about it; it must never be released to the world.¡±


    Because it could be misused? Or was the content so inhumane?


    I frowned, focusing on his words.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember the content of the book, but I vividly recall screaming the whole time I was interpreting it. I burned the paper. I threw the book into the fire. And then, he spoke in my mind.¡±


    [Bow your head.]


    ¡°He had already finished everything. Burning it was also his intention.¡±


    Now I was a bit worried about Herschel. Professionally, Greenwich needed proper counselling therapy. His anxious eyes showed even here.


    ¡°¡­I asionally regained consciousness, but I was under his control. He often gave me control, letting me reflect on the deeds I had done.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°He seized control as if to show me. Under his power, I could do nothing. The mental barriers crumbled. I barely regained control when I almost strangled a visitor, but I realised I could never reim my body from him forever¡­.¡±


    The chairman asked the visitor¡¯s name. Herschel Hopkins hesitated before saying my name. Liam¡¯s grey eyes widened as they turned to me.


    Come to think of it, I hadn¡¯t told him this part. It felt rtively less dangerouspared to actually dyingter. I was getting increasingly indifferent to danger.


    The chairman lifted his head and looked at me with cold eyes.


    ¡°Jane Osmond, is this true?¡±

 Chapter 72: Greenwich (2)

    I answered, ¡°Yes, it¡¯s all true.¡±


    A short murmur spread and then subsided. I quietly straightened my back and looked at the people.


    ¡°I heard you noticed something unusual about Herschel Hopkins. How did you know?¡±


    Because he died and came back to life? But I couldn¡¯t say that. After a brief pause, I began to speak.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t wearing his ring. When I asked him about it, he tried to strangle me. His behaviour was odd. It looked like his body was desperately resisting, and as soon as he regained consciousness, he pushed me out of the house. At first, I thought he was being threatened.¡±


    ¡°After that, you went to see Owen Cassfire, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the professor gave me the address.¡±


    ¡°What did you request from him?¡±


    No, the interrogation had shifted to me. Stay calm. They still see me as an ordinary citizen who saved Liam Moore. My suspicions, or rather, my secrets, haven¡¯t been discovered yet. ¡°To prepare.¡±


    Owen Cassfire smiled faintly. Despite his weary appearance, he looked quite different with just a pair of sses. I exined while looking at him.


    ¡°Because I received a dahlia. I knew that anyone who received it would soon go missing or be a victim.¡±


    ¡°Please exin in detail, Miss Osmond.¡±


    Now, the chairman¡¯s tone was perfectly formal. Liam¡¯s hand reached out and squeezed mine. I quietly held his hand and spoke.


    ¡°¡­Let¡¯s go back to the case of the missing graduate student.¡±


    The story is simr. I exined, leaving out what must not be revealed. The dahlia found in the missing person¡¯s room, the dahlia in Liam¡¯s room, and the connection we found. And how the spell on it chased people. I added that all the people who had gone missing so far had likely received a dahlia.


    The chairman interrupted my speech and asked a question.


    ¡°How did you notice the spell on the dahlia? From what I hear, Miss Osmond, you had no knowledge of such things.¡±


    ¡°¡­I received help. I sought out someone who could give me advice. Investigating crime is about gathering information. That person taught me that the dahlia was strange.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s not too much trouble, could you tell us that person¡¯s name?¡±


    I smiled gently.


    ¡°Plurititas, who lives in Halden.¡±


    Gasps and exmations burst out from all around. People were now looking at me as if I were half-mad. No, more urately, they were reacting to the name ¡®Plurititas.¡¯ Was he really that intimidating? My smile turned awkward. This was embarrassing. I scratched my cheek.


    ¡°¡­He was quite helpful.¡±


    ¡°Imend your courage.¡±


    That much? He just seemed like an entric, inscrutable old man to me. Though he looked young on the outside.


    In any case, it seemed my information source was sufficiently exined. Or perhaps they understood the weight of the name Plurititas. Maybe they judged that he wouldn¡¯t lie. The chairman, having calmed the confusion, shifted the topic back to the unknown entity that had possessed Herschel.


    ¡°Based on the information provided and Owen Cassfire¡¯s testimony, the identity of that entity is clear.¡±


    The ck King.


    A capricious disaster descending upon the world, seeking pleasure and amusement.


    ¡°The lord of the stars, the one who tramples hope, a friend of darkness, a servant of the outer world, known by many names. But we shall call him by one name.¡±


    ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡±


    Liam Moore muttered. An unreadable, iprehensible word slipped briefly from his lips. A word? A song? It sounded like a foreignnguage. In any case, it was something I could never imitate. No, it was a word I shouldn¡¯t imitate.


    Nya, na¡­na, sso¡­.


    A strange repetition of sounds. Starting with a very soft pronunciation, ending with a harsh sound scraping the bottom of hell. I could guess it was a name. Probably the king¡¯s name.


    The moment I heard it, every hair on my body stood on end. My mind involuntarily recalled the voice of the king.


    ¡®I did note to bring peace to the world.¡¯


    Those words were etched into my soul. It felt like the king had carved each word into my skin with a knife.


    I can hear it. I can feel it! It feels like he¡¯s always beside me. Like a decaying skull embracing my neck, singing to me that I can¡¯t escape, that I am forever under his watch, that even my precious notebook won¡¯t help.


    ¡­The chairman spoke. Fortunately, this time it was something I could understand.


    ¡°¡­The Crawling Chaos.¡±


    And simultaneously something I couldn¡¯t understand.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Herschel¡¯s punishment was lenient.


    The atmosphere was tense, and I worried about the severity of the punishment, but after the word ¡®Crawling Chaos¡¯ was mentioned, everyone¡¯s attention shifted. It was as if that entity were present, and everyone spoke in hushed tones, as if afraid it might hear.


    Thanks to this, Herschel would only undergo intensive treatment in Greenwich for half a year. It didn¡¯t seem like he would face any major issues beyond that.


    ¡°That¡¯s good news, Professor!¡±


    As soon as the hearing ended, I smiled at Herschel, who came over to our side.


    ¡°I really thought something serious would happen to you¡­.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all thanks to you, Miss Jane. To be honest, I was a bit worried myself.¡±


    So, it usually doesn¡¯t end with such a mild disposition? Suddenly, Greenwich started to seem frightening.


    Herschel winked and then turned his gaze to the people passing by. A few of them offered formal greetings, saying he had worked hard.


    ¡°You ended up locked up.¡±


    Liam grumbled.


    ¡°Bing a godfather and then beating up your godson.¡±


    Ah, right. The professor was the one who attacked him. I stood there awkwardly, not knowing whose side to take between these two. As people left, they nced at us, making me feel embarrassed. How should I deal with these two bickering adults?


    ¡°Little Moore, you weren¡¯t exactly innocent either.¡±


    Herschel smiled benevolently, treating Liam like a child.


    ¡°And, I wasn¡¯t acting on my own will then, but you attacked as if you had been waiting for this opportunity, like an old rat¡­.¡±


    ¡°Herschel Hopkins!¡±


    ¡°Such disrespect! Did you see that, Miss Jane? This is how he behaves!¡±


    ¡°This old man, why are you dragging Jane into this?¡±


    Sigh. I pulled the two of them outside the conference room. Everyone was leaving, and we couldn¡¯t keep fighting like this.


    ¡°Stop fighting. Who do you think has had the hardest time here?¡±


    I had the hardest time.


    ¡°Professor, act your age. If you keep this up, I won¡¯t visit you until you¡¯re released. Liam Moore, show some respect to your elders. If you keep this up, I¡¯ll kick you out of the house.¡±


    Both of them closed their mouths as if on cue. Nagging was indeed the most effective method. I¡¯ll have to use it again next time.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Not long after, Herschel left, leaving the two of us behind. He had some minor tests to undergo, but they weren¡¯t anything to worry about, he said. They were checking if ¡®The Crawling Chaos¡¯ had affected his body, a sort of health examination. Since that was settled, I turned to look at Liam Moore.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Give me your hand.¡±


    I grabbed the hand he obediently offered. I rolled up the robe and pulled up the sleeve to reveal his forearm.


    Liam Moore showed a sheepish smile, but his eyes widened as my hand touched the scar. Now he seemed embarrassed.


    The skin on his forearm was white and distorted. It looked like a burn. Or like a lightning strike. The part where he had been bitten by a hunk of meat was sunken in, and although new skin was slowly growing, the scar would probably never disappear.


    As my fingers traced the wound, he called my name.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I feel sad¡­.¡±


    ¡°Is the scar that unappealing now?¡±


    Liam pressed his forehead gently against mine and smiled softly. His ash-coloured eyes looked at me warmly.


    ¡°Do you no longer want to cherish me?¡±


    Longer notice this time! I¡¯d be very thankful if you read this orz ;;


    Just today, the volume version of this novel was released on RIDI, and to my surprise, i found out that chapter 72 (this one!) is the end of volume 2 (out of 6, we still have a long way to go with liam and jane). As such, i¡¯ve decided topile the chapters in volumes, following the original! The first two volumes can be found on my kofi shop /ringring/shop/bailonz).


    this being said, thank you for reading this novel with me until now <3

 Chapter 73: Greenwich (3)

    ¡°Where on earth did you learn to say things like that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe I was born with that knowledge.¡±


    A soft cough startled me. I tried to push Liam Moore away, but instead, I was pulled closer and let out another small scream.


    ¡°Eek!¡±


    As I turned my head, I was drawn back by Liam Moore¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s about time I get off work.¡±


    It was Owen! He was watching us with great interest.


    ¡°You can leave. Jane and I need to have a conversation.¡±


    ¡°Why is this guy so clingy after nearly dying?¡± Owen said what I was thinking.


    Liam Moore seemed to have made up his mind afterst night. His expressions were overly abundant now. When I fidgeted slightly, he finally released me from his arms.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s good that you made up your mind. If you had realised anyter, she would have been in danger.¡±


    ¡°And we saw him too.¡±


    I added.


    ¡°Who was it again? The Crawling Chaos?¡±


    ¡°The Crawling Chaos. A dreadful, destructive, and infinitely sphemous ruler. It¡¯s better not to encounter him, but I don¡¯t know what whim made him spare us.¡±


    Ah, yes. The Crawling Chaos. What a senseless name. How does chaos crawl without limbs?


    ¡°¡­Anyway, that¡¯s the most well-known name, but we often use different terms to avoid attracting attention.¡±


    Is it like he-who-must-not-be-named? Though it was hard to understand, I tried to grasp the concept.


    ording to Owen, ¡®that being¡¯ never shows ¡®favour.¡¯ Considering all his actions, even a momentary disy of favour should not be interpreted as kindness.


    ¡°He only withdraws when he has a justifiable reason. In other words, if there¡¯s no purpose, he never retreats.¡±


    I muttered, ¡°Then we¡¯ll be chased continuously.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll protect you in Greenwich. Liam¡¯s partly responsible for getting you involved.¡±


    That was somewhat reassuring, but I couldn¡¯t bepletely at ease. I needed to prepare my own measures. Fortunately, the ck space I had briefly stayed in seemed favourable to me, and it might be helpful. Thinking about the ripple effect from that time somehow calmed my heart. It was peaceful¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried. I trust Liam, and he promised¡­¡±


    I replied.


    Owen raised an eyebrow, a look of pure curiosity spreading across his face. He was recalling the earlier incident. Teasing us yfully, Owen asked, ¡°You said you weren¡¯t involved with each other?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that we¡¯re not involved¡­ Anyway, that¡¯s how it turned out.¡±


    ¡°Tell me more about it. Let¡¯s hear about William Moore¡¯s love life.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll need some alcohol for that¡­¡±


    Suddenly, arge hand intervened in our conversation. When I looked back, I saw a very flushed face. Stammering, he finally managed to speak.


    ¡°Jane, I¡¯m starting to get jealous.¡±


    Owen shrieked, ¡°Ew!¡±


    Liam Moore shouted back, ¡°Get lost!¡±


    Owen, being mischievous, tried to insert himself between us again.


    ¡°Why, let me hear it too!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just trying to tease me, get lost!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe this¡­¡±


    ¡°Just get lost already!¡±


    They were indeed true friends.


    Owenughed so hard he clutched his stomach and rolled on the floor. It was only after he waved his hand and disappeared that Liam Moore could finally sit down, red-faced from all the teasing. His face and ears were flushed, and with his head buried in his knees, he slowly looked up at me with reddened eyes.


    ¡°I meant it.¡±


    Meant what? I blinked, startled. Did he really get jealous? Of his friend?


    ¡°If that guy is your type¡ª¡±


    ¡°Eek!¡±


    I stopped him with my palm. Liam Moore, whose mouth was now covered, muttered something. What is he saying? My hand felt warm. Every time his breath tickled my palm, my face grew hotter.


    ¡°L-Liam Moore, if you keep doing this, I¡¯ll leave you. I really will.¡±


    His grey eyes softened in a smile. It was a gesture of agreement. Only when I was sure he wouldn¡¯t say anything else did I remove my hand.


    Liam Moore felt unfamiliar.


    Damn it. As I realised this, I began to recall what I had done. From the kiss in the middle of the night to covering his mouth and scolding him sternly. These were things I would never do in my right mind. What drove me even crazier was the feeling of those lips¡­


    As I lost my words, the man simply held my hand and looked up at me. His face, once cold and sharp, had melted into a lively expression like spring snow. Seeing this, I couldn¡¯t help but think:


    What does he eat to look this beautiful?


    £ª £ª £ª


    The carriage ride back to 13 Bailonz Street was silent.


    Liam Moore had gotten a serious scolding at the hospital for using magic twice. He looked dazed, listening to the lectures about whether he had lost his mind or wanted to shorten his lifespan, and trudged back in a bewildered state.


    Acting pitiful after getting scolded? No way. I spoke sternly.


    ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to go out for a while. If you think of going out, I will leave, or you will.¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s expression was priceless. Even if the sky fell, he wouldn¡¯t look more shocked.


    However, he soon fell asleep under the influence of the medication, and the only sound in the carriage was his head asionally bumping against the window.


    His bangs hade loose and falling forward. Though his eyelids trembled slightly, he was undoubtedly in a deep sleep. Just like the other times I watched him sleep. It seemed to be a habit of his to fall asleep without moving. Even with people around, he wouldn¡¯t wake up, which made him seem somewhat vulnerable.


    Will he be alright? I mumbled.


    I was already beyond the point of no return, and maybe my presence was more dangerous for him than his for me.


    My existence might be a threat to others. It was a deeply unpleasant realisation. Yet, you seemed like you would walk into danger without a second thought.


    ¡°Will you be alright?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    I saw his grey eyes. He had opened his eyes and was gazing at me. With his eyes looking darker in the shadows, he asked,


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    I hesitated before replying, changing the subject.


    ¡°¡­Well, Mary¡¯s psychological shock?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    Poor Mary.


    When the carriage arrived and I got out, Mary eagerly opened the door. With Liam also missing and me gone for a few days, Mary must have been extremely anxious, worried that she might have to arrange funerals for both of us.


    ¡°My goodness, miss! Where have you been all this time?¡±


    She cried out as she ran out. I gave an embarrassed smile.


    ¡°Mary, I¡¯m sorry. I had some circumstances.¡±


    Poor Mary probably considered filing a missing persons report for both of us.


    Greenwich hadn¡¯t bothered to inform Mary about our whereabouts, so to her, it seemed like I had disappeared for days and just returned, bringing Liam Moore with me!


    ¡°Can hee down?¡±


    Mary noticed the slow voiceing from inside the carriage. Her eyes wavered slightly.


    ¡°He cane down.¡±


    A gloved hand reached out. When I extended my hand, it rested on mine. With aposed expression like ady being escorted, it was a bit funny.


    But for Mary, our return wasn¡¯t entirely aughing matter. Seeing Liam Moore leaning on me as he got out of the carriage, her mouth fell open. It didn¡¯t feel good. I quickly reached out to calm her down.


    ¡°Mary, I can exin everything¡­,¡±


    ¡°Ahhhh!¡±


    It was a disaster.

 Chapter 74: Return

    Mary screamed when she saw Liam Moore, and thendlord came running out. Everyone around¡ªneighbours, passersby on the street¡ªstared at us. A patrolling officer also ran over and screamed when he saw Liam Moore.


    ¡°Ahhh!¡±


    Why are you screaming too? And why in such a high-pitched tone?


    One of the people who had gathered pointed at us, stammering.


    ¡°L-Liam Moore! It¡¯s Liam Moore!¡±


    ¡°Is he really alive?¡±


    It¡¯s not like there was a banner in the neighbourhood saying, ¡°[Breaking News] Liam Moore Dead, Shocks London¡­¡± Why did everyone assume he was dead?


    ¡°Is that detective really alive?¡±


    Someone added,te to the realisation. ¡°No, he wasn¡¯t dead to begin with.¡±


    Who spread this false information about him dying? I turned my head abruptly, ring at the crowd, which fell silent. Yet, with each blink, more people seemed to appear. Although the police were trying to disperse them, it didn¡¯t seem to be quieting down any time soon.


    ¡°He was told to restpletely.¡±


    Liam Moore, who had been stifling yawns, was now dozing off on my shoulder. An officer came over to talk, but I couldn¡¯t give a proper response. I waved my hand dismissively while dragging the rxed Liam.


    ¡°Later. Tell Inspector Jefferson we¡¯ll visit himter!¡±


    I pushed the still drowsy Liam through the front door. Mary, wide-eyed, helped a bit, but he was incredibly heavy. Why was he so heavy when he was just skin and bones?


    Finally, we returned to 13 Bailonz Street. Perhaps our dramatic return would make it into the newspapers tomorrow.


    ¡°Huh, ha¡­.¡±


    Liam Moore was dozing against the wall, Mary stared at us as if she¡¯d seen a ghost, and the murmuring outside the locked door continued unabated. I sighed.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Two dayster, on December 23rd, we received a letter from Arthur Moore.


    Liam Moore was meekly enjoying his convalescence. I was, too. We even put up a notice saying we weren¡¯t taking any new cases for a while. Some were disappointed, but they seemed to understand given our recent ordeal.


    Our return to 13 Bailonz Street was stered on the front page of the newspapers. I had anticipated it, but seeing it in print was still shocking. Various daily newspapers described how remarkably healthy Liam Moore looked as he stepped out of the carriage. Somehow, there was even a photograph. I never imagined I¡¯d see myself supporting him on the front page.


    ¡°My portrait rights¡­¡±


    I told myself not to cry. If my family found out, it would be noisy, but somehow, we¡¯d manage.


    Then, letters started pouring into our home. Most were trivial congrattions on Liam Moore¡¯s return. I turned over the stack of letters with gloved hands, recognizing a familiar name.


    [A. Moore.]


    The sight made me gasp. Liam Moore, startled by my scream, stopped in his tracks and stared at the letter in my hand. His eyes were trembling.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s for you.¡±


    With Christmas approaching, perhaps his father was summoning him home? But Liam¡¯s expression turned sour as he read the letter.


    ¡°Damn¡­¡±


    He muttered, rubbing his forehead.


    News of our return had spread quickly. If Liam¡¯s father had contacts in London, he would have heard about his son¡¯s dramatic disappearance and return. From someone else¡¯s mouth, no less.


    This made me realise Liam might have been a negligent son. Peacefully living his life only to suddenly hear, ¡°Hey, your son is missing?¡± ¡°How would you know something I don¡¯t?¡± And then, a few dayster, ¡°Oh, they found him.¡± I couldn¡¯t even imagine how bewildering that must be.


    ¡°What a bad son¡­¡±


    I muttered.


    ¡°Ahem.¡±


    Liam Moore cleared his throat.


    Liam seemed to have forgotten about his father. Or he assumed his father wouldn¡¯t care about his affairs.


    His eyes kept flicking between the letter and me.


    ¡°We¡¯re in trouble.¡±


    ¡°How much more trouble can we get into?¡±


    ¡°My father is summoning me home.¡±


    ¡°This is bad.¡±


    This was genuinely bad. How much grief had this troublemaker son caused his father? Liam Moore drove me crazy; his father must have been even more worried.


    I apologise, Arthur Moore. I didn¡¯t expect him to be like this either¡­.


    ¡°When was thest time you wrote to your father?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    So long he couldn¡¯t remember.


    ¡°There were a lot of recent events¡­.¡±


    Liam Moore trailed off.


    ¡°Surely you don¡¯t consider a few months ago as recent?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    No answer. So, it had been months since hisst contact. I rubbed my forehead.


    ¡°Write a reply immediately. Say you¡¯ll leave right away.¡±


    Liam hesitated.


    ¡°I was nning to go, but¡­¡±


    ¡°But what?¡±


    ¡°I sort of forgot¡­¡±


    Who forgets about their father? I stared at him in disbelief. I couldn¡¯t lecture him on Eastern filial piety, so I held my tongue.


    He asked cautiously.


    ¡°We have to leave immediately, don¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Why ask the obvious?¡±


    ¡°¡­Come with me.¡±


    He looked at me with his grey eyes. He held my hand and turned back to the letter, nervously rereading the same lines.


    Asking me toe along and then feeling embarrassed¡ªwhat an odd situation. Why would I go to meet his father? What would I say?


    Hello, I¡¯m Jane Osmond. I¡¯m¡­ quite close with your son¡­?


    ¡°What would I do there?¡±


    Liam had no answer. See? It would be awkward.


    His son had be notorious (constantly involved in crimes), and now he was bringing a woman? Not a wife or even a fianc¨¦e, but just living together? Oh, and their rtionship seemed a bit odd?


    It would be a disaster. We wouldn¡¯t make a good impression.


    ¡°To¡­ introduce you.¡±


    ¡°As what?¡±


    ¡°First love?¡±


    This is absurd.


    His attempts to persuade me weremendable but all terrible answers.


    After a while of pondering, I gave in.


    ¡°There¡¯s a beach, right?¡±


    I finally asked. Liam, sensing my decision, replied.


    ¡°There¡¯s a small beach. The sea breeze is harsh in winter, but it¡¯s still¡­.¡±


    ¡°Is it worth seeing?¡±


    Liam nodded. He put down the letter and wrapped his arm around my waist. Unlike before, he was now below me.


    I leaned on the sofa¡¯s backrest and looked into his eyes. He whispered quietly.


    ¡°Very¡­ beautiful.¡±


    Did he really need to say it in this position? Was he actually a fox, not a cat? Were all his actions strategic? Either way, it was hard to refuse.


    His long fingers brushed my hand. Was the impure implication my imagination?


    ¡°There¡¯s a white cliff, a beautiful coastline below. Lots of heather flowers. You¡¯ll love it.¡±


    I quietly moved my lips.


    ¡°You¡¯ll go, right? Let me show you Nifoisse Hall.¡±


    Liam Moore asked again, certain of my agreement. I sighed and smiled.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll go.¡±


    Liam Moore finally looked satisfied.


    It seemed like I had been caught in his trap.


    omg i love these 2 sm¡­ sorry for thete update, ive been quite busy these days and focused a bit on catching up w my other novels.. but ill restart with bailonz regr updates pretty soon !! i also created a discord server (.gg/MmW9vpjgvn) to send novel specific updates abt my work..so if u wanna check it out feel free to!


    cant wait for the arthur and jane meetup¡­! and see you soon

 Chapter 75: Heathford (1)

    In the southwest of Enndy the hometown of Liam Moore. Not quite in the south, but notpletely in the west either, it was in a vague location. Since I didn¡¯t know much about the geography of Ennd or how to divide it into regions, I decided to refer to it roughly as the southwest.


    Heathford, our destination, was a little west of Birmingham and located by the coast. We set out in the morning and arrived at Langcard Station in Heathfordte in the afternoon.


    When I first saw the scenery there, I felt a sense of longing. An unknown sadness welled up within me as I looked at the unfamiliarndscape.


    It had been a long time since I had breathed fresh air, free from the stench of the Thames River.


    ¡°The air is so clean.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like heavenpared to London, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I agreed wholeheartedly.


    Heathford was surrounded by mountains in the distance, with forests and fields. As if living up to its name, there were heather bushes scattered everywhere. It was barren, quiet, and a ce where the gray and blue sea coexisted. I could understand why Liam Moore described it as beautiful.


    Liam Moore¡¯s expression was tense as he disembarked at Langcard Station. He quietly surveyed his surroundings and fixed his gaze on a distant white mansion. It was clear at a nce: that was Nifoisse Hall. Whether Arthur Moore was pleased or concerned about his son¡¯s visit was uncertain, but he certainly showed consideration by arranging for a carriage to be waiting.


    The coachman, who was checking his pocket watch, waved when he saw Liam. He was a young man around Liam¡¯s age.


    ¡°Master!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but smile a little. It was amusing to hear Liam, who was already twenty-nine, being addressed as ¡°Master.¡± Liam, embarrassed, waved his hand dismissively.


    ¡°No need to call me that¡­¡±


    ¡°I heard you¡¯d be bringing a guest. It¡¯s been a while since we¡¯ve had visitors at Nifoisse Hall!¡±


    It was simr to how Mary called me ¡°Miss.¡± Born a master, indeed.


    Liam quickly loaded our luggage into the carriage, as if to avoid any further remarks. Then, like a true gentleman, he offered me his knee to help me climb in.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure.¡±


    The coachman was still watching me with curious eyes, probably wondering who I was and what my rtionship with his master was.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Liam said, blocking the coachman¡¯s view with his body. We heard a ¡°Yes, sir,¡± and the carriage door closed, and we started moving.


    The road was a bit rough. It was unreasonable to expect roads as well-paved as those in London here. I was ustomed to bumpy streets, so the rough ride didn¡¯t affect my first impression of Heathford.


    Something caught my eye. I gestured towards it.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    Liam leaned towards me in response to my brief call. I straightened his crooked tie. Liam Moore was perfect in many ways, but he could be quite careless at times.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want to meet your father looking untidy, would you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think my father would scold me for that.¡±


    ¡°¡­Manners maketh man.¡±


    I quoted a famous movie line as I smoothed down his hair. Liam seemed not to understand, but at least he should try to look his best.


    We had a long way to go. I wished Herschel was here, but he was confined in Greenwich. Recuperating, perhaps? Or on unpaid leave¡­


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m here to recuperate, remember?¡±


    I repeated to Liam, even though I had told him several times during the train ride. I was worried he might exin it in his own way.


    ¡°Yes, yes. I¡¯ll introduce you as my unfortunate assistant who got caught up in my case and had toe here to recover.¡±


    ¡°If you give any other reason, I¡¯ll really¡­¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    What would I do? I thought for a moment before raising my finger.


    ¡°I¡¯ll spank you.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    I immediately regretted saying that. Liam¡¯s expression changed to one of peculiar delight, as if he liked the idea.


    The carriage was warm, and Liam kept smiling at me.


    ¡°¡­You think my butt is tempting, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°No, no!¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it? Then¡­ is it too t by your standards?¡±


    Please, enough with the butt talk. Why is a 19th-century man so open about these things? My face turned bright red, and I buried my head against the carriage window.


    ¡°Liam Moore is crazy¡­¡±


    I muttered. Liam chuckled.


    ¡°Why, I¡¯m very curious about Miss Jane Osmond¡¯s criteria for a nice butt. Do you prefer it soft? Or firm? Muscr¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, yours is quite decent, crazy¡ªah! Ah! I want to go back. Let me out.¡±


    Liam widened his eyes, then seemed satisfied when I said ¡°decent.¡±


    I knew he was crazy, but I didn¡¯t expect him to have so much pride in his butt¡­


    I didn¡¯t want to resort to harsh words, but this man brought it out in me. I weakly knocked on the carriage wall.


    ¡°Please let me out. I can¡¯t stay in the same carriage as Liam Moore¡­¡±


    By the time Liam wiped away his tears fromughing, the carriage had slowed down.


    We passed a meticulously maintained garden, then ake on the estate, and finally saw Nifoisse Hall. The snow that had fallen a few days ago was still there. The white shrubs matched the white mansion beautifully.


    ¡°Wow¡­¡±


    I forgot about being teased and eximed in admiration. It was even more beautiful than in Herschel¡¯s memories.


    As the carriage came to a stop in front of the entrance, we saw several people waiting to greet us. An elderly man with an umbre, a middle-aged couple, and a young man around Liam¡¯s age were there. They were undoubtedly Liam¡¯s family.


    Liam got out first. I quietly observed the situation from within the curtained carriage.


    ¡°William!¡±


    The kindly-looking woman called out with a smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m so d you¡¯re healthy!¡±


    It¡¯s good to see that feeding and resting him well paid off. They must have been worried sick when they heard he was missing. Seeing their relieved expressions put my mind at ease.


    ¡°Mother.¡±


    Liam gave a sheepish smile as he kissed the woman¡¯s cheek.


    ¡°Brother.¡±


    The young man beside them added.


    ¡°I¡¯m d you returned safely.¡±


    Liam Moore looked just like his father, but the young man seemed to take after their mother. His blonde hair and light green eyes were striking. Unlike Liam, he seemed quite sociable.


    ¡°Theo.¡±


    So his name is Theo. This family has a knack for beautiful names.


    ¡°¡­Father.¡±


    Liam briefly nced at Arthur Moore. Arthur looked at his son with a slightly furrowed brow, then sighed and gave him a short hug.


    ¡°Son.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°My dream is to die of natural causes.¡±


    ¡°¡­Yes.¡±


    ¡°Please, please don¡¯t give me a heart attack with your news.¡±


    Liam nodded repeatedly.


    While the family had their touching reunion, I remained hidden in the carriage. I felt it would be awkward toe out now. But Liam Moore had a different idea. Arthur Moore¡¯s keen light green eyes turned towards the carriage where I was hiding.


    ¡°When will you introduce yourpanion?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right.¡±


    Liam quickly approached and opened the door. Suddenly under the family¡¯s scrutiny, I rolled my eyes. Were my ears turning red from embarrassment?


    The fact that their eldest son had returned home with a ¡®woman¡¯ seemed to shock them. Liam¡¯s brother looked at me with wide eyes, while the Moores smiled warmly at Liam and me.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    Liam chuckled at my flustered state and extended his hand.


    Should I take it?


    ¡°If I don¡¯t get out now, I¡¯ll look like a strange woman, won¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll just think you¡¯re shy.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Holding back tears, I got out. I bowed slightly as Liam introduced me.


    ¡°This is my assistant. She got caught up in the recent case and was badly injured.¡±


    Me? I¡¯m perfectly fine. I should have wrapped my head in bandages. His excusecked credibility. I was a little heartbroken, but that didn¡¯t show on the outside.


    ¡°So she¡¯s here to recuperate. And we have plenty of rooms.¡±


    ¡°I see, the youngdy you mentioned in your letter.¡±


    Arthur Moore murmured. Damn. I dread to think what Liam had written in that letter. I cautiously opened my mouth.


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m Jane Osmond.¡±

 Chapter 76: Heathford (2)

    Mrs. Moore approached and grasped both of my hands warmly.


    ¡°You must have had a hard time because of our son. Please,e in.¡±


    Her hands were incredibly warm, just like Liam Moore¡¯s. Her smiling gaze seemed to wee me deeply, making my heart flutter.


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m the one who should be grateful to Liam, so it¡¯s alright.¡±


    ¡°Oh my, what a kind heart you have. Don¡¯t worry. We know our son can be difficult.¡±


    Liam Moore, you better treat your parents well¡­.


    Liam put his arm around my shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s cold outside, let¡¯s go in. Mother, you shouldn¡¯t stay out for too long either.¡±


    ¡°¡­M.¡± Arthur Moore, who had been silently observing, carefully escorted his wife. We followed them, and Liam¡¯s younger brother walked beside me.


    Liam whispered, ¡°Are you cold?¡±


    What is he worrying about now? I poked his side and whispered back, ¡°Take care of yourself first, patient. If you fall ill, many people will nag at you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°See?¡±


    Nifoisse Hall was incredibly warm. Whether it was a boiler or underfloor heating, the house itself radiated warmth. I was slightly surprised as it was warm enough to break a sweat.


    The 19th century wasn¡¯t known for efficient heating. They relied on stoves and fireces, which meant if the fire weakened, a bone-chilling cold would set in. I¡¯ve woken up cold in the middle of the night before.


    But here, the cold didn¡¯t even seem to touch the ce. Despite it being the middle of December outside.


    ¡°Your coat, please¡­.¡±


    The butler naturally took our coats and handed them to a waiting servant.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have them ironed and brought up to your room.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    It was truly a courteous reception. I looked at Liam, feeling a bit dazed. He blinked and then smiled softly. Seeing his face, I felt¡­ well, it looked like he was just happy to have me here.


    ¡®Is everything alright?¡¯


    He mouthed the words. I nodded slightly.


    The Moores excused themselves first and asked the butler to show us to our rooms. At that moment, Liam¡¯s younger brother spoke up.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    Mrs. Moore seemed briefly surprised, though it might have been my imagination. Since no one objected, he received the key and nced at me.


    Oh no. His expression wasn¡¯t a good one.


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    And now, with Liam summoned by his parents, it was just me and Liam¡¯s younger brother in an awkward silence.


    Despite the house being warm, it felt chilly.


    I wanted to cry a little. Clearly, this second young master didn¡¯t like me. His stare felt prickly.


    ¡°Um¡­.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    He spoke coldly. His tone carried a chilling wind.


    ¡°This way.¡±


    He started up the stairs without another word, making me more conscious of my surroundings. Though he looked gentle, he was colder than Liam.


    Maybe because of the prolonged silence, he eventually spoke, though it seemed more out of obligation.


    ¡°If you wait a bit, a servant will bring your luggage. The second floor has my parents¡¯ rooms, so you likely won¡¯t need to go there. Theyout twists from east to west. Most guest rooms are on the third floor, but¡­ my brother prefers quiet, so his room is at the far end of the third floor.¡±


    I understood. It was an L-shapedyout. Avoid the second floor.


    ¡°You can use this room, Miss Osmond.¡±


    My room was also on the third floor. Though a bit distant from Liam¡¯s room, it seemed manageable. Liam could visit often too.


    As he inserted the key into the door at the west end, he spoke.


    ¡°We¡¯ve prepared it to be asfortable as possible.¡±


    Upon entering, arge window filling the wall and a round terrace greeted me.


    Describing this room would take at least three pages. It was that spacious. The lighting was great, and the furniture and bedding colors matched elegantly. The firece was lit, making the whole room warm.


    ¡°If you need anything, pull this bell cord. If you need medicine, we¡¯ll call the household doctor.¡±


    I nodded. It seemed the household doctor was on standby, which was fortunate. I¡¯d have to get Liam examined.


    ¡°Can I go to the seaside?¡±


    I asked.


    ¡°Yes. There are stairs leading to the sea behind the mansion. Be cautious, the cliffside is windy, so go when the weather is nice.¡±


    I approached the window. The white foam of the waves was visible even from here.


    ¡°Wow¡­.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but exim at the vast view. Quietly admiring, I fixed my gaze on the distant dark blue horizon.


    ¡°¡­You like the sea,¡±


    At that moment, his low voice continued.


    ¡°don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. In Bailonz, you can only see the Thames River. Oh, um¡­ what should I call you?¡±


    ¡°Please, call me Theodore¡­ if you will.¡±


    ¡°Theodore.¡±


    Theodore blinked. His eyes, fixed on me with his hands behind his back, made me blink too. Why is he looking at me like that?


    ¡°¡­Um, you¡¯ve seemed hesitant since earlier. Do you have something to say to me?¡±


    Caught off guard, Theodore bit his lip and stopped ncing at me. After a long pause, he spoke. His formal face carried shocking words.


    ¡°What is your rtionship with my brother?¡±


    Oh. The Moore family seems to be perceptive. Trying to evade, I opened my mouth.


    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m his assistant?¡±


    ¡°My brother treats women like stones.¡±


    Wow, that¡¯s not something I wanted to know.


    He added, ¡°He¡¯s never been interested in women. He¡¯s only known the women in this house. He¡¯s not the type to show affection. You must know this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re getting at, Theodore.¡±


    Theodore stepped closer. Though he looked polite, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of being interrogated.


    ¡°It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen my brother show such intimate, affectionate attention.¡±


    Now I understood why he¡¯d been staring at me. His brother, who treated women like stones, suddenly brought one home, and they seemed closer than expected. This must have stirred his curiosity.


    But I couldn¡¯t just tell him, ¡®Yes, I stole your brother¡¯s kiss!¡¯ This was someone I just met, and¡­ he was Liam¡¯s brother. Besides, I didn¡¯t want to make a bad first impression.


    ¡°When you share life-and-death experiences, a bond forms, like camaraderie.¡±


    ¡°Once more, what is your rtionship?¡±


    Damn, that didn¡¯t work.


    Theodore Moore kept staring at me intensely. Just then, behind him, I saw a familiar head of ck hair. Oh, Liam. As I opened my mouth,


    ¡°Sister-inw.¡±


    He dropped a bombshell. What was I to do with this man who dered me his sister-inw to a stranger? I nced nervously between Liam and Theodore. Theodore seemed unaware his brother was behind him.


    Thud. The sound made Theodore turn around. Liam had dropped my suitcase and was staring nkly at his brother. Theodore shrieked in a high-pitched voice,


    ¡°¡­Brother?!¡±


    My troubled thoughts¡­ and anxious eyes¡­ observed by Liam Moore.


    It wasn¡¯t a war. It was a catastrophe.


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°Hands up straight.¡±


    What kind of situation is this? Sitting on the bed, I watched Theodore Moore with aplicated expression. Nothing goes right when caught between foolish brothers.


    Liam Moore stood beside me, arms crossed, ring coldly at his brother. His gaze was crooked, his face full of irritation.


    Theodore Moore knelt on the floor, hands raised, looking utterly defeated. I wasn¡¯t punished like this even when I was seven.


    ¡°I wondered why you werete, but it seems you had time to chat with my assistant.¡±


    ¡°¡­Brother¡­.¡±


    ¡°Theodore Axel Moore.¡±


    He used his full name. Never a good sign. Theodore flinched and bowed his head low. Clearly, Liam maintained strict discipline at home. A truly intimidating brother.


    ¡°No matter who I meet, who I bring home.¡±


    Liam frowned and tilted his head.


    ¡°It¡¯s my freedom.¡±


    ¡°¡­Yes.¡±


    ¡°You have no right to question our rtionship. Understood?¡±


    Theodore shut his eyes tightly.


    ¡°¡­Yes.¡±

 Chapter 77: Heathford (3)

    Seeing his downcast face reminded me of Jonathan (my dear younger brother). He looked just as dejected when he was scolded. I quietly whispered to Liam, ¡°Don¡¯t be too hard on him. He is your brother, after all.¡±


    ¡°But he called you¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, he called me ¡®sister-inw.¡¯ It was refreshing. I¡¯m used to being called Mrs. Moore.¡±


    Theodore Moore¡¯s eyes sparkled. He must have thought I was fullymitted to a future with Liam. His hands were up, and his eyes were twinkling, making me feel a bit uneasy. It would be easier to just send them both away and get some sleep.


    ¡°By the way, Mr. William Schofield Moore, you seem to have forgotten something.¡±


    Liam flinched and nced at me nervously. Yes, it¡¯s scary being called by your full name, isn¡¯t it? Makes you wonder what you did wrong.


    ¡°Your assistant desperately needs rest.¡±


    Don¡¯t forget the excuse you used.


    Realising my point, Liam finally untangled his arms from their crossed position. ¡°Get up, Theo. We won¡¯t bring this up again.¡±


    Then he started ushering his brother out of the room. His quick action wasmendable. Liam, half out the door, popped his head back in.


    ¡°Jane, may Ie wake you up for dinner?¡±


    ¡°¡­Yes, please.¡±


    He smiled obediently. It seemed he liked the word ¡®please.¡¯


    ¡°Then have a peaceful rest, my dear assistant.¡±


    He winked lightly, ensuring his brother wouldn¡¯t see. The gesture made my face flush.


    The sound of the door closing finally allowed me to lie down on the bed. Exhaustion took over, and sleep quickly followed. I heard the sound of waves.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I heard singing.


    It felt distant, as if it came from afar, yet it also seemed to echo inside my head, as if it was right next to me. Listening closely, I realised it wasn¡¯t singing but the sound of waves. The sound of waves crashing and breaking.


    That¡¯s it. This ce is¡­ the sea.


    Recognizing this, my body felt as if it was floating in the water. I didn¡¯t worry about sinking because the saltwater¡¯s density was high enough to keep me afloat. It feltforting, almost natural.


    I enjoyed that sensation for a while before opening my eyes. The warm liquid around me signalled I had returned to ¡®that ce.¡¯


    Familiar darkness, a ck sea, and a faint pearly glow visible in the distance.


    The space seemed to expand endlessly yet felt very confined. It was an iprehensible principle, but living here, I had long since realised that ¡®understanding¡¯ wasn¡¯t always good. I had a rough idea why people say knowing too much is not beneficial.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    I remember hearing that the human subconscious is vast and what the brain can do is a mystery. Whether this was andscape inside my head or a connection to some¡­ space, I didn¡¯t know, but it seemed necessary to think about how I could be connected to such a ce.


    ¡°¡­Ah.¡±


    My voice echoed dully, as if filled with water. The sound didn¡¯t escape my body, resonating in ce before dissipating.


    I stood up. The very ck liquid swirled around my ankles.


    Maybe the gravity here is strong. Moments ago, I felt like I could float at any moment, but now my body felt heavy.


    It seemed like I was constantly sinking, but there was a bottom. Having a floor was good. It meant I could predict where I would end up. Conversely, if there was no bottom, it meant endless sinking, with no idea whether it would take seconds or minutes to reach a ck void.


    ¡®Can we not be afraid?¡¯


    A small sound grew into a tone and then into words.


    Sound¡­


    ¡°Who¡­.¡±


    The sound of waves returned.


    The waves from the ck liquid sea, the horizon indistinguishable from the darkness, reached me. It was bing clearer, stronger.


    Is this a beach?


    A voice answered at that moment.


    ¡¸It could be, or not.¡¹


    It was the first time I heard this voice. It sounded like dozens of voices speaking at once. It was beautiful, like a song or a chorus.


    ¡°M-my thoughts¡­.¡±


    You¡¯re reading my thoughts.


    ¡¸Of course. We are unconsciously connected right now.¡¹


    Was it a child? A teenager? An adult? The age and gender were indiscernible. The voiceughed. It felt familiar, addressing me in a friendly manner. I stayed silent, trying to think of nothing while staring into the darkness.


    The voice asked again.


    ¡¸Is my talking unpleasant? Should I stay quiet like before?¡¹


    ¡°Like before?¡±


    ¡¸Quietly watching your hardships.¡¹


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not necessary.¡±


    The voiceughed again. It was hard to tell where it wasing from since it echoed from all directions. If it came from one ce, it would feel more like a conversation. It felt like listening to a divine revtion.


    I can¡¯t just ask, ¡®Are you a god?¡¯ right? Gods aren¡¯t supposed to be this irresponsible. Shouldn¡¯t they create light and new life with omnipotence?


    Even my constant grumbling seemed to be noticed. The voice, merging into one, starteding from a spot just ahead. It was quite gentle.


    ¡¸Forgive me for not showing myself. We are not deeply synchronised yet.¡¹


    ¡°Synchronized?¡±


    ¡¸Not close enough, you could say?¡¹


    So, we haven¡¯t built enough rapport.


    ¡°I understand, sort of.¡±


    ¡¸But I believe I can help you someday.¡¹


    I muttered, d to hear that.


    Am I meeting a system? My mind keeps thinking in a fantasy way, probably due to recent experiences. I used to be a realistic person, and now I¡¯m bing so unrealistic!


    ¡¸Jane.¡¹


    The voice said. I heard a gentle ssh nearby. Ripples reached me. The same entity that sent ripples before, it was them for sure.


    Ah, they are nearby.


    I took a step and walked slowly in that direction. No matter how far I walked, the water remained shallow. It felt like an endless shallow beach.


    ¡°Keep talking.¡±


    The voice hummed lightly, saying various things, guiding me to its location. The song sounded familiar, though I was hearing it for the first time. Sad and beautiful¡­.


    When the voice was very close, it stopped.


    I reached out into the darkness.


    After a moment, a clear-skinned hand rested on mine. It glowed faintly even in the dark. The touch was warm.


    The voice spoke like a song.


    ¡¸Hello. I¡¯m El.¡¹


    ¡°Hello. I¡¯m¡­¡±


    I hesitated. I¡¯m Jane? But that wasn¡¯t my name. This face wasn¡¯t mine either.


    Laughter followed. The voice added,


    ¡¸Be careful. You are very noticeable.¡¹


    £ª £ª £ª


    Be careful? I was about to ask when I woke up suddenly.


    I opened my eyes to see Liam Moore¡¯s face right in front of me. My heart almost leaped out of my mouth. I grabbed my chest and let out a short yelp, and Liam, startled, fell off the bed with a thud.


    ¡°Are you okay?!¡±


    I asked in a high-pitched voice.


    Liam, sprawled on the floor, propped himself up on the bed with a groan. He waved a hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, I¡¯m fine¡­¡±


    Why was he like this? Unless he wanted to give someone a heart attack!


    Liam mumbled an apology.


    ¡°Sorry, you were sleeping so deeply¡­¡±


    Who wakes someone up with a shock like that? My sleep waspletely gone. My mind cleared instantly.


    ¡°I almost died of fright!¡±


    Liam Moore widened his eyes and then chuckled. I patted my head. My heart was still pounding. I got out of bed without any time to feel drowsy.


    ¡°What-what time is it? How long have I been asleep?¡±


    Liam found a hairpin nearby and handed it to me.


    ¡°Ten to six. I came to wake you because dinner is being prepared.¡±


    ¡°What time is dinner?¡±


    ¡°6:30. We still have about 40 minutes. Want help getting ready?¡±


    He watched as I fixed my hair, then approached and tucked my hair behind my ear. I was trying to look neat, but he was pulling out stray hairs.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be too formal, my parents will feel morefortable that way.¡±


    Ah, I see.

 Chapter 78: Heathford (4)

    After loosely tying up my hair, I opened the trunk. Inside were light casual clothes. Four sets were enough to rotate through. Thankfully, I hadn¡¯t packed too much. Even though I liked to dress informally, it wouldn¡¯t be appropriate to just wear a blouse. In this era, shirts and blouses were considered simr to underwear. So, I wore a vest that matched the color of my skirt.


    ¡°Do my eyes look swollen? Am I okay?¡±


    I asked.


    ¡°You look good no matter what.¡±


    Came the slick reply, full of glossy words. I let out a short, hollowugh, reminded of the teenage Liam Moore I had seen in Herschel¡¯s memories. Once I seemed almost ready, Liam subtly offered his elbow. He was dressed lightly as well, wearing a blue shirt that paired well with a navy vest.


    ¡°Shall we go?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    As I left the room, I heard the strange sound of waves again. Swoosh, ssh. Swoosh, ssh. It felt like my ears were filled with water. It was clear that I was the only one hearing the repetitive sound because Liam Moore¡¯s face remained calm. I nced at the slightly open window.


    ¡®I¡¯m sure I closed it before sleeping.¡¯ From outside, I heard a faint song, calling me, like a dark sea¡¯s luby.


    ¡°Jane?¡±


    Liam turned back to me with a puzzled expression when I stopped walking.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, just¡­¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what expression to make. I couldn¡¯t say that I heard a song. Maybe I mistook the sound of the sea and wind for a song, even if I really heard it. You shouldn¡¯t know. I slowly turned toward the window and spoke as normally as possible.


    ¡°I forgot to close the window¡­¡±


    ¡°I see. It¡¯s better not to leave it open at night, it could get cold.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I quietly looked outside. There was nothing. No voice calling me from outside, no song. Clunk, thud. I closed the window and locked it. Then I returned to Liam Moore with a smile. As we stepped outside, the warm air and the smell of food surrounded us.


    £ª £ª £ª


    After finishing our meal, we gathered for tea time. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Proving this, wreaths and stockings were hung above the firece. I wondered if Mary was doing well alone. I heard she would spend Christmas with Mrs. Mayer and George. Liam and I nned to stay here until Christmas before returning, but¡­


    ¡®But¡­¡¯


    What was this spectacle?


    The entire Moore family was gathered, knitting. Mrs. Moore, Sir Moore, and even the second son, Theodore Moore, were all together. Liam had left to get some mulled wine, but it seemed like there was some for him too. As I watched therge basket in the center filled with wool and the knitting needles moving busily, I asked hesitantly.


    ¡°Um, how do you knit socks?¡±


    Mrs. Moore looked surprised for a moment, then her cheeks flushed slightly. She handed me needles and yarn, exining how to knit and purl, how to reduce stitches, and so on¡­ Honestly, I didn¡¯t understand. As I awkwardly tangled the yarn, Liam returned with a tray full of mulled wine. Seeing me participating in the knitting circle, he looked wide-eyed and reluctantly sat down.


    ¡°No socks, no presents.¡±


    Mrs. Moore said kindly. Liam asked back.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Presents.¡±


    Liam gave me a desperate look as if asking for help, then stopped. He was speechless at the bizarre, hideous, and almost sacrilegious mass of yarn in my hands.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    What. Why. How was it my fault that Icked skill? I decided to give up knitting and just drink my mulled wine.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I was awakened by amotion. I fumbled for my pocket watch on the nightstand. What time was it?


    ¡°9 o¡¯clock¡­¡±


    Last night, what happened again? I drank mulled wine, chatted with Liam¡¯s parents, heard more incredible stories about Liam¡¯s childhood, andughed a lot looking at his old photos. Drinking too much mulled wine could make you drunk. My head throbbed terribly. It was so painful that only crude words came to mind. Holding my throbbing head, I groaned. My hoarse voice escaped my mouth.


    ¡°Oh, damn, my head¡­¡±


    I just realized that my body was terrible with alcohol. It was strange. I used to drink a lot during college parties and still wake up perfectly the next day to make ramen. I used to be strong enough to endure three rounds of drinking. I had been told I had a liver as healthy as a newborn¡¯s.


    ¡®Is it really me? The me who never loses to alcohol?¡¯


    Did I pass out drunk? It¡¯s so frustrating. I remembered dozing off in a chair after about three sses of mulled wine. Liam helped me back, and without any sleep talk, I was out the moment my head hit the pillow. That was around 11 o¡¯clock. I slept until now.


    It was noisy outside. I couldn¡¯t see the front gate from my room window, but it seemed themotion wasing from there. I threw on a shawl over my robe and stepped outside the room. There was a hall below the second-floor railing. In the middle, people were dragging in arge tree.


    ¡°A tree?¡±


    It was a fir tree, quiterge too. They were really decorating it for Christmas. I had always spent ordinary Christmases, so this sight felt new to me. As I stopped at thending and watched the noisy scene, the young coachman from yesterday waved at me.


    ¡°Miss! Good morning! How do you like the tree? Isn¡¯t it awesome?¡±


    ¡°Are you really going to decorate it?¡±


    ¡°Of course! We¡¯ll put a star on top, hang socks and ribbons, and everything!¡±


    On this huge tree? How? Just then, a hand was ced on my shoulder. Startled, I turned to find Liam yawning widely. He was in pajamas, looking scruffy and dragging his slippers like a typical neighborhood loafer.


    I scolded him.


    ¡°Liam. Put on a robe.¡±


    ¡°Uh. I forgot.¡±


    He replied shamelessly. This guy. I sighed deeply and wrapped the shawl around him. He bent down for me.


    ¡°Are you using the fir tree as a Christmas tree?¡±


    I asked as I adjusted the shawl. Liam blinked and then smiled faintly.


    ¡°It¡¯s a family tradition.¡±


    Is that so? Liam Moore, looking shy, lightly stretched and leaned against the railing.


    ¡°Even though it¡¯ste, how about breakfast? Our chef makes amazing scrambled eggs. You¡¯ll love it for sure.¡±


    Then he slid down the railing to the first floor. Despite his age, his yful nature was like that of a child. I wondered if he would still be the same at forty. Imagining Liam, as dignified as Arthur Moore, hopping around made me chuckle.


    Suddenly, I called out.


    ¡°Liam?¡±


    ¡°Did you call?¡±


    ¡°I want to go to the beach.¡±


    He looked at both of us. We were both in pajamas. I looked slightly more presentable. Liam asked again.


    ¡°Now?¡±


    I beamed.


    ¡°Now.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    The D-shaped mansion had a garden in the center, and further around was an annex. Liam said the annex housed Mrs. Moore¡¯s painting studio. Painting was her hobby in her younger days, and Sir Moore had the annex built to give her a space to paint. He was utterly devoted to his wife and wanted to do everything he could for her, Liam exined.


    There were also separate quarters for the servants, and further down were steps leading to the sea. Amidst the rocky terrain where heather bushes grew, there was a sandy beach below and a white cliff in the distance. Waves endlessly crashed against the high cliff.


    ¡°It¡¯s really the sea.¡±


    It felt like a dream. The sound of waves that I heard from yesterday probably caused it. The strange sense of longing was definitely because it reminded me of my hometown in the far east.


    ¡°It is the sea.¡±


    As I watched the dark blue waves, Liam suddenly lifted me up. My view instantly changed. Was this some kind of sightseeing tour?


    Then he started walking briskly towards the sea. Was he nning to go into the water like this? Taking off his slippers seemed wrong. I loved the winter sea, but going in was a bit much. I screamed.


    ¡°Ah! Liam! Liam Moore! Are you crazy?¡±

 Chapter 79: Heathford (5)

    ¡°That¡¯s crazy. Alright, Miss. You should enjoy the sea.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Stop it! Ah! Help!¡±


    As she grimaced and hugged his head tightly, the man chuckled. He looked obviously pleased. His thin pyjamas crumpled under her hand, and her shawl gently fell onto the sandy beach.


    The sea breeze wasn¡¯t too harsh, so it didn¡¯t feel particrly cold despite their light clothing. No, on second thought, she didn¡¯t feel cold at all. Frowning, she looked at Liam. It seemed like he had done something to ward off the cold. Just like¡­ yes, just like the warmth of Nifoisse Hall.


    Sitting down on the beach, Liam quietly looked up at her. His cheeks were pale from winter. His hair fluttered in the sea breeze, getting into his eyes. Watching his grey eyes and the thick, dark pupils beneath the longshes, she gently traced his eyes with her fingers.


    He visibly flinched. He flinched even more as she continued her stern questioning.


    ¡°It¡¯s not cold. Strange. Did our Mr. Liam Moore do some magic again¡­?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ well. Are you curious?¡±


    ¡°Very!¡± But it seemed he had no intention of telling her easily. Liam looked at her with a shameless face, chin raised.


    ¡°If I asked you to kiss me since morning in exchange for telling you the secret¡­ would that be too boorish?¡±


    ¡°Not just boorish. You¡¯d be treated as an impudent rascal blinded by temptation and get a p on your face.¡±


    The man who softlyughed at her said,


    ¡°Well, then, I might as well take a few ps.¡±


    Understanding the hidden meaning behind his words, her face turned bright red. As heughed heartily and hugged her waist, she got annoyed for no reason and pushed his shoulder, making Liam Moore fall over.


    When he tried to get up again, she pushed his shoulder down to stop him, and hey still, blinking his eyes. Hisshes fluttered.


    ¡°You impudent rascal, little Mr. Moore.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Miss Jane Osmond.¡±


    Trying to suppress herughter at his obedient response, Liam raised a finger and tickled the corner of her mouth.


    ¡°You smiled.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t smile.¡±


    ¡°The corner of your mouth went up a bit.¡±


    ¡°Oh, be quiet.¡±


    Out of words, she covered his mouth with her hand. Liam Moore¡¯s eyes widened, precisely because of what she did next.


    With her hand still covering his mouth, she lightly kissed over it. She heard a sharp intake of breath.


    When shepletely removed her hand, he opened his mouth, his face flushed a bright red.


    ¡°Dear Jane. Where did you learn this?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ well, does it matter where I learned it? I just didn¡¯t want to be too stimting since it¡¯s morning.¡±


    Liam Moore covered his eyes with both hands. Sand grains were visible between the strands of his ck hair, resembling stars scattered in the night sky.


    ¡°It was too¡­ too stimting¡­¡±


    And because of his confession, she couldn¡¯t help butugh for a while.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Since it wasn¡¯t cold, they could stay by the sea for a long time.


    There were no harbours, ships, or merchants here. There were no noisy bell sounds or shouts announcing ship departures like near the London harbour. The absence of familiar sights surprisingly made one¡¯s heart feel at ease.


    Thinking of the London sea only brought to mind the smell of fish.


    It was a stratified society. Ordinary citizens, not the middle ss, often bought things from street vendors. Items less fresh than freshly caught ones, meat a bit dusty. The vendors selling rtively good items always had many customers.


    asionally, one could see an Asian at the London market. They were usually traders from China, selling rice or spices with pointy beards. They sold items not only to nobledies but also tomon people, although not many bought them.


    Whenever she asionally nced at Asian items, they looked at her curiously. Saying ¡°hello¡± in short Chinese surprised them even more.


    So, she feared that looking at the sea would ovey her beautiful memories with London¡¯s fierce life scenes. But fortunately, this ce was just an ordinary sea. Not a means of desperate survival, just the sea as nature.


    There were no ominous crows or shadows of death in Heathford. It was a relief to have a ce away from the king¡¯s eyes, even for a moment. Here, there were only calm heather bushes. Nothing here to torment her. Finally, she felt like herself. She could breathe. She felt alive.


    Liam Moore was still lying beneath her, and she was contemting how to tease this foolish detective.


    ¡°¡­Sister-inw?¡±


    An unwee voice was heard. It was Theodore Moore. If only he hadn¡¯t called her that, her contemtion would have certainly taken a delightful direction.


    Liam Moore hastily got up, and she slid off him.


    ¡°Ah!¡±


    Regardless of her falling, Liam was busy hiding her. He hurriedly adjusted her gown and pulled up her shawl to cover her tightly, looking incredibly urgent. Only after she was properly covered did Liam turn around.


    Theodore was standing on the stairs. His lemon-blonde hair fluttered in the sea breeze. His wide green eyes looked quite surprised.


    Liam seemed to want to bite his tongue and die. No, he looked like he wanted to kill his brother.


    ¡®Well, that¡¯s understandable.¡¯


    Honestly, even she wouldn¡¯t want her romantic life to be caught by her sibling.


    Liam Moore hastily brushed off the sand from his hair and looked at Theodore. Acting as if nothing had happened.


    ¡°I-I didn¡¯t mean to¡­¡±


    ¡°Nothing happened.¡±


    Liam brazenly told an obvious lie. Theodore Moore frowned. He had a look that said, ¡°That can¡¯t be true.¡±


    ¡°Nothing happened, so it¡¯s not a disturbance.¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s shamelessness shone in such moments. He seemed determined to insist. Insist, and they will believe it.


    She quietly stayed as Liam tried hard to shield her, seemingly embarrassed to let anyone see her in her pyjamas.


    ¡°Liam. Don¡¯t we have to go back?¡±


    ¡°We do, but¡­ that guy¡­¡±


    Theodore Moore gasped and quickly covered his eyes.


    ¡°Pleasee up! I didn¡¯t see anything!¡±


    His considerate gesture was so touching that she felt like crying.


    £ª £ª £ª


    And shortly after, their brief Christmas holiday came to an end. It was because of a telegram they received, just arrived from London.


    They each received one, hers from her brother Jonathan, and Liam Moore¡¯s from Scond Yard.


    ¡°Jonathan Osmond?¡±


    Seeing the signature on the telegram, Liam raised his eyebrows.


    ¡°¡­Your family?¡±


    ¡°My brother.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t contacted him recently.¡±


    Uh. Well. As she averted her gaze, Liam¡¯s eyes widened as if in shock.


    ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ when you were busy. It wasn¡¯t a big deal. Just to wish him a Merry Christmas¡­¡±


    Liam tilted his head.


    ¡°But how did a telegram reach Heathford?¡±


    ¡°¡­we did mention where we were going.¡±


    Right. He mumbled as he let her check the telegram.


    It started with, ¡®It¡¯s been a while, sis.¡¯


    [Since you didn¡¯t send a letter, I thought you forgot about me. Honestly, we both know how awful Father was. I understood why you distanced yourself.


    I¡¯m doing well. I saw an article that said the man you¡¯re living with disappeared and came back. Even though they say it¡¯s nothing serious, I¡¯m worried. I hope you¡¯re not suffering. If he acts like a scoundrel, tell me. I can take care of you.


    I moved. I¡¯m changing jobs, too. They were looking for a personal assistant who can do security, so I applied and got in. They provide amodation, so I¡¯ll live there.


    I¡¯ll send another telegram once I settle down.


    By the way, Bailonz Street is the same. A girl I didn¡¯t know told me you were on a health retreat. Are you really okay?


    ¨C Jon.]


    ¡°He sure had a lot to say¡­¡±


    She muttered. His casual way of speaking and his concern showed the typical kindness of a sibling. It was amusing how he seemed wary of Liam.


    It seemed Mary had informed him that they were in Heathford. Saying she was on a health retreat was a bit embarrassing, though.


    Seeing her smile while reading the letter, Liam, resting his chin on his hands opposite her, spoke.


    ¡°You seem to get along well with your brother.¡±


    ¡°I practically raised him on my back.¡±


    ¡°Then he should treat you well.¡±


    Right? He should, right? She bragged about her brother doing so well, chatting about various things.


    ¡°He got a new job. Seems like he¡¯ll be a personal assistant.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°What does your telegram say?¡±


    Liam Moore handed her the telegram. It seemed there was a case in London.

 Chapter 80: Christmas (1)

    ¡°¡­Looks like the holiday is over.¡±


    When I muttered quietly, the man gave a regretful smile. Although I felt a bit deted, I wasn¡¯t upset. I wasn¡¯t na?ve enough toin about something inevitable. This is our line of work, after all.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to leave just a day before Christmas and disappoint my parents, but it seems that London and Scond Yard need us desperately.¡±


    It seemed the news of our return had quickly reached the Moores. They looked quite disappointed that we were staying only for a day. Liam repeatedly promised to visit again and keep in touch frequently. Theodore Moore also expressed his desire for us to visit again, pleading earnestly.


    Mrs. Moore held Liam¡¯s hand tightly and insisted.


    ¡°Send a telegram when you arrive in London. Promise?¡±


    ¡°¡­Yes.¡±


    ¡°Take care of yourself.¡±


    Liam, looking hesitant, responded. ¡°I will, ¡­Mom.¡±


    Watching, I couldn¡¯t help but smile warmly. Mrs. Moore beamed as she patted her disobedient son¡¯s back. Liam gave a small smile.


    ¡°Nifoisse Hall will always be waiting for you both¡­.¡±


    Me too? Even my ears turned red. Liam looked at me, his lips twitching, probably because our time at the beach had spread as a rumour. Understandable, given the scene we made with Liam lying down and me on top of him.


    Liam Moore slowly spoke.


    ¡°Mother, about Jane¡­.¡±


    The long pause made Mrs. Moore widen her eyes and then ask again.


    ¡°¡­Weren¡¯t you two supposed to get married?¡±


    Oh dear, this is a huge misunderstanding. If this keeps up, we might end up married. Though there was a brief moment on the train when I became Jane Moore, it was just a cover¡­.


    ¡°¡­Uh, well, um.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it? You weren¡¯t¡­.¡±


    I could almost hear the unspoken ¡°ying with her.¡± He looked so pitiable not being able to answer that I had to step in.


    ¡°We¡¯re still getting to know each other.¡±


    ¡°Oh my!¡±


    Leaving behind Mrs. Moore, who was pleased with the idea of young people pursuing love marriages, we got into the carriage.


    As I was about to close the carriage door, a hand suddenly reached in. It was Theodore Moore, slightly leaning into the carriage to greet me.


    ¡°Sister-inw.¡±


    ¡°¡­It¡¯s Jane Osmond.¡±


    He reluctantly pronounced my surname. It seemed to him I was already determined to be his sister-inw.


    ¡°¡­Miss Osmond, please take good care of my brother.¡±


    I would look after him even without the request. I nodded politely. The carriage door closed quietly.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±


    Liam thumped on the carriage wall and shouted. Leaving Nifoisse Hall and the Moore family behind, we returned to Lancard Station. The short vacation was over. It was time to go back to being the detective and his assistant at Bailonz Street.


    I had a feeling I would never forget the stark yet poetic atmosphere of this ce. Turning my head, I took a final look at Hisford before leaving.


    At that moment, I saw someone waving at me from the beach. The distance made it hard to discern who it was, but it was clear the person was friendly.


    Their white clothes fluttered in the wind, as did their hair. I lifted my hand in response.


    Liam, who was handing over our luggage, looked at me. Seeing me wave at someone, he asked,


    ¡°Is there someone there?¡±


    I turned my head back.


    ¡°Oh, someone was waving over there.¡±


    ¡°Waving?¡±


    His gaze turned towards the sea where we had stayed. I looked with him.


    But there was no one. The white figure waving at me was gone, with only the sea remaining.


    ¡°Did I see it wrong¡­?¡±


    I murmured quietly. Liam¡¯s hand touched my shoulder. He gently guided me into the train.


    ¡°You¡¯re just tired. Let¡¯s rest.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s do that.¡±


    A momentter, the train started with a ttering sound. Leaning on Liam Moore¡¯s shoulder, I closed my eyes.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When we returned to 13 Bailonz Street, London, two people were waiting for us.


    The first was Inspector Tobias Jefferson. Wearing a t-topped bowler hat and a thick winter coat, he brightened upon seeing us.


    ¡°Oh!¡±


    ¡°How did you know when we¡¯d arrive to be waiting here?¡±


    Liam Moore retorted sharply as he took off his coat. Mary, noticing my tired expression, quickly said she would bring some warm tea and pushed me gently.


    Jefferson replied.


    ¡°I figured you¡¯de up quickly, given your personality. It takes about six hours by train from Hisford. So, I waited.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re slow at deductions but quick at this sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°I know how to catch Liam Moore well.¡±


    Iughed. It was true that Jefferson, having spent a lot of time with us, knew Liam well. Considering the time he had spent solving cases, he had likely seen Liam even longer than I had!


    Mary handed over the tea. Liam, Jefferson, and I gathered around the firece, holding our teacups to warm ourselves.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the matter that brought you here?¡±


    Liam added,


    ¡°Yes. I hope it¡¯s worth calling us back for. If not, I¡¯m ready to head straight back to Hisford.¡±


    ¡°You young people are so heartless. Ennd¡¯s future is bleak.¡±


    ¡°Raphy! Raphy, are you outside? Come and take this man away!¡±


    I had to step in to calm them down.


    ¡°Please, let¡¯s sit and listen first. So, Inspector, what¡¯s the issue?¡±


    ¡°Dead men are walking.¡±


    With that statement, Liam sprang up from his seat. His expression was unusually pale, and he seemed furious. He struggled to speak.


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s true. Someone saw his face.¡±


    Him?


    I was confused by the conversation, but Liam kindly exined for my sake. Sitting back down, he spoke calmly.


    ¡°One of my first cases involved a criminal who pretended to die to release prisoners.¡±


    ¡°Was he caught?¡±


    ¡°¡­He was executed five years ago.¡±


    Jefferson handed over some documents. The top page was marked ¡°Top Secret.¡± How had this confidential information been leaked? Seeing my frown, Jefferson exined.


    ¡°I copied them. If it gets out that I shared this, I¡¯ll likely lose my job.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll verify and burn them immediately.¡±


    Jefferson smiled. Sweat beaded under his moustache as he anxiously waited for Liam to finish reading.


    ¡°¡­He was in Coldbath (a male prison built in 1794 and expanded in 1850) briefly before being executed.¡±


    Liam read the copied documents, pressing his forehead and leaning back in his chair.


    ¡°So how can someone like that be alive? Inspector Jefferson, these documents suggest he¡¯s back in action.¡±


    The documents detailed recent activities meticulously.


    Another prisoner had died, and his grave was dug up shortly after. By the time Scond Yard sent someone, everything was over.


    ¡°The body was gone.¡±


    ¡°¡­Yes. It was just like the method used by the executed man.¡±


    Incredulous, I muttered.


    ¡°Executed people can¡¯tmit crimes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the problem, Jane.¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s grey eyes fixed on mine.


    ¡°He¡¯s the only one who knows how to extract people from British prisons.¡±


    It was strange. I understood why Jefferson called us. This was our specialty. A dead man walking around London, freeing criminals? Such a bizarre case.


    I asked Jefferson,


    ¡°How did you confirm he¡¯s alive? His method can be mimicked. There must be a reason you¡¯re so certain.¡±


    Jefferson squeezed his eyes shut and confessed.


    ¡°I¡­dug up his coffin.¡±

 Chapter 81: Christmas (2)

    This time, both Liam Moore and I were utterly shocked. Everyone here knew that digging up a person¡¯s grave was an unforgivable act, morally and ethically.


    ¡°Wait. A coffin? Not just buried in amon graveyard?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The atmosphere in the prison was so bad that we decided to bury him separately. Most of the inmates had begun to revere him as a martyr. Who knows what would have happened if we¡¯d kept him there and he became some sort of deity to the criminals!¡±


    Liam Moore rested his chin on his hand.


    ¡°¡­So, what happened after you dug it up?¡±


    ¡°The coffin was filled with nothing but soil. There was no trace of a body at all.¡±


    How long would it take for a human body to dpose into soil? I didn¡¯t know for sure, but I doubted that even bones would disappear in just five years.


    Liam¡¯s expression grew stern.


    ¡°Let¡¯s visit Philip Peterson¡¯s family.¡± £ª £ª £ª


    As we set out for Philip Peterson¡¯s house, we encountered a new visitor about to knock on the door of number 13, Bailonz Street.


    ¡°Oh, sorry. Did you get hurt¡ª¡±


    The visitor, who had nearly fallen, lifted his hat. The face beneath it was very familiar.


    Brown hair, green eyes. A face very simr to mine, soft and gentle.


    ¡°¡­Jonathan?¡±


    My mouth moved on its own. My body reacted automatically. I knew this person. It seemed he recognized me too. The man, Jonathan, smiled brightly.


    ¡°Good heavens, sister!¡±


    ¡°John! When did you¡­ you grew a beard?¡±


    Jonathan shylyughed, brushing back his neatlybed hair. The young man I remembered was now sporting a slight beard, giving him a mature, distinguished look¡ªlike a proper British gentleman.


    Yet, when he smiled, he still looked so young. I ruffled Jonathan¡¯s hair, messing up his neat style. Now, he looked more like the Jonathan I knew.


    ¡°I grew it to look a bit older.¡±


    ¡°Shave it off immediately. It looks terrible.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m twenty-nine, sister! I can¡¯t look like a kid forever!¡±


    You¡¯re still in your prime. He spoke as if he was already an old man.


    Turning away from our emotional reunion, I noticed Inspector Jefferson and Liam standing awkwardly.


    ¡°¡­This is the first time you two are meeting.¡±


    I gestured to Jonathan.


    ¡°This is my brother, Jonathan Osmond. Jonathan, this is Inspector Jefferson. And this is¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, the infamous Liam Moore.¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s sudden, cold remark surprised me. His voice was sharp and frigid. Liam flinched.


    My brother had never spoken like this to anyone before. I hadn¡¯t raised him to be this way.


    ¡°Mr. Moore, you¡¯ve been quite a nuisance.¡±


    ¡°Jonathan!¡±


    ¡°How dare you drag my sister¡¯s name through the mud with those filthy tabloids.¡±


    Oh dear. I hastily covered Jonathan¡¯s mouth. He seemed ready to unleash a torrent of insults, so I dragged him inside.


    Jonathan allowed himself to be pulled inside, but his re remained fixed on Liam. Liam was frozen in mid-handshake.


    Inspector Jefferson, oblivious, spoke up.


    ¡°So, that case will be tomorrow?¡±


    Jonathan, struggling free from my grip, shouted.


    ¡°If you make my sister look at corpses on Christmas, I¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    Would those two end up as bodies themselves by tomorrow? Jonathan seemed capable of it. I quickly interjected.


    ¡°Let¡¯s have dinner, Jonathan!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s eyes softened instantly. He blinked at me, looking like amb.


    ¡°Dress up nicely! Let¡¯s have Christmas dinner!¡±


    ¡°Really? With me? Is that okay?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡±


    Jonathan shyly smiled. My dear, sweet brother. Why couldn¡¯t he control his temper? He asked,


    ¡°How about the Langham Hotel at eight tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Splendid!¡±


    After giving me a tight hug, Jonathan put on his hat and stepped back out. I patted the still-stunned Liam Moore on the back a few times. Jonathan, watching us, tipped his hat slightly and added,


    ¡°By the way, sister.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I already know Inspector Jefferson.¡±


    Oh. Jonathan was a police officer, after all. How could I have forgotten?


    Before I could respond, Jonathan started talking rapidly.


    ¡°And I got a new job. They provide room and board. If you need to send any messages, send them to 278 Mte Avenue in Haledon. That¡¯s what I came to tell you.¡±


    ¡°Haledon, Mte Avenue.¡±


    Wait.


    Something was wrong. Haledon. Mte Avenue. It sounded familiar. No way¡­ Liam and I exchanged looks. We were thinking the same thing. I gasped and shouted,


    ¡°Is your employer¡¯s name Plurititas?!¡±


    ¡°¡­How did you know? Do you know them?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to say.


    Well, yes, I knew him, but Plurititas was insane. Yet, I couldn¡¯t say I didn¡¯t know him either, because he knew my name. Did he hire Jonathan because of me?


    ¡®I can¡¯t just say ¡®he¡¯s a lunatic, stay away from him,¡¯ can I?¡¯


    I held my head in my hands.


    ¡°Uh, yeah. I know him. He¡¯s not a bad person, so don¡¯t worry too much. Just work hard and drain his wealth.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    Watching my sweet,pliant brother, I began to worry a bit. Frankly, think about the butlers and maids there¡ªthey¡¯re all automatons! My brother, the only human among those eerie machines¡­ could he handle it? Maybe it¡¯s better if he never finds out.


    ¡°Damn¡­¡±


    Now I understood why Liam had been so secretive. It¡¯s quite something to put yourself in someone else¡¯s shoes.


    How will my gentle, kind brother cope with the wild Plurititas?


    After sending Jonathan off and closing the door, I copsed.


    ¡°What do we do¡­¡±


    Liam Moore, having been hit with shocking news, remained silent. Only Jefferson seemed puzzled, looking between us. I sniffled, clutching the doorknob.


    ¡°How will my delicate brother survive in that hellish ce¡­¡±


    Delicate? Liam Moore¡¯s expression seemed to question. Delicate? That guy?


    Honestly, yes. Seeing him with a beard made him look like some wild bandit. A bit creepy. But when he smiled, he looked just like me, and I felt a pang of affection.


    ¡°What. What is it?¡±


    I red at Liam, daring him to disagree.


    ¡°My brother is kind and delicate.¡±


    ¡°Pfft.¡±


    Augh came from somewhere. Clenching my fists, I turned to see Jefferson holding his belly,ughing. His moustache quivered.


    ¡°Haha! That¡¯s the funniest thing I¡¯ve heard! Jonathan Osmond, delicate!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°He once subdued a suspect with his bare hands! Knocked him out with one punch!¡±


    One punch.


    ¡°He¡¯s known as ¡®Scond Yard¡¯s police dog,¡¯ but you say he¡¯s delicate!¡±


    Maybe I was being a bit of a doting sister. I blushed and rubbed my face, avoiding eye contact. Jefferson continued,


    ¡°He¡¯s a hard worker, known for being stoic. Today, I saw a different side of him! I was surprised when he suddenly resigned.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why he quit?¡±


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s not my subordinate, so I don¡¯t know. But if you ask him, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll tell you everything. Like you said, a ¡®delicate and kind¡¯ brother.¡±


    Perhaps. The Jonathan I remembered was a sweet, talkative boy who shared every detail of his day with me. That was ten years ago, though.


    Langham, eight o¡¯clock. We¡¯ll catch up then.


    ¡°But before that.¡±


    I raised a finger.


    ¡°We have work to do. Let¡¯s go, gentlemen. Tomorrow will be busy, so let¡¯s hustle today!¡±


    Even though it was Christmas Eve, crime doesn¡¯t take a holiday. And we had a duty to track down the criminal who had emerged from the grave.

 Chapter 82: Christmas (3)

    When we visited Philip Peterson¡¯s house, his wife and two children were there. They looked surprised to see the three of us suddenly show up.


    His wife was a middle-aged woman with a mncholic expression, and she seemed to shrink back slightly as if afraid of us. Philip Peterson¡¯s eldest daughter was shielding her mother, clearly wary of us. The son, the younger of the two, appeared clueless. After all, he was only five years old.


    ¡°Has anything unusual happened recently? Any visitors perhaps¡­?¡± Liam asked Mrs. Peterson very politely.


    ¡°Please, be honest with us. We want to help you,¡± he added.


    ¡°No¡­ No one hase,¡± she replied.


    I fell into quiet contemtion. Was she telling the truth? But there didn¡¯t seem to be a reason for her to lie. Exchanging nces with Liam Moore, I decided to speak.


    ¡°Then, if anyone suspicious does show up, could you contact us immediately at 13 Bailonz Street?¡±


    ¡°Who woulde? Who could possiblye?¡± Philip Peterson¡¯s eldest daughter sharply retorted.


    ¡°No one wille for us. Do you think anyone would after our father was hanged?¡± Oh. How should I put this? I mped my mouth shut. Your husband was hanged, but he seems to havee back to life? I wasn¡¯t sure if Mrs. Peterson could bear this shocking news.


    However, she figured it out on her own. With eyes wide in fear, she kept muttering to herself.


    ¡°No way, no way. No way¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dead!¡± Julia, Philip Peterson¡¯s eldest daughter, screamed, her voice like a sharp cry.


    ¡°We barely found freedom! There¡¯s no way someone who was hanged coulde back!¡±


    Her face was pale with terror. Holding her younger brother close, she looked like a girl forced to grow up too quickly. The woman who had to take on the role of the head of the family raised her chin defiantly.


    ¡°Listen to me, all three of you. Especially you, sir. I know you¡¯re stirring up London, obsessed with crime. But you shouldn¡¯t trouble innocent people!¡±


    ¡°Julia! You mustn¡¯t speak to Mr. Moore like that!¡± her mother interjected.


    ¡°Thank you for catching him, but why are youing back after five years?¡±


    I stopped Liam from speaking. He lowered his eyes and obediently listened to Julia Peterson.


    ¡°He¡¯s no rtion to us. Don¡¯t scare our mother with a dead man. We¡¯re struggling just to make ends meet! So, please, don¡¯te here again.¡±


    Later, after we left their house, I realized why the eldest daughter had reacted so sensitively. They must have had a hard five years due to their father¡¯s notorious crimes. Moreover, she had a younger sibling to care for, so her distress must have been immense.


    However, after much persuasion, they finally promised to contact us if anyone suspicious showed up. Only then could we leave their house with some relief.


    ¡°Mrs. Peterson has had a tough time,¡± Liam remarked as we walked away from their block.


    ¡°Philip Peterson¡¯s colleagues, those released criminals he helped, kept visiting their house, causing them trouble every day. People would use them of living with a murderer.¡±


    I sighed at the exnation of how they had to flee from ce to ce even after his execution.


    ¡°The children are innocent.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Liam agreed, briefly reminiscing about five years ago. Suddenly, he looked up as if remembering something.


    ¡°So, Scond Yard secretly relocated them, didn¡¯t they, Inspector?¡±


    Jefferson nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯s correct, Miss Jane. Mrs. Peterson was both a criminal¡¯s wife and the one who betrayed Philip Peterson.¡±


    A betrayal. It wasn¡¯t surprising. Even I wouldn¡¯t be able to stand it if my husband was constantly releasing criminals.


    ¡°Do you have any ideas on how he used to get people out?¡± Liam¡¯s eyes turned to me. His gray eyes seemed to understand my intention.


    ¡°You think he¡¯ll use the same method again.¡±


    ¡°We never found his hideout when we captured him, right? That¡¯s why we¡¯re here. It¡¯s the only remaining link.¡±


    Liam shrugged, speaking smoothly. It was an admiration-filled sigh, almost a praise.


    ¡°You are truly¡­¡±


    ¡°Brilliant?¡±


    ¡°Perfect.¡±


    Iughed softly. Hispliment made me feel a bit giddy, even though I hadn¡¯t intended to fish for praise. Whether he knew the effect of his words or not, Liam Moore was naturally charming. I was sure of it.


    Liam, who had ttered me, extended his elbow. I naturally ced my hand on it and turned to look at Inspector Jefferson. He seemed surprised by our intimate behavior, reminding me that we appeared closer than our official image suggested.


    Jefferson nced around before whispering to us.


    ¡°When did you two be so close?¡±


    Although I had suspected, his words still shocked me. I asked nkly.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You two. Anyone would think you were married.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes flickered rapidly. I pressed his side firmly and answered.


    ¡°No. We¡¯re just¡­ friends.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    It was an unconvincing excuse. Yes, I knew.


    Jefferson looked between us for a while before bursting intoughter. My ears turned red. For a moment, I felt like a teenage girl caught with her first love letter by her father.


    ¡°Miss Jane. I earnestly hope my concern is unnecessary, but as someone who¡¯s known this friend for a long time, I must tell you.¡±


    Liam shifted uneasily. I lightly pressed down on his arm and waited for the inspector¡¯s words.


    ¡°Liam Moore is not husband material at all. I stake my 30-year career on it¡­¡±


    ¡°Inspector Jefferson.¡±


    ¡°¡­You see? This is what he does.¡±


    What could he have done? I didn¡¯t know because I was looking ahead, but Liam Moore must have made some kind of face. By the time I turned back, his innocent, smiling face was all I saw.


    He looked so silly. Really funny.


    Watching him, Inspector Jefferson clicked his tongue in amusement. Strangely, it made meugh too. Eventually, I burst outughing.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Liam Moore knew the geography of London well. Not only the geography but also about the new buildingsing up. For instance, he could predict what a new construction would be.


    For a man who could find spaces deliberately omitted from maps just by looking at blueprints, finding people in London to help him wasn¡¯t difficult.


    ¡°This method, huh.¡±


    I watched Liam Moore disguised from inside the carriage. With just a bit of disguise, he instantly looked like someone who had lived in this slum for decades.


    Liam was talking to a drunk man. As they conversed, several vagrants approached them. Liam handed them bread wrapped in paper and returned to the carriage.


    Inspector Jefferson asked, looking at Liam Moore.


    ¡°What did you talk about?¡±


    ¡°London weather, today¡¯s earnings, and¡­ if there¡¯s been anyone suspicious around the slumtely.¡±


    He drew the curtains. Liam quietly wiped the soot from his cheeks, took off his worn jacket and scarf, revealing only a dark-colored shirt underneath.


    ¡°Need a vest?¡±


    I dug through the medical bag and handed him a vest. Liam smiled, epting and putting it on. Now he looked like the well-dressed gentleman he was.


    ¡°There are many peopleing and going in the slums. If one dies, another quickly takes their ce, right?¡±


    ¡°But those who stay for long know who¡¯s where. Even I can¡¯t do that.¡±


    This genius man!


    ¡°Of course, I paid them for the information. Those friends are my excellent informants. I couldn¡¯t just hand out half-crowns like water, so I gave them bread.¡±


    Knowing how dangerous the sound of coins is in the slum, he wouldn¡¯t do it lightly. Liam Moore¡¯s informants would now spread throughout the slum, from Whitechapel to East London.


    ¡°And recently, someone saw activity in an abandoned warehouse by the docks¡­ We should check that out. Are you not busy, Inspector?¡±


    Inspector Jefferson shrugged.


    ¡°Murder cases and missing persons, but this is the most important.¡±


    ¡°Oh. He might get fired.¡±


    ¡°You could just curse me instead.¡±


    ¡°It was a concern.¡±

 Chapter 83: Christmas (4)

    London had many docks. Shard Thames was filled with warehouses, bustling with peopleing and going. Inspector Jefferson was scrutinizing each person, observing their behavior.


    ¡°What do you think, Inspector? We can¡¯t search every warehouse in Shard Thames. Any information that only Scond Yard knows?¡± Liam Moore asked.


    Jefferson shrugged with a nonchnt look, implying that he wasn¡¯t sure either.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you solve it with that remarkable insight of yours?¡± he suggested.


    Liam Moore clearly didn¡¯t appreciate the response. Folding his arms, he replied sardonically, ¡°Oh, at least I know that you got scolded by your wife for trying to invest your retirement money recently.¡±


    Jefferson appeared surprised but quickly regained hisposure and snickered. He knew Liam Moore well enough to be familiar with his deductive quirks.


    ¡°It¡¯s obvious from something like the ink stain between my right thumb and forefinger, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Liam Moore grinned. ¡°The rumor¡¯s already all over Scond Yard; I didn¡¯t need to see anything.¡±


    A heartyugh erupted from Jefferson. With a benevolent expression, he looked at Liam Moore, then abruptly stoppedughing, drew his handcuffs from his belt, and began chasing after Liam. Instinctively, Liam started running. He looks like a criminal being chased¡­ I watched calmly, pondering what crime would suit him best. Oh, insulting a police officer seems fitting.


    I was slightly surprised. I knew Liam Moore¡¯s cheeky attitude well, but I never imagined Jefferson would actually chase him. Laughing at the scene, I realized it wasn¡¯t the time to be idle. I needed to catch up with the two as they started to disappear from sight.


    ¡°Damn rascals¡­¡± I muttered as I began to run after them.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The two suddenly stopped, causing me to halt as well. Liam Moore ced a finger diagonally across his lips, indicating for silence, and pointed at a nearby warehouse. The decayed roof exposed its skeleton, giving the ce a sinister look. The warehouse was old, its door chained to prevent vagrants from entering, with discarded debris strewn around.


    ¡°Here?¡± Jefferson whispered.


    ¡°Just an abandoned warehouse, isn¡¯t it?¡± he remarked.


    ¡°No,¡± Liam Moore replied, his eyes scanning the surroundings busily. He turned to me. ¡°Jane, do you see anything?¡±


    Caught off guard, I scrutinized the warehouse. There wasn¡¯t much to notice immediately. Given the pervasive stench of rotting fish, I guessed it might have been a fish storage previously.


    Ah.


    ¡°For an old warehouse, the chain on the door is new,¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°Indeed, and look at those muddy footprints around it,¡± Liam added.


    I examined the area. The sticky mud left tracks everywhere. Given that the topyer was just beginning to dry, it seemed rtively recent. The mud near the sea was sandy and gray, whereas this mud was dark, as if dredged from deeperyers of soil.


    Liam brushed his fingers over the mud, wiped his hands, and drew a revolver from his coat. Drawing a concealed weapon in front of a police officer? Jefferson raised an eyebrow but seemed to understand the necessity given the situation.


    ¡°Someone was here not long ago. We might encounter them. Inspector, arm yourself. It could be dangerous.¡±


    We approached the warehouse cautiously. Instead of breaking through the front door, we found a slightly open side window. This was less likely to alert anyone inside. Unchaining the door would have been too conspicuous, especially in such a secluded area where the upants would be highly vignt.


    Liam squeezed through the window first and disappeared inside. His voice soon followed, ¡°It¡¯s safe toe in.¡±


    He helped me down. Jefferson refused assistance and jumped down nimbly, despite his nearing retirement. I,cking such agility, struggled to climb over the materials inside.


    Jefferson¡¯s low mutter reached us, ¡°Damn¡­¡±


    A hole gaped in the warehouse floor, revealing dug-up earth, resembling a tunnel leading somewhere.


    ¡°Did they dig a tunnel to connect to somewhere, like a bank?¡± I spected, bending over to peer inside.


    The tunnel was dark, overgrown with what might have been mold or moss, and well-trodden. The surrounding soil was smeared with a whitish, sticky substance (likely dposed body fat).


    ¡°Disgusting,¡± I murmured.


    Jefferson grimaced, ¡°I won¡¯t be eating meat for dinner tonight.¡±


    The tunnel stretched into the unknown, and something odd caught my eye. The tools used to dig it left five-pronged rake marks, rather than those of a typical shovel.


    ¡°Why use a rake instead of a shovel? It¡¯s not like they¡¯re digging up leaves.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not it,¡± Liam interrupted. ¡°Inspector, did you check the coffin in the grave? Did you see it clearly?¡±


    Jefferson, confused, replied, ¡°No, just saw it filled with dirt and closed the lid¡­¡±


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Liam cursed, visibly frustrated.


    ¡°Liam,¡± I started, concerned.


    Liam, seemingly on edge, shouted, ¡°This isn¡¯t an entrance! It¡¯s an exit! This is the escape route!¡±


    ¡°An exit?¡± Jefferson echoed.


    ¡°Yes, an exit for the dead bodies to walk out!¡± Liam rified.


    Ah.


    I grasped what Liam meant.


    Ah!


    ¡°It connects to the graveyard! That¡¯s why we didn¡¯t know! The criminal escapes by being buried, thenes out through a tunnel leading from the graveyard.¡±


    Liam continued, ¡°That¡¯s why the coffins had dirt inside. We thought it reced the bodies, but the bottom of the coffin opens, and they fill it with the dug-up dirt. The small amount of dirt herepared to the tunnel¡¯s depth and length confirms it.¡±


    ¡°Then other criminals¡¯ coffins¡­¡±


    ¡°Must be the same. We need the list of recently deceased criminals immediately!¡±


    The outside footprints were undoubtedly from someone emerging through this tunnel.


    As we hurriedly prepared to leave, Liam grabbed my arm. His face was ashen, blending with the dim warehouse light, making him look ghostly. He whispered to me, ¡°It¡¯s our kind of problem.¡±


    Our kind. Greenwich. A group monitoring supernatural phenomena, where many eventually go mad¡­


    Suddenly, I feared that Liam Moore might end up the same. Though his sanity seemed intact now, limits are always tested.


    I recalled Liam leaning on me in the train carriage, gasping for breath, his face fragile and trembling.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I asked, hoping he would reassure me he wasn¡¯t losing it.


    Liam avoided my gaze, quietly supporting me to climb out.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he rasped softly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m fine.¡±


    We exited the warehouse.


    The wind from the lower Thames carried a slight saltiness and a slimy difort. The cold air cooled my forehead. Liam Moore¡¯s hair, previously slicked back, now fell over his forehead, sticky with sweat. He wiped his mmy forehead and spoke.


    ¡°Jefferson, we must leave now. And you¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll send you the list of deceased,¡± Jefferson replied.


    ¡°I¡¯ll contact you if the investigation progresses.¡±


    I nodded lightly. Jefferson departed.

 Chapter 84: Christmas (5)

    In the carriage returning to 13 Bailonz Street, Liam Moore finally made a heartfelt confession.


    ¡°The cave,¡± he began.


    ¡°Remember? You said it was dug out with something like ws.¡±


    Indeed, I had found it strange that it had been dug so inefficiently. The next words made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.


    ¡°It was dug out by hand. By someone alone.¡±


    It was a horrifying thought. Could it really have been dug out by fingers?


    No one can dig through the earth and make it this far by hand. They would starve, die of exhaustion, or suffocate fromck of oxygen!


    ¡°Impossible!¡±


    Liam Moore nodded. Honestly, it would be impossible for any human. At the very least, they would need tools to stay alive. He spoke in a hushed tone. ¡°Considering the traces felt in that eerie pit, the abandoned sks, and the bizarre slime that solidified the soil, this¡­¡±


    The thought of a dead man walking suddenly shed through my mind.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Liam Moore gave a grim smile.


    ¡°It seems the criminal I executed five years ago has be something other than human.¡±


    What a fantastic Christmas gift.


    ¡°A zombie, perhaps?¡±


    ¡°Possibly. Whether it was artificially created or a choice he made, I can¡¯t say.¡±


    There are ways to revive the dead, but Liam Moore mentioned that it¡¯s not a perfect resurrection. It wouldn¡¯t be the same person we once knew.


    Honestly, it¡¯s no longer surprising. There are countless people who do everything to live longer. Even if someone found a way to make the dead live forever, it wouldn¡¯t be shocking.


    As he opened the door to 13 Bailonz Street, Liam removed his hat. He also took my coat and hung it on the hallway coat rack, adding,


    ¡°Considering the recent state of the criminals he has extracted, we will find out whether this phenomenon applies only to him.¡±


    What did he say again? They thought he extracted people in a vegetative state, but if that wasn¡¯t the case, he said it was a very dangerous act.


    Anyway, we had no choice but to wait for Inspector Jefferson¡¯s telegram since we still hadn¡¯t found the whereabouts of Philip Peterson.


    Soon after, Inspector Jefferson returned,den with documents. He was visibly excited.


    ¡°You were right, Liam!¡±


    ¡°Did you dig up the graves?¡±


    ¡°We confirmed what we could. All the bodies are missing. How did you figure it out? You¡¯re a treasure!¡±


    Liam and I exchanged significant nces. Though I had partially stepped into their world, I once reacted just like Jefferson. Liam nonchntly replied,


    ¡°When you cut away the suspicious parts and follow them, the truth reveals itself.¡±


    This was a familiar quotation from somewhere.


    Anyway, I sincerely wished Jefferson a long life, despite the madness and nonsense we¡¯ve encountered.


    ¡°Anyway!¡±


    pping my hands to interrupt, Jefferson blinked.


    ¡°We¡¯re more specialised in this, so until we find more clues, please don¡¯t dig any deeper.¡±


    Please, don¡¯t dig any deeper. If you get involved with something non-human, your life will be ruined too.


    ¡°I was already thinking that, Miss Jane. We sent a few officers into that tunnel, but they all lost their way and came back.¡±


    ¡°Did someone actually go in there?¡±


    ¡°Yes, well. I thought they¡¯d eventuallye out into that warehouse.¡±


    Liam Moore rubbed his forehead.


    ¡°Next time, never let anyone in there. Even if they go mad or get struck by lightning and want to enter, do not let them.¡±


    Putting live people into a zombie pit is hardly a wise choice. Even a grade schooler would know better. Unless you want to be a living lunch, it¡¯s best not to step in there.


    Jefferson seemed to somewhat understand but was unsettled by our warnings.


    He gathered the list of documents and scanned the addresses. Liam Moore stood up, picking up his coat.


    ¡°I may find you very annoying and irritating, Inspector, but¡­ that doesn¡¯t mean I wish for you to die.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    Wandering around the neighbourhood, I realised that Liam Moore knew the whereabouts of criminals better than I expected. Of course, he had London¡¯s geography in his head, but navigating theseplex alleys with just a few written words on paper was impressive.


    He quietly knocked on the door.


    ¡°Is anyone there?¡±


    At the first house, we were almost beheaded, and at the second, we were severely cursed out. After visiting over ten houses, it was already past 11 PM.


    ¡°This is thest house.¡±


    The people we met were not the criminals on the list, but they all seemed to know who we were. Perhaps we had met somewhere before.


    One person cursed us, saying both of us should go to hell. I politely thanked them for their kind words.


    ¡°May you go to heaven. Let¡¯s not see each other again.¡±


    From inside, we heard something being knocked over. Liam and I exchanged nces briefly, then kicked down the door. The wooden door creaked open, revealing a pitch-ck, dark house.


    A housepletely blocked from any light. The ring on my thumb glinted. I muttered,


    ¡°¡­This seems dangerous.¡±


    ¡°But we have to go in.¡±


    We stepped into the house. Liam drew the curtains aside. Only when the faint moonlight seeped through the window could we see the state of the house.


    All the dishes were broken, and cutlery was scattered on the floor. The food appeared as though it had been left for several days, covered in mould. Overall¡­


    ¡°It looks just like that pit.¡±


    Muttering, I took a step, only to hear a crunch beneath my feet. Looking down, I saw shards of a mirror scattered across the floor.


    ¡°A mirror?¡±


    ¡°Is anyone there?¡±


    Liam called out again. The deepest part of the house was still cloaked in darkness. From that depth, someone cried out in anguish.


    ¡°The window! Cover the window!¡±


    It sounded like a middle-aged man. His voice was so filled with misery that my hand instinctively went to the window.


    ¡°If we cover the window, can you promise not to attack us?¡±


    ¡°I promise, just cover the window!¡±


    With some hesitation, I drew the curtain again. It felt foolish to block our own view, but the man kept his promise. After fumbling a few times, a small me flickered in the corner.


    ¡°Jack Can? Do you know Philip Peterson? We¡¯re here to find him.¡±


    ¡°Of course I know him!¡±


    The man¡¯s face was revealed by the matchstick light. His skin was decayed, covered in green mould, and grotesquely dried up. I gasped. Groping in the darkness, I grabbed Liam¡¯s hand. His warm hand gripped mine in return.


    The man, holding onto his fading life like a matchstick, wailed.


    ¡°Philip Peterson made me like this! I didn¡¯t know! He didn¡¯t tell me this would happen!¡±


    He deceived me, saying he would free me from prison. I¡¯m not the only one he tricked. What will happen to me?


    His words became indistinct amidst his sobs. Liam Moore rubbed his lips with a small groan, then exined in a low voice audible only to me.


    ¡°He forcibly turned a living person into a ¡®ghoul.''¡±


    ¡°I only wanted to leave prison because my mother was dying. Sir, please, fix me. I can¡¯t see my mother in this state. I never imagined I¡¯d be imprisoned for so long just for stealing some medicine!¡±


    How on earth could we stop his decay? This man had been dead for over a week. We couldn¡¯t bring him back. I squeezed Liam¡¯s hand, determined to stop him from making any false promises. Liam, silent for a moment, finally spoke.


    ¡°Where is Philip Peterson?¡±


    ¡°Underground! Underground! Beneath London!¡±


    Suddenly, there was an agonised scream.


    At that moment, the ring on my finger grew hotter. It could now illuminate this darkness without any light. The pitch-ck room was gradually brightening.


    The man clutched his neck, choking. The matchstick fell to the floor, igniting the wooden boards. I could clearly see the man¡¯s transformation.


    His remaining flesh and skin were drying up like dust. As if someone had turned over the hourss of his life. If human life could be seen, it would look like this.


    The man screamed, iled, and then copsed. The process was quick. Soon, he turned into a pile of greyish-blue dust.

 Chapter 85: Christmas (6)

    ¡°¡­ This is¡­¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ve noticed.¡±


    Liam Moore murmured as he firmly stomped out the spreading fire on the floor. He then guided me out, the cold air sweeping away the dust and musty smell from inside.


    ¡°Is that what happens when a secret is revealed?¡±


    ¡°It seems multiple spells were cast simultaneously. But given their crude nature, it wouldn¡¯t havested long anyway.¡±


    Despite themotion inside, no one seemed to pay any attention to us. Even at 11 PM, Londoners are usually curious enough to peek out at the sound of screams. Yet, this street was eerily silent, almost as if¡­


    ¡°You did something, didn¡¯t you, Liam?¡±


    I muttered, and Liamughed.


    ¡°Standing out isn¡¯t always a good thing.¡± His ash-grey eyes had turned a light purple, shyly reflecting the moonlight.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Unable to catch a carriage, we decided to walk home. Fortunately, we only had to cross one bridge over the Thames, so we took a midnight stroll.


    As we neared the end of the bridge, I felt a sudden emptiness beside me and turned my head. There stood Liam Moore, staring at me as if rooted to the spot.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t youing?¡±


    I asked.


    ¡°I will.¡±


    A familiar conversation. But an unfamiliar man.


    ¡°Jane, hold me.¡±


    Just then, a voice echoed.


    Liam Moore stood a little distance away, arms open wide, gazing at me. His eyes were kind, focused solely on me. No one in London would ever imagine Liam Moore making such an expression. It made my heart flutter.


    Liam Moore stood there like a pitiful creature drenched in rain, despite hisrge frame, bing utterly vulnerable before me¡­


    I moved toward him. No, I actually started walking faster. Then, I ran.


    As I threw myself into his arms, the bell rang midnight. Liam Moore whispered into my shoulder.


    ¡°Merry Christmas, Miss Osmond.¡±


    Though not the typical ce to say such words, it didn¡¯t matter. I replied.


    ¡°Merry Christmas, Mr. Moore.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    I had a date with my brother at 8 o¡¯clock. I chose a purple two-piece dress, pairing it with a simrly coloured striped hat, giving me an old-fashioneddy look. I topped it off with a dark winter coat.


    Liam Moore watched as I put on my gloves, seemingly preparing to go out himself. He looked unusually polished, suggesting he was nning to visit Greenwich. Whenever Liam went to Greenwich, he always dressed impably.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back, Liam.¡±


    Liam, who had followed me to the stairs, waved lightly.


    ¡°Take care, Jane.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    The restaurant at the Langham Hotel was filled with gentlemen in evening suits anddies in dresses, enjoying their Christmas dinner.


    ¡°Do you have a reservation under the name Osmond?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you to your table.¡±


    Following the waiter, I was led to a private section, perfect for an intimate dinner. We couldn¡¯t see the other guests, nor could they see us.


    Jonathan was already seated at the table. His eyes widened when he saw me, then he stood up with a bright smile.


    ¡°Jane. You really came! You look stunning tonight.¡±


    ¡°Jonathan! And you look so dashing yourself!¡±


    Indeed, Jonathan looked great in his shiny ck suit. He fiddled with his ck bow tie, looking a bit awkward but charming, his recently shaved face adding to the effect.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while since we¡¯ve had a meal together, so I had to dress up.¡±


    ¡°Oh, what a good boy you are¡­.¡±


    Jonathan chuckled, then gantly pulled out a chair for me. As I sat, the food began arriving as if on cue.


    Seeing the two of us smiling, we looked like twins. I started with the usual small talk.


    ¡°How¡¯s work?¡±


    Jonathan, spearing a light appetiser with his fork, replied.


    ¡°How¡¯s it, you ask?¡±


    ¡°Is it difficult? Stressful? There must be something. Honestly, I was surprised you quit Scond Yard.¡±


    Jonathan, sipping his wine lightly, rested his chin on his hand and furrowed his brows slightly.


    ¡°I¡¯m still adjusting, so it¡¯s not that hard. I¡¯m getting paid well for doing nothing.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s good they¡¯re paying you¡­.¡±


    ¡°What do you really think of him¡­?¡±


    I muttered slowly.


    ¡°An old man?¡±


    And someone echoed my words.


    ¡°An old man¡­?¡±


    Oh no, this is bad. In English, it starts with F and ends with K¡­


    A man peeked over the partition and looked at me with a bright face.


    White hair gleamed under the restaurant¡¯s dazzling lights. White eyshes, white suit, and eyes that burned blue¡­


    I met thest person I wanted to see.


    Why is Grandfather here¡­?


    He was dropping sugar cubes into a small coffee cup, stirring it with a spoon. If it felt like a warning, ¡°I¡¯ll dunk you in like this,¡± was it an exaggeration?


    ¡°¡­ Plurititas?¡±


    ¡°Though I preferred the previous title.¡±


    Ah. He heard everything.


    Meanwhile, Jonathan, this guy, was stuffing appetisers into his mouth nonchntly with his boss at the next table? He¡¯s my brother, but this is still surprising.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say anything?¡±


    ¡°Well, I couldn¡¯t leave him home alone without protection¡­.¡±


    ¡°Why would he need protection at home! Is he afraid of being alone? Is he a pet?¡±


    You¡¯re honestly a homebody. Is the protection detail necessary even for your alone time? Aren¡¯t you always inside, dancing with the automatons?


    I was ring at him silently. Until Jonathan¡¯s expression started to crumple.


    ¡°Please.¡±


    There¡¯s only one (maybe two) people who could make this kind and gentle person make such a face, so I squeezed my eyes shut.


    ¡°Please tell me it¡¯s not what I think it is.¡±


    ¡°¡­ What face do you have to show up here?¡±


    A natural voice spoke from behind me, betraying my expectations.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m just here to have dinner with an acquaintance.¡±


    Did something go wrong for me today¡­ Christmas was fine until midnight.


    I turned my head in disbelief. There was Liam Moore, smiling slickly. He waved at me.


    And why are you here too¡­


    I clutched my head against the impending headache.


    Liam Moore must have followed me, unable to let me go alone. Beside him, a familiar redhead was waving his hand.


    ¡°Wow, miss. Fancy meeting you again! And you two look so alike, like twins!¡±


    Oh, Owen Cassfire too.


    The two immediately shot sharp looks at Plurititas at the next table.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not be like that.¡±


    Plurititas said like a kindly old man. His eyes were gentle, as if scolding a young grandson.


    ¡°I have no intention of causing trouble. Today, I¡¯m just having a meal alone, which scares me.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything that scares you? That¡¯s surprising!¡±


    Liam replied sarcastically, wrapping his thick cloak slightly around me. Jonathan bared his teeth. Plurititas seemed indifferent.


    ¡°Let¡¯s be nice. It¡¯s Christmas dinner, after all. Oh! It might not be a bad idea to invite these noisy fellows to my dinner!¡±


    This is crazy. What are they doing to my dinner?


    You don¡¯t know how mentally taxing it is to have three explosive people at the next table. They¡¯re putting poison in my meal, not tea. And that poison is Liam Schofield Moore. What if they start fighting? It¡¯s well-known that people from Greenwich don¡¯t like Plurititas.


    ¡°Great!¡± Owen Cassfire eximed, seating himself opposite Plurititas. Oblivious to the tension, he had no sense of the situation. Liam gritted his teeth and spoke to Owen.


    ¡°Whose side are you on?¡±


    Owen gestured at the te and cutlery before him.


    ¡°The side of the person who buys me food?¡±


    Unbelievable.

 Chapter 86: Christmas (7)

    I buried my face in my hands and muttered weakly, ¡°You guys are really annoying¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a fine day, isn¡¯t it? You should lighten up.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the most annoying one here.¡±


    Plurititas feigned exaggerated sadness. That annoyed me too.


    ¡°What about me, sis?¡±


    Jonathan asked cluelessly from beside me.


    ¡°You¡¯re annoying too¡­¡±


    Jonathan¡¯s eyebrows drooped, a shocked expression on his face. Did he really think bringing his boss to our meal would earn him brownie points?


    A te of meat was ced in front of me. Plurititas winked at me. ¡°I¡¯m treating you to dinner today.¡±


    Huh? Why?


    ¡°Why are you joining me and my brother for dinner?¡±


    ¡°Because I asked my bodyguard to work overtime?¡±


    Jonathan picked up a meat knife with a grin at Plurititas¡¯s words. They seemed quite close. When did they get so friendly? I knew Jonathan was good at making friends, but¡­


    ¡°He even got me a suit, and now dinner? That¡¯s a lot of spending, sir.¡±


    Huh¡­ Huh¡­


    ¡°You can call me by my name.¡±


    Huh¡­


    Plurititas being so kind and my brother calling him ¡®sir¡¯ were both equally shocking to me.


    ¡°Mr. Plurititas, you got him a suit? A suit I couldn¡¯t even afford to buy for him? You?¡±


    I had been cautious to avoid any contact that might be discovered by that person, knowing they would cause trouble. And in the meantime, he swooped in? My temples throbbed.


    ¡°It was a gift for joining. I can¡¯t have someone working at my ce wearing just anything.¡±


    Why do people like Lucita and Plurititas all have this habit of spending money like water? I sighed, pressing my forehead against the wave of headaches.


    Now that I think about it, Lucita didn¡¯t seem entirely human. Those snake-like pupils¡­ What was she? A demon, maybe? She did like making deals, after all. She might really be a demon.


    Worries about my brother, Liam Moore, and Owen Cassfire¡­ Plurititas constantly talking¡­ And the missing bodies and coffins filled only with dirt¡­ The strange burrow¡­


    I couldn¡¯t tell if the food was going into my nose or my mouth. Honestly, I was just shoving it in without much thought.


    Dinner ended like that.


    After a course meal that stretched past 9 PM, I walked out of the Langham Hotel, drenched in fatigue. At least I could walk out on my own two feet. I had worried about crawling out.


    ¡°Your brother-inw is a really good person.¡±


    Owen Cassfire whispered. I smiled.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t he, Mr. Cassfire?¡±


    ¡°You used to call me Owen just fine! He¡¯s polite,petent, and looks strong too.¡±


    ¡°He was a policeman.¡±


    That ended our conversation. I quietly looked at the approaching carriage, pressing my hat down.


    Plurititas was talking with Jonathan a few steps down the stairs. When he saw me, he smiled. A hand on my shoulder pulled me protectively inward. It was Liam Moore. Under the white moonlight, he gleaned ominously, terribly. In contrast, a dark figure enveloped me, looking down.


    Plurititas¡¯s shadow seemed asrge as ever. Yet it did nothing to us. It merely shifted its gaze back to Jonathan. Did Jonathan see that? Did he know and still stay with him?


    ¡°I¡¯m worried about Jonathan.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Liam patted my shoulder. The warmth loosened the tension that could have been either from cold or nerves.


    ¡°Plurititas isn¡¯t that foolish.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the problem. You can¡¯t predict what he¡¯ll do.¡±


    That¡¯s true. Liam muttered, smiling wryly.


    ¡°Your brother must be worrying like this too?¡±


    ¡°Oh, definitely. He probably thinks you ruined my marriage.¡±


    ¡°Haha!¡±


    Liam burst outughing and shouted loudly, ¡°Brother-inw!¡±


    My head throbbed. Madman. Please.


    My brother rummaged through his coat, as if looking for a gun. Realising he had returned his holster with his resignation letter, he cursed.


    ¡°Damn you, Liam Moore! Call me that one more time, and I¡¯ll kill you¡ª!¡±


    Owen whistled.


    I thought, ¡®If I push these two down the stairs, would they die?¡¯


    £ª £ª £ª


    When I got home, there wasn¡¯t much time left until Christmas ended. Liam moved his hands regretfully. I felt the same.


    We should have been at Hisford. I thought we could spend time together, but other people barged in and ruined the day. We even had to catch ghouls set up in arge underground area in London.


    ¡°This is the worst Christmas. The worst in my 30 years.¡±


    I threw my coat anywhere and muttered wearily. Liam smiled bashfully. I knew it when he started chugging wine on an empty stomach. His cheeks were flushed red.


    ¡°I liked it.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    Hmm. He answered in a resonant voice, extending a hand. My back hit the wall.


    ¡°There¡¯s no sea, no fancy lights. I can¡¯t ask for more than this, right?¡±


    Looking up at his over-six-foot frame hurt my neck. Noticing this, Liam Moore wrapped his arm around my waist. My view shifted upward. Now Liam Moore was a few inches below me. Skillfully, he lifted me with one arm. Then, stretching out the other arm¡­


    ¡°Not justcking conscience, but patience too, little Moore.¡±


    Fingers slipped between the gaps of his gloves. The man with flushed ears whispered.


    ¡°We couldn¡¯t spend Christmas together.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not over yet.¡±


    The hand removing the glove paused. A few strands of ck hair fell onto his forehead as he opened his eyes wide.


    ¡°It¡¯s still Christmas. It¡¯s not the 26th yet.¡±


    He bent down. The smell of alcohol and a faint grape scent wafted from him. He had turned into an alcohol man, having only drunk wine the whole meal.


    Liam Schofield Moore closed his eyes like a girl about to have her first kiss. His flushed face was exasperatingly fitting. Unable to hold back, I lightly tapped his cheek.


    ¡°Touching a drunk without their consent is a crime, what do you think, Scond Yard¡¯s top consulting detective?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind¡­¡±


    Hey. Iughed at his demure answer, which made him squeeze his eyes shut tighter.


    I had nothing to say to his response. Leaning down, I lightly touched his forehead. When I ced a hand on his cheek, his Adam¡¯s apple bobbed nervously.


    He opened his eyes slightly when I remained still. His dense eyshes lifted, revealing his eyes. This was the moment I had been waiting for. I wanted to see Liam Moore¡¯s eyes widen.


    A wet sound briefly grazed and parted. I lightly pressed against his lips, whispering. Liam.


    ¡°Truly, Merry Christmas.¡±


    With about two hours left, that should be safe enough.


    Liam Moore smiled, his eyes crinkling. His narrowed eyes were irresistibly adorable.


    ¡°If I said this was the best Christmas of my life, would you be offended?¡±


    ¡°Of course not.¡±


    ¡°Next Christmas will be even better.¡±


    I¡¯m looking forward to that. He carefully set me down.


    £ª £ª £ª


    There was nothing more. As sensible adults aware of our bodies¡¯ limits, we returned to our own rooms without any regrets. I took out my notebook and recorded the day¡¯s events¡­


    ¡­


    ¡°Next year?¡±


    I murmured nkly.


    Next year?


    It felt like waking up from a dream. The illusion shattered. Someone poured cold water on my dazed mind.


    I barely retrieved the truth that had sunk into the recesses of my mind.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t right.¡±


    It¡¯s December 25th now.


    I¡¯ve been here for over a month. There¡¯s still no way to return. This isn¡¯t where I belong.


    I couldn¡¯t face the New Year here. But there was no way out. Even though I knew I waspletely¡­ bing a part of this ce, I couldn¡¯t see any way to endure.


    ¡°I¡¯m not Jane¡­¡±


    I¡¯m not Jane, not Liam Moore¡¯s detectivedy, not Jonathan¡¯s sister.


    I don¡¯t have a brother. I¡¯m an only child. I went to university, and did I finish the semester? Graduate?


    I hurriedly flipped through my notebook. My records were fading. Things I liked, might have liked, perhaps once loved. My memories.


    ¡°No, no, no, this isn¡¯t right¡­¡±


    My shoulders shook as if I was having a seizure. My breathing wasboured. Tears welled up, and my hands grew cold. Instinctively, I gripped the pen, scribbling over the letters.


    I¡¯m Korean, from the 21st century, and this is a game,


    ¡°¡­Mom.¡±


    Mom.


    Tears fell. Mom, your daughter¡¯s life is ruined. What is this? Am I supposed to live as a 19th-century Londoner forever? That¡¯s insane.


    A strange woman stared back at me from the mirror. Her face blurred with tears, and her green eyes filled with fear.


    Is this really me now?

 Chapter 87: Eulogy (1)

    I am unable to think.


    In the mirror, Jane Osmond is staring back at me. She is a stranger. Suddenly, I want to ask her:


    ¡°¡­why did you¡­¡±


    Why did you make me think of Jonathan as my real brother?


    My parents were incredibly kind. Even if your father was a terrible man, pushing you to earn money, trying to marry off his daughter like a piece of property, my parents weren¡¯t like that.


    Why am I mimicking your every move? Why are even my smallest habits not my own, but yours? Why does no one, not a single person around me, find anything odd about me?


    Should I shout that this is just a game?


    I heardughter. A dark shadow appeared behind me in the mirror. A king with horns, the eyes of a goat, and a ck tongue. I felt fingers silently wrap around my neck.


    The dark shadow whispered to me. [Struggle. From now on, continue to amuse me. If you let go of your mind here, wouldn¡¯t it be such a pity for me?]


    My clearing mind was probably due to it forcibly waking me up. Yet at the same time, my body grew incredibly heavy. I sank down, further and further into an abyss.


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°Gasp!¡±


    I barely caught my breath and managed to sit up. It¡¯s warm. The liquid wetting my hands rippled with my movement. A hazy light, and faint whispers.


    ¡¸Jane.¡¹


    ¡°How¡­ how did I¡­¡±


    This ce is strange. It drives away madness. My temporary fits vanished as soon as I came here, leaving only my clear consciousness behind. Here, I could wholly be myself.


    ¡°How is this possible?¡±


    I asked.


    ¡¸I pulled you out of its grip.¡¹


    A voice replied, exining that it had to sever my consciousness forcefully to get me out of its control.


    ¡¸Human reason has its limits.¡¹


    I was just sitting there, staring nkly at the floor. El¡¯s voice continued to speak to me.


    El. What does El stand for?


    ¡¸Knowing more would be dangerous.¡¹


    El warned. He still believed I didn¡¯t know much. I agreed. However,


    ¡°Are you worried I might go mad and shoot myself in the head?¡±


    ¡¸You actually did, didn¡¯t you?¡¹


    Yes, I did. But that was to save Liam Moore.


    ¡¸As you said, it¡¯s a game. Why did you try to save Liam Moore?¡¹


    ¡°¡­Indeed.¡±


    I murmured. Why did I go so far to save him?


    But, thinking about it, Liam was the strangest. Why is he so blindly devoted to me?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Let me go. Send me back.¡±


    ¡¸It will be difficult. It¡¯s better to endure here.¡¹


    What was that supposed to mean? I heard footsteps approaching as El stood nearby. With a wave of his hand, andscape appeared on the ck surface.


    ¡°What happened while I was unconscious?¡±


    Tap, tap. His white fingers tapped the ck water, and a scene began to form on its surface.


    I fainted at the appearance of the ck King. In the ce where the ck King vanished, a man appeared with a hat pulled low and a scarf covering his neck and face. To make sure my consciousness was thoroughly severed, a handkerchief soaked in anesthetic was pressed against my nose and mouth. The scene changed. The man who took me left Bailonz Street.


    Honestly, I had seen photos of all the key figures in this case, so I wasn¡¯t confident I could recognize Philip Peterson. But I knew for sure. It was Philip Peterson taking me away.


    With decaying hands, skin like rubber or orange peel, a moldy smell, and a bubbling breath. Is that what a ¡°ghoul¡± looks like?


    ¡¸Some look more beastly. This one seems to have a stronger human identity.¡¹


    He took me through various tunnels. Emerging somewhere, the destination was shocking.


    A cemetery.


    Philip Petersonid me down. A rectangr, wait,


    ¡°¡­Is that bastard putting me in a coffin?¡±


    He ced me in a coffin and closed the lid gently. He pumped air a few times and provided a tube leading above ground to prevent suffocation. However,


    ¡®Buried alive!¡¯


    Buried alive¡­.


    Philip Petersonughed with a bubbling sound as he covered the coffin with soil, creating a new grave.


    ¡°No personal grudges. I just thought that detective would definitelye to rescue you.¡±


    Of course. He¡¯lle running with his eyes turned upside down. Owen Cassfire might help, and the moment I think of him, he¡¯ll find my location. Either way, there¡¯s no retreat. With all choices blocked, I swallowed hard.


    The scene blurred once, then showed me inside the coffin. Eyes closed as if dead, breathing faintly.


    ¡¸Do you have ustrophobia?¡¹


    El asked.


    ¡°Even if I didn¡¯t, I¡¯d get it now.¡±


    I replied curtly, and heughed for a while. The water rippled gently.


    ¡¸You need to inform your detective of your location. He can¡¯t find you, but he cane running to where you are.¡¹


    ¡°Yeah. He did it once before. He took me somewhere instantly.¡±


    ¡¸You called him ¡®ss¡¯.¡¹


    Iughed.


    ¡°How long will it take for Liam toe?¡±


    ¡¸At least an hour. He just realized you¡¯re missing.¡¹


    £ª £ª £ª


    Liam Moore woke up to piercing sunlight.


    His body moved sluggishly. His head was still clouded by the effects of alcohol. His body felt heavy. What time is it? He dug through his folded clothes to find his pocket watch, squinting to see clearly. His blurred vision finally focused to show the time.


    ¡°11 o¡¯clock¡­¡±


    He remembered everything from yesterday. Recalling himself acting coy made him punch his pillow repeatedly.


    Has Jane woken up? But how could he face her?


    He rolled out of bed. His head still spun. After drinking a ss of water that had cooled overnight, he walked out of the room.


    ¡°Jane?¡±


    Clearing his hoarse voice, he called out again.


    ¡°Jane?¡±


    Jane Osmond should have been there, reading the newspaper. It wasn¡¯t the usual Monday morning scene.


    Often, while he sleptte, Jane Osmond would eat breakfast and leisurely read the paper. That was their normal routine. When Liam Moore emerged in his disheveled state, Jane Osmond would shriek and hide her face behind the paper. It was almost like a promise.


    Just then, Jefferson opened the t door and eximed, ¡°Oh my.¡±


    ¡°Looks like you spent Christmas drinking. Just woke up? Where¡¯s Miss Jane?¡±


    ¡°She must still be sleeping¡­¡±


    Liam Moore stopped a few steps from the sofa. Jefferson caught him.


    ¡°Did you overdrink? You didn¡¯t cause trouble, did you?¡±


    Liam Moore snapped.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t. Who do you take me for?¡±


    After catching his breath, he put on his dressing gown. Still, there was no response from Jane¡¯s room.


    That¡¯s when he sensed something was wrong. His eyes started scanning the surroundings.


    Sometimes, you see what shouldn¡¯t be seen. It had been nearly 20 years since he started reading traces in the air. Herschel, who also noticed ¡®what others couldn¡¯t see,¡¯ understood the trouble Liam Moore¡¯s eyes brought.


    Why from Jane¡¯s room¡­


    He moved without hesitation. Maybe he ran madly. Jefferson was astonished.


    ¡°Are you crazy? You can¡¯t just barge into ady¡¯s room like that¡­,¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Jefferson!¡±


    And he saw the scene he least wanted to see.


    An empty room. An open window. Muddy footprints, a trampled hat.


    Jane Osmond was gone.


    Though his mind registered it, his body didn¡¯tply. He couldn¡¯t breathe. It felt like a sharp awl was piercing his heart. Liam Moore clung to the doorknob, copsing. He realized he couldn¡¯t speak.


    Did you feel like this too? Before, when I disappeared, did you¡­


    ¡°William!¡±


    William. Hearing the name, Liam Moore¡¯s eyes barely moved to Jefferson. His eyes were empty, as if they had lost their light. Tobias Jefferson urgently shook his shoulders.


    ¡°You need to pull yourself together!¡±


    I must pull myself together. That phrase cleared his mind. It¡¯s just that she disappeared, I can find her, he repeated to himself while pping his cheeks.


    He couldn¡¯t tell Mary about Jane¡¯s disappearance. He couldn¡¯t let that poor, kind girl know that Jane was missing after him.


    He spoke slowly.


    ¡°¡­It¡¯s Philip Peterson. He did this.¡±


    Of course. It¡¯s harder to target me, so he targeted Jane. I suspected it.


    ¡°He probably took her through the tunnels. Shard Thames¡¯ warehouse and¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, we¡¯ll do that. I¡¯ll only bring trusted police officers. If anything happens, send a telegram immediately.¡±


    Liam Moore muttered with a weary smile. Anything that happens will be to Jane. Jefferson looked at him sympathetically before stepping away.

 Chapter 88: Eulogy (2)

    The absence of just one person tormented Liam Moore with a profound sense of loneliness. Ever since Jefferson left, his mind had been in turmoil. Quietly, he reflected on his mistakes.


    First, he had opened his heart too much to Jane Osmond.


    Second, he had made it so obvious that even a casual observer could notice.


    People like us shouldn¡¯t get attached to anyone. Everyone would agree with that. Wasn¡¯t it ¡®Greenwich¡¯ after all? The one who is wary of wizards and loathed by those who worship the gods of the outer realms. The one who is despised by those interrupted during meals. Naturally, upsetting someone from Greenwich would have repercussions that always impacted ordinary people.


    He had let his guard down because Plurititas was friendly towards Jane. But there were countless other entities here beyond just those brain-collecting beings!


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Suddenly, he heard Jane Osmond¡¯s voice. In his downcast vision, he saw the hem of a blue skirt. She walked over and sat in front of him. Liam Moore had to fight the urge to look up.


    Looking up would shatter the illusion.


    He knew it wasn¡¯t real. It was a hallucination borne from his desperate mind. Yet, his heart seized the moment of lost reason. Slowly, he parted his lips.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ for putting you in danger.¡±


    Jane Osmond snorted lightly, as if indifferent to her disappearance.


    ¡°Is that something to be sorry about?¡±


    Of course. Liam Moore silently mouthed the words. The truth he would never reveal to the real Jane. His fear.


    ¡°I¡¯m scared you might die.¡±


    The man whispered to the air, slumped by the door handle of Jane¡¯s room. In an empty room with no listener.


    The traces of spells filled the room. There was a crumpled, trampled hat.


    ¡°I¡¯m terrified I won¡¯t be able to see you again¡­¡±


    ¡°Then find me before that happens.¡±


    The voice said.


    ¡°Come find me, Little Moore.¡±


    He looked up. The blue skirt that was sitting in front of him was gone. He knew his mind was reconstructing Jane¡¯s words from his memories. The voice was no longer there. Only sunlight filled the empty room.


    He picked up a piece of paper and scribbled a light note with a pencil. He was writing something coherent. That was fortunate.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t lost my mind yet.¡±


    The fact that this illusion helped him regain hisposure was surely because the subject was Jane Osmond. She was a strong and cold-headed woman.


    ¡°¡­Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    His grey eyes, as dark as rain-filled clouds, becamepletely clear. He stood up and dered,


    ¡°I¡¯lle to find you soon.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    Fortunately, he knew someone skilled at tracking people. At times like this, he was grateful for the name Greenwich. But he never wanted to go back there for such a reason again.


    The person lived on Blemich Street, right next to Bailonz Street. Azy, indifferent man who spent half the day sleeping.


    ¡°Give me a break, you lunatic.¡±


    Owen Cassfire grumbled, annoyed at being woken from a nap. His shaggy red hair popped out from under a cushion. Annoyedly scratching his head, he fumbled for his sses lying nearby.


    ¡°What¡¯s so urgent that you have to show up in the middle of someone¡¯s house? What, you sure you¡¯re not crazy? Just because you¡¯re not crazy doesn¡¯t mean you should do crazy things without hesitation¡ª¡±


    ¡°Jane¡¯s gone.¡±


    Owen Cassfire¡¯s words stopped abruptly. He squinted his eyes.


    ¡°¡­Kidnapped?¡±


    ¡°Probably. There was a ghoul I was tracking.¡±


    ¡°Shit.¡± He muttered a curse and got up roughly. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth. As he rubbed the end with his fingers, it lit up.


    ¡°Stay sharp. Ny out of a hundred people taken by ghouls be ghouls themselves.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why I need to rescue her before it¡¯s toote.¡±


    ¡°I told you to guard her well in the first ce.¡±


    Yeah. I was stupid. At least Lucita¡¯s gift, the crystal, could help protect her from mortal danger.


    ¡°Quick one?¡±


    ¡°As fast as possible.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d better pay up properly.¡±


    Owen Cassfire rolled up his sleeves. Beneath his worn-out shirt, his arms bore several burn marks. It was what he usually used for these kinds of things.


    ¡°You should be d that youngdy knows me.¡±


    He picked up a herb with pain-relieving properties and chewed it as he brought the lit cigarette to his arm. There was an unpleasant sound. Casually looking down at his arm, he counted.


    Three, two, one.


    ¡°Woolwich Cemetery.¡±


    ¡°He went far.¡±


    ¡°He must¡¯ve walked all night. There are more than a few ghoul tunnels in London. No need to thank me. Just get moving.¡±


    Liam Moore nodded and fastened his coat.


    ¡°Tell Tobias Jefferson from the Yard toe to Woolwich Cemetery.¡±


    ¡°This guy gets more brazen by the day.¡±


    There was no response. The ground rippled like water beneath his feet and swallowed him up. Liam Moore didn¡¯t resist and embraced the blue surface. The icy water filled his lungs.


    [Woolwich Cemetery]


    He saw the sign. Liam Moore staggered a bit as he escaped the effects of the spell. It wasn¡¯t something to use several times a day. He had to conserve his magic.


    A sound mind, awake reason, and readiness to fight. He couldn¡¯t afford to lose what he needed. If he lost it all aftering this far, he¡¯d never forgive himself.


    Bells ringing, voices reciting eulogies. The sound of carriages leaving.


    There were few people in the cemetery (probably because it was Monday) and even those were leaving after the funeral. That was fortunate. What was about to happen here wasn¡¯t for ¡®people¡¯.


    In an old, forgottennguage, now only a melody, words spilled from his lips.


    Those who could no longer be seen wouldn¡¯t know what was happening here.


    £ª £ª £ª


    In a space created by a rippling milky white veil, Liam Moore shouted,


    ¡°Jane!¡±


    ¡°That lovely girl is probably buried six feet under by now.¡±


    A grating voice, each word bubbling unpleasantly.


    The figure that had been standing behind a tree stepped out of the shadows. He seemed to squint as if the sunlight was too bright. The rotting corpse of Philip Peterson spoke with a devilishly grotesque grin.


    ¡°You¡¯ve almost lost your form entirely,¡±


    Liam Moore evaluated his condition coldly. It was almost a provocation. If Jane had been here, she would¡¯ve chided him for his recklessness.


    ¡°Philip Peterson. It¡¯s been five years since I put you on the gallows.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it was such fun¡­ Thanks to a quick deal, I gained an undying body, but you hanged me without knowing that¡­.¡±


    A deal?


    Liam Moore briefly furrowed his brow, then returned to his impassive expression. Philip Peterson, unaware of the subtle change, continued to babble.


    ¡°For five years since then, I¡¯ve kept an eye on your exploits. ¡®The Private Detective of London! Consultant Detective for Scond Yard! Liam Moore solves another case!¡¯ I read about you every day. As you aged, I gathered strength, Mr. Moore. To one day hunt you down and kill you like a dog¡­.¡±


    A boastful nature. Immature and unable to control his emotions. Liam Moore quickly assessed.


    He¡¯s been dead so long his nerves must have decayed. I wonder if he still feels pain. His thick skin won¡¯t be easy to prate with simplebat.


    Philip Peterson thinks I¡¯m just an ignorant detective. If he knew otherwise, he wouldn¡¯t be so rxed. He¡¯d have shot my head off or tried to kill me with the nearest tombstone. Giving a wizard time is madness.


    Liam Moore feigned agreement and spoke.


    ¡°Did you wait five years just for personal vengeance?¡±


    ¡°Oh! Absolutely! How could I forgive the one who captured me and stopped me frommitting more crimes!¡±


    Philip Peterson grinned and added,


    ¡°When I heard you had kidnapped her, I was honestly twice as furious I couldn¡¯t kill you myself.¡±


    Liam Moore pulled a revolver from his holster. He disengaged the safety and aimed.


    ¡°Amotion in the cemetery in broad daylight, detective?¡±


    ¡°You messed with the wrong person.¡±


    ¡°That girl? The poor girl you can¡¯t live without? Quite the romantic! But isn¡¯t it strange? Why didn¡¯t you know she was crying pitifully in her room?¡±


    Or is it not? Did you make her cry? Petersonughed, but his eyes were notughing. He stared at the muzzle of the gun with sharp eyes.


    ¡°Shoot. Let¡¯s see if your bullets can pierce my skin. You should¡¯ve brought a hunting rifle, Mr. Moore.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    Liam Moore responded coldly. He fired a shot into the air and aimed again.


    ¡°Last warning. Where is Jane Osmond?¡±

 Chapter 89: Eulogy (3)

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you once you¡¯ve killed me.¡±


    Liam sighed inwardly, realising it was futile to pinpoint Jane Osmond¡¯s location. He hoped she could hold on with her resilient spirit. He dropped his coat onto the ground.


    He wished for ample air inside the coffin and hoped to rescue Jane Osmond in time.


    Not like at Stranden Manor, where he had been toote.


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡¸Oh, the fight¡¯s started.¡¹


    El remarked with keen interest.


    Watching the surface, I saw a side of Liam Moore I had never seen before. His eyes glinted coldly under the winter sun, a pale violet hue, as he meticulously analysed his opponent.


    ¡¸Ghouls have very tough skin. Like rubber. That kid should have a way to handle it, though.¡¹ That sword. The ss-like sword shed in my mind.


    Liam Moore deftly dodged Philip Peterson¡¯s attack, wrapping the scarf around his hand as he avoided a kick aimed at his abdomen.


    ¡°Did he train with some special forces?¡±


    El chuckled. He stood beside me, but I could only make out his hands beneath the ck cloak. Noticing my gaze, El gestured back to the scene.


    ¡¸Focus.¡¹


    ¡°He seems to be doing fine on his own.¡±


    Should I cheer him on?


    ¡°Go, team¡­ Our team wins.¡±


    A half-hearted cheer.


    But I couldn¡¯t imagine Liam Moore, who had caught even the Star Vampires, struggling against just Philip Peterson. He had dealt with much bigger and more dangerous things before. This should be¡­ a piece of cake, right?


    There was no need for concern or anxiety. Liam Moore fought exceptionally well. When the ghoul¡¯s ws tore his shirt sleeve, he merely looked slightly annoyed.


    Realising Liam was fighting with such ease, Philip Peterson seemed to grow more desperate. Honestly, he didn¡¯t even look fully focused on the fight. While there was a bit of a strength gap, Liam Moore¡¯s experience was apparent.


    Philip Peterson charged with a wild cry, only to trip over something unseen and fall. Liam calmly pressed a knee onto his shoulder and bent down.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t the one who made a deal with you mention this?¡±


    ¡°How, how could someone like you¡ª¡±


    ¡°After circling around for about five years, you should know I¡¯m not just an ordinary detective. You¡¯re not a quick learner, it seems.¡±


    Tsk tsk, Liam Moore clicked his tongue lightly. The grass had grown to entangle Philip Peterson¡¯s limbs, restraining his movements even as he struggled.


    Finally, that sword appeared in Liam Moore¡¯s hand. The ss-like sword with a bluish tint, reminiscent of theke we crossed to reach Greenwich. Cold, blue, and transparent.


    ¡°No! He didn¡¯t say that! He said to just kill you!¡±


    ¡°Too bad. Let¡¯s not meet again.¡±


    Swish. With that sound, I opened my eyes.


    The first thing I saw was the wood grain of the coffin. It wasn¡¯t a high-quality one, it seemed. My back ached from the rough surface, and I could feel the ground under my calves was slightly raised, as if stones hadn¡¯t been properly cleared before burying me. I must have spent the night with blood rushing to my head.


    ¡°Wow, it¡¯s a miracle I didn¡¯t die here¡­.¡±


    That¡¯s why El sent me back only after everything was over. I felt a surge of gratitude. Liam¡¯s voice seemed faint.


    ¡°Jane!!!¡±


    At least he was in Woolwich. In the cramped coffin, I moved my hands and knocked on the lid.


    ¡°Liam! Liam Moore! I¡¯m here!¡±


    ¡°Jane! Where are you!¡±


    Damn. He couldn¡¯t hear me. Considering I was buried a full six feet under. If London¡¯s burial customs hadn¡¯t changed, that was six feet (about 182 centimetres) deep.


    What was there? How did they bury people in 19th century London?


    My hand brushed against something. A cord? Metal? I didn¡¯t know. Pulling it, I heard a faint bell sound.


    ¡°A safety coffin! It¡¯s a safety coffin!¡±


    I remembered reading about coffins connected to bells above ground to alert rescuers if someone buried alive woke up.


    I rang the bell fervently. Ding ding ding. Liam Moore¡¯s voice grew closer.


    ¡°Jane!¡±


    Oh, thank God, I wasn¡¯t meant to die here.


    Just then, a familiar voice called out from a distance. Inspector Jefferson had arrived. Police were hastily fetching shovels to dig. Liam joined in, impatient. The strong men quickly unearthed the coffin.


    ¡°There¡¯s a coffin here!¡±


    ¡°Open this damn lid! I¡¯m getting blood rushed to my head!¡±


    ¡°Oh, Miss Jane!¡±


    Was this aedy? It was both funny and sad. It was amusing, but having been buried alive madeughing seem inappropriate. Ifughter echoed from the grave, the digging officers might get spooked.


    After about ten more minutes, they pried the coffin lid open. Fresh air rushed in through the small gap.


    When the lid was fully opened,


    ¡°It¡¯s Miss Jane Osmond! We found her!¡±


    ¡°Is she okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes! She¡¯s in good health!¡±


    I grumbled.


    ¡°What are you saying? I¡¯m not okay at all. Try spending a whole night in here. You can¡¯t sleep.¡±


    Rubbing my sore neck, I turned my head and saw Liam, covered in dirt, sitting beside me. I was startled.


    ¡°Oh my! Liam! Look at you!¡±


    The most striking thing was the transformation of the man who had been fighting ghouls just moments ago, sharp as a well-honed sword, nowpletely softened.


    Tears began to fall from Liam Moore¡¯s eyes. He was clearly surprised, unable to hold back. I seemed to have a knack for making Liam Moore cry.


    Tears fell from his long eyshes, washing away the dust on his cheeks like a scene from a painting. His hair was a mess, and his clothes were torn and dirty, but he just sat there, crying.


    ¡°L-Liam. William Schofield Moore. Why¡ª¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t toote, was I?¡±


    Technically, he wasn¡¯tte, considering a day hadn¡¯t passed. To me, it felt like I had been there for about thirty minutes. Thanks to that dark space. At first, I cursed it, but now I felt a bit grateful.


    Reluctantly, I spread my arms. Liam Moore clung to me, his shoulders shaking. The officers peering into the grave quickly turned away. Those inside hurriedly climbed out.


    ¡°Why are they all suddenly leaving?¡±


    I heard Jefferson¡¯s flustered voice as they exited en masse, all saying the same thing.


    ¡°Step back! Step back! We shouldn¡¯t be here!¡±


    Oh dear. This was serious. I hoped they¡¯d keep quiet. Otherwise, Liam Moore might have to eliminate witnesses by nightfall.


    ¡°You weren¡¯tte. I¡¯m fine, see?¡±


    My shoulder was wet. I worried he might copse from exhaustion after crying so much. I patted his back, smiling.


    I was safe, and Philip Peterson was caught. He wouldn¡¯t be disturbing graves anymore.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Only after Liam calmed down did we walk out of the graveyard.


    We both looked a mess. I wore Officer Leppi¡¯s coat over my shoulders, and Liam wore his dirt-covered coat as we returned to Bailonz Street.


    Mary didn¡¯t notice we had been gone. We cleaned up thoroughly, removing all traces of the ordeal, and met Mary in presentable condition.


    Over ate breakfast, Mary asked,


    ¡°Mr. Moore, did you sleeptest night?¡±


    Liam, sipping his coffee, choked.


    ¡°Yes, Miss Mary?¡±


    ¡°Your eyes are red.¡±


    ¡°Must be the drink. Liam, you should abstain for a while.¡±


    Liam blushed. I chewed on my toast, reading my notebook. I didn¡¯t forget to overwrite the new data.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to eat this and get more sleep, Mary. I was too tense at the hotelst night to sleep well¡­.¡±


    Mary blinked, puzzled.


    Because of some madman.


    Liam Moore shrugged,ughing, and I joined him. The case was solved, and I was safe.

 Chapter 90:

    The most bizarre event in my life began in 185¡Á.


    At the time, I was attending medical school. It seemed certain that I would live out the rest of my life as an ordinary doctor after graduation.


    I cannot be sure if recording this is the right thing to do. However, I take up the pen as my final apology for staying silent about the dreadful deed I witnessed.


    I don¡¯t know how people will react after reading this, but I hope you all remain safe.


    £ª £ª £ª


    It was during my final year of graduation.


    A new student entered the school, causing quite a stir. He was enthralled by a peculiar theory and sought to persuade the professors and students that ¡°life can be created.¡±


    When I heard about this from someone else, I immediately realized that the ¡°life¡± he referred to wasn¡¯t the kind born from the blessing of two people.


    It was an act of challenging divine authority. At the same time, it was an attempt to be a god himself. I couldn¡¯t believe it, so I asked again.


    ¡°That young man ims he can create life?¡±


    My colleague exined.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a theory. He babbles on about galvanism and long-forgotten ancient alchemy, and I think he¡¯s mad. Trying to persuade the university with obsolete knowledge and theories! He must be possessed by a demon!¡±


    He then rambled on about the young man¡¯s bizarre obsession with death and resurrection.


    I wanted to see the face of this young man with such extraordinary imagination.


    Who could dare to challenge the rights of God?


    Soon, I got the chance to meet the young man. He participated in our anatomy ss.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The young man had a pale face and a slender, thin body. When he walked, he looked like a ck wooden puppet moving.


    The professor seemed surprised by his unexpected appearance but, after asking a few anatomical questions, decided he could keep up with the ss. What I saw next was something that couldn¡¯t be described with a single word like ¡°amazing.¡±


    He knew exactly where every human organ was located and had memorized the structures from muscles to bones. My ssmates and I were all astonished by the extensive knowledge this non-medical student possessed.


    ¡°The dposition hasn¡¯t progressed much yet.¡±


    The young man made thisment and then began to dissect with great skill. A flush appeared on his pale cheeks, and his green eyes sparkled with passion.


    As I watched the young man, I suddenly thought,


    ¡®Is he truly trying to create life?¡¯


    When the ss ended, the young man approached me first. From what I heard, he had obtained a degree from Ingolstadt beforeing to Ennd. His name had a distinctly German pronunciation. As he extended his hand to introduce himself, his voice was remarkably calm. He said,


    ¡°Senior, what would you do if humans could ovee death?¡±


    I am embarrassed to admit my personal situation, but I lost my mother at a young age and my younger brother to a gue as I grew older.


    Being left alone in the world, I developed an early disenchantment with death. What was the point of living energetically when humans all return to dust anyway? That was my mindset.


    Yet, I was also ashamed to admit that if I could go back to my childhood, if there truly existed a devil who could return my family to me, I would dly take its hand.


    So, it might have been fate that led me to shake his hand.


    From that moment, everything twisted.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Around that time, a strange rumor was circting among the students. It was a trivial tale about the dead rising from their graves.


    I initially thought it was due to wild animals digging up shallowly buried bodies or the work of grave robbers. However, when the young man invited me to his boratory,¡± my perspective changed.


    The culprit behind the grave robbings was none other than the young man.


    He introduced hisboratory with a shy smile. A basement in a neat house, a giant iron door at the bottom of a long staircase¡ªit seemed designed for soundproofing. When the door opened, I momentarily lost my ability to speak. Massive machinery, an iron bed, and numerous bubbling chemicals were inside.


    The young man exined to me,


    ¡°The process of creating a body takes a long time.¡±


    He added that, theoretically, connecting body parts could create a human.


    The body on the experimental bed looked like that. It was the figure of a woman dressed in a white gown. The joints were stitched together with ck surgical thread, but the work was very delicate.


    ¡®He must have carefully collected young, uncorrupted parts.¡¯


    Looking at the intricately sewn body, I finally realised.


    This was all madness. The determination to revive dried-up blood vessels could only be exined by insanity! Bones, muscles, ligaments, even organs and eyes, all from recently deceased bodies¡­.


    I said in horror,


    ¡°That¡¯s not creating life; it¡¯s reviving something existing!¡±


    The young man frowned as if offended and said,


    ¡°Reviving the dead is the birth of new life, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Even so, stitching bodies together?¡±


    ¡°Just watch, Senior. The shadow of death over this will retreat, and a new human will open its eyes.¡±


    He said this while injecting a substance instead of blood. A silver fluid flowed under the thin skin.


    ¡°My theory is this: if the activities of a body from which life has departed can be artificially continued, the human will live! By using a substance to rece blood, making the heart beat, and running an electric current through the body!¡±


    The young man proudly bragged about making a stopped heart beat by injecting electricity.


    While he was busy manipting various devices, I felt a strong urge to flee. If this experiment truly seeded, the terrifying and horrific anticipation sent shivers down my spine.


    The young man kept turning a device resembling a ship¡¯s wheel. With each turn, a buzzing sound started.


    Sparks began to flicker in a metal spiral tube. The sparks flowed along the tube, connected by rubber wires to various parts of the body. Electricity! The limbs of the body twitched.


    The light grew brighter until it finally went out with a pop, followed by a loud scream. Then came an enormous sobbing, like a wave.


    The woman who had been a corpse on the bed was moving.


    She iled her limbs, screaming and sobbing, and the young man shouted loudly,


    ¡°Elizabeth! Elizabeth!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯sing! He¡¯sing! We must cover the windows! He killed me!¡±


    Her beautiful face was smeared with terror and tears.


    I sat on the floor, listening nkly to the woman¡¯s cries.


    Whatever his theory was, the young man hadn¡¯t anticipated that the woman would have ¡°intelligence.¡± He hurriedly asked,


    ¡°Look at me, Elizabeth! Do you feel any impulses? My dear, do you feel any terrible, devilish impulses burning in your heart?¡±


    The woman, after sobbing for a while, answered,


    ¡°Nothing!¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    The experiment was a sess. The woman walked upright, spoke, and was even rational.


    We conversed throughout the night. Through this, I learned that the woman was the young man¡¯s childhood friend and wife, and she had been brutally murdered by an assant on their wedding night. The young man hade all the way to Ennd (which he referred to as ¡°Inglis¡±) to revive her!


    ¡°I once heard that a philosopher in Ennd made an important discovery. Senior, I realised here that the theory was ¡®electricity¡¯! My research required artificial charging!¡±


    At the same time, I learned about the monstrous, ugly demon chasing him.


    The young man¡¯s first experiment and initial creation were pursuing him and had cursed his family. It seemed this creature was cruel, cunning, and could shake people¡¯s minds with a sly tongue.


    The young man trembled with rage whenever he spoke of the demon.


    ¡°That demon that cursed me! I want to tear it apart! When I think of how it killed my poor brother and my only friend, I feel unbearable despair! Oh, why did I create it!¡±


    ¡°If you regret it so much, why did you repeat the experiment?¡±


    The young man¡¯s green eyes fixed on me. They were green with madness.


    ¡°Because I didn¡¯t want to be left alone!¡±


    We talked through the night.


    When I woke up, the young man and his wife were gone, leaving only a letter behind. Theboratory was empty, and it was clear that no one else would know he existed.


    I include the contents of his letter below.


    [Dear Senior,


    After you find this letter, please run away. The monster will destroy everything associated with me and eventuallye for me.


    The moment you took my hand, I couldn¡¯t help but remember a friend who once looked at the Danube River with a passionate and healthy heart. That friend is now buried under the earth in Geneva, but I saw the same light in your eyes. So I spoke to you.


    If the devil has any mercy, it will leave you alone. We didn¡¯t have an emotional exchange, and you were merely a spectator of this experiment.


    I know well that the emotions you showed while watching my experiment were contempt and fear. I was foolish. You are nothing like my friend.


    Thus, I leave this letter as my final apology for my foolish choice. Please forget everything.


    To distract the demon, we are leaving. I won¡¯t say where we are going.


    Goodbye.]


    The reason I now reveal this is as follows. I don¡¯t know if the young man and his wife escaped safely, but sometimes, on dark nights, I feel eyes watching me.


    Did the young man escape? Or was he already caught by the demon, and now it seeks to kill thest witness to silence me?


    I don¡¯t know if this story is truly over or still ongoing, but one thing is clear.


    On dark nights when the moon doesn¡¯t shine, there are <b><i>eyes</i></b> watching me.

 Chapter 91: Dead man walking (1)

    ¡°Is this¡­ some kind of horror short story?¡±


    I murmured as I put down the newspaper.


    It was an utterly absurd tale. Not the kind of content one would expect to read at the beginning of a new year. If anything, it seemed like a nonsensical, imusible horror story. It was as if someone had mistakenly picked up a tale and decided to write about it.


    ¡°You could see it that way. It¡¯s set more than ten years ago, after all.¡±


    Liam Moore, who answered, quietly turned his attention back to his column, his eyes scanning each sentence.


    ¡°But in reality, back then, grave-robbing was quite frequent. It continued for years. Even when I was in school, there were gruesome rumours.¡±


    ¡°Corpses rising from their graves?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    Liam exined that this led people to bury bodies deeper and ce coffins upside down. ¡°It¡¯s a superstition, but¡­¡±


    Yes, a superstition. Unfortunately, in this 19th century, superstition, magic, and legends are alive and breathing. So, dismissing it entirely as superstition is unwise. You never know when a rumour you thought was baseless might suddenly turn out to be true.


    ¡°Even if it¡¯s rted to events from back then¡­ why publish such an article now?¡±


    I asked.


    Honestly, it didn¡¯t make sense. Digging up corpses and stitching them together to bring someone back to life? Reviving a person with electricity?


    Of course, in the 21st century, you can restart a heart that has just stopped with an electric shock. But no matter how advanced medical technology is in the 21st century, it can¡¯t revive a corpse that has been dead for a long time. Dead is dead. Even if it were possible, a brain that has died once doesn¡¯te back easily. We can revive hearts, but brains¡­


    ¡°¡­It¡¯s not entirely impossible. We¡¯ve experienced it ourselves.¡±


    A tale of magic. I finally understood what Liam Moore was talking about.


    ¡°Could this person have done something simr?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say, but the probability is high. Otherwise, they might have used a unique method only they knew.¡±


    I suddenly recalled a time when my brother Jonathan mocked a tabloid (which he rightfully did) for publishing a simr article.


    ¡®Corpses Walking in London!¡¯


    ¡°It¡¯s strange,¡± I murmured.


    ¡°You think so too.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel right. Philip Peterson is dead too. There shouldn¡¯t be any stories about dead people walking around London. The timing of this article isn¡¯t a coincidence.¡±


    Liam Moore approached me. His fingers naturally brushed my neck and lingered on the chain of the ne I always wore.


    ¡°Don¡¯t take off the ne for a moment. Always carry a weapon.¡±


    His lips brushed my cheek and whispered.


    ¡°If this is indeed within our realm of work, be cautious, Jane. You are a very easy target. Many in London¡¯s sewers wouldn¡¯t hesitate even if Lucita and Plurititas took an interest in you.¡±


    I reached out and ruffled his hair. Liam Moore, kneeling at my feet, looked up at me. The worry in his gaze made my heart flutter.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that look.¡±


    Iined.


    ¡°What look?¡±


    He asked mischievously.


    The look that says he wants to kiss me right now. But I kept that answer to myself and tapped his mischievous lips. He wrinkled his nose andughed.


    £ª £ª £ª


    In London, there was only one ce where people could gather regardless of status, gender, or age. Although clubs were typically the domain of gentlemen, this ce was different. I had been active as a member for a long time, and the connections I made here often helped me navigate life in this foreign city (London).


    The Leximion Association.


    Commonly shortened to Leximion or AL, this was our gathering. To be honest, the names varied. Just as Liam calls Greenwich a club, some people call it an association, while others call it a union.


    While our essence was a reading group, there was one thing all participants had inmon: they were single. There were people who were single, divorced, or widowed. But they were all ¡®currently single¡¯ individuals who gathered to read and discuss books.


    Books were purchased with voluntary membership fees. A few wealthy members often contributed money to buy books for those who couldn¡¯t afford them. I remember asionally pitching in with my extra money.


    At Leximion Association, we read ssics that stood still in the rapidly changing tides of the times.


    ssics are the preservednguage and proof of a bygone era. Sentences written by someone in the past remain for future generations, bing eternal with the moment. That¡¯s the power of words¡ªto lead to eternity.


    People sometimes want to live forever, but the characters in books can achieve that. Whether they live forever or meet an eternal end. The phrase ¡®lived happily ever after¡¯ in stories actually represents human desire. The impossible desire to ¡®live happily forever¡¯ is immortalised in writing,sting through centuries.


    So, past writings are outside the flow of time. We, book lovers, or in other words, lovers of the preserved past and the embalmed eternity, cherished them.


    For some time, I had been very busy and had be a ghost member.


    Honestly, how many times have I truly rested in the past few months? From the cult uproar at Old Paradise to the tragedy at Stranden Manor, the auction train with its mysterious host, Dahlia and Greenwich, and the kidnapping by an escaped convict¡­ I had barely any time to rest.


    It felt like someone was deliberately working me to the bone.


    In any case, I hadn¡¯t attended a Leximion Association meeting for nearly half a year. I hadn¡¯t been active enough for the group to assume I would rarely show up anymore.


    So when I showed up in my outing clothes, hat in hand, it caused quite a stir among the members.


    ¡°Who is this! Jane!¡±


    ¡°Jane? Jane Osmond?¡±


    ¡°Miss Osmond is here?¡±


    I smiled brightly. It was a grand reception. They surrounded me, delighted to see me in good health.


    At that moment, my friend, having heard the news, came running from inside. My memory provided his name and detailed memories.


    ra Barnum.


    ¡°Jane!¡±


    ¡°ra, my goodness! You cut your hair!¡±


    ra, with a bob cut just below her ears, burst intoughter. She was wearing very wide trousers that swayed like a skirt when she moved.


    ra was a rare visionary in this 19th century. I recalled a passionate voice from a past memory discussing ¡®maritime trade.¡¯ She always had suitors, but ra gave up on the marriage market and dered herself single. She soon established a significant shippingpany in London.


    ra, her hair bouncing, smiled at me.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it cool? I decided to change my style.¡±


    ¡°Wow, I thought a princess was walking out.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you!¡±


    raughed and pulled me along. After a briefmotion, we all sat down for a reading session.


    We began lightly with Hamlet.


    ¡°To be or not to be, that is the question¡­¡±


    The famous lines of Shakespeare were softly spoken, apanied by the quiet rustling of pages. At this moment, everyone focused on the book. Conversations outside the book were allowed only through written notes.


    Just then, ra handed me a small note. I unfolded the neatly folded paper to see her tidy handwriting.


    [I have a boyfriend.]


    I quickly took out my fountain pen and scribbled a reply.


    [What¡¯s he like? Does he treat you well?]


    [He¡¯s really kind. His slightly tanned skin is also very sexy.]


    ¡®Goodness.¡¯


    What should I do with this bold girl? I never imagined a 19th-centurydy would use the word ¡®sexy.¡¯ I struggled to contain myughter, my ears burning.


    [Can you introduce him to me next time?]


    [Of course. It would be a betrayal not to show my best friend my boyfriend.]


    I felt a bit emotional. Normally, friends who don¡¯t see each other often grow distant, but ra still considered me her closest friend. I should have made time to visit earlier.


    [Jane, would you like to have lunch together on Thursday? He¡¯sing.]


    [Can Ie too?]


    [Of course!]


    I drew a small heart and a hand-blown kiss in the corner. ra then dramatically stamped the note with her lips, leaving a red lipstick mark on the paper.

 Chapter 92: Dead man walking (2)

    One of the club members ying Hamlet began to recite a passage with deep sorrow.


    ¡°Oh, I die, Horatio!¡±


    Who was that? They could have been an actor. The performance was so moving that everyone forgot to be silent and let out sighs of admiration.


    After maintaining myposure for a while, I quietly stood up. ra stood up too. As she followed me out into the hallway, she asked,


    ¡°How are you doing these days?¡±


    ¡°How am I doing?¡±


    ¡°You know, about Mr. Moore. You mentioned before that he was on your mind.¡±


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re just¡­ friends.¡±


    ra didn¡¯t seem to believe me. She raised her eyebrows and red. ¡°Is that really just a friendship? You¡¯re so naive.¡±


    Well, what could I say? It¡¯s unfortunate to keep secrets from a friend, but the fewer people who know about the growing closeness between Liam Moore and me, the better.


    ra hailed a carriage for me and watched until I got in. Before the door closed, she whispered while holding onto it.


    ¡°Be careful. There¡¯s been some unsettling rumours at the clubtely.¡±


    ¡°Unsettling rumours?¡±


    ¡°People have imed to see a dead person.¡±


    What? Before I could ask more, ra closed the door and tapped the side of the carriage. The horses started moving. Through the milky ss, I watched ra fade into the distance.


    She waved.


    Feeling uneasy, I waved back.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Since Christmas, my seizures have be rare. Honestly, I think I¡¯ve managed to reconcile the disconnect between my mind and body. More urately, I epted what had happened to me.


    ¡®Honestly, what choice do I have?¡¯


    As I weed the New Year, I let go of my obsessive fixation on escape.


    I might need to think long-term. Maybe I¡¯ll have to live here until I die to return. After all, it seemed undeniable that I had to see the ¡®ending¡¯ to leave, and there was no need to rush when I hadn¡¯t fully understood the world yet.


    That¡¯s right. If I¡¯m going to see it, I want a happy ending. A bit more effort for the true ending. Or maybe a hidden ending. It seems like I¡¯m asking for a lot, but I just need to avoid the bad ending. So I¡¯ll make friends and utilise every rtionship I can.


    Thinking like that, the changes didn¡¯t seem so scary. I could remainposed even when memories of a sibling who never existed surfaced.


    Honestly, it wasn¡¯t all bad for me. Thanks to it, I was able to adapt safely to this world, and people around me didn¡¯t notice any discrepancies between me and Jane. In fact, I was grateful for Jane¡¯s memories.


    So I might need to view these changes as a blessing. Although it¡¯s a bit ufortable to have past and present memories mixed, I could slowly sort them out over time. Meanwhile, I would be one step closer to the ending.


    I could now naturally ept my changed life. I am Jane Osmond, a 21st-century person living in the 19th century. At the same time, I was still ¡®me.¡¯


    Of course, much of my adaptation was thanks to Liam Moore. Without his unwavering dedication, I wouldn¡¯t have endured ying this game up to this point. Though he seemed to be getting a bit overzealous¡­


    Since the kidnapping incident, he refused to leave me alone and protected the house with every charm he knew. Honestly, I half-expected this reaction.


    ¡®But trying to sleep together is a bit much¡­¡¯


    I was appalled.


    ¡°Are you a nine-year-old child,ing to sleep with a pillow in hand?¡±


    Liam Moore hugged his pillow and smiled shyly.


    ¡°Oh, Jane. I¡¯m more afraid than you think¡­¡±


    ¡°I remember you chopping up that strange squid like it was a chop steak.¡±


    ¡°Damn it.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    It happened to be raining in London. It had been gloomy since the day, and by night, there was thunder. Using the thunder as an excuse, Liam Moore was now camping out in my room.


    ¡°Honestly, Jane. I¡¯m really scared of thunder.¡±


    Good grief.


    I couldn¡¯t help butugh at his shamelessly pathetic face hugging the pillow. It was endearing how he tried to stay by my side even by making himself out to be a thirty-year-old man afraid of thunder. Even though there were no significant threats to me after dealing with Philip Peterson and weing a peaceful New Year.


    ¡®Of course, the ck King is still a major threat¡­¡¯


    That¡¯s a problem I have to solve gradually. As I learn more about this ce, I need to approach it cautiously.


    But I couldn¡¯tpletely dismiss his anxiety. I also experienced his disappearance. It was natural for us to care about each other¡¯s safety. Considering how Liam reacted when I went missing, his overprotectiveness made sense. This sensitive man probably med himself for everything.


    I still remember hisrge eyes brimming with tears as he copsed after rescuing me. Because of that memory, I couldn¡¯t be too harsh on Liam when he acted this way.


    ¡°Alright, I give up.¡±


    When I patted the bed, Liam climbed up with a delighted smile, neatly taking off his slippers.


    I sighed, looking at the man who snuggled up to me.


    ¡°It¡¯s strange. You¡¯re thirty now, why are you acting so childish?¡±


    Liam muttered,


    ¡°So what if I¡¯m a bit childish? As long as I do my job well outside.¡±


    Yeah, be cold outside and soft at home. You do it all.


    Thank goodness the world didn¡¯t know about this soft side of Liam Moore.


    Liam, leaning on his elbow and looking at my face, smiled slightly. His long fingers yed with my stray hairs. I didn¡¯t know what he was building up to with this pause.


    ¡°¡­Actually, I think it¡¯s time we shared a room.¡±


    What? This scoundrel!


    As my gaze turned icy, Liam hurriedly exined.


    ¡°No. It¡¯s just that having separate rooms means I might not notice if something happens to you. Especially if someone intentionally breaks in likest time¡­¡±


    ¡°So your solution is to share a room?¡±


    ¡°¡­I had no ulterior motives.¡±


    Yeah, right.


    I stared at him for a while, then covered my eyes with my hand. Why do I feel like an idiot every time I talk to you? Imented to the air.


    ¡°Oh my gosh, Herschel. Your godson is such a scoundrel¡­¡±


    Liam chuckled a bit, then shifted to find afortable position and buried half his face in the pillow. He blinked quietly. The small oilmp¡¯s me was dying, leaving the room lit only by the firece. Silence prevailed. I felt the warmth of his breath beside me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    When I finally said that, Liam Moore smiled gently.


    The rattling of the window was loud. Rainshed against the ss. Feeling a bit scared, I asked,


    ¡°The Thames won¡¯t flood, right?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. This much rain won¡¯t cause a flood.¡±


    Thank goodness. From Jane¡¯s memories, the Thames often swelled with heavy rain every year, so I worried on rainy days. After all, the Thames was not far from Bailonz Street.


    He patted me and urged,


    ¡°Let¡¯s sleep now. You¡¯ve been awake too long.¡±


    ¡°Ah, wait¡­.¡±


    Liam, who was about to fall asleep, slowly lifted his eyelids.


    ¡°I have a lunch appointment on Thursday with a friend. We¡¯re having a meal with her partner, the three of us.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Do you want toe?¡±


    Knowing his nature of not leaving me alone, he probably would want to.


    ¡°Where?¡±


    When I gave ra¡¯s address, Liam frowned in thought. He pondered for a while, then shook his head.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be polite to join a lunch like that, so I¡¯ll wait outside with the carriage.¡±


    ¡°Alright then.¡±


    ¡°If I follow you inside, it might look¡­¡±


    ¡°Overprotective?¡±


    His warm hand came up to stroke my cheek. I felt drowsy. Despite calling him a scoundrel, Liam Moore was a very effective¡­ human heater. I couldn¡¯t deny that. My vision blurred.


    As sleep overtook me, I faintly heard Liam¡¯s voice.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t want to make it obvious to everyone how much I care about you.¡±


    His voice was tender, as if it would disappear any moment.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When I woke up, Liam was still beside me. Fearing I might vanish, he held onto my sleeve even in his sleep. Yet, he maintained a respectful pillow¡¯s distance.


    Really, I¡¯m not going anywhere.


    As I tried to gently remove hisrge hand, he seemed to wake at the rustling sound. The sleepy thirty-year-old, half-awake with one eye open, mumbled. His voice was muffled and hoarse.


    ¡°What time is it?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Nine o¡¯clock.¡±


    I checked the clock and answered. Liam groaned and held his head.


    ¡°You idiot.¡±


    Iughed and rubbed Liam¡¯s face. It was warm and soft. Under my hand, heined, his face squished.


    ¡°Why do people have to wake up in the morning and sleep at night?¡±

 Chapter 93: Dead man walking (3)

    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you? It¡¯s just a habit.¡±


    It¡¯s not hard to get up early in the morning if you go to bed early. Knowing that, it¡¯s odd that he insists on staying upte.


    Liam grumbled softly.


    ¡°I want to wake up in the evening and sleep during the day.¡±


    ¡°What are you, a nocturnal animal?¡±


    Liam shrugged and quietly stood up. He groaned with every movement. He was finest night; why is he suddenly like this? Maybe I should take him to the hospital? I¡¯m starting to worry. Did Liam Moore always have low blood pressure?


    ¡°Wait a moment. I¡¯ll get you a cup of chamomile tea, good for headaches.¡±


    He waved me off, stopping me.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need for that¡ª¡± It seemed necessary. His paleplexion was not a good sign.


    So, it¡¯s not my imagination. Liam Moore was definitely sick. Looking closely, he had a clear look of illness, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get up. Lie down! Don¡¯te out of the room!¡±


    I shouted in surprise. Then, I hastily threw on a gown and dashed out of the room.


    As I ran downstairs in my pyjamas and gown, George (thendlord¡¯s son) and Mary, who were preparing breakfast, screamed.


    ¡°Oh my God, miss!¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Mary.¡± I interrupted her. ¡°Mary, can you contact a doctor nearby?¡±


    Mary quickly put down the spat and wiped her hands on a cloth. George, who was left holding two frying pans, stammered. Mary approached me with a serious expression and asked,


    ¡°Why? Is it Mr. Moore?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I think Liam has a fever. It might be a cold¡­¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a doctor nearby! I¡¯ll go right away!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t be more grateful. I hugged the busy Mary tightly with my apologies. Mary smiled and quickly put on her coat before leaving the house.


    George, now alone with the frying pans, looked at me with tearful eyes.


    ¡°Uh. Sorry, George. Thanks for your hard work.¡±


    I went back upstairs. I heard a bit of wailing behind me. My conscience pricked me, but there was nothing I could do.


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°It¡¯s the flu.¡±


    Liam, who had a thermometer in his mouth, protested.


    ¡°Huh, ridiculous. There¡¯s no way.¡±


    ¡°It is the flu. You have muscle aches, chills, headaches, and a mild fever. Fortunately, it¡¯s not too severe, so a few days of rest should do the trick.¡±


    I knew it. I looked at Liam Moore sceptically. Of course, he was still under the illusion that he was healthy. He spat out the thermometer and said,


    ¡°I have several cases to deal with, and you expect me to rest for a few days?¡±


    That workaholic. The doctor looked at Liam with a stern expression. I sighed. Something drastic was needed to snap him out of it. Preferably the most threatening thing.


    ¡°Doctor, don¡¯t you have an injection? The thickest and most painful needle, please.¡±


    ¡°¡­I¡¯ll rest quietly.¡±


    He agreed immediately, but I didn¡¯t believe him.


    ¡°Preferably something that will make him sleep for a whole day. A sedative would be perfect.¡±


    ¡°Jane, I¡¯ll really rest quietly.¡±


    Yeah, right. For Liam Moore, rest is a nonexistent word. He more often sleeps on the sofa than in bed!


    I quietly red at Liam Moore, and he hurriedly grabbed my hand.


    ¡°¡­I hate injections.¡±


    Exactly. Neenth-century needles are painful.


    In the end, I surrendered and sat down. Until the doctor left after receiving his fee, Liam Moore held my hand tightly.


    He must have gotten worse. His lips were peeling white, and his pyjamas were soaked with cold sweat. I patted him.


    ¡°Take the medicine and get some sleep.¡±


    ¡°I need to send a telegram.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it, so please, just sleep. You look like you¡¯re dying.¡±


    ¡°Is it that serious?¡±


    ¡°You look like you¡¯ve lost ten percent of your charm.¡±


    ¡°Oh, dear.¡±


    Liam Moore seemed genuinely shocked by that, and he quietly closed his eyes and buried his face in the pillow.


    I found the stationery from the drawer and ced it in front of him. I also propped up a cushion to make it easier for him to write.


    ¡°Write the telegram. I¡¯ll deliver it while you sleep.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Jane. I¡¯ve inconvenienced you¡­.¡±


    If you¡¯re sorry, get well quickly. Your groaning scares me.


    He hesitated and then started writing the telegram. ncing at it, I saw it was a letter to Greenwich, inquiring about the ¡®Meridian¡¯ anomalies.


    ¡°Rumours of seeing dead people aren¡¯t entirely unbelievable. It could be a collective phenomenon,¡±


    Seeing him exin it in a way I could understand showed his improvement. The old Liam Moore wouldn¡¯t have told me anything and would have tried to solve everything on his own.


    ¡°If that¡¯s the case, there might be changes in the Meridian too.¡±


    He drew his finger along the envelope, sealing it perfectly. His everyday magic never ceased to amaze me.


    ¡°Owen couldn¡¯t do it this freely. He needed chalk and various things.¡±


    ¡°Everyone has their own capacity.¡±


    ¡°So, Owen has a small capacity?¡±


    He chuckled and handed me the letter.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say my capacity is exceptionally special.¡±


    I waited until Liam Moore took his medicine before leaving the house. Mary arranged for a carriage for me.


    £ª £ª £ª


    On my way back after sending the letter, I was ambushed.


    I had noticed several people following me all the way, but I thought they were just observing me. However, as soon as I entered a deserted area, they immediately surrounded me, and I realised my mistake.


    ¡°You need toe with us for a moment.¡±


    As if anyone would obediently follow such an order. I took a step back and answered.


    ¡°Sorry, but I don¡¯t have time today.¡±


    Why am I so unlucky? Do I have a death wish or something?


    One thug swaggered up to me and spoke nastily.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your confidenceing from without the detective around?¡±


    Another one chimed in.


    ¡°You¡¯re just ady, after all. Probably only good at embroidery. How about we knock her out and take her?¡±


    ¡°We were told to bring her unharmed.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I can hear you.¡±


    They ignored me.


    I had fortunately learned basic self-defence. After being kidnapped by Philip Peterson, Liam Moore had almost obsessively taught me self-defence, pointing out human pressure points one by one. Thanks to that, I was now like a pirate roulette. Touch me, and I jump. And this pirate roulette had sharp eyes.


    ¡®Left-handed!¡¯


    I saw the watch on the right wrist as he reached out. Left-handers often wear their watches on their right wrist. So, his punch would likelye from the left. Liam Moore¡¯s training paid off.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it have been easier if you had just quietly followed us, miss? It¡¯ll hurt if your pretty face gets hit.¡±


    ¡®Wow, these guys are something else.¡¯


    As he tried to grab my shoulder, I bent my waist to dodge. With his target gone, his body tilted forward.


    When a person loses their bnce like that, there¡¯s a slight dy before they can recover. At this point, if you hit both ears hard,


    ¡°Argh!¡±


    The sudden pain will make them freeze.


    The man slowed down due to the pain in his eardrums. He threw a left punch, but I blocked it with my cane.


    ¡°Why are you taking so long with a woman?¡±


    ¡°Damn it, this woman isn¡¯t an ordinary person!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just an ordinary person.¡±


    Just a specially trained ordinary person.


    Don¡¯t give them time to recover. I quickly struck the man¡¯s face with my elbow. My strength might be less than theirs, but I could use momentum to deliver an effective blow.


    Seeing me take down one of their men, the other thugs hesitated simultaneously. Watching them was almost amusing. It seemed they hadn¡¯t considered I might fight back. Maybe they were used to people surrendering easily when threatened.


    I smiled confidently. Uh-oh, it seems Liam Moore¡¯s arrogance is rubbing off on me.


    ¡°You should¡¯ve at least brought a carriage. My ransom is quite high. Lots of people want me dead.¡±


    ¡°Wasting time! Grab her! Miss, don¡¯t think that detective wille save you!¡±


    ¡°Hah! Him?¡±


    Him? Save me? What a joke. I saved him. The one who got rescued like a princess was William Schofield Moore, not me!


    I swung my cane widely, causing them to flinch. Now that it¡¯se to this, I decided to fully mimic Liam.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t the sound intimidating? If you knew what¡¯s inside, you wouldn¡¯t evene near me.¡±


    My threats created a small circle around me. They all hesitated, not daring toe closer but not willing to leave either. I was contemting who to strike next.


    Just then, I heard a voice in my ear.

 Chapter 94: Dead man walking (4)

    A soft, melodic voice. El¡¯s hand rested on my shoulder.


    Although the others didn¡¯t seem to notice, I knew. We were connected, as if in that ck void.


    ¡°Over there, the short guy on the right. Next, the moustache. He has a knife in his pocket.¡±


    ¡°The one that looks like a pancake has a gun on his thigh. I noticed it from his strange gait.¡±


    Elughed. The bell-like sound of theirughter started to ease my tension.


    ¡°Jane, you¡¯re quite observant.¡±


    Following El¡¯s advice, I struck the short guy on the right first. This cane, you see, had a core of thick steel, as strong as a poker.


    ¡°He¡¯ll retaliate. Guard your left cheek and your abdomen.¡±


    This was incredibly convenient, like having abat assistance system. I couldn¡¯t observe all the attacks by myself, but with someone guiding me, I could avoid getting hit. Without El, I probably would have taken a few hits. Though I was prepared to get hurt, everyone values their body. The dirty moustache man screamed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t know why they said to bring you alive, but I¡¯ll make sure I get a hefty reward!¡±


    ¡°Well, do your best. I¡¯ve knocked out two, only three left.¡±


    Dirty moustache, pancake face, and one more¡­ What should I call him? Long face? Long face it is.


    Dirty moustache drew a knife. But it wasn¡¯t a wise choice to pull a dagger against someone with a cane.


    I remembered what Liam Moore once said.


    ¡°The shorter the de, the closer you have to get.¡±


    In reality, dodging my cane and swinging his knife made his movementsrge and clumsy, leaving many openings. All I had to do was hit the exposed parts, like a whack-a-mole game.


    I struck his wrist with the cane, making him drop the knife, then hit him in the centre of his corbone. He staggered back, clutching his chest and gasping.


    El spoke.


    ¡°His guard is down. Third rib.¡±


    Can they even know that?


    I kicked his ribs hard, sending him crashing into a brick wall. He shuddered for a moment, then slumped down. His ribs were likely broken, making it hard for him to breathe.


    For pancake face, since he had a gun, I needed to disable his wrist first, then strike his knee to immobilise him.


    ¡°Wait!¡±


    Just as I was about to attack the next victim, he shouted.


    ¡°We¡¯ll go quietly! Just let us go!¡±


    I felt like a thug. After staring them down for a moment, I nodded, allowing them to gather their fallenrades and quickly disappear down the alley.


    My strength was drained. My hands ached and throbbed. The adrenaline was wearing off, and El¡¯s voice was no longer audible. I ran straight to the bright street and shouted.


    ¡°Coachman!¡±


    I shouldn¡¯t stay here any longer. Even in broad daylight, it¡¯s dangerous to be dragged off, especially in a weakened state.


    Avoiding gs, avoiding events. I should live a safe and enjoyable life. Having fully immersed myself in the 19th century, peace was most important to me.


    ¡°Please take me to 13 Bailonz Street.¡±


    I said as I climbed into the carriage. The horse started moving slowly, and the vibrations of the carriage could be felt under my feet. I copsed into the seat, finally able to catch my breath.


    £ª £ª £ª


    There was a problem. Because of Liam Moore¡¯s condition, I couldn¡¯t move him from my room to his.


    Mary looked like she wanted to ask why Mr. Moore was in my room, but I kept my mouth shut. I couldn¡¯t possibly tell her that Liam Moore hade to my room, hugging a pillow like a nine-year-old child.


    ¡°Miss, are you sure nothing is wrong?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Nothing¡¯s wrong, Mary.¡±


    The answer came out a bit too quickly. Mary¡¯s eyes seemed to grow colder, but I coughed and avoided her gaze. Are you sure? Are you really sure? Her repeated questioning showed how worried she was. Liam stifled augh while upying my bed. The moment of sharing a room with a thug had be reality.


    Once everyone left, I looked at Liam Moore.


    ¡°¡­Are you really sick?¡±


    ¡°Jane, have I ever lied to you?¡±


    I frowned. Have you ever lied? Yes, right here.


    ¡°A lot. William Schofield Moore, sir.¡±


    ¡°¡­Except for that.¡±


    ¡°The wizard of Greenwich, sir?¡±


    ¡°Why does it feel like you¡¯re just listing my wrongdoings?¡±


    Because it¡¯s true.


    I sternly dered, like a judge, ¡°You¡¯ve been exposed!¡± Liam clutched his belly,ughing, thenined of a headache.


    Luckily, or unluckily, it wasn¡¯t a ruse as I had suspected. After feeding him some clear stew, I added more logs to the firece. Once the air warmed up, his chills would disappear.


    ¡°There. Mini Moore.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a bit too cute of a nickname¡­¡±


    ¡°Ahem. Now go back to your room.¡±


    But I had overlooked one thing. Liam Moore was a much more shameless man than I thought. Pretending the medicine was taking effect, he yawned and buried his face in my pillow.


    ¡°¡­Liam?¡±


    No response. Even after shaking him a few times, I only heard the sound of his snoring.


    ¡­So that¡¯s how I lost my room to Liam Moore.


    £ª £ª £ª


    While Liam was bedridden, I handled all the responses regarding the cases. For ongoing investigations, I reported the progress to the clients. For others, I informed them that it would take a bit more time. Thankfully, most of them understood, and although a few showed dissatisfaction, they eventually epted it.


    Liam couldn¡¯t even go near the desk. Catching a cold from overexertion left him bedridden. I was determined not to let him work. Liam protested.


    ¡°Please, I feel like mould is growing in my head.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it won¡¯t. It can¡¯t. Just lie down.¡±


    Due to my firm stance, he couldn¡¯t utter a singleint and had to focus solely on his recovery.


    Liam Moore, deprived of work, looked utterly dejected, insisting that without work, there was nothing left of him. But I had no choice. Why make a patient work? The idea of mould growing on that brilliant brain? Ridiculous. He¡¯d lived through London¡¯s dreary weather for years and always looked sharp. A few days indoors wouldn¡¯t change that.


    ¡°If you step out of bed one more time, I¡¯ll tie you up.¡±


    ¡°Tie me up? Really?¡±


    ¡°Should I gag you first?¡±


    Fortunately, I had a good immune system and adaptability.


    Liam¡¯s room was filled with unfamiliar medicines and substances, so I didn¡¯t want to sleep there. The first night, I slept on the living room sofa, but it left me sore all over.


    Eventually, when ck dust (thanks to the firece) came out of my nose, I thought, what¡¯s the big deal about gender separation? So from the next day, I just slept next to Liam.


    My bed was definitely the best. Soft and warm. Even more so thanks to Liam.


    I didn¡¯t know what he was thinking, but since he slept with his face buried in my shoulder, he didn¡¯t seem to mind the situation.


    By Thursday, the sick patient¡¯s condition had finally improved.


    After surviving on thin soup and not leaving the bed for days, Liam Moore looked even thinner and sharper, like a walking stick. Having finally emerged from his room, he spent a long time washing up beforeing to me, smelling like a rain-soaked forest. While vigorously rubbing his damp hair with a towel, he asked.


    ¡°Today, right? The day you had lunch ns with your friend.¡±


    ¡°Yes, today at lunch. I was just getting ready to go.¡±


    ¡°Should take about three hours.¡±


    ¡°If we have tea and chat?¡±


    Unable to bear it any longer, I grabbed the towel and started drying his hair for him. Shaking his head, Liam said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting with the carriage around that time.¡±


    It was a bit surprising for someone who had just gotten out of bed to say that. I wondered if his fever hadn¡¯t fully gone down. I asked again, just to confirm.


    ¡°You¡¯reing to pick me up? The patient who just got up?¡±


    ¡°People don¡¯t die from a cold, Jane.¡±


    He was so determined that I didn¡¯t argue further, but I couldn¡¯t help worrying. Yes, people don¡¯t die from a cold. But it¡¯s the 19th century, my friend. I¡¯ve experienced 21st-century medical advancements.


    ¡°Well, who am I to say anything¡­¡±


    He chuckled, his shoulders shaking.


    Around this time, I had a thought, ¡®Repeatedly and emphatically warning Liam Moore will only make him anxious.¡¯


    Somewhere, El seemed to beughing. Oh, why. There are no bad Liam Moores in this world.


    ¡°See youter. Behave and guard the carriage.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    From teacher to ma¡¯am? This is crazy. Roles change every time.


    ¡°Alright.¡±


    When I waved, the handsome and well-built manservant grinned. His eyes crinkled adorably, his eyshes fluttering charmingly even from a distance.


    You could really make a living with that face. With that idle thought, I went downstairs.


    The carriage ra had sent had arrived. It was a high-end carriage with herpany¡¯s logo emzoned on it.

 Chapter 95: Dead man walking (5)

    ra must have been waiting for me eagerly. As the coachman helped me down, she stood at the front door without a coat. Winter in London is harsher than expected, with unmelted snow still piled up around the garden. I was shocked to see ra standing there so fearlessly.


    ¡°ra! What month is it? And you¡¯re dressed like that?¡±


    ¡°I was waiting for you, Honey.¡±


    Pouting and wrapping her arms around herself, she looked so adorable that I couldn¡¯t bring myself to scold her any further. Instead, I burst outughing. ¡®Honey¡¯ was a pet name ra had given me, one she only used when we were alone. Clearly, she was in a yful mood. Her hands were like ice.


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you cold? You should have worn something!¡±


    ¡°A friend ising over. As if the cold could stop ra Barnum! Impossible.¡±


    She confidently flipped her short hair and smiled. I rubbed her cold hands and led her inside. To be honest, ra looked more in need of a firece than a meal right now. A ss of brandy would do her good.


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    As soon as we opened the door, a rush of warm air enveloped us. My ears, which had been exposed to the cold, tingled as the warmth touched them. The biting winter wind seemed to fall away. But then, I was taken aback by the scene inside. The interior of the house hadpletely changed. I remembered visiting this ce several times before. ra¡¯s home used to be elegantly furnished with French-imported furniture, renowned for its lovely patterns and delicate decorations. Now, most of the furniture was made of heavy wood. ¡°Why did you change the interior so much?¡±


    ¡°Wanted a change of pace, plus some shopping. But I only changed this area. Recing everything upstairs would have cost too much.¡±


    Iughed. She was pretending to be frugal despite having more money than sand on a beach.


    Perhaps it was the new furniture, or maybe she had paid extra attention to detail, but ra¡¯s house was spotless. And with the soft music ying in the background, to be honest¡­ it was a bit intimidating. How much effort had my friend put into this meal for me? Even hiring a musician? I decided not to ask about the cost, fearing I might faint if I heard the number. Instead, I asked something else.


    ¡°How¡¯s the old butler?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s been coughing a bit due to the cold weather, so I gave him a holiday. The chef also left after preparing our meal¡­.¡±


    ¡°The staff welfare here is better than at our office.¡±


    ra¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°That detective guy isn¡¯t overworking you, right? You¡¯re getting paid, right? Seriously, if you¡¯re working for free, let me know. I¡¯ll bring in a team ofwyers and sue¡­¡±


    ¡°Calm down, ra.¡±


    ¡°Smite them in the name of¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an atheist.¡±


    After a moment, we both burst outughing. ra wiped tears from her eyes and guided me to the dining room.


    ¡°Hungry? He¡¯s waiting inside.¡±


    Suddenly, I felt a surge of determination. As I smiled subtly, ra¡¯s eyes darted nervously.


    ¡°Jane, what are you nning?¡±


    ¡°A pressure interview.¡±


    ¡°Miss Jane Osmond, this isn¡¯t apany.¡±


    ¡°If you want to marry my friend, you have to get through me first.¡±


    ra put her hand on her forehead. Just then, a man who had been anxiously waiting inside stood up as soon as he saw ra and me.


    ¡°You can sit down.¡±


    Looking very much like an interviewer, ra grumbled as she went to her seat. I refused the chair offered to me and sat down myself. The meal was served promptly.


    The dinner was delightful. ra¡¯s boyfriend was very pleasant. I usually remain indifferent to men¡¯s looks after seeing Liam Moore¡¯s face daily, but I was genuinely surprised when I first saw ra¡¯s boyfriend. He had the kind of beauty that could make a model weep. ra used to say she didn¡¯t care about looks, but clearly, she did.


    They say people in love start to look alike. ra seemed to have met someone who mirrored her appearance and personality. His handsome features and bold personality were just like hers. It was as if they had scoured the earth to find two simr-looking people.


    ra¡¯s boyfriend had light brown, curly hair and sun-kissed skin. As he cut ra¡¯s meat for her with his muscr arms, I whispered to her.


    ¡°You should think about getting married soon.¡±


    ra smiled and showed her left hand, bare without a ring.


    ¡°He¡¯s nning a proposal.¡±


    ¡°What? ra? Did you call me?¡±


    Her boyfriend paused from cutting the meat and looked up. Such keen hearing. ra shook her head.


    ¡°My friend thinks you¡¯ll make a good husband.¡±


    What? When did I say that? ra was making things up again. I couldn¡¯t hide my shock, but her boyfriendughed heartily.


    ¡°That¡¯s my duty.¡±


    My jaw dropped.


    This man was perfect. It was as if he had fallen from the sky just for ra. Get married. Yes. Live happily together forever. Seeing the two of them blushing and exchanging sweet words made me feel like I was intruding. I turned to ra, who was still fidgeting.


    ¡°So, how did you two meet?¡±


    Her boyfriend choked on his water. His shoulders shook from the effort to suppress his coughing. Surely, I could ask how they met and fell in love. These are the stories we love.


    ra lowered her voice, as if revealing a great secret.


    ¡°Well, you know I run a business. Recently, I got a new ship, and of course, I needed a crew.¡±


    It seemed she had chartered a ship. This meant ra had to handle everything from crew to ship provisions herself. I nodded.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°I prepared everything, but I needed someone who could sail the ship. So, I went around looking for a crew, and a business acquaintance introduced me to a captain. They told me to go to the docks on a specific date.¡±


    Could it be?


    I leaned in eagerly. ra continued her story.


    ¡°When I got there, he was overseeing the unloading of cargo from the ship. His coat and hair were blowing in the wind. Hismanding voice pierced through the noise of the busy docks. It was so loud, but all I could hear was his voice. And then I thought, ¡®Wow, I must get him.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Oh my God, ra!¡±


    ra¡¯s boyfriend looked like he wanted to crawl into a teapot. Of course, ra Barnum wouldn¡¯t allow that.


    Iughed, then winced at the slight sting in my ear. Why? ra, noticing my difort, asked,


    ¡°Are you hurt?¡±


    The tingling in my ear subsided. I shrugged.


    ¡°No, just static, I think.¡±


    For almost three hours, we teased ra¡¯s boyfriend. It was inevitable. ra¡¯s boyfriend was easy to tease; he would blush and squirm no matter how we mocked him. By the time I left, my cheekbones ached fromughing so much.


    ra seemed reluctant to let me go, her eyes lingering on me with a hint of regret. But she couldn¡¯t keep me forever, so she came out to see me off. I said my goodbyes.


    ¡°I had a great time, ra.¡±


    ¡°Honey, let¡¯s meet again soon.¡±


    ¡°Your ¡®honey¡¯ is over there, girl.¡±


    raughed heartily and hugged me tightly.


    A carriage was already waiting outside ra¡¯s house. Inside was a very familiar, handsome man. It was Liam. Perfect timing.


    Halfway into the carriage, I waved to ra. She waved back. I turned to Liam and asked,


    ¡°Liam Moore! Are you feeling better?¡±


    Sitting inside, he nodded.


    I heard the crackling noise of the radio.


    £ª £ª £ª


    About ten minutes into the ride, I started feeling sleepy after the meal and rested my head against the carriage wall. Liam¡¯s gaze was fixed on me. His gaunt cheeks and wearyplexion hadn¡¯t changed since I left the house. He sat upright, staring at my face.


    ¡°Liam?¡±


    He nodded. And then, I sensed something was wrong.


    I couldn¡¯t tell what was in front of me.


    It looked exactly like Liam Moore, but there was an eerie, unnatural feeling. He hadn¡¯t blinked for ten minutes. I couldn¡¯t even hear him breathe. Sitting rigidly, his gaze locked on me, as if that was all he could do.


    Yes, to put it simply,


    ¡®Don¡¯t you want to save Liam Moore?¡¯


    It reminded me of the creaky, shell-like state of Herschel Hopkins.

 Chapter 96: Dead man walking (6)

    Of course, whaty before me was fundamentally different from Liam Moore. While it was clear this thing was the same that possessed Herschel, it didn¡¯t feel like Liam at all. If I had to describe the difference¡­ it was like the distinction between moving a real body and mimicking its appearance¡ªa difference between real and fake.


    This was not Liam Moore.


    Upon reaching that conclusion, my heart began to pound wildly. Clutching the door handle, ready to leap from the carriage, I demanded, ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Its gazended on me.


    Empty eyes devoid of emotion or soul, a pair of unfocused, ss-like eyes.


    ¡°Ja¡­ne¡­¡±


    A warning voice, garbled and barely intelligible due to static, reached my ears. It was undoubtedly El¡¯s voice.


    I finally realised that the intermittent crackling sounds I had been hearing were all El¡¯s warnings. From the moment I boarded the carriage, he had been trying to alert me.


    The ring on my finger started to heat up. If only it had reacted sooner! I might have sensed something was wrong. It had meticulously hidden its presence while mimicking Liam Moore¡¯s shell so perfectly that I truly believed it was him. But how? How did it know Liam was supposed to pick me up? How did it steal his appearance? How did it know ra¡¯s house?


    It continued to stare at me, an overwhelming sense of fear washing over me. I heard that drumbeat again, one I had thought forgotten, or believed I would never hear again.


    Thud¡­ Thud¡­ Thud¡­.


    The carriage showed no signs of stopping. If anything, it was elerating in time with the drumbeats. The rhythm of the drums quickened, now almost faster than my heartbeat.


    Could horses even run this fast?


    I turned to look outside. It was dark. It shouldn¡¯t be; it was just after 3 PM, so thendscape shouldn¡¯t look like this.


    ¡°Could it be¡­¡±


    A foreboding thought crossed my mind.


    ¡°Driver! Stop the carriage! Right now!¡±


    I half-leaned out of the window, shouting. But even after pounding on the carriage¡¯s roof, there was no response. And then¡­ I saw why the driver couldn¡¯t respond.


    A skeleton with no flesh hung limply in the driver¡¯s seat, slowly disintegrating into the air. The horse leading us wasn¡¯t even recognizable as such anymore. A beast with glowing red eyes ran madly down the street, foam frothing from its mouth.


    An eerie silence nketed the streets. This wasn¡¯t the world I knew. It felt as if the whole world had been turned upside down. Misty London streets, empty and deste, filled only with the sound of galloping hooves.


    I distinctly remember seeing this scene before. When was it?


    The thing that mimicked Liam Moore¡¯s form didn¡¯t stop me from doing anything but watched me intently with each move I made.


    Snowkes started to fall.


    Ah, at the very beginning, the moment I was stabbed in the neck and died. I remembered that street devoid of any carriages.


    Then, I felt my strength leaving my body. It was strange. Why was I so sleepy? I tried to fight it, but soon my knees buckled. My senses dulled. I felt something flowing through my veins.


    I felt myself being caught andid down by something. The figure in the carriage, that shape, quietly held my arm and looked into my face.


    This dizziness and numbing sensation, the relentless sleepiness¡ªI recognized this.


    This was,


    ¡°Opi¡­ um¡­ tinct¡­ ure¡­¡±


    I forced the words out with a groan, peeling my lips apart.


    The thing with Liam Moore¡¯s form looked at me with an indifferent expression, seemingly intent on watching me lose consciousness.


    My breathing slowed. Darkness encroached on my vision.


    I couldn¡¯t deny it. I lost consciousness.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Regaining consciousness was a slow and painful process.


    I wasn¡¯t tolerant to drugs, so I had to lie there, helpless, until this dreadful feelingpletely dissipated. It felt like I was being forcibly pulled back to awareness from a very deep ce.


    When my vision cleared, the first thing I saw was a stone ceiling.


    ¡®Where am I?¡¯


    I saw stone walls with oilmps embedded in them. The atmosphere felt like a tomb. Specifically, it felt like the catbs I had seen in a travel magazine once. That kind of dampness hung in the air.


    Despite the eerie silence, I wasn¡¯t alone. I could hear countless breathing sounds around me. Wheezing breaths.


    I struggled to sit up, feeling like a ragdoll.


    The first thing I saw were countless stone beds. Peopley on them, eyes closed, hands neatly ced on their chests as if dead. I was one of them, but for some reason, I was the only one who had woken up.


    An incense burner stood in the middle of the hallway, continuously emitting smoke, preventing people from regaining consciousness. My head felt heavy. If I inhaled more of it, I would surely pass out again, so I rolled off the stone bed.


    The floor seemed to undte inyers. I dry-heaved for a while.


    Where did I take that opium tincture? Although it was used medicinally until the early 19th century, by now its addictive and dangerous properties were well known, and it was no longer prescribed except for terminal illnesses.


    No, no. This wasn¡¯t the time to think about such things. I needed to get out of here. I steadied my mind and began to walk.


    ¡°I have to get out of here.¡±


    I breathed desperately. The thought of escaping sharpened my focus. I quickly searched my pockets and pulled out my notebook. It seemed my captors had confiscated all my belongings except this notebook, which fortunately stayed with me. It was my anchor to this world, a vital link.


    Save. I checked the most recent save slot. This morning. The conversation with Liam Moore in the morning. I had to go back. I shouldn¡¯t be here. My instincts screamed that getting involved in this ce was dangerous.


    [Loading¡­.]


    I opened my eyes.


    That familiar scent filled my nose.


    The first thing I saw was the stone ceiling.


    A white error message shed before my eyes.


    [ERROR! Loading cannot be performed in this area.]


    No way. That can¡¯t be. It had never failed before. Why was this feature blocked now? Is this like a GPS signal? Does it not work indoors or underground?


    ¡®Try again.¡¯


    I desperately wanted to believe it would work this time.


    [ERROR! Loading cannot be performed in this area.]


    [ERROR! Loading cannot be performed in this area.]


    [ERROR! Loading cannot be performed in this area.]


    In the end, I gave up relying on the system¡¯s power.


    If loading was impossible, I was in real danger. If I died here, I might die for real, without any chance of revival. What would happen if I died without seeing the end? I wasn¡¯t particrly eager to find out.


    I started walking, dragging my heavy body. There was a door at the end of the hallway. Perhaps thinking that the people inside wouldn¡¯t regain consciousness, it wasn¡¯t locked. A continuous ck stone wall stretched out underground. I saw no more rooms.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    I muttered to myself several times, as if to reassure myself. It¡¯s okay. This is just a game. It¡¯ll be fine.


    I began to walk cautiously. My breathing sounded too loud. It seemed I was scared.


    About halfway through, the path split. On my way here, I hadn¡¯t seen a single person, not even an insect. That was a bit strange. To kidnap so many people, they must have needed a lot of manpower.


    ¡®If I can get to a ce where I can use the notebook, that¡¯d be good.¡¯


    If not, finding an exit would be my next goal.


    I didn¡¯t know how many hours had passed. Without my pocket watch, I had no way of telling the time. I kept walking.


    The ck stone walls turned into dirt walls, and at some point, they transformed into catb walls embedded with skulls. Those walls held grotesque stone carvings. Their expressions were desperate, as if trying to escape from the stone, their dynamic posespelling my attention.


    I didn¡¯t know why it happened at that moment. Suddenly, a message appeared before my eyes.


    [Run.]

 Chapter 97: Dead man walking (7)

    The instant I saw that message, a shiver ran down my spine. Why would it start mimicking a game now, after making everything feel so real? And what did ¡°Run¡± mean? Usually, it would tell me which button to press to run.


    I heard the sound of bells. Not the Western kind, but the sort that shamans in my country might use. The sound was getting closer.


    I started to run. I just ran, trying to ignore the creepy feeling closing in on me from behind! It felt like I absolutely shouldn¡¯t look back. If I did, I would die. My instincts told me so.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I arrived at what seemed like a naturally formed cave. In the center was a massive stone altar, supported by countless carvings. The surrounding floor was gouged, as if it had been violently shed.


    There was a door at the end of the room. Light was streaming in through a small gap above, indicating the exit was close. Even if it wasn¡¯t the exit, I was definitely closer to the surface.


    I was about to run towards the light.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you.¡±


    Until I heard that voice. I knew who the voice belonged to. I had been deliberately ignoring it, convincing myself that they wouldn¡¯t betray me, that they wouldn¡¯t put me in this situation. I wanted to believe it was all a misunderstanding, that I was imagining things.


    But¡­


    ¡°Why did you do it?¡±


    I asked because I couldn¡¯t fathom why they would give me that drug. We had parted with smiles, so how could they have done such a thing in the meantime?


    ¡°ra, why did you give me opium tincture?¡±


    ¡°You noticed.¡±


    ¡°Of course. There aren¡¯t many things that can knock out an adult like that.¡±


    I turned to face her. ra stood there, looking exactly as she did when west parted, wearing a soft smile.


    ¡°My dear Jane, you¡¯re bing more like your detective.¡±


    I didn¡¯t understand why everyone around me kept saying that. I took two steps back, and ra advanced as much, smiling dreamily.


    ¡°Was introducing me to your lover an excuse too?¡±


    ¡°Lover? Ah, that man. Yes, it was. I needed a surefire way to bring you out. Your detective protected you so fiercely that I had to meet you outside that house.¡±


    ¡°To bring me here?¡±


    ¡°I like how quick you catch on.¡±


    I was truly caught.


    No, but it didn¡¯t make sense.


    ra squinted, seemingly bothered by the faint light filtering in. She raised one hand to shield her eyes and spread the other wide.


    ¡°This ce was made for you, Jane Osmond.¡±


    ¡°For me? Since when?¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡±


    No, ra chuckled, cutting herself off.


    ¡°No need to tell you. You¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡±


    ra extended her hand. I stepped back, feeling the cold stone altar against my legs. Before I knew it, I was being pushed toward the center of the cave. ra continued to smile with the face I knew so well.


    ¡°I need you, Jane.¡±


    Her words were hard to ept. She continued.


    ¡°Your existence is essential. We never realized how well you blended in. No, it¡¯s a pity we didn¡¯t recognize it was you. Since when? Since birth?¡±


    I didn¡¯t fully grasp what ra was saying, but one thing was clear. She was talking about the ¡°game.¡± She and the entities she referred to as ¡°we¡± had be aware of my existence.


    ¡°No need to waste time on futile experiments with useless expendables. You¡¯re right here, perfectly made. They told me. They ordered me to use you. This ce was arranged solely for you!¡±


    ¡°Do you follow some religion? A cult?¡±


    raughed heartily. Her body bent back inughter, then snapped upright in a grotesque manner. She whispered to me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you hear the stars singing?¡±


    ¡°Stars¡­¡±


    ¡°They were there too, with your detective. Jane, we¡¯ve met more often than you realize. You just never recognized me.¡±


    It felt like I¡¯d been hit over the head. I muttered in a daze.


    ¡°Old Paradise Gardens.¡±


    ¡°Exactly! The Brothers of Turc! Who do you think covered up that case?¡±


    It was chilling. I had an inkling of what ra meant by ¡°experiment.¡±


    The events I¡¯d experienced since starting the game were all interconnected, serving a single purpose. Though I didn¡¯t know their ultimate goal, it was clear it wasn¡¯t anything good.


    The foggyndscape of the first day. That strange London street was likely simr to the dimensional space on the train. The scenes I saw from the carriage were the same.


    The Brothers of Turc.


    Their objectives seemed simr to what¡¯s happening now. ra appeared to be deeply connected with them.


    The realization that everything we¡¯d been chasing was part of someone¡¯s n was profoundly unsettling.


    ¡°Be thankful, Jane. Thanks to your detective, you evaded our notice for a while. Deceiving Meridian was quite a challenge. You have no idea of your value.¡±


    Me.


    There are several words that represent ¡°me.¡± For instance, the game¡¯s yer, an outsider who doesn¡¯t belong here, or a stranger.


    Hence, I was afraid.


    They had identified me. The game¡¯s NPCs.


    The phrase ¡°you don¡¯t know your value¡± nagged at me. Why was I, the yer, valuable to them?


    What kind of ns did they have that required me? Why?


    But even if I asked why, I wouldn¡¯t get an answer. I knew that. This woman wouldn¡¯t reveal anything to me. If she did, I wouldn¡¯t know what I might have to give in return.


    I remembered Plurititas¡¯ words. He said there were creatures hiding under human skins. ra Barnum was definitely a ¡°hunter.¡± And I was the prey, caught in her hands, waiting to be dissected.


    ¡®I have to escape.¡¯


    ra still looked at me with that amused expression. Her finger pressed down on my chest, her nail pricking my skin.


    ¡°They¡¯ve hidden you from everything in this world. They created many secrets. Be thankful, Jane. The more you uncover, the more noticeable you¡¯ll be.¡±


    ¡°Noticeable?¡±


    ¡°To us. To the hungry ones. Oh dear, now that you¡¯ve been discovered, you can¡¯t hide. You won¡¯t be able to escape in any way. Your eyes will be bloodshot, and you¡¯ll be uncontroble.¡±


    My hands were grabbed. There was no escape. All I could do was struggle, trying to free my wrists.


    Right now, I had no warning ring, no protective ne. Even the gun from my thigh was gone. They must have thoroughly searched me. If I had those, I could have defended myself.


    My futile resistance weakened. I knew it. In my pajamas, with nothing but my bare hands, I could do nothing.


    As my strength faded, heavy chains wrapped around my wrists. Thick shackles, attached to a chain embedded in the altar, like those used for prisoners. My hands were bound. I realized it toote.


    ra¡¯s hand pressed me against the altar. Before I could clear my confusion, I felt the cold stone against my cheek. I tried to break free from ra, but her strength was inhuman.


    ¡°Let go, ra. Whatever¡¯s going on, I can¡¯t help you.¡±


    I panted, feeling suffocated. The stone felt deathly cold through my thin pajamas. I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I was in the grip of death.


    When I finally caught my breath, I saw ra¡¯s expression. She muttered as if she were looking at a test subject, as if seeing a talking animal.


    ¡°You really speak like ¡®Jane.''¡±


    ¡°I am¡­ Jane.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re the hope we¡¯ve been searching for.¡±


    Excuse me, but does your religion treat hope like this? I swallowed the rebellion rising in my throat.


    I felt ra¡¯s hands rummaging through my clothes. She seemed certain I had something. I could guess her objective.


    ¡®But that makes no sense.¡¯


    ra pulled my notebook from my pocket, smiling that kind and gentle smile I knew. But her eyes were devoid of warmth.


    ra asked, but it felt more like she was confirming something she already knew.


    ¡°Thest page, right?¡±

 Chapter 98: Worth (1)

    A sense of foreboding filled me. I felt like I shouldn¡¯t answer. However, ra seemed indifferent to whether I responded or not. She flipped through the pages of her notebook as if reading a novel, stopping at the veryst page. Then, she shoved the slot in front of my eyes.


    ¡°How did you get this?¡±


    Even Liam Moore hadn¡¯t noticed this secret of mine. My eyes involuntarily flickered, and ra¡¯s smile deepened.


    ¡°I can see the dates. You can store your time. Yes, this is¡­ closer to a primordial force than magic. It¡¯s connected to you¡­ But things like this, Jane¡­¡±


    Her dry fingers dug into the page. The paper didn¡¯t tear, but it resisted her touch. Light flickered. Somewhere, thunder rumbled, and I heard the sky¡¯s roar.


    I felt the force tearing the connection between me and the notebook. The notebook screamed. I screamed, too.


    ¡°No, no, what are you doing?!¡±


    A searing pain raked through my heart. My heart pounded rapidly, then fell with a loud thud, repeatedly.


    My vision, ckening and returning, revealed someone. Someone was squeezing my heart. It wasn¡¯t ra Barnum, but someone behind her¡­. Thud. My heart dropped again. I heard a cracking sound.


    ¡°Aaaargh!¡±


    ¡°Oh my, did it hurt?¡±


    Tears blurred my vision. The edges of my sight were crimson, constantly rippling. Breathing became difficult.


    ¡®I¡¯ was being rewritten here, at this time, something was anchoring me. Like binding my heart.


    A curse, a curse, information flooded into my mind. A concept I¡¯d never heard before. Someone was shouting at me. That thing has cursed your soul! Like taxidermy, stripping me and nailing me to this time!


    ra ascended the altar. Her hands were stained with ink. ck ink dripped like blood, staining the altar and my clothes. She pressed down on my wrist. I couldn¡¯t resist. More urately, I had lost the will to resist. Before I knew it, I was crawling on the altar, crying.


    ¡°Don¡¯t cry already, Jane.¡±


    ¡°ra Barnum¡­!¡±


    Thud! My heart pounded heavily. I gasped, all the air leaving my lungs. My body trembled from the pain of my flesh being stripped away.


    Death was imminent. All my senses warned me. I was going to die.


    ra was holding my convulsing body. Smiling wryly, she thrust thest page of the notebook before my eyes until the spasms subsided.


    [Slot 1. January 20, 1871 Catb]


    [Slot 2. January 20, 1871 Catb]


    ¡­


    [Slot 9. January 20, 1871 Catb]


    All the slots, all the ones I had saved, were gone, now reced by the present. The exact moment I was lying down here.


    As the pain gradually subsided like water draining, time started to flow again. Only irregr breathing echoed in the cave.


    A metallic taste rose in my throat. Something felt different, but I didn¡¯t know what. My mind was in chaos, still reeling from the aftermath of that horrific pain.


    ra, who had let go of my convulsing body, spoke.


    ¡°Jane, we only want one thing. It¡¯s not hard. Just say you¡¯ll give us everything, including your soul.¡±


    ¡°What, what?¡±


    ¡°Say it.¡±


    A sweet sensation clouded my will. My tongue moved on its own, but I bit it with my front teeth. I gritted my teeth and shook my head.


    My body warned me. My brain, my mind, and something behind my mind.


    ¡°Say it.¡±


    If I said it, it would be the end.


    ¡°¡­Can¡¯t be helped then.¡±


    ra murmured, disappointed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to do this to a friend. We have memories, don¡¯t we? It would have been better if you cooperated¡­¡±


    ra grabbed the back of my neck.


    Thud.


    With a ringing in my ears, a numbing pain followed. I tried to resist, lifting my bound hands, but when ra struck again, it was over. My vision turned red again. It was hot. I cried, my tongue stiffened, my head ached. It was a dull pain. My senses were fading.


    ¡°Say it. Jane, it will be easier.¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    ¡°Say it!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t breathe well. My body lifted and fell.


    Thud.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When I opened my eyes again, there was no pain or anything. I hastily touched my head; it was clean. Not a drop of blood.


    ra was perched on the altar, looking down at me. Her cold fingers stroked my hair.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°How am I feeling? Are you kidding me? What did you do to me?¡±


    raughed. Her merciless eyes still looked down at me.


    ¡°Jane, I¡¯ll give you another chance. Just say ¡®I¡¯ll give you everything,¡¯ and that¡¯ll be enough.¡±


    Ha. This was ridiculous. Asking for my soul, she had no conscience. She was the woman who had just tied my wrists and struck my head. There was no way I could easily say I¡¯d give her everything.


    Iughed in disbelief, and ra approached, grabbing my chin. Her grip was so strong it felt like my jaw would shatter. She growled.


    ¡°Hurry up and say it.¡±


    My head cooled.


    Think rationally. I need to find a chance to escape. I instinctively knew that if I said those words, there would be no next chance. So what should I do? What should I do?


    My mind came up with a solution.


    ¡®Stall for time.¡¯


    I really didn¡¯t want to and it was truly horrible. I didn¡¯t know how long I could hold out. But I had to stall until my mind came up with a solution¡­


    I made my choice. And as I did, I thought of Liam Moore. His arrogant, cold smile. The confidence of that man as he smirked while confronting Philip Peterson at the Ulrich Mausoleum.


    And I hoped. For what would happen next was fairly predictable.


    That no matter what ra Barnum did to me, my mind would hold out.


    That I wasn¡¯t such a weak person.


    The corners of my mouth, stiffened with fear, loosened as I thought of Liam Moore. ra¡¯s ssy eyes reflected my bright smile. I spat out the words as if chewing them.


    ¡°Even if I die, no way. If you¡¯re going to talk nonsense, go see a doctor!¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    Even if I die, she would really kill me.


    The first thought I had when I could think again was that. I tried to use humour to endure, but I don¡¯t know if it worked. My memories were all jumbled in a mess. When I managed to catch my breath, I couldn¡¯t even tell where I was.


    It was torture.


    ra Barnum meticulously peeled away at meyer byyer to achieve what she wanted. She knew how to keep a person awake. It was odd for a shippingpany¡¯s president who only looked at documents to be so skilled at this. She was relentless. If my willpower had been any weaker, I would have given up on myself.


    Do you know that when pain continues, the brain stops thinking? Iy there helplessly, cutting off all sensations and thoughts. What time was it? Did Liam know? Did he realise I was missing? How many hours had passed?


    Never in my life did I imagine experiencing something like this. Beating someone to make them talk? That¡¯s only in spy movies, right?


    ¡®Really need to stop watching movies¡­¡¯


    I swear, if I ever return to 21st-century Korea, I¡¯ll avoid movies and games. Even if a knife is at my throat. I¡¯ll live a secluded life. I¡¯ll even delete my punk ounts.


    After being left alone for a long time, I sensed movement. It was ra Barnum. She would give me a break, then return when I regained my senses.


    How many hours had passed? Days? My sense of time was fuzzy, my brain felt like it was melting.


    In that long period, I learned exactly how many bones were in my body and how many teeth I had. I also learned how it felt to lose vision in one eye. If you don¡¯t go into shock, you can survive even if all your bones are broken. I also felt how much blood you need to lose to die.


    It was the same now. The sensation of blood draining was vivid. Everything felt like it had just happened. Did it? I didn¡¯t know. I knew nothing. I was tired, drowsy, and wanted to rest. But I knew that even if I died, I¡¯d be brought back, and this pain would repeat endlessly.


    ra Barnum stood up.


    ¡°Jane, you¡¯re really tenacious.¡±


    With each breath, the stone altar exuded a fishy smell. My cheek was wet. The woman, covered in blood, looked down at me, who was barely breathing. She whispered like a merciful person.


    ¡°Shall I stop?¡±


    Yes, please. Wipe your feet and go to bed.


    But since no significant thought hade to mind yet, I muttered pitifully.


    ¡°Do it a hundred times. I¡¯ll never speak.¡±


    ra Barnum let out a frustrated sigh. I heard a thud. Simultaneously, familiar subtitles appeared before my eyes.

 Chapter 99: Worth (2)

    When I opened my eyes again, my body was intact. I was healthy! But there was no time for rejoicing. I sumbed to another attack. The familiar loading screen, the intangible force dragging me away, and the series of awakenings¡ªit was a relentless cycle. The only silver lining was that ra Barnum quickly ended it this time instead of dragging it out.


    As soon as I opened my eyes, I burst intoughter. As soon as I opened my eyes, I burst into tears. Iughed and cried, unsure if I was actuallyughing or crying. In truth, I didn¡¯t even know what I was saying. It felt like I needed to say something, anything. But what should I say? What should I talk about? Mom. Liam. Home. South Korea. The capital of South Korea is Seoul. What¡¯s in Seoul? Gyeongbokgung Pce, Sungnyemun Gate, King Sejong, and, um¡­


    Plop.


    I opened my eyes again. Iughed. I opened my eyes. This time, I didn¡¯t have the strength tough. I opened my eyes, again and again.


    How many times has it been now?


    I couldn¡¯t tell. It felt like swimming through jelly, even moving my hand was a struggle. I couldn¡¯t possibly keep count, so I gave up trying. My mind was nk. The sound of blood dripping echoed in my ears, sending shivers down my spine.


    ¡°Damn cultists¡­¡±


    I muttered between gasps, and an unsatisfied groan followed. ra, with a nk expression, set something down and picked up a new tool.


    Wait, isn¡¯t that a saw? I was momentarily panicked and cursed even more. Honestly, after experiencing so much, it was impossible to hold back the swearing. Even a sage would react the same way. My whole body hurt as if it were being sliced with a knife.


    I screamed. And then Iughed, like a mad person. My clothes clung to my skin as if they were a part of me, stained red.


    ¡°Wow. This feels amazing¡­¡±


    My mouth muttered on its own. My jaw was mped, and I nced up at ra with weakly lifted eyelids. Her grotesque figure came into view.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    The thing that was ra smiled.


    At some point, the woman had lost any semnce of a human form. Mould grew on her skin, lifeless flesh clung to her bones. Her limbs, now merely skin and bones, extended like a spider¡¯s, and her decayed hair barely clung to her scalp.


    Yet, somehow, she was incredibly strong, and I couldn¡¯t resist. She looked like a zombie from a movie. It reminded me of a children¡¯s movie in Korea that deceptively induced button phobia in kids. The witch there looked just like this.


    TL/N: I think she¡¯s referring to the movie Coraline.


    Anyway, she wasn¡¯t human. Anyone who could do this to me without a second thought couldn¡¯t be human.


    When did it start? When did ra Barnum begin to change?


    She now resembled Philip Peterson. Like a dead person pretending to be alive.


    I rolled my eyes to examine her. Her words echoed in my mind: ¡°The dead walk.¡±


    She spoke again as if it were a surprise.


    ¡°You¡¯ve held out for a long time. Do you have anything to say? I hope it¡¯s what I want to hear.¡±


    ¡°Drop dead.¡±


    ra tenderly stroked my head. A cruel smile yed on her lips.


    ¡°You¡¯re still lively. Keep enduring.¡±


    Ah, damn it.


    I closed my eyes humbly. The senses shut off. Pain no longer registered.


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°Are you ready to talk now?¡±


    I panted. I had no feeling. It felt like my lower half had been cut off. My fingers seemed non-existent. I couldn¡¯t control my limbs as I wished. I didn¡¯t even know what had happened.


    Lying still, just breathing, ra stroked my cheek.


    ¡°If you won¡¯t talk, I¡¯ll kill someone else. Your acquaintances, everyone in this city you¡¯ve ever met. Or rather, since they¡¯ll all die when Hees, maybe I should kill them now? We can do that. I¡¯ll start with your detective, the one who protected you so fiercely¡­¡±


    If you eveny a finger on Liam, I swear¡­


    But no words left my mouth. ra seemed even more excited by my quiet demeanour.


    ¡°Liam Moore, wasn¡¯t it? He was quite a nuisance. Too much interference. I¡¯ll make him just like you. Should I make him watch you die a dozen times? Maybe after seeing you die twenty times, he¡¯ll realise that he can¡¯t save Jane Osmond.¡±


    ¡°Kill.¡±


    ¡°Then perhaps that noble protector of Greenwich will blow my head off.¡±


    ¡°Kill.¡±


    ¡°Jane, what? That¡¯s not what I want to hear.¡±


    ¡°Kill me, kill! I¡¯ll never give you what you want!¡±


    ra sighed deeply. Her shoulders slumped dramatically.


    ¡°Ah, this is always the hardest part. Erasing one¡¯s self.¡±


    Always?


    I couldn¡¯t ask. My body was at its limit. Slow slumber engulfed me. I fought against sleep, but it was in vain.


    But as soon as I closed my eyes, I was awake again, denying me even a moment¡¯s rest.


    ¡°Hello, Jane. Good morning. Does your body hurt?¡±


    Damn it.


    ¡°I tried killing you four more times. You still seem fine. How many times will it take to break your spirit? A hundred? Two hundred? More?¡±


    Damn cultists.


    ¡°Ah¡­ do you really think that? That Liam Moore wille?¡±


    She looked at me with pity, tapping my cheek with the back of her hand andughing.


    ¡°Do you know what day it is? How many days have passed?¡±


    I had forgotten how to speak. Only screams had left my lips for so long, I couldn¡¯t remember how to use my tongue. How do you make a sound? What can a person say?


    A, B, C, I slowly moved my dulled tongue to form words.


    ¡°How many days?¡±


    ra smiled, her face filled with anticipation, like she was savouring a delicious meal, expecting the despair I would soon show.


    ¡°One day.¡±


    Wow, not even surprising.


    ¡°Exactly twenty hours have passed since the afternoon you disappeared. Jane, your detective doesn¡¯t even know where you¡¯re dying. He¡¯s probably just starting the investigation. If he can.¡±


    What did you do to Liam? ra seemed to notice the sharpness in my eyes and changed the subject.


    ¡°When you die, it will reset. Back to January 20th, 12:00 PM. Even if the detective rescues you, wherever and whenever you die, it will be today again. We¡¯ll endlessly kill you and bring you back here. Jane, there¡¯s no escape. Your end is here.¡±


    I smelled the stench of death.


    Will I be buried here forever too? I wished for death, but I reminded myself to think differently.


    ¡°So, I¡¯ve decided to give you hope. If we leave you here, the detective wille. Experience the despair of being dragged back to hell at the moment of rescue.¡±


    And with that, ra stood up. The sight of her turning me into minced meat was gone. Sheughed cheerfully, ovepping with the image of her reciting sos at the Leximion Association.


    ¡°Goodbye, Eurydice. Please lose your mind quickly.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    The grooves in the floor were still deeply etched.


    As I sat at the altar, organising my thoughts, my tense muscles finally rxed.


    I didn¡¯t know why something like a catb from France was moved to London, but I strongly felt it shouldn¡¯t be left as is. Despite the handcuffs restricting my movements, I could still look around. I busily inspected the area for any clues I could find.


    First, the grooves in the floor. A collection of circles with a clear purpose.


    I didn¡¯t know how to read them, but I had a good eye forparison. They looked simr to therge magic circle that drained Liam Moore¡¯s power. The sphemous drawings didn¡¯t emit the bright light or the humming sound like in the cave. But I knew that if it lit up, it wouldn¡¯t be good.


    Old bloodstains were still visible, having soaked into the stone, turning it dark red. My blood would flow over it many times. ra also let the blood she drew from me flow naturally across the floor. What would happen if the blood reached the end?


    Liam Moore woulde soon. He would find me wherever I was. I had to do what I could before then.


    The immediate task was to restore the system.


    I still remembered ra¡¯s long fingers cutting the strings connected to me.


    El was disconnected from me when I came here. The notebook was no longer a part of me. Although I wasn¡¯t confident in syllogism, I could deduce that the notebook was rted to El. So, what was El?

 Chapter 100: Worth (3)

    An unanswered question resurfaced. It wasn¡¯t like Eros and Psyche, yet I still couldn¡¯t understand why El remained hidden in the darkness, never revealing himself to me.


    ¡®Is he also my enemy?¡¯


    Like the ck King?


    Considering how he had appeared to me so far, it was clear he bore me no ill will. However, the timing of his appearance was undeniably suspicious.


    El showed up just as the functions of the system started disappearing one by one. The more episodes I progressed through, the more I heard El¡¯s voice.


    Could it be¡­ that he was the one who took away the system¡¯s functions from me?


    El¡¯s voice warning me echoed in my mind. He had saved me from the brink of death, preserving my sanity. He clearly didn¡¯t want me dead, at least not like the ck King or ra Barnum.


    With a thin strand of hope, I called out into the void.


    ¡°El?¡± No answer came. It was disappointing, but the ringing in my ears had been constant for a while, so it was okay. I had heard it both in the carriage and in ra¡¯s house. El was trying to reach me. All I needed to do was respond to his effort.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When Liam Moore regained consciousness, the bright morning sunlight stabbed at his eyes. As soon as he opened his eyes, a wave of nausea hit him, and he bent over. His throat burned.


    ¡°Ugh¡­.¡±


    The retching continued for some time. Curled up on the floor, Liam Moore panted. His eyes widened at the sight of the dark red blood spilling uncontrobly.


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    Another wave of blood spewed out, staining the floor and his hands. Yet, his mind was filled with nothing but questions.


    ¡®How?¡¯


    It was a cruel sensation.


    The spell he had cast on Jane Osmond waspletely shattered, torn to pieces. Someone had forcibly broken through his protection and taken Jane away. He could feel it.


    The bacsh had undoubtedly caused him to faint. His limbs still throbbed with a numbing pain, as if they were being pounded to break his will. The one who broke the spell had also cast a curse on him, so this pain was somewhat expected.


    How many years had this incident shaved off his life?


    ¡°¡­About two years, I¡¯d say.¡±


    A hoarse voice escaped his cracked lips.


    As he struggled to stand, his vision spun. His grey eyes narrowed as he observed his trembling fingers.


    He had made a grave mistake. Once again, he was toote. Only after regaining his senses did he realise that something terrible had happened to Jane.


    Jane was likely with someone of simr magical prowess as Liam. To break his spell, that was the implication.


    Why hadn¡¯t he prepared for this!


    Even so, the curseid on him was weakening his body. Another curse wouldn¡¯t be a problem, but his body was already in an extremely weakened state. He had not yet recovered from the aftermath of being tormented as a pawn of the dark gods. Using his power in such a state was eating away at his life.


    ¡°I must hurry¡­.¡±


    Muttering like a madman, he donned his coat. The dark red bloodstains on his sleeves and trousers no longer mattered.


    He had no idea how many more times he could use his power. He had broken the rule of not using ss. Just when things seemed to settle, he used it repeatedly. It was a wonder the vessel hadn¡¯t shattered. But losing Jane Osmond forever was a far worse oue, wasn¡¯t it?


    ¡°Absolutely. It¡¯s a small price to pay.¡±


    He muttered to himself as he started walking, squinting at the sunlight swirling like a mirage.


    They had started to move. The counterparts in Greenwich, the vulgar opponents who worshipped society and loved the dying god.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    His anxiety spiked. He couldn¡¯t go to Jane. Fortunately, he remembered the location where she had nned to meet her friend. Something might have happened on the way back. Or perhaps the so-called friend was not human. He had to hurry.


    He roughly wiped his mouth with his sleeve and shouted.


    ¡°Driver!¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    Arriving at the location, Liam Moore confronted a long-standing malice.


    A cunning and malevolent web aimed solely at Jane Osmond enveloped the entire house. A trap, woven over an unknown period, distorted reality and impaired perception. Jane, having just begun to cross the threshold, couldn¡¯t have responded swiftly.


    ra Barnum¡¯s house was empty. The only signs of life were in the dining room, where rotten food and a broken bottle of wine remained.


    No, there was a sound. Arge many on the floor, eyes closed. His slightly tanned skin and attire suggested he was a sailor.


    The air still carried a pungent, ominous smell. Hidden cleverly behind the wine, Liam recognized the distinctive scent, akin to licorice. There was only one ce in London with such a scent.


    ¡°Opium.¡±


    Sifting through the ss shards with his cane, he stood up.


    ra Barnum must have fed Jane this cursed drug. This amount could knock out even a burly sailor in an instant.


    Without waking the man, Liam quietly exited the mansion. The confusion upon waking was the man¡¯s own problem. He didn¡¯t have the luxury of being that considerate.


    He immediately turned and knocked on the neighbouring house¡¯s door. After a moment, the door opened slowly, revealing a young servant with a puzzled look.


    ¡°Do you know anything about the house next door?¡±


    Liam Moore asked bluntly, skipping the pleasantries. The young servant blinked and looked at the house next door.


    ¡°Do you mean Barnum House?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Barnum House.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been empty for quite a while. The owner stoppeding aroundst November. You might find out where they moved by checking with the agent.¡±


    Damn it. Liam Moore cursed inwardly and shook his head. It was better to chase direct clues than waste time.


    ¡°Do you know the owner¡¯s upation?¡±


    ¡°Something like Barnum and Jackson, apany owner. I think they were in the shipping business.¡±


    ¡°Do you have their address?¡±


    ¡°Do you have a pen?¡±


    Sensing Liam Moore¡¯s urgency, the young man scribbled an address in his notebook.


    ¡°No need for a reward.¡±


    ¡°¡­Thank you.¡±


    Fortunately, thepany wasn¡¯t far from here. He wasted no time heading to the shippingpany.


    But the scene was the same. Empty, devoid of people. Only discarded documents and a janitor remained. He hastily asked the janitor about thepany¡¯s status, but received meaningless replies.


    ¡°They went bankrupt andid off everyone. Are you a debt collector?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m looking for the owner.¡±


    ¡°Miss Barnum? I haven¡¯t seen her for months. Without the owner, thepany couldn¡¯t function, so they decided to close it down.¡±


    Liam Moore frustratedly ruffled his hair. The neatlybed short hair was now dishevelled.


    Should he seek Owen Cassfire? But he, too, was likely still recovering. Asking him to exert himself would be akin to sending Owen to his grave.


    ¡°A dead end¡­.¡±


    He was in a situation where he couldn¡¯t retreat or advance.


    Magic wasn¡¯t omnipotent. If he were a myth or a legendary being, it might be different, but humans have their limits. At times like this, Liam resented his very existence.


    ¡®You call it a miracle when it can¡¯t even save a person?¡¯


    Ridiculous. There¡¯s nothing humans can¡¯t do. If there were, he would simply ignore it. He was ready to pay any price, whether it meant sacrificing the rest of his life or giving up a part of his body. There were countless ways to pay, and Liam Moore was prepared for all of them.


    From a very young age, he had seen things he found utterly detestable.


    That was his curse. As the price for seeing what shouldn¡¯t be seen, they had taken his entire life! Liam Moore, cursed, had to live his life seeing these things!


    A voice whispered in his ear. It was fate. Losing Jane Osmond was your destiny.


    ¡°¡­As if I¡¯d give up so easily.¡±


    A faint sneer escaped his lips. Fate was meant to be defied. Ever since ancient myths, there had been those who struggled to break free from prophecies. If he tried enough times, he could protect her.


    Liam Moore moved his hand. It was still numb, but he had regained enough sensation. It was enough to fight. Thankfully, he still had that much strength.


    The entities still circling him sneered.


    ¡°Get lost¡­.¡±


    A hot pain surged from within. Liam groaned, leaning against the wall. Then he felt a small vibration from his pocket watch. The hands of the watch were moving very quickly.


    This meant only one thing,


    ¡®Meridian is shaking.¡¯

 Chapter 101: Worth (4)

    An event so massive it was catched by the Watcher of Greenwich. And it was undoubtedly rted to Jane Osmond.


    An unexpected clue appeared.


    Anxiety kept rearing its head. Liam consciously blocked out his emotions, focusing solely on rational thought.


    Get a grip, you can¡¯t let your mind waver. You¡¯ve already shown enough cracks. Don¡¯t allow anything to slip through.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    Uttering Jane Osmond¡¯s name brought a surprising sense of calm.


    He loved the moments when the scent of coffee, her loose brown hair, and her sleepy green eyes came into focus. How he wished he could go back to that morning when she opened her eyes beside him.


    He cherished that peace. The warmth evoked by the cosy room at 13 Bailonz Street, untouched by magic or monsters.


    And Jane Osmond was always there. She had to be there. ¡°Jane Osmond.¡±


    Walking, Liam muttered Jane¡¯s name repeatedly. The passing strangers looked perturbed, but he didn¡¯t care. Jane Osmond was all that mattered to him, and only she could alleviate his ailment.


    The murmuring continued until he arrived at the passage leading to Greenwich.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Inside a small general store, a middle-aged man with light blonde hair was seated. Hearing the jingling sound, he immediately recognized the visitor. A familiar face. Not frequent, but he had seen it several times. The man was one of the Greenwich Gatekeepers spread throughout London, and the visitor was from Greenwich.


    ¡°William Schofield.¡±


    He spoke.


    ¡°Are you trying to show off that you¡¯re from Moscow?¡±


    Liam Moore curtly retorted and received a key from the Gatekeeper. The Gatekeeper shrugged and naturally guided him to the curtain, as if it were a routine for the temperamental Liam Moore.


    Inside the store, a white cloth was fluttering at the entrance to the storage room. So thin that it swayed with the slightest movement, it might have seemed like mere decoration to ayperson.


    They called it a curtain, though it was more than just cloth.


    Reaching out, his hand passed lightly through the cloth. The curtain was a filter. It looked like a thin, transparent fabric but acted as a sieve, keeping out uninvited guests. It would remain functional even without a Gatekeeper, even if the ce fell apart.


    When Liam Moore passed through without any issues, the Gatekeeper nodded.


    ¡°So, why are you using the door?¡±


    Liam squinted slightly.


    ¡°Thought I¡¯d take it easy for once.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, William Schofield. You handle your body too¡­ what¡¯s the word in English?¡±


    ¡°¡­Roughly?¡±


    The Gatekeeper snapped his fingers.


    ¡°Yes, that.¡±


    Liam chuckled and inserted the key into the door.


    Once, twice, thrice, ¡­seven times. He felt the mechanism inside the door engage.


    Finally, when the door opened, the grand and splendid hall of Greenwich greeted Liam Moore.


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°d you came.¡±


    Herschel Hopkins greeted him. Liam nodded lightly.


    ¡°Hopkins.¡±


    A shock of red hair popped up.


    ¡°Cassfire is here too.¡±


    Ominous.


    Owen Cassfire¡¯s presence was never a good sign. He was only there when Greenwich faced its most significant crisis. As a neutral figure who mediated authority, he was not called unless absolutely necessary.


    Liam asked.


    ¡°So, why did you call me?¡±


    The sage with the shaggy red hair gestured toward the main hall with his thumb.


    ¡°Better to see for yourself.¡±


    Owen walked ahead and opened the door.


    A brief noise ended abruptly. As soon as the door opened, a crimson sphere came into view. Liam quickly rushed to the Meridian. The sphere, ominously turning, cast a foreboding atmosphere. An unvoiced question was posed.


    ¡°Since when?¡±


    ¡°Exactly one hour ago. Something¡¯s definitely starting.¡±


    Liam Moore, examining the Meridian with his chin in hand, muttered a foreboding name. It was natural for Owen to be horrified upon recognizing it.


    ¡°Unless you have a death wish, don¡¯t mention ¡®The Crawling Chaos¡¯ here, please!¡±


    ¡°Just felt like seeing his face.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve lost it. If that guy shows up here, we¡¯ll all be tomato stew in three minutes.¡±


    There¡¯s a reason for that. Liam muttered nonchntly and turned his gaze back to the Meridian. His face was sharper and more sensitive than usual.


    Such an expression, rarely seen, made it easier to infer the reason. Owen quietly asked.


    ¡°Is there something wrong with thedy?¡±


    Liam Moore smiled grimly.


    Something wrong? Even now, time was ticking. In a situation where he didn¡¯t know what was happening to Jane, he couldn¡¯t afford to dawdle any longer.


    ¡°Jane is in danger. I think someone under hismand took her.¡±


    Owen¡¯s face clouded with worry. He had no choice but to rapidly exin the situation. He summarised the past few months as clearly as possible for Liam to understand.


    The Meridian was acting strangely. Sincest November, when something was observed in London, it had been quiet, leading them to believe the followers¡¯ activities had ceased. But that was just a precursor.


    ¡°Incidents keep happening around you and thedy. Whether you¡¯re getting involved willingly or they¡¯reing to you, I¡¯m not sure.¡±


    Liam quietly reached out toward the Meridian. The sphere was red, but there was one part that was the reddest. The colour was deepening by the moment.


    For some reason, his instinct told him. Jane Osmond was here. If the malicious chaos wanted Jane, she would be in the most dangerous ce. He would unt Jane to gather Greenwich¡¯s people. He wanted to crush Greenwich.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with you.¡±


    Owen Cassfire said, seemingly noticing his friend¡¯s determination.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need help anyway. I¡¯m good at finding things.¡±


    ¡°Can you even use your powers in that state?¡±


    Owen pointed to the bloodstains on Liam¡¯s sleeve.


    ¡°Are you in any position to talk?¡±


    Eventually, Liam Moore raised both hands.


    ¡°Herschel. You¡¯ve already been controlled once, so going there isn¡¯t a good choice.¡±


    Herschel Hopkins smiled bitterly.


    ¡°The treatment period isn¡¯t over yet, so it¡¯s hard for me to leave. I¡¯ll stay in Greenwich and do what I can. You do what you must.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    The problem was knowing exactly what needed to be done.


    Liam Moore extended his hand. Owen Cassfire, gripping his forearm, looked around nervously.


    A familiar coldness dragged them downward.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When he opened his eyes, Liam realised this wasn¡¯t the location he had chosen.


    It felt like something had blocked them, preventing entry. The ce repelled magic and rejected the presence of anyone from Greenwich.


    Owen gaped.


    ¡°Did that thing just bounce us off?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Seems like we found the right ce.¡±


    Steadying himself as the dizziness subsided, Liam Moore grimaced. His body felt heavy.


    ¡°We have no choice. We¡¯ll have to go in directly.¡±


    Behind a massive cathedral was a witheredwn. They stood there, looking down at a gaping hole like a snake¡¯s maw.


    A stone staircase led downward. A broken and overturned stone cross was embedded in the ground. It was absurd that the entrance to London¡¯s deepestyer was beneath a memorial.


    A strange current was palpable beneath their feet. Initially, they thought the cathedral was the source, but it was more extensive.


    As if¡­


    ¡°This entire ce.¡±


    Owen picked up where Liam left off.


    ¡°They¡¯ve taken over the whole area and are waiting.¡±


    The entire ce felt like it was under someone¡¯s control. Anyone capable of sensing magic would recognize the warning.


    The one who had seized the ground was waiting below, making a show of it. An ominous energy flowed from below, like poison seeping into a water vein.


    ¡°Is thedy really down there?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope so.¡±


    ¡°And if not?¡±


    Liam Moore, silent, walked toward the hole.


    The man who mercilessly tore through the enormous barrier surrounding the ce bowed his head. It felt like passing through a membrane of sticky mucus. There were no physical traces on his body, but it was just as repulsive. Owen, following behind, gagged.


    ¡°I guarantee the bastard who made this is aplete pervert.¡±


    Liam Moore agreed. He quietly stepped onto the staircase.

 Chapter 102: Down (1)

    ¡°Do you really think they would leave her somewhere this obvious? She might not be here at all. What will you do then?¡±


    The steps groaned slowly and quietly as they sensed the intruder. Enjoying the trembling beneath his feet, Liam Moore turned to look at Owen Cassfire. His eyes, now a peculiar shade ofvender, glinted strangely.


    ¡°If she¡¯s not here, I¡¯ll turn all of London upside down to find her.¡±


    Owen Cassfire shuddered. ¡°You¡¯re insane.¡±


    With each step on the stone staircase, there came a sound like an impure wailing. The noise seemed to be a warning from the darkness, alerting to the arrival of a new presence from the surface.


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯re keeping something inside?¡±


    Owen, startled by the noise, asked. Liam merely shrugged. Perhaps feeling even more uneasy from that nonchnt response, Owen continued in a hushed voice.


    ¡°I once ran into a strange tentacle creature because of you. If there¡¯s anything like that here, I can¡¯t fight it. I¡¯m closer to a schr than a diator. I can¡¯t wrestle with monsters. You better understand that!¡±


    Liam replied bluntly, ¡°If you keep that up, I¡¯ll leave you behind when the monsters show up.¡± ¡°Do you really think you could leave me behind?¡±


    ¡°Of course. I just need to run faster than you.¡±


    Owen, quick-witted, immediately caught the meaning and shuddered. Watching the Greenwich sage curse under his breath, Liam clicked his tongue and ced a hand on the wall.


    The structure of the ce was peculiar. Unlike the smooth earthen walls at the entrance, the middle section turned into stone walls. The path was winding without any intersections, and the high ceiling made their footsteps echo eerily.


    Noticing the unease that Liam himself was feeling, Owen grabbed his shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s a downhill path.¡±


    Owen¡¯s observation was correct. The passage was subtly sloping downward. If one wasn¡¯t sensitive to space, they might mistake it for t ground.


    Liam grabbed a torch from the wall and nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s keep going.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°They¡¯reing.¡±


    When I woke up, ra was sitting at my feet. Her previous decaying appearance was gone, and she looked like the ¡®ra¡¯ I knew, albeit a bit weary. She was leaning her head back towards the ceiling with her eyes closed. I spoke up.


    ¡°ra.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you stop pretending to be Jane?¡±


    Her ck pupils turned towards me. The sharp, upturned corners of her eyes stared at me. I slowly rose, making sure not to avoid her gaze.


    Honestly, I was scared. Maybe it was because I remembered how she had looked at me without any expression before.


    ¡°Your pretty detective ising. Has hee to save you? Or to die with you?¡±


    Liam? Has Liam reallye this far?


    I was momentarily lost in thought. In this unresolved situation, I wasn¡¯t sure if I could face Liam. Could he meet ra while she was here?


    I bowed my head, staring at the cuffs and the pajamas. Liam would faint if he saw me like this.


    ra¡¯s eyes, now a cloudy white, were ring at the entrance. It looked deadly serious.


    ¡°Oh. But someone¡¯s with him.¡±


    ¡°¡­With him?¡±


    It¡¯s understandable he wouldn¡¯te alone, that¡¯s madness. But who else could it be? There¡¯s only one person who woulde here with Liam, and if my guess is right, that person is¡­ not great at fighting.


    ra murmured, ¡°Red hair¡­ I know, I¡¯ve seen him before. Yes¡­¡±


    My guess was right. Owen was with Liam.


    Now, I had to make a rational judgment about my situation. Maybe Liam would have to run around to save Owen and me. Please,e safely. Without meeting anyone.


    ra kept muttering to herself, lost in her own vision, but it was obvious what she was seeing.


    ¡°Let¡¯s leave the path open. Let theme here¡­ without any obstacles.¡±


    ¡°¡­Weren¡¯t you trying to stop Liam froming here?¡±


    I asked. ra, now fully turned away from me, was staring at the door.


    ¡°I told you. I want to see youpletely broken. I want to see how you react when you face ruin just before escaping.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s see. How quickly can your detective get here?¡±


    She kept calling him ¡°my detective.¡± These cultists are different. They treat people as possessions, attaching possessive pronouns to them. Why do they live like this? Well, that¡¯s why they fall into cults. I¡¯ve been thinking about nonsense.


    As I sighed deeply, ra looked at me irritably.


    ¡°Think seriously, Jane. If you had given in, you would be veryfortable now. United with our star¡­¡±


    ¡°Ugh. What? No way.¡±


    Why does the word fortable¡± sound so unsettling from a cultist¡¯s mouth? It feels like they¡¯re saying it would be good for me after making me a living sacrifice. What does it mean to be united with the star? Why do they love poetic and ambiguous words here? Because it¡¯s Shakespeare¡¯s country?


    ¡°You have the opportunity to face a great and unfathomable existence directly, Jane.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t want to. If someone expresses their opinion, you should listen.¡±


    ¡°With immortality that ordinary people can¡¯t even obtain¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah, I can¡¯t hear you. Cult talk doesn¡¯t reach me.¡±


    Eventually, ra stopped talking to me, and I could finally think quietly with my eyes closed. The silence continued until I heard ra leave the room.


    With my eyes closed, I asked inwardly, ¡®El. Are you there?¡¯


    Only the buzzing sound like an old fluorescent light answered.


    ¡®I still don¡¯t know how to restore the connection. ra must have done something to the notebook.¡¯


    Still silence.


    ¡®Wait a little longer. I¡¯ll get out soon.¡¯


    A certain resolve formed. If I saw Liam, I might regret it a little, but I had to make a choice. I didn¡¯t know if this was the right thing to do, but as long as I could defy ra, it didn¡¯t matter.


    First, I had to figure out how much ra could use my notebook.


    I had used the notebook longer than ra, so I knew more about its functions. Considering the information advantage, I had the upper hand. To confirm this, I needed Liam¡¯s help.


    There¡¯s no other way.


    I murmured, ¡°This is the only way.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°¡­Jane, Jane.¡±


    I opened my eyes to a hand shaking me awake.


    It was Liam. Wow, he really came. His pale face looked down at me. Seeing a familiar face made my whole body rx, and I feltpletely drained. Owen was next to him, his eyes widening when he saw my condition.


    ¡°Are you alive, miss?¡±


    ¡°Do I look dead?¡±


    I replied curtly and opened my arms to Liam. The man who embraced me sighed deeply. He was warm. This ce was a bit warmer than the surface, but it was still too cold to endure in just pajamas. Once I felt some warmth, I spoke.


    ¡°The first friend I made in London turned out to be a cultist who wants to use me as a sacrifice. Is this a disaster?¡±


    Liam looked like he didn¡¯t know whether tough or cry, his mouth opening and closing before he chose tough. Heforted me.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get out of here, Jane. It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s over now.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s talking about, does he?


    It¡¯s not over until it¡¯s over. ra and her cute little cult won¡¯t let me go that easily.


    How did things get so tangled? The more I tried to fix things, the more they got messed up. I sighed.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just a bit unlucky.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true at all. You¡¯re not unlucky.¡±


    ¡°Honestly, if life was lucky, I wouldn¡¯t be kidnapped, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±


    That makes sense. Liam, agreeing, moved his hands to unlock my cuffs. Owen took off his coat and put it over me just in time.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°No problem. You need to be healthy for me to live long too.¡±


    I chuckled quietly. Liam must have threatened him. That suited his personality. Watching me, Liam warned Owen.


    ¡°Quiet, Cassfire.¡±


    ¡°See? He¡¯s threatening me.¡±


    As I dusted myself off and stood up, I turned my head towards the door. The door was slowly opening. Beyond it, ra Barnum walked in, holding something in her outstretched hand. I recognized it immediately. It was my gun.


    I instantly sensed what would happen next.


    ¡®Ah, you crazy bitch. You really are something.¡¯

 Chapter 103: Down (2)

    In the joy of rescue, I didn¡¯t feel the despair of knowing I¡¯d be pulled down from it. Honestly, I hadn¡¯t expected to escape this ce, so I wasn¡¯t that distressed. But Liam would feel differently.


    I grabbed Liam, pulling his face close. Owen Cassfire turned away with an awkward cough, sensing the odd tension between us.


    ¡°Oh, that direction is where ra is.¡±


    Unfortunately, he came face-to-face with ra and was horrified. It¡¯s not surprising to scream when a person with a gun suddenly walks through the door.


    ¡°Liam!¡±


    No, nothing is wrong. From experience, I can tell that there¡¯s truly no feeling at all.


    Holding Liam¡¯s head firmly, I spoke to him with a biting tone.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    He obediently lowered his head, his eyes flickering with anxiety. ¡°Yes, Jane.¡±


    ¡°See youter.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    He looked at me with wide eyes in surprise.


    ¡°¡­Sorry. I¡¯ll tell you the truth next time.¡±


    But when I die, time will reset, and all of this will never have happened. Thus, my rescue will also be dyed. I¡¯m not too regretful about it. If repetition drives people mad, I might have gone insane long ago.


    When the fear of death no longer affected me, I closed my eyes and thought, ¡®ra Barnum noticed what happened to me. Does she know what I¡¯m thinking?¡¯


    Time flowed very slowly. At the same time, it was fast. I couldn¡¯t grasp which it was.


    Bang!


    The loud sound of something tearing through the air echoed. And then the recoil. I heard a sound in my head like something breaking. I decided to ept the sensation of my body falling backward humbly.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When I opened my eyes again, ra Barnum was beside me. Her ssy eyes stared at me without blinking, and a fly that flew from somewherended on her eyeball. Despite it being annoying to her vision, ra did not move.


    I nearly screamed at the grotesque scene before me the moment I opened my eyes, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.


    ¡®Oh, my heart.¡¯


    Eyes, girl. Eyes.


    I took deep breaths, steadying my blurry vision. There was certainly no pain. The sound fading away and the sensation returning. That¡¯s all I remember.


    I returned not long after being killed. And ra, who killed me.


    ra smiled faintly as she watched me trying to regain my senses.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡±


    I still did not speak. To be honest, I felt like I¡¯d throw up the moment I opened my mouth.


    ¡®ra.¡¯


    The first thing I did when my mind cleared was test ra Barnum. I spoke to her in my mind.


    I remembered the dark presence I saw when she took my notebook. Whether ra temporarily borrowed someone¡¯s power, or something possessed ra, it was one of the two. Which one was it?


    Let¡¯s assume thetter. If what¡¯s behind ra is a being simr to El, it might know my thoughts. That must be avoided at all costs. If it knew what I was thinking, I wouldn¡¯t be able to make any ns. I would have to sit and wait until someone else saved me. And I despise that.


    So, I threw out the most tempting words in my mind. If ra, or whatever else, could read my thoughts, it would have to react immediately.


    ¡®Can you hear me? I¡¯ll do what you want. I¡¯ll be your sacrifice or whatever.¡¯


    But ra only seemed displeased by my silence, not recognizing my thoughts.


    Oh? Then the story changes. Thoughts can do many things.


    I confirmed that ra took control of my body but couldn¡¯t touch my mind.


    ¡®So that¡¯s why you tried to destroy my ego.¡¯


    Because my mind wouldn¡¯t surrender.


    It was clear. I swallowed augh and blinked.


    I began to see a way out. A way to end this foolishness. First, I needed to meet Liam. And then¡­


    Honestly, I never thought I would voluntarily do this.


    ra was still full of determination to persuade me, babbling endlessly. But at least it¡¯s better than when she was holding a saw.


    ¡°¡­Shut up, let me think.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re amazing for not giving up after all those deaths.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess my ego is more inted than I thought.¡±


    ra, who had been silent with a twisted expression, finally spoke again after a while.


    ¡°By the way, Jane, where does that couragee from?¡±


    ¡°What courage?¡±


    ¡°epting death even after seeing a gun aimed at you. Oh,e to think of it, you¡¯ve never begged for your life. That¡¯s why He chose you as hope,¡±


    What nonsense. This is all from the infinite save-load repetition. I rolled my eyes, ignoring the cult-like talk.


    This is a game. A crazy, maddening game between you and me. I have to find an escape route somehow, and you want to do something twisted with the shell of me left behind.


    ¡°ra, you¡¯re talking nonsense. You¡¯ve killed me so many times, do you think I¡¯d be scared of a mere gun?¡±


    ¡°Are you saying I¡¯ve only been kind to you?¡±


    I remained silent again. And in that silence, the conclusion became clear in my mind.


    ra is not the owner of the notebook. She temporarily seized the authority, but the notebook didn¡¯t provide ra with the information it gave me. It only showed her memories of the past, nothing more.


    I¡¯m going to show ra clearly who has the upper hand. Just because she took my notebook doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯s won. I will reim it.


    What I had to do was clear. Not to lose myself.


    ra made a foolish choice. She should have made it so I couldn¡¯t regain my senses. If she had killed me repeatedly without giving me a break, I might have given up. But giving me time, that¡¯s something she should never have done. Time allows for preparation.


    Thanks to that, I knew Liam woulde a few hourster. The faint reason in my mind clearly surfaced.


    ¡°Do you still not want to join us?¡±


    ra asked. She watched me without blinking. I didn¡¯t answer. Instead, I showed off my handcuffs.


    ¡°Does it look like it?¡±


    ra twisted her lips and stood up abruptly. She didn¡¯t hide her irritation. I didn¡¯t care. In fact, it would be a relief if ra left.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how long you can keep that up.¡±


    She spat out the words and walked away briskly. Even then, she took care not to step on the patterns on the floor.


    Only after her footsteps faded and the doorpletely closed did my tension release. Then, like a delirium, memories of death surged up. It flopped around like a fish fallen out of a, sshing fear everywhere.


    I had no sensation in my limbs. It felt like my body wasn¡¯t my own. Time slowed down. I turned my gaze to the void.


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°Jane!¡±


    Ah. Here we go again. The excitement was starting to wane.


    Although I hadn¡¯t mentioned it, we¡¯d already met twice more. Liam always approached me anew. Once, I was shot in the back of the head while escaping with him, and another time, we all died from inhaling poison spread in the air. I don¡¯t want toy out all those tedious details. The fortunate thing is, thanks to those experiences, I had plenty of time to prepare.


    I hadn¡¯t told Liam that I had to die. I decided to tell him now that my n was set. Somehow, I felt like I was only learning how to drive nails into Liam Moore¡¯s heart.


    ¡°Hello, Liam.¡±


    I greeted him. He seemed surprised by my calm demeanor. I must have appeared unusuallyposed. He nced around nervously and asked,


    ¡°¡­Jane?¡±


    But I couldn¡¯t always resolve his anxiety. From now on, Liam Moore would have to handle things alone. Without me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get straight to the point, since there¡¯s no time.¡±


    ra woulde. She would sense something was wrong if I didn¡¯t escape soon. She left me free and killed me to make me despair. I had to let myself be manipted by ra¡¯s intentions.


    I knew. As long as I didn¡¯t give up, I could save myself.


    ¡°Liam, I need your help.¡±

 Chapter 104: Down (3)

    Liam looked surprised. His ash-grey eyes widened for a moment before settling into a heavy, sombre gaze.


    ¡°Is there a magic that transfers memories?¡± I asked.


    ¡°There is,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Can I choose which memories to give?¡± I inquired further.


    Liam nodded, his eyes filled with concern for me, but also with respect. I knew he wouldn¡¯t forcibly drag me away. Though he might want to, he was patiently waiting for me to speak.


    When I requested the use of magic, Owen nced at Liam anxiously, but Liam ignored his look and extended his hand to me.


    ¡°Your hand, please, Jane.¡±


    A familiar,forting <i>snap</i> sound echoed. Liam¡¯s eyes briefly turned a clear, palevender. Light emanated from his palm, and I ced my hand on it, smiling.


    ¡°¡­Please, don¡¯t hate me too much.¡± Why are we always afraid of being hated before we reveal our secrets? I found it curious even as I spoke.


    Liam whispered, ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± but I was still anxious. I feared he would feel betrayed, that he would rage at me for deceiving him while wearing Jane¡¯s shell.


    ¡®So, that¡¯s it.¡¯


    Finally, my emotions crystallised.


    ¡®Yes, I truly¡­¡¯


    I closed my eyes. I didn¡¯t want to see Liam¡¯s expression. I was scared. At the same time, memories shed across my mind.


    The memories I shared with him were nothing significant. Scenarios I had imagined while waiting for him, hypotheses that hadn¡¯t urred yet. Images of me muttering to myself about how to save me, exining exactly what he needed to do.


    ¡®Even if I escape this ce, it won¡¯t matter. ra uses magic too. It seems like her magic is binding me here, probably spread across the entire area. You¡¯ll need to break it. I¡¯ll stall for time here. Focus on breaking the magic rather than saving me. And¡­¡¯


    The memory of myself was murmuring into the void.


    What if he sees me as a monster who stole Jane¡¯s body? These thoughts had cluttered my mind while speaking. But Liam Moore ¡®needed¡¯ to know.


    ¡®¡­I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m not the Jane you knew.¡¯


    Liam¡¯s hand trembled as he held mine. But since the memory transfer was still ongoing, he couldn¡¯t pull away.


    I transferred all my memories of ra¡¯s actions to subdue me, the absurd demands she made in the name of ¡®that person,¡¯ and everything that had happened since I was kidnapped. When I slowly opened my eyes, a pale Liam was staring at me with a twisted expression.


    Liam Moore bit his trembling lips and looked at me with wavering eyes, as if demanding an exnation. His thick eyebrows were furrowed deeply.


    When I pulled my hand away in fear, he grasped it again. I didn¡¯t have the courage to meet his eyes, so I bowed my head. Yet, he still held my hand firmly, as if deciding to leave the confusion behind.


    ¡°How many times has that woman¡­?¡±


    Ah. I felt my strength draining away.


    If blind faith could kill a person, Liam Moore would have been buried six feet under long ago. Instead of reacting with anger, me, or even leaving me behind, he was inquiring about ra Barnum¡¯s tortures.


    Even though I had risked revealing the notebook¡¯s function to show him I wasn¡¯t ordinary, he didn¡¯t seem to care.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. It¡¯s nothing.¡±


    Liam carefully examined my wrist. His gaze lingered on my neck. Once he confirmed there were no scars on my body, he sighed in relief and cautiously spoke.


    ¡°What will you do after breaking the magic?¡±


    ¡°I have to confront ra. At least in one way, I have the upper hand.¡±


    ¡°¡­The notebook.¡±


    Liam now recognized the notebook.


    Previously, NPCs didn¡¯t notice me using the notebook. The moments I used it were nk, as if they never happened. But sometimes, they retained the awareness that ¡®something was about to happen.¡¯


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    When I mumbled in a small voice, Liam blinked. He seemed momentarily puzzled by what I was apologising for.


    ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°Because, I¡­¡±


    ¡°I knew.¡±


    A jolt ran through me. My words caught in my throat. Since when? How? Why? The words melted in my mouth, unable to form sentences.


    His words were both cruel and gentle. It was paradoxical how the sharpest weapon a person has is their tongue.


    ¡°I never resented you, not even once.¡±


    ¡°But, how¡­¡±


    How did you know?


    I had all of Jane¡¯s memories intact and had adapted perfectly to life in London within a few days. No one noticed my change, except ra Barnum!


    So how did you notice?


    ¡°You always said you¡¯d tell me next time.¡±


    Next time.


    Recalling those words sent chills down my spine. It felt like someone had poured cold Thames water down my back. I didn¡¯t know if it was fear or shock, but my body trembled.


    ¡°How did you, why¡­¡±


    Liam gave a sorrowful smile. Was this the same man who had ruthlessly interrogated me on the train? Or had wee to know each other too well in such a short time? I couldn¡¯t tell. His fingers rested on my cheek.


    ¡°I thought it was a hallucination, but the memories you gave me made everything clear.¡±


    Silence followed. I opened my mouth in shock, closed it again, and repeated the cycle. Liam waited for me patiently, full of understanding. Only Owen watched us uneasily and then raised his voice.


    ¡°Hey, what the hell are you two talking about? Next time? What next time? Aren¡¯t you taking her out of here?¡±


    ¡°I will take her out,¡± Liam replied.


    ¡°But not this time,¡± I interjected, cutting him off.


    ¡°What is this¡­¡±


    But there was no time to exin to Owen. ra woulde. I hadn¡¯t escaped, and too much time had passed.


    ¡®If ra kills me in this state?¡¯


    Everything I nned, everything I told Liam, would fall into ra¡¯s hands.


    I can¡¯t let that happen. Not aftering this far.


    ¡°I can endure it.¡±


    I whispered. Liam¡¯s eyes widened. I firmly drove the nail in again. Using goodwill and trust to inflict pain. But Liam Moore was the kind of person who could embrace pain as a friend. I demanded.


    ¡°Erase my memories. Everything I gave you and our conversation now.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Trust me. Can you do it?¡±


    Liam Moore silently stared at me. His pale eyes, under sharply defined eyebrows, seemed ready to shed tears but slowly nodded.


    Owen Cassfire grabbed Liam¡¯s shoulder in shock.


    ¡°You know it¡¯s forbidden, right?¡±


    ¡°¡­Of course.¡±


    Owen watched in stunned silence as Liam Moore reached out to me. He looked deste. Who would be happy to see their friend break a taboo? But it would be okay. Soon, all of this would be as if it never happened.


    Hisrge hand touched my forehead. I closed my eyes.


    £ª £ª £ª


    ¡°Jane.¡± The voice calling me made me open my eyes.


    It was Liam Moore. Ah. We meet again. The excitement was less this time. We¡¯ve met twice more since then. Liam always greets me anew. There was even a time when I got shot while escaping with him. Huh? Did I doze off? Strangely, my memory was hazy.


    Liam Moore looked unusually troubled, not hiding it as he spoke to me.


    ¡°I did as you asked.¡±


    What?


    Hearing that, my expression fell apart. My dumbfounded face was reflected in his eyes. Liam¡¯s hand naturally brushed my cheek and then fell away.


    I hadn¡¯t given him any instructions during our two meetings.


    My head spun. What? Have we met more times? Did I lose my mind? But I couldn¡¯t grasp it.


    I slowly retraced the parts I remembered. For some reason, it seemed I had something to do whenever I met him. But I couldn¡¯t recall it. All my memories after ra¡¯s departure were gone, as if someone had deliberately erased that part.


    My mind concluded that through this unnatural nk, I had aplished something, though I didn¡¯t know what.


    ¡®Ah, I see. I did it.¡¯


    Finally, I rxed.

 Chapter 105: Down (4)

    Liam Moore¡¯s expression seemed a bit troubling, but he quickly noticed and gave me a gentle smile. Only Owen was looking down at me with aplex expression. It felt like he was looking at us as if we were crazy, suggesting that I must have done something significant during the time I couldn¡¯t remember. His subsequent question confirmed this suspicion.


    ¡°Are you dizzy? Feel like throwing up, or is your vision spinning?¡±


    I nced at my hands. My vision was very clear, and my body didn¡¯t feel that heavy. It just seemed like if I rested my head somewhere, I¡¯d fall asleep instantly. I didn¡¯t have narcolepsy, though.


    ¡°No. I¡¯m just really sleepy.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡±


    Owen was sharp enough to recognize my condition. He sighed and grabbed my arm, helping me up.


    ¡°¡­We should leave. Staying here any longer won¡¯t do us any good.¡±


    I agreed. ra Barnum was utterly insane. Any normal person would at least hesitate slightly before killing their kind, but ra seemed indifferent as she mutted people. I had no intention of chatting in a madwoman¡¯sir.


    Owen on my left, Liam on my right, both took the lead as if to protect me. ¡°We¡¯ll run straight ahead. Once Liam can use his magic, we¡¯ll escape to Greenwich.¡±


    Bang!


    A deafening gunshot echoed, and the three of us froze in ce.


    Had I been shot? But I didn¡¯t feel any pain anywhere on my body. Was I in shock? No, I¡¯d been shot a few times before and fired a gun myself. I shouldn¡¯t be this unscathed.


    Then¡­ the one who got shot wasn¡¯t me¡­


    ¡°Ugh.¡±


    A short groan slipped through gritted teeth. It came from the left.


    No, this couldn¡¯t be happening. It didn¡¯t make sense. ra had always tried to kill me and attacked me first to ensure I couldn¡¯t escape. She had never attacked Owen or Liam first.


    ¡°Why¡­?¡±


    Owen¡¯s knees buckled. Clutching his chest, he copsed, and blood began to flow along the floor¡¯s grooves, filling the old ck stains.


    ¡°Why, Owen¡­?¡±


    ra¡¯s next shot was aimed at Liam. Liam Moore moved quickly to block the bullet, but it grazed his arm, tearing his clothes and skin. Without even thinking of stopping the bleeding, he tried to shield me behind his back. I saw the trigger being pulled slowly.


    A thin, bluish barrier was rising around Liam, but it was toote. ra was aiming directly at Liam Moore, intent on killing him. The bullet would be faster than the shield.


    ¡®Liam Moore can¡¯t die here.¡¯


    The time it took to reach that conclusion was barely a second.


    I might have be able to use my life like a consumable now. If the pain I felt was fleeting, and I had infinite chances, to be honest, it was better for me to endure it rather than others.


    Without hesitation, I threw myself forward. Honestly, I was willing to face the approaching death.


    ¡°No, Jane!¡±


    Almost simultaneously with Liam Moore¡¯s scream, there was a sharp sound of something shattering. My memory ended there.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I lost consciousness several times.


    My awareness flickered intermittently.


    My whole body felt numb.


    I heard the sound of a viscous liquid dripping. It seemed my blood was leaking in real-time. My right arm felt extremely cold.


    I didn¡¯t want to exert myself to check how much blood I¡¯d lost. Frankly, I thought it would be fine if I kept sleeping like this. It was only when someone appeared in my peripheral vision that I turned my head. ra was watching me.


    ck ink dripped from her hand, with bulging ck veins covering half her body. As she confirmed I was awake, her bony fingers dug into my shoulder like thorns.


    Sparks flew from the tattered notebook soaked in ink. ra muttered irritably.


    ¡°Resisting to the end, both of them¡­¡±


    I heard a raspy breath. It seemed she was trying to find out what Liam Moore and I had talked about, but unfortunately for her, no useful information seemed toe out. She screamed in a shrill voice.


    ¡°What did you do to Liam Moore? What did you do?¡±


    ¡°Would you tell me if you were in my shoes?¡±


    I retorted sarcastically. It seemed the persona of Jane Osmond, a 19th-century English woman, was giving way to my 21st-century Korean self.


    If looks could kill, ra¡¯s gaze would have killed me five times over by now. Her eyes rolled madly as she mumbled, and to be honest, I was scared. I wondered if I should retract my words a bit.


    ¡°You should have just spoken. Lack of learning is also a sin. Being arrogant, unable to admit your defeat, clinging to foolish hope endlessly, and waiting only for Liam Moore is so pathetic¡­¡±


    But the more she spoke, the more it felt like it was ra, not me, who was getting anxious.


    ¡°Why. Are you scared?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re scared that something¡¯s happening somewhere that you don¡¯t know about. Now that I think about it, you were always the type to control others, right? Too bad.¡±


    Even if she rummaged through my mind, she wouldn¡¯t find anything.


    Luckily, the one in front of me could read only my memories, not my thoughts. I couldn¡¯t help butugh.


    ra let meugh for a while, then murmured chillingly.


    ¡°You should be the one afraid.¡±


    ¡°Oh, my mom always taught me this.¡±


    I grinned and showed off the handcuffs that had been on my wrist.


    ¡°If you¡¯re scared, you should just die.¡±


    The freed wrist felt chilly from the wind.


    ra bared her teeth and lunged at me. Calmly, I stepped back with my right foot and used my left foot as a pivot to kick ra. Despite her strength, ra was very light. It felt like kicking a piece of paper. It was surprising that someone who had killed me so many times could be knocked back with a single kick.


    The surprise was short-lived. I quickly grabbed the notebook she had set down.


    ¡°¡­!¡±


    Something wasing. The moment I held the notebook, it epted my touch without resistance. As if it had been waiting for me. And at the same time, I felt a faint murmur!


    Also, I saw something very strange. Semi-transparent threads were filling the space, like spider webs woven throughout the area. They started to shake, then snapped one by one. The outside impact was cutting through them.


    ra seemed to notice it too. She was getting up with her hand on the ground, letting out a furious roar.


    ¡°How dare you!¡±


    ¡°Yes, ¡®how dare¡¯ I win, ra Barnum.¡±


    ¡°How dare you coborate with those dirty Greenwich scum to trample on the sanctuary?¡±


    ¡°This is a sanctuary? It¡¯s just a rabbit hole. A rat¡¯s nest pretending to be a catb.¡±


    Liam Moore was definitely doing something. His magic was lifting the shadows that had draped over this ce.


    ra¡¯s limbs iled at odd angles, wing through the air, reaching for the notebook in my hand.


    ¡°Give me the power! It¡¯s mine!¡±


    No way was I giving it up. I ran. There was nothing holding me back anymore.


    Behind me, ra¡¯s curses filled with rage were being hurled. She was summoning something here, shouting for it to catch me.


    Above ground, the deep reverberation continued, and the intangible force that had been pressing down on me was weakening.


    ¡°Catch her!¡±


    Separate from Liam Moore¡¯s attack, something was shaking the corridor. It was the reverberation created by something massive. The ground shook so much it was hard to walk properly.


    Then it happened. My vision flickered, and white letters slowly began to appear.


    [Turn left.]


    ¡®Left?¡¯


    There¡¯s only a straight path here.


    I wasn¡¯t someone to bang my head against a wall. As I frowned at the vague navigation, the left wall suddenly wavered, revealing a passage. Something huge was still approaching with a deafening noise from ahead.


    There was no choice. Either get caught and dragged away or escape. So, I had to escape.


    I threw myself towards the newly appeared passage. I narrowly dodged the monstrous roar behind me.


    £ª £ª £ª


    As the gunshot rang out, Jane Osmond threw her arms around Liam Moore¡¯s neck. Liam couldn¡¯t believe his eyes.


    ¡°Jane?¡±


    Jane, who had fallen into his arms, copsed. The arms that had embraced his neck went limp. Jane¡¯s face was turning pale at an rming rate.


    With the careful touch of holding a delicate doll, Liam felt for the pulse on Jane¡¯s neck. Please. Please. Let there be even the faintest pulse. Let there be something he could do.


    But to his despair, there was nothing. Her neck was ghostly pale and lifeless.

 Chapter 106: Veritas (1)

    Perhaps it was because his hands were trembling uncontrobly. With his heart pounding so loudly, it was impossible that Jane was dead.


    Liam repeatedly tried to suppress the trembling in his hands, checking her neck and wrists, but nothing changed. He squeezed his eyes shut. The ringing in his ears was growing louder.


    The shooter, seeing that Liam Moore, who should have been dead, was alive, let out a furious shout.


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    Regardless, Liam could only hold Jane, his mouth opening and closing without sound. He didn¡¯t know whether to be angry or despairing.


    The woman was dead, without even a final scream, buried under the gunshot. She had given all her secrets to him and died, taking her dreadful memories with her.


    All Liam Moore had was his apology. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± was all he could say to her.


    ¡®I knew it.¡¯


    He had known from the start that she had changed. He should have been honest from the beginning. He should have told her it didn¡¯t matter who she was, that whether she was Jane or not, it made no difference to him. As long as she was there, he was satisfied. The one who needed to apologise was him, not Jane Osmond.


    Seeing his bewildered face, the womanughed mockingly, pointing at his despair.


    ¡°You killed her! She died because she was with you, William Schofield Moore! You should never have kept her by your side. You know very well that we want to tear the bones of those damned Greenwich bastards to pieces!¡±


    Liam murmured darkly, ¡°Shut your mouth.¡±


    The blood soaking his hands, its warmth, seemed to still signal Jane¡¯s survival.


    ¡°Originally, I intended to ughter you both in front of that child. I thought that would finally bring despair. But this method isn¡¯t bad either¡­. Who would have thought we¡¯d have the chance to trample the noble protector of Greenwich?¡±


    Owen and Jane bothy still with their eyes closed. No, Owen was barely breathing, his face twisted in pain, a testament to his tenacity.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    He called her name once more, but there was no sign of Jane Osmond¡¯s eyelids opening. Liam Moore gritted his teeth.


    ¡®I have to take her to Greenwich.¡¯


    He couldn¡¯t leave Jane here. He didn¡¯t know what that woman, who called Jane their hope, would do.


    The voices seemed to understand his intention, whispering disgustingly as they grabbed at his arms. Hugging Jane tightly to avoid dropping her, he finally fell to his knees.


    Jane was changing in his arms. She showed no signs of death, neither growing cold nor stiffening. Her cheeks were fading, her hair dissolving into light.


    A sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu washed over him. He had seen this scene somewhere before. Not here. But Jane Osmond¡¯s death felt astonishingly familiar. It felt like it wasn¡¯t the first time.


    Liam Moore mumbled softly, lifting his dazed eyes.


    ¡°But where?¡±


    He was sure he had seen this before.


    He had seen Jane Osmond like this before.


    But his memory cruelly drifted away, giving him no answers. Liam Moore sought an answer, but the person who could tell him was melting away in his arms.


    Thud.


    The world shook. The world was crying out at Jane Osmond¡¯s death.


    Simultaneously, something was forcibly altering the world, the axis of the world. The rules were being rewritten, and the truth was being distorted.


    It was both a prophecy and a self-evident fact. Something was shouting. A sentence was inscribed in the minds of everyone present.


    Hear, all that live. This must continue.


    A sensation of being pulled¡­


    ¡°William Moore!¡±


    Owen Cassfire, barely opening his eyes, shouted with thest of his strength. Golden tendrils twined around his grasp, and strength began to fill him. Liam Moore instinctively poured all his strength into tearing his soul, engraving memories into its tattered ce.


    Jane Osmond¡¯s death and what she had conveyed to him. So that no entity could dare wash it away.


    £ª £ª £ª


    And the world was rewritten.


    Only for Jane Osmond.


    £ª £ª £ª


    A sharp ringing, a body swaying as if losing its footing.


    Liam Moore, gasping for breath, knelt. He covered his mouth as nausea welled up, but his body ignored his will.


    A dark, sticky mass tumbled out from his lips, followed by thin, red, almost non-viscous blood. The pain of feeling his organs twisting tormented him. The sensation of his insides melting was painful enough to make him wish for opium. He bent over, searching for a remedy he never sought in life.


    Owen, seeing Liam copse while clutching his chest, was startled.


    ¡°You used magic with that body?¡±


    Liam whispered hoarsely, ¡°I¡¯m fine. It¡¯s dead blood.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean fine? You vomited enough blood to fill a teapot! Either tell me what hurts or stop overdoing it¡­.¡±


    ¡°Cassfire, shut your mouth¡­.¡±


    Should he block that mouth? The loud voice made his head ring, and the bacsh from the shield made his bones ache. Liam genuinely cursed Owen¡¯s open mouth, suppressing his retching. The metallic taste lingered in his throat but dissolved into his saliva.


    After vomiting, a sense of familiarity wetted his fingers. He knew the feeling of blood flowing between his fingers. Not just from coughing blood this morning. It felt both recent and ancient, close yet distant.


    ¡°¡­What?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Owen turned from the barrier covering the cathedral site to look at him. Liam shrugged off the question.


    But it was familiar.


    ¡°Have we been here before?¡±


    Owen¡¯s expression soured further. Hearing such a question after Liam had just vomited blood likely made him think, ¡®This guy must be crazy.¡¯


    ¡°This is the first time. Unless you visited here because of a case, this is the first time.¡±


    ¡°No¡­ I¡¯ve been here. My memory is urate.¡±


    ¡°¡­Are you on drugs?¡±


    Now he was being treated like a drug addict.


    Sighing, he stood up. The dizziness and searing pain subsided. Owen was startled as he immediately summoned strength, but Liam Moore had to verify the cause of this strange feeling.


    Magic flowed through his veins from the heart. Some shone brightly in ce, while others sank to the bottom of a swamp, unnoticed unless stirred. Which was this? When would it reveal the ¡®truth¡¯?


    Soon, Liam noticed a w within his body.


    Like a spider searching for prey. Deduction is a hunt. Usually, it involves finding and pursuing prey entangled in one spot. Regardless of what lies at the end of the thread¡ªa dreadful truth or a maze¡¯s light.


    A faint voice passed by.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯


    Liam Moore questioned as he rewound the thread.


    ¡®For what?¡¯


    What had he forgotten? What sought to take this memory from him?


    Then he discovered arge tear. An artificial hand that had shredded his soul.


    His heart, beating rapidly like a trapped animal, warned him. Going further meant no return.


    But Liam Moore was not one to fear the truth.


    An imprint, or perhaps a brand. Something that must not be forgotten. His fate was waiting deep in an underground maze. These things were rising one by one, hanging on the thread.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    The warmth clinging to his neck. The gunshot. The weight of a lifeless body. Jane Osmond¡¯s death.


    Forgotten things surged like waves. Only then did Liam Moore regain what he had lost.


    Terrible and sorrowful memories. What Jane had struggled to hide. Her voice, confessing gently, was pitiful. The kind Liam feared. The fear that, after speaking these words, she would disappear forever.


    The memory ended with the voice echoing in his mind. Liam Moore realised.


    This was why Jane Osmond had sacrificed herself to protect him. That more important than saving her immediately was fulfilling her request.


    Grabbing Owen, who was about to rush in, Liam bit out his words.


    ¡°We mustn¡¯t go down.¡±


    Is this a return?


    But whether it was a return or a new timeline didn¡¯t matter to the current Liam.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Owen looked at him as if he were mad. But there was no time to exin in detail.


    Meanwhile, Liam¡¯s eyes were fixed on the barrier intricately covering the site. He examined the structure woven by magic. It was an old method. It was clear whose power had been borrowed.


    ¡®Not hard to break.¡¯


    His coldly calmed mind concluded.

 Chapter 107: Veritas (2)

    The origin of magic is always simr. There are clear limits to the power a mere human can wield. What remains is simply ¡®who can handle it better.¡¯


    Liam¡¯s power slowly swept over the barrier. He moved, searching for any gaps. If he made any rash moves, the person inside would notice, so he had to gradually gnaw at the edges and wrest control.


    ¡°You n to break this spell,¡± Owen Cassfire remarked, stroking his chin as he took a few steps. From the shattered, upside-down cross tombstone to the withered old tree where they stood.


    ¡°It¡¯s created by the book. It¡¯s textbook for a cult ritual. This is something that a neer from Greenwich would use,¡± Owen said in his neutral, analytical tone.


    ¡°It means they only had ess to such magical texts. It¡¯s safe to assume they did it alone, without a master,¡± Liam agreed with a shrug. Unfortunately for the owner of this barrier, there were two people here skilled in dismantling and reassembling such spells. This barrier would be gone in five minutes, leaving no trace.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you sit down and rest? I¡¯m the one skilled in this, not you, Moore.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, but why does it still annoy me?¡±


    The red-haired sage smirked, his sses shing. He had an uncanny talent for getting under Liam¡¯s skin, only to flee when the real trouble started.


    A vine clung to a spot, signaling an attack point. Liam, leaning against a tree, began to focus on one visible part at a time. The barrier covering the cathedral grounds began to thin visibly. £ª £ª £ª


    When I threw myself into the left passage, the sight before me was enough to make anyone with a strong stomach retch.


    Iron bars lined the walls, and in the corners, piles of clothes and belongings were heaped like mountains. Jars filled with an unidentified liquid.


    ¡°Is that¡­ an eye?¡±


    No, I decided not to think about it.


    Turning my head, I saw syringes caked with dried blood. Dear God, one prick from those and you¡¯d die from sepsis in no time.


    At the very end was a metal door with a wheel like the helm of a ship. It looked like you had to spin it to open. But up close, it seemed aged and wouldn¡¯t turn easily.


    ¡°Wow¡­.¡±


    It was a dead end.


    I looked back at the passage I hade through. The shimmering walls had turned into t brick walls. My pursuers were blocked, but I was trapped too.


    Just then, something caught my eye. A faint light shone in the darkness, drawing me in.


    After rummaging through a heap of clothes, I found a lost ne and ring. The ring glowed, making it easy to find. It was hot, but wearable.


    ¡°Got it.¡±


    I pocketed them and walked towards the door, deliberately avoiding looking into the cells. They seemed to contain mummified bodies, and I was slightly afraid they might still be alive.


    The wheel was stiff. I had to brace one foot against the wall and push with all my strength to make it budge. Whoever could open this door must be incredibly strong. I had no desire to meet such a person.


    After a struggle, I finally opened the door and faced the inside.


    I wanted to shut it right away. What? Go left? Left? This is like a haunted GPS. It was leading me to my death.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to die here.¡±


    I muttered miserably. It couldn¡¯t be helped.


    The ominously twisted figure sitting on the throne looked like a statue, its form indistinct. Tangled ck mass that resembled a nt, but its true nature was unknowable.


    Were there eyes? I couldn¡¯t tell.


    What was it modeled after? No idea.


    But staring at it made me feel like my consciousness was being pulled into a deep, dark abyss.


    Through the haze in my mind, I heard a thin, unholy melody, like something from a twisted and ruined heaven. Sacred but utterly vile at the same time.


    My very being felt shaken. Staring at it too long was dangerous. I didn¡¯t know what it was, which kept me sane, but if I ever understood it, I would surely melt away, brain first!


    I needed to find a way out. I forced my gaze away from the statue. There was something square in front of it, but I avoided looking at it.


    But there was no escape in this room. If I used my notebook¡¯s function, I¡¯d just end up back in the cave.


    As I prepared to go back, something truly horrible began to happen.


    Why am I so unlucky? Is the world cursing me? What is this? Why am I so unlucky?


    The wheel began to turn, and the door pulled open. I didn¡¯t even have time to scream. Standing there was someone I didn¡¯t want to meet.


    ¡°Hello, Jane Osmond. Here you are.¡±


    My insane cultist friend.


    ¡®Oh, crap. Why now?¡¯


    So unlucky. Why now?


    ¡®Why now?¡¯


    I wanted to cry. But maybe I should be half-grateful because it made me forget about the iprehensible statue behind me. I don¡¯t know. I really wanted to cry.


    ra Barnum¡¯s eyes gleamed as she grabbed my wrist.


    ¡°Perfect timing. I was going to show you around here anyway if you didn¡¯t give in.¡±


    ¡°Show me around? What, a date with that statue?¡±


    My mouth moved on its own. ra giggled and dragged me inside!


    Any hope of escape vanished, reced by growing fear.


    ¡°See? This is who I worship.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to see.¡±


    When I said that, her fingers harshly gripped my scalp, lifting my head.


    ¡°Look. Look properly.¡±


    I don¡¯t want to look¡­.


    My resistance was weak, and ra was strong as she dragged me to the throne. Kneeling me before it, she forced my head down. Before me was a stone sarcophagus about two feet high. A stone throne and a sarcophagus, an insanebination. ra sneered.


    ¡°You provoked Liam Moore, didn¡¯t you? Whatever you did before, because of your scheme with Liam Moore, my ns are all ruined. Now it doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s better to use you as a sacrifice. He¡¯ll be more pleased with your blood.¡±


    Who prefers live sacrifices? I wanted to shout that.


    Why not believe in a proper religion? The one who said ¡®Let there be light, and there was light,¡¯ or the one who achieved enlightenment. Those are reputable religions, aren¡¯t they?


    This situation was dire. I was trapped with a cultist, a crazy statue, and an eerie sarcophagus. The cultist friend was bad enough, but the sarcophagus was even worse. It had a hole at the top, and I definitely didn¡¯t want to look inside.


    Then, a thunderous voice sounded.


    ¡°That¡¯s your ce, Jane.¡±


    What? Me? In there?


    I wanted to scream. Not because of the white bugs or eyes(?) crawling inside. I¡¯d rather go on a date, have a follow-up, and share a deep kiss with the statue.


    Please. ra ignored my desperation and shoved my head into the hole.


    ¡®Are you insane?!¡¯


    I was terrified. Tears welled up. I didn¡¯t want to see what was inside. It sounded like bugs with many legs were crawling.


    Do you know thatrge bugs make noise when they move?


    Chills ran down my spine as the sarcophagus began to open.


    ¡®God, Buddha, Mom!¡¯


    I couldn¡¯t enter a sarcophagus full of bugs. I didn¡¯t want to. It was full of fat maggots.


    And a skeleton,


    ¡°Argh!¡±


    Ne! Activate! Move! Please!


    But the ne didn¡¯t see this as a ¡®mortal threat.¡¯ No, my sanity is at stake. My mind will be destroyed. But this cursed ne only cares about physical death.


    This can¡¯t happen. I don¡¯t want to be trapped with bugs.


    Just as I clung to the edge of the sarcophagus, hoofbeats sounded. Undeniably, horse hooves. But why here?


    My legs stiffened, and so did ra, who was pressing me down. Her grip was still strong, but she didn¡¯t push me further.


    ¡°Hoofbeats?¡±


    I muttered, and ra¡¯s hand trembled. She heard it too.


    For a moment, I wondered, ¡®Is it Liam?¡¯ But I knew better. Liam Moore wouldn¡¯t ride a horse into this narrow tunnel.


    ¡°Can you hear it too?¡±


    As I asked, the sound of a horse¡¯s neigh grew louder,ing closer.


    and with this, volume 3 ispleted! you can find the epub version of it on my kofi shop /s/47e809d50f). tysm for reading this story until now !

 Chapter 108: Veritas (3)

    I don¡¯t know if this is happening in my consciousness or if it¡¯s actually urring in reality, but something was rushing towards us from beyond. If you could draw a line in the darkness and call it the horizon, it wasing from beyond that line.


    ¡°No, it can¡¯t be.¡±


    ra seemed particrly rmed. It was a surprising disy of weakness from someone who had tried to bury me alive and kill me mentally.


    Watching her deny it in a thin voice, I absentmindedly stared beyond the darkness. Although the room was very small, with just enough space for the throne and us to move around, it suddenly seemed vast. Then, a figure appeared. Something white and distinct.


    ¡°No! No! You can¡¯t be here! That¡¯s impossible!¡±


    ra shrieked and retreated to the wall, abandoning me. It was as if she were afraid of a predator, giving off a palpable sense of fear.


    Does she know this entity? It felt like not just knowledge but antagonism.


    And then¡­ I saw a chariot pulled by a massive beast. The shape was clear to my eyes.


    I instinctively crouched, fearing I would be hit, but the chariot passed through me like a mist, stopping in the centre of the room. The white beast pulling the chariot neighed and snorted, but it didn¡¯t seem like a horse. Its cold breath hissed out, and its mane was ck and wet, as if dredged from the bottom of ake.


    The chariot it pulled was in poor condition, like a ghost ship that had been adrift at sea. Barnacles clung to its sides, and it reeked of saltwater as if it had just emerged from the ocean.


    It felt like the entire sea had rushed in. A cold sea breeze blew in, discing the stale air that had filled the room. I gasped for breath under the weight of its presence. Death seemed to retreat, reced by a surge of vitality.


    ¡°How can someone¡­e from the wall¡­?¡±


    A chariot suddenly appearing out of nowhere was beyondprehension. My head ached, unable to keep up with the situation.


    How do I describe this? Is this even possible? Am I dreaming?


    At that moment, someone began to descend from the chariot, doubling my confusion. Of course, there would be someone driving it. It couldn¡¯t just run on its own.


    ¡®But someone is riding this?¡¯


    An elderly man with a full white beard stepped down. He wore a gentle smile, but his gaze was fixed on ra.


    The beast approached and nudged me with its snout. I felt its damp breath. It seemed to be checking if I was alive. I muttered involuntarily.


    ¡°D-don¡¯t¡­¡±


    Recognizing the elderly man, ra shrieked in horror.


    ¡°You!¡±


    The old man covered me with his cloak, which was as cold as sea mist.


    ¡°No need to introduce your shameful hobbies. You¡¯ve had enough fun with your tricks, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    The air froze, like the Arctic. The old man gently ced his hand on my forehead, where I was gasping, clinging to the coffin. His skin felt like cold marble.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been through hell multiple times. How pitiful¡­ That thing never knows when to stop. I¡¯ve told it repeatedly to stop tormenting one person until it¡¯s satisfied.¡±


    ra gritted her teeth.


    ¡°Ha! Get out now, that¡¯s my prey!¡±


    ¡°Not anymore.¡±


    And then something began to reveal itself. Chains that bound my body from the heart, heavy chains glistening with ck liquid, emitting an eerie sound.


    I finally understood why I didn¡¯t feel free even after leaving that room. How could I not have known? I groaned softly. My body felt like it was breaking.


    The old man yanked the chains violently. Just pulling the chains felt like my soul was being dragged. The chains twisted and resisted like a living snake, hissing and trying to bite the old man¡¯s hand, but it seemed powerless. Maybe the old man¡¯s strength was greater.


    The writhing chains finally ckened and burst. Soon, they dissolved into ck mist and scattered. Only then did the crushing pain lift. My body felt light for the first time.


    A small notification sound appeared. Something seemed to return, but I saw nothing distinct.


    Maps and quest lists had long disappeared. I now had the same view as a normal person. So what was myst remaining function? There was only one answer.


    With trembling hands, I took out my notebook. Biting my lip, I opened thest page and shivered.


    All the records that had covered me were gone. The existing saved data had been overwritten and erased. It was a significant loss, but it was alright. At least it had returned to me.


    The tattered notebook slowly began to mend itself, glowing with a golden light. It was sessfully saving again!


    ¡°How¡­¡±


    I murmured in a hoarse voice, as if entranced. The old man smiled gently. His salt-encrusted cloak wrapped around me protectively, and the horse nuzzled my cheek affectionately.


    ¡°Jane Osmond!¡±


    ra screamed. Turning to her voice, I saw her bright yellow eyes. The horns and ck shadow growing behind her indicated ra Barnum was also a servant of the ck King.


    Oh my, a servant! I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m using such a ¡°Greenwich¡± style word! I felt a surge of self-loathing.


    Regardless, ra¡ªno, the ck King¡ªcontinued to curse me with a chilling malice.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think this is the end. I¡¯lle for your soul! You must give it to me!¡±


    The old man scoffed and waved his hand.


    ¡°Leave. This is the extent of my mercy.¡±


    The ck King ground her teeth and melted into the darkness. I watched as ra¡¯s body slowly turned. Crack. A dry sound. The sound of something breaking and falling like a dried log. ra¡¯s body, devoid of life, looked almost skeletal.


    How? My mind couldn¡¯t process this phenomenon, and the old man gently patted my head. The cool touch eased the heat in my forehead.


    As my confusion subsided, the old man bent slightly to meet my eyes. His eyes were the colour of the sea, a deep, endless blue. I could see waves in his eyes as if I were gazing into the ocean.


    ¡°Sir, there¡¯s a sea in your eyes¡­¡±


    I mumbled, and the old man chuckled softly. The horse yfully nuzzled my shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while since this one has been so friendly.¡±


    ¡°What is it usually like?¡±


    ¡°Very fierce and carnivorous.¡±


    Wait, what? A carnivorous horse?


    I couldn¡¯t control my expression. This gigantic horse that looked like it only ate carrots and dew¡­ carnivorous? Well, its first impression was certainly intimidating. Huge and scary. But I thought it was gentle.


    ¡°¡­Are you joking?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, no. This one loves to tear into the meat I hunt. It has a peculiar taste.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to know that.¡±


    The old man grinned and lifted me up. I awkwardly stood, ncing at ra¡¯s body with unease. The old man noticed where my gaze fell and exined further.


    ¡°It¡¯s a body that lost its life long ago. It traded its life for power.¡±


    He said ra¡¯s contract had been in effect long before I met her, and she would have died when the contract holder left anyway. It felt strange.


    ¡°Today, I merely drove it out unterally.¡±


    ¡°That, um, ¡­the Crawling Chaos¡­¡±


    ¡°You know it well. It¡¯s not something to be celebrated.¡±


    He sounded just like Liam.


    ¡°Knowing too much drives you mad, right?¡±


    ¡°He taught you well. I thought he was aimlessly dragging you around.¡±


    I smiled awkwardly.


    I didn¡¯t know whether to wee my return from the brink of madness. There were too many unknowns. It felt a bit reassuring that I didn¡¯t need to go insane just yet.


    The old man walked slowly, hands behind his back.


    ¡°Cursed child.¡±


    ¡°¡­Me?¡±


    Liam was the cursed man, and I was the cursed child. Why were we both cursed like this? Misery lovespany, they say. We must have been incredibly unlucky.


    A hollowugh escaped me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think of what you have as a blessing.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never thought of it that way.¡±


    ¡°You speak like someone who doesn¡¯t know what a curse is.¡±


    The old man¡¯s gaze fell on the notebook in my hand.


    This? A curse?


    ¡°Don¡¯t rely on it too much, don¡¯t abuse it. It¡¯s better to use someone else. Find someone to go mad in your ce.¡±


    Why did it sound like he meant Liam Moore?


    I averted my gaze and walked quietly. He seemed to trust that I would manage on my own. The old man watched as I carefully put away the notebook. He didn¡¯t nag further as we walked back the way we came.

 Chapter 109: Veritas (4)

    As I exited, I took a moment to nce around the cell. Inside, various corpses were strewn about, from skeletons to mummified bodies. Among them, I noticed someone who was still alive, but an old man stepped into my line of sight, as if to say there was no need to save everyone.


    The old man waved his hand in front of a solid wall. The wall rippled and became slightly transparent.


    ¡°You can leave this way. Any obstacles outside will be taken care of. Just go back the way you came.¡±


    ¡°¡­Thank you. For saving me.¡±


    The old man waved his hand dismissively.


    ¡°You like the sea.¡±


    That¡¯s right. I liked the sea. Growing up on an ind in South Korea, I had a special affection for it.


    As I quietly smiled, I suddenly remembered where I had met the old man before. We had met on the beach with Liam Moore!


    ¡°You were in Hisford!¡± ¡°Only there?¡±


    ¡°Then¡­?¡±


    The old man gently pushed my back, and before I could scream or be surprised, I found myself back in a tunnel filled with earth.


    His voice lingered like an echo behind me.


    ¡°Remember the sea. That¡¯s your way to survive.¡±


    The tunnel closed immediately, leaving me no chance to ask the old man anything further.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When Liam Moore arrived at the undergroundir, he was greeted by the roar of a furious beast. As soon as he faced the uninvited guest, the underground walls began to shift and rearrange like a puzzle. When the ce turned into apletebyrinth, he looked at the changed underground maze in astonishment.


    ¡°Manipting space to this extent?¡±


    ¡°Why is the barrier so poorly constructed, then?¡± Owen muttered.


    In any case, Liam knew the most important thing was Jane Osmond waiting inside, so he moved forward without hesitation. At that moment, a huge tremor started from deep within the maze.


    There was no other option.


    ¡°Owen.¡±


    ¡°No way. You¡¯re not thinking what I think you are, right?¡±


    ¡°Correct. I¡¯m going in alone.¡±


    Owen grabbed Liam¡¯s cor, his already blood-stained shirt crumpling under Owen¡¯s grip. Liam clicked his tongue, looking at his shirt with regret, further irritating Owen.


    ¡°You were coughing up blood and acting like you were dying just now, and now you want to go in alone? Are you out of your mind? Have you gone crazy from the pain?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯ve spun 360 degrees.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to beat around the bush to say you¡¯re out of your mind.¡±


    Owen spat out his words bitterly and let go of his hand. Liam shrugged as he straightened his wrinkled shirt.


    ¡°You¡¯re not abatant, and if something happens inside, it¡¯ll be hard to protect you too. Unless you want me to use twice my strength, it makes sense for me to go alone.¡±


    ¡°You only oil your tongue at times like this.¡±


    Liam grinned mischievously. It was clear that this only happened when it involved Jane Osmond. He thought this as he prepared to enter.


    After a brief struggle, Liam Moore entered the underground maze alone. Feeling the ominous wind mixed with dust, he walked forward. As soon as he stepped, the maze began to shake wildly like an earthquake, and the earth started to copse, blocking the entrance. Owen¡¯s panicked breaths were audible, but Liam, who had somewhat expected this, showed no reaction.


    ¡°Liam!¡±


    Owen was flustered, breathing heavily behind the copsed entrance.


    ¡°Dig your way out. You can manage that, can¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Damn it! You bastard! I¡¯m a schr, not a digger!¡±


    ¡°Being a schr doesn¡¯t mean you don¡¯t have hands.¡±


    Liam, grumbling, walked inside. He could hear Owen¡¯s protesting voice fading away with each step he took.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Inside, the maze was incrediblyplex. It seemed determined to block the way to Jane Osmond. Liam moved silently, avoiding the torches that asionally illuminated his path. He had no intention of drawing attention to his location by waving a torch.


    Jane. Where could Jane be?


    He recalled the cave he had been trapped in before. This ce was identical. Apart from the absence of strange creatures growing on the ceiling, the structure, with a sacrificial altar at the centre surrounded by symbols, was exactly the same. It was made by the same person for the same purpose.


    Jane Osmond had died several times there.


    Although Jane¡¯s memories didn¡¯t transmit the pain, Liam knew it wasn¡¯t something an ordinary person could endure with a clear mind. No matter how strong Jane Osmond was, enduring such torture repeatedly would break anyone¡¯s spirit. He couldn¡¯t be sure what state Jane would be in when he found her.


    ¡°Damn it.¡±


    His impatience made him bite his lip repeatedly. But fate didn¡¯t allow him the luxury of indulging in his thoughts. A voice whispered around him.


    ¡®Duck.¡¯


    Liam Moore didn¡¯t argue and immediately ducked. A club swung menacingly over his head, covered in dried flesh and bristling with spikes.


    ¡°So, someone¡¯s guarding the maze, huh.¡±


    His voice was calm, a testament to hisposure in the face of danger.


    A beast roared. Liam recognized it. While myths and magic were alive and well, seeing the remnants of an ancient myth before his eyes was something he hadn¡¯t anticipated.


    A minotaur, half-man, half-bull, roared. Itsnguage didn¡¯t matter. Liam¡¯s mind was focused solely on defeating it and reaching Jane Osmond, driven by an almost obsessive determination.


    When he grabbed and pulled at the air, a ss-like sword appeared in his hand. Liam, lowering his body and nting his right hand on the ground, grinned.


    The goal was clear now. There was no need to wander in search of potential threats when the guardian had shown itself directly.


    As arge roar echoed, Liam Moore leapt forward.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I raised an eyebrow at the strange sounding from the end of the hallway.


    It seemed like someone was destroying it. The noise was akin to swinging a giant hammer against the walls. It was definitely ra¡¯s hunting dog chasing me. ra¡¯s voicemanding something to catch me was still vivid in my memory.


    Recalling that this friend was actually a dead entity, moved by a contract, made me nauseous.


    But I couldn¡¯t be angry. As ra Barnum said, I was an outsider to them.


    The image of ra, focused on her ys at the Leximion Association, kept shing in my mind, making me feel odd. I had Jane Osmond¡¯s memories. Knowing how much Jane liked ra before I took over her body made me feel bitter.


    Suddenly, it was November 1870. Jane Osmond had been overtaken by me. And ra, whose friend had changed. Both were caused by me.


    But what could I do? I decided to me everything on the game developer. In a crappy game, the most important thing is mental victory. If things don¡¯t go well within ten minutes of starting, it¡¯s not my fault but the fault of those who designed the character poorly. The boss doesn¡¯t die? That¡¯s because the dealer stopped dealing damage. Hence, the one who trapped me here is the root of all evil.


    I concluded neatly. Since I wasn¡¯t trapped here by my own will, I wouldn¡¯t feel guilty for the things that happened because of me. Instead of wasting time on that, it was better to figure out how to survive this hellish game of psychopaths and cultists.


    And then, I encountered Liam Moore, cutting the neck of a minotaur. Unfortunately, that was the scene I witnessed as I turned the corner.


    Blood sttered everywhere. As the minotaur¡¯s head flew off, blood sprayed all around. Both Liam Moore and I were drenched in fresh, warm blood.


    It was not a pleasant experience. I closed my eyes tightly, and when I opened them again, my upper body looked as if I had showered in blood.


    ¡®Just my luck today¡­¡¯


    I sighed and wiped my face with my sleeve. This was a lost cause. My pyjamas were already tattered and dirty from all the struggles. I might as well get a new set.


    Liam didn¡¯t look much better. After beheading the minotaur, he knelt on one knee, using his sword for support. He seemed like he wanted to rush to me, but his body betrayed him.


    Feeling sorry for the staggering Liam, I ran to him. He naturally opened his arms to me.


    Never mind that he had just killed someone, and the corpse was lying nearby. That wasn¡¯t important. I clung to his neck.

 Chapter 110: Veritas (5)

    As I hugged his neck, Liam shuddered. He held me anxiously, turning slightly as if someone might be chasing us.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. ra won¡¯te,¡± I exined.


    Liam blinked slowly, demanding an exnation.


    Where should I start? I rolled my eyes.


    ¡°Well, first of all. Uh. I¡­,¡±


    ¡°I know you¡¯re not Jane Osmond.¡±


    Wait a minute.


    My head spun. How did he know? How could he possibly know?


    ¡°You told me yourself.¡± ¡°Sorry, did I just think out loud?¡±


    ¡°No. Your expression gave it away.¡±


    And did I actually reveal this to Liam? Am I out of my mind?


    Finally, I understood why ra had asked what I had done. I must have told Liam Moore the truth, including my identity, and perhaps even more.


    ¡°So, I can¡¯t remember because¡­.¡±


    ¡°You asked me to erase your memory.¡±


    Liam whispered softly, pressing his forehead against mine. The dried blood on his bangs scraped against my forehead. If I went in looking like this, Mrs. Mayer would scream, I thought absurdly, cing my hand on Liam¡¯s cheek.


    ¡°¡­Okay. That makes things easier. Um, my notebook has a special power. I can use it to turn back time.¡±


    Liam responded with a thoughtful hum. I slowly exined everything to him, taking my time. After all, there were no insects or eavesdroppers here, just skulls embedded in the walls.


    ¡°¡­So we were being chased and fell into some passage, and at the end of it, there was a strange statue.¡±


    By this point, Liam seemed concerned about my sanity. Was it strange that I was still sane? No, I had almost lost my mind too. Luck, perhaps. Even now, I¡¯m not sure how I endured it. Recalling it brought back the unpleasant sensation, so I glossed over the details.


    ¡°I won¡¯t go into detail. It was just a weird lump on a throne. That¡¯s it. ¡®Oh no, I need to get out of here,¡¯ I thought, and then ra came in. She must have decided to sacrifice me instead of persuading me.¡±


    Liam¡¯s grip on my waist tightened briefly before rxing. He looked like he wanted to find ra and scold her. I pinched his cheek lightly. Ouch, Liam muttered softly, his expression softening again. Good.


    ¡°There was a coffin. If I had gone in, I would have bitten my tongue and died. It was full of bugs¡­ Let¡¯s skip this part; it¡¯s too painful to recall. An old man arrived in a chariot at a critical moment and saved me. He even showed me the way here.¡±


    ¡°An old man? An old man?¡±


    ¡°Yes, in a horse-drawn chariot¡­ with a beard.¡±


    Liam looked dazed.


    ¡°He seemed like a good person.¡±


    ¡°You think so?¡±


    Liam looked at me with a trusting expression, making meugh.


    It was troubling how he seemed to believe everything I said. Why did this sharp, intelligent man be so gullible in front of me?


    As I pinched his cheeks again, Liam let out a troubled sigh and lifted me up, cradling me in his arms as he stood. He blended into the dark void, his strong arms supporting my knees.


    ¡°I can walk.¡±


    ¡°I know. But I just wanted to do this.¡±


    How could I refuse? I leaned into Liam Moore¡¯s embrace, letting him carry me.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Liam turned his head at my sigh. His face was so close that I momentarily forgot what I was going to say, but I regained myposure.


    ¡°Should we call the Greenwich people to handle this?¡±


    I was concerned about the people still alive inside. Greenwich would be good at finding hidden spaces; they could rescue the survivors.


    Liam nodded.


    ¡°The people at Scond Yard wouldn¡¯t handle this well.¡±


    Liam exined that the higher-ups at the Yard would likely deny the ce¡¯s existence and seal the entrance. The people inside would be left to die.


    I couldn¡¯t bear that. The people dragged here as sacrifices didn¡¯t choose this.


    ¡°There are many people inside. I hope Greenwich can rescue them.¡±


    ¡°I know. It¡¯s their duty. They should arrive by the time we get out.¡±


    I admired his thorough preparation.


    I didn¡¯t know how I looked, but Liam burst intoughter upon seeing my face. He silently shook withughter. I yfully tapped his shoulder, and Liam whispered as he tightened his arms around me.


    ¡°Am Imendable?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The mostmendable in the world.¡±


    ¡°¡­Then kiss me.¡±


    Goodness, how shameless. Demanding a kiss as a reward for saving me.


    But I didn¡¯t mind that sly aspect of him. Looking at Liam Moore¡¯s reddening ears, I thought absurdly, ¡®I actually like it.¡¯ Thank goodness I didn¡¯t say it out loud.


    Liam fluttered his eyshes prettily, and I was mesmerized by those damnshes. Who needs a reason to fall for a sly fox? Just because they¡¯re pretty.


    When the ck, glossy fox smiled, I kissed him gently.


    Liam Moore¡¯s lips tasted of iron, which made me realize something was wrong.


    ¡°Are you hurt?¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes widened. He looked almost defeated. That was unusual; he wasn¡¯t someone who showed his emotions easily.


    On closer inspection, his cheeks were extremely pale. His lips, usually a curious shade of red, were now bloodless. It wasn¡¯t just the cold; he looked terribly ill. The shirt under his coat was soaked with blood, dried in ces.


    I grabbed the brownish stain, frowning.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I had to use extreme measures.¡±


    How could he say such things so casually?


    I was about to press further, but the sudden burst of sunlight made me close my mouth. Liam covered my face with his coat, concerned my eyes might be damaged from being underground for so long.


    ¡°Don¡¯t open your eyes.¡±


    Liam whispered. I felt him gently ce me on the grass, and sensed people gathering around us.


    ¡°Liam?¡±


    A warm hand lifted the coat and touched my forehead. Liam?


    ¡°It¡¯s me, miss.¡±


    Owen. He was checking my pulse and other vitals.


    ¡°Owen, where is Liam?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say anything. Save your strength. You¡¯re so weak, it¡¯s a miracle you¡¯re still conscious, miss.¡±


    Me?


    Hearing that, exhaustion hit me like a wave. When was thest time I slept? I had been repeating this day dozens of times, making it incredibly long.


    Oh, I haven¡¯t slept. No wonder I¡¯m so tired.


    Voices murmured around me, distant and muffled. A sign of losing consciousness. I clung desperately to Owen¡¯s sleeve.


    ¡°There are people inside.¡±


    ¡°I know. We know.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Liam¡­ Owen, Liam¡­¡±


    I felt Owen¡¯s hand gently pry mine away.


    I was so very sleepy.


    £ª £ª £ª


    The murmuring around me had quieted by the time I opened my eyes. For a moment, I was confused, seeing nothing.


    I was floating in water. Everything was damp, and the water was slightly warmer than my body. But I couldn¡¯t see my hands or anything else.


    Was this El¡¯s space?


    Something kept snagging on my eyelids, irritating me. I touched my face, feeling a cloth.


    ¡°Don¡¯t remove it.¡±


    A familiar voice. Owen Cassfire.


    After slowly recollecting my memories, I remembered I had fainted as soon as I came out of that cave. There were other people besides me. But I hadn¡¯t heard Liam¡¯s voice when we emerged.


    So where was Liam?


    ¡°How is Liam?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s¡­.¡±


    Why wasn¡¯t he saying anything?


    Suddenly, panic set in. I iled, and water sloshed into my mouth. Ugh, salty!


    ¡®Salty?¡¯


    I realized I could float effortlessly because the water had a high salt content.


    I moved my hands and realized I was in a ss tank, not veryrge. Feeling around, I noticed the top was open.


    ¡°Tell me right now, Owen. What happened to Liam Moore?¡±


    ¡°¡­His condition isn¡¯t good. He overexerted himself in a short time. Damn it, he told me not to say anything.¡±


    He nned to blindfold me and have me rest here, fixing everything by the time I woke up.


    My expression turned cold, making Owen stammer. He seemed to be trying to defend Liam, but he was just as culpable.


    In a slightly trembling voice, I asked quietly,


    ¡°Is he dying?¡±

 Chapter 111: Veritas (6)

    Liam¡¯s blood, hisplexion, the way he couldn¡¯t stand for a while with his sword in hand¡ªall these things converged into a single thought. Owen pressed my iling hand down into the saltwater, submerging itpletely.


    ¡°Regrettably, yes. He self-harmed.¡±


    ¡°What, what did you say?!¡±


    My shrill scream echoed. I heard someone cough somewhere, but I didn¡¯t care.


    Self-harm? Liam Moore did?


    ¡°He branded his soul. He did it himself. Even Greenwich had never seen such a case before. It seems he reversed his power, driving himself to the brink of death. It¡¯s not something one would do in their right mind unless faced with extreme danger.¡±


    The additional exnation that it was unbearable, almost inconceivable pain, only added to my confusion.


    What happened after I died?


    I simply returned. All I could see was the white text loading. I came back without any pain. But then, a question arose. ¡®What happens to the world after I die?¡¯


    What if the world continues as it is, and only I am removed from it? What if there¡¯s no London I first arrived in?


    Damn. I was getting more confused.


    ¡°I need to see Liam.¡±


    I grabbed and removed the blindfold. A room with extremely dim lighting came into view. Fortunately, the sudden brightness wasn¡¯t blinding.


    Owen offered me a hand, pressing his aching head. I could see his hand only after my eyes adjusted to the shallow light.


    ¡°Get up slowly.¡±


    My clothes, soaked from the water, clung to me. How long had I been lying here?


    People around me were checking my condition. Owen handed me a coat from them. Putting it on over my wet clothes felt a bit ufortable, but I wore it without a word and put on my shoes.


    ¡°Liam is resting in another room. Greenwich people are stabilising him, but honestly, we can¡¯t guarantee anything. His lifespan might just be shortening for nothing.¡±


    ¡°To that extent¡­.¡±


    ¡°Who can know what¡¯s really inside him?¡±


    Owen cautiously opened the door. The bright corridor of Greenwich slowly came into view. My eyes didn¡¯t hurt or feel ufortable; perhaps my vision was adjusting.


    ¡°The missing people inside were well protected. Those in good condition were sent back with their memories erased under supervision. The others are recovering in Greenwich before returning. They mostly targeted single people or vagrants with no contacts.¡±


    ¡°Did you find the hidden space inside?¡±


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯m an expert in those things. We handled everything appropriately.¡±


    I nodded.


    He¡¯s really fast. Or maybe I was unconscious for a long time?


    ¡°How long have I been asleep?¡±


    ¡°About a week.¡±


    So, Liam had been lying down for the same time.


    ¡°This is the room.¡±


    Liam Moore was not far from the room I had been lying in.


    When the door opened, there were murmurs from inside, but they stopped upon seeing Owen. His face seemed like a pass. How high-ranking is he?


    Following Owen inside, I felt the air prickle. It felt as if it was bristling with tension towards us, especially towards the centre of the room.


    White, glowing vines (or threads? I couldn¡¯t tell) grew from the ceiling, forming a forest. Many nts I¡¯d never seen before filled the room with light. It was a beautiful yet dangerous atmosphere.


    People greeted us as they passed by, although the greetings were directed at Owen. They looked at me like a strange creature. Their eyes met mine briefly before darting away.


    At the centre of the room, Liam Moorey on a bed, staring at the ceiling. He turned his head towards me, a mixture of surprise and joy on his face.


    ¡°Jane!¡±


    I forgot I was a patient who had just woken up and ran to Liam. He enveloped me in a warm embrace, his body as warm and familiar as I remembered.


    ¡°Why did you do it, you idiot!¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes widened at my sudden scolding. He hadn¡¯t expected a reprimand, but there was no escaping it. What Liam Moore needed was rest and a good scolding. I should have fixed his reckless mindset long ago. Seeing him in this state, I regretted not doing so.


    Liam Moore pouted defiantly, as if it didn¡¯t matter if he got scolded. I shouted, on the verge of tears.


    ¡°They said you were dying. I never wanted you to go to such lengths!¡±


    ¡°How did you know that¡­ Damn, Owen Cassfire.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you nned to keep it a secret. I¡¯ll really be angry.¡±


    Liam¡¯s defiant face turned sheepish. From one corner of the room, new nts were constantly brought in, and dead ones removed. What kind of ce was this? Would Liam Moore get better here because of some ¡®Greenwich¡¯ treatment?


    After a brief moment of reunion, Liam Moore pulled away slowly. He was still sturdy, but his shirt seemed looser than before. He fidgeted with his fingers before speaking.


    ¡°Sorry, but could you all leave for a moment?¡±


    One by one, the people filling the room began to leave. Once even Owen had left and the door closed, Liam spoke again.


    ¡°I suppose I should start from the moment you died.¡±


    My memory cut off there, so I didn¡¯t know what happened to Liam after. I listened attentively as Liam spoke, sitting calmly on the edge of the bed.


    ¡°It seems the world doesn¡¯t want you dead.¡±


    I reflected on Liam¡¯s words.


    A force powerful enough to interfere with the soul of a living being? It wasn¡¯t surprising to think a god existed, but the idea that such a god was reversing the world after my death was astonishing.


    ¡°That old man. The one who saved me. He said I was cursed.¡±


    ¡°¡­Cursed.¡±


    ¡°Using the notebook toe back like this¡ªit¡¯s probably best to reduce it.¡±


    Liam pondered for a moment, then nodded.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know whose power we¡¯re borrowing. But if a lethal danger arises, don¡¯t hesitate to use it. There¡¯s no guarantee this won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    Now I even had to doubt people. There was no one to trust in this world. Maybe Inspector Jefferson or Jonathan? But only while they believed I was Jane Osmond.


    But why did Liam seem so unbothered? He knew I wasn¡¯t Jane. Yet he acted like it didn¡¯t matter. I couldn¡¯t remember what I¡¯d told him, but could it have been enough to satisfy Liam?


    ¡°Do you feel betrayed?¡±


    Liam looked up at me, his grey eyes gleaming.


    ¡°Not at all.¡±


    The reply was immediate.


    Liar. I vividly remembered Liam on the train, asking who I was. I asked, feigning indifference.


    ¡°Someone else possessed the body of your perfectly fine assistant. Doesn¡¯t that creep you out?¡±


    ¡°Jane, considering the number of strange incidents we¡¯ve faced together, ghouls and ghosts are scarier.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so I¡¯m not that bad?¡±


    Liam chuckled, pressing his forehead against mine. He slyly pulled me onto hisp.


    Trying to brush things off? Not this time. I demanded a straight answer.


    ¡°Tell me when you first noticed.¡±


    ¡°¡­Well, when Herschel kidnapped me. I thought something was odd the moment you came to save me. It felt like it had happened before. While I was feverish and delirious, I distinctly remember seeing you once. Owen didn¡¯t know. Then, there were times you said things that you hadn¡¯t actually said before.¡±


    Liam is quick-witted. He would have figured it out soon with a few clues. I let my guard down because of my weakened state, and Liam exploited that gap well.


    ¡°Honestly, it doesn¡¯t matter anymore. I worked with Jane Osmond for quite a while, but the only one who truly knows all my secrets is you.¡±


    He continued.


    ¡°You saved me, you know my secrets, you¡¯ve seen the depths of London with me, and you¡¯ve taken risks. I told you, I¡¯ve grown fond of you.¡±


    It was fascinating. We shared the same feelings about each other.


    I had grown quite fond of Liam Moore. I risked my life to save him, and he seemed willing to do the same for me.


    19th-century London really makes people mad about each other.


    I pressed Liam¡¯s cheeks with both hands. Heughed, the small tremors spreading beneath my palms.

 Chapter 112: Veritas (7)

    ¡°What should I call you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°Since merging with Jane, my previous memories have faded significantly. Damn, this really is a curse!¡±


    Liam chuckled as he looked at me, his eyes twinkling with amusement. His gentle demeanor, as if calling me Jane was some kind of insult, was quite endearing. But since there was no other name left to call me, I had to ept being called Jane.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go with Jane. I¡¯m the only Jane who saved your life.¡±


    ¡°Of course, you¡¯re the only one.¡±


    ¡°So, I am Jane.¡±


    ¡°¡­Liam Moore¡¯s Jane?¡± That was a bit embarrassing, but it was true.


    I felt the need to apologize to those who knew me as Jane. Sorry, Jonathan. It was fun living as your sister, even if only for a short while. Thank you for teaching me what it feels like to have a sibling. Now, your sister will live as Liam Moore¡¯s Jane¡­. I imagined Jonathan losing his mind and threatening to shoot Liam.


    I asked, ¡°¡­Isn¡¯t Jane Moore a bit odd?¡±


    ¡°Why? It suits you perfectly.¡±


    I was speechless, just opening and closing my mouth, while Liam smiled, eyes crinkling as if he knew I couldn¡¯t argue.


    In the end, I released his cheek and pushed him gently on the shoulder.


    No, I need to exin. Holding Liam¡¯s cheek, I felt his body temperature drop from the cold sweat. I decided toy him back down, realizing I had made him talk too much despite him being a patient. Such a basic mistake!


    He copsed back onto the bed and looked up at me.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    ¡°We forgot we¡¯re both patients.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Liam looked at me with an expression as if wondering why it mattered now. I tucked him in tightly.


    I wasn¡¯t running away. I wasn¡¯t fleeing from Liam Moore¡¯s sweet, honey-dripping eyes. It wasn¡¯t because his gentle smile made me ufortable or because I felt we might end up in a passionate kiss.


    ¡°Yeah. You need rest too.¡±


    Liam spoke as if humoring me, grabbing my sleeve as I tried to get up. When I hesitated, he adjusted my coat with a satisfied expression.


    ¡®What is this?¡¯


    Then, he spoke, and I fled the room without looking back.


    ¡°Your clothes¡­ are very see-through.¡±


    Alright! I admit I ran away. I hugged my coat tightly and grumbled. Liam Moore may be a patient, but he¡¯s the most annoying person ever.


    £ª £ª £ª


    After that day, my condition improved rapidly, but not Liam¡¯s.


    He had several small andrge seizures. Whenever he had a seizure, the people of Greenwich were on high alert, as if facing something extremely dangerous.


    I could feel the magic shaking the building, like being in a skyscraper during a typhoon. The frantic running of people could be felt even outside the room.


    Owen hade to check on my condition in my recovery room, and when the building shook, he clicked his tongue.


    ¡°How long will this continue?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s unpredictable. Not many people in Greenwich do such crazy things. Why shorten your life when you already have a short lifespan?¡±


    Owen revealed his naturally short life span so casually.


    As I gave him a subtle look, Owen smirked and showed me the chart. The diagnosis said I was healthy, with no seque, and although I had a long scar on my arm, there were no signs of infection.


    Magic, resembling nt stems, swept over my arm.


    ¡°This is a matter of the soul; it has to heal on its own.¡±


    ¡°Is it painful?¡±


    ¡°It would be a lie to say otherwise. But Liam will endure it. He¡¯s not so weak that he can¡¯t handle this.¡±


    Just then, the treatment room door burst open, startling me.


    The person who entered was a familiar face. Although not as robust as before, a firm middle-aged man was catching his breath while holding the door handle.


    ¡°Professor!¡±


    I shouted in delight. Herschel strode into the room and said,


    ¡°Miss Jane, you must go to Liam right away.¡±


    His face was unusually pale, so I hurriedly got out of bed and threw on a robe. Owen followed, chart tucked under his arm.


    ¡°His seizures won¡¯t stop. They¡¯re getting worse. This has never happened before¡­ With you there, he might calm down.¡±


    The corridor was very chaotic. People were continuously bringing out dead nts. Although new nts had been brought in before, now no one was entering. Most were rushing out like cockroaches exposed to light.


    The prickly air was felt even outside the door. People were standing outside, unable to go in, stomping their feet in frustration. Herschel rubbed his face and sighed. An anxious researcher approached him.


    ¡°Until a moment ago, we could enter, but now it rejects everyone. No one can go in.¡±


    ¡°Miss Jane.¡±


    Herschel¡¯s desperate eyes turned to me. Though he didn¡¯t say much, I could guess what he wanted. He was asking me to go in and stop Liam Moore¡¯s seizure. It was something I could certainly do. There was no reason not to.


    Owen seemed concerned about my health and tried to speak, but I stopped him.


    ¡°Miss! Going in there is like walking into a storm! Are you crazy, Herschel? Putting a civilian through this is¡ª¡±


    But how could I refuse those eyes? Eyes looking at me so desperately.


    Herschel loved Liam like his own son. He wouldn¡¯t have let ite to this if he hadn¡¯t exhausted all other options. He must havee to me after trying everything he could.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go. I think I can do it.¡±


    Really? Owen¡¯s golden eyes seemed to ask that. Really?


    I didn¡¯t know. I couldn¡¯t be sure. But I had a strange confidence. The fact that these people came out unscathed meant Liam Moore wasn¡¯t harming anyone. I remembered his magic bing docile like a tamed hedgehog in front of me before.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know when he¡¯s calmed down. Stay outside until then.¡±


    I put my hand on the doorknob. It felt like it was burning from the inside, ready to burst into mes.


    Was he trying to keep everyone away?


    ¡®This is just digging yourself deeper.¡¯


    What else could I do? I am Jane Osmond, the Jane who saved Liam Moore¡¯s life several times. So, it¡¯s my job to save my scaredy-cat detective once again.


    The magic became sharp in an instant, ready to attack the intruder.


    The door resisted for a while, trying not to let me in. But I¡¯m not the type to just watch, so I decided to use a modern approach.


    I kicked the spot right next to the doorknob. If the door had a mouth, it would have screamed. The rough and innovative method made the magic shrink back for a moment. I took that chance to squeeze through the gap.


    As soon as I entered, a strong wind blew, mming the door shut. Oh, that startled me. It¡¯s like dealing with a teenager. Wasn¡¯t it like those Korean teenagers who snapped at their moms, saying ¡®It was the wind!¡¯?


    I walked forward. The air was still sharp, but it seemed to watch me cautiously with each step I took. Probably remembering the violent action I had just taken.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    There was no response.


    In the meantime, the white vines on the ceiling had grown thick and were blocking my view like curtains. When touched, they sprinkled glittering light, making them beautiful if not for the situation.


    With each step, the remains of dried nts crunched underfoot. What were these nts for? Why did they keep bringing nts into Liam¡¯s room? Why were there nts I had never seen before?


    Despite knowing more about Liam Moore¡¯s world than even ra and her cult, there were still many things I didn¡¯t know, and that angered me. We needed to talk. For us, survival was the first priority, conversation was the second, and consideration was the third. Repeated alienation made Jane Osmond angry.


    I walked determinedly towards Liam Moore¡¯s bed, but something felt off.


    I had walked a long way, yet the bed wasn¡¯t in sight. I felt like I was walking in circles. The bed wasn¡¯t that far away, just about fifteen steps. When I realized this, I had an answer.


    Stop. Is this a trick?


    I shouted with force.


    ¡°William Schofield Moore! Come out right now!¡±


    Using his full name, the magic immediately shriveled. I wasn¡¯t sure if magic had emotions, but Liam Moore¡¯s magic, perhaps resembling him, was very perceptive. The fierce aura subsided, and a path began to open.


    ¡°Don¡¯te any closer!¡±


    A hoarse voice called out from afar.

 Chapter 113: Youngblood (1)

    He must have been cornered to the edge of the bed because of me. From the bed, shrouded in a canopy that concealed the interior, I faintly heard Liam¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Why ¡®Don¡¯te near me¡¯? Are you going through puberty? What¡¯s wrong with you? You need to get better so we can go home.¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    This is strange. Why is Liam Moore sounding so weak?


    The Liam Moore I remember is a smart, arrogant young man, who lives for his own satisfaction. He¡¯s sensitive and willing to give everything to his people, sharp and straightforward outside but somewhat tender at home¡ªa charming contrast.


    But there¡¯s no weakness in him. Even with a knife to his throat, he¡¯d calmly deduce the origin of the de and the background of the attacker. There¡¯s no way he¡¯d be scared of me.


    ¡°Let¡¯s talk.¡±


    I pushed through the vines, dragged a chair over, and started speaking.


    ¡°How¡¯s your health?¡± ¡°Go away. There¡¯s nothing to talk about.¡±


    The reply came quickly.


    Nothing to talk about? You?


    Iughed in disbelief. Could it be that he¡¯s in such a state he can¡¯t even tell me about his condition?


    I could faintly imagine Liam Moore¡¯s appearance: pale as a ghost, leaning against the headboard, looking emaciated. My tearful detective looks good even when sick, but this was uneptable. We shouldn¡¯t be in a parallel existence like this.


    As I reached out, the air around the canopy resisted intensely, desperately blocking my approach.


    Not that he¡¯s trying to fight me, but how bad must he look to go to such lengths? I ground my teeth. I¡¯m not usually in the best mood, but today, irritation was surging.


    Then it happened. Something sharp deeply scratched my palm. It burned. The sudden pain made me withdraw.


    ¡°Did you just hurt me?¡±


    That Liam Moore?


    At first, I was surprised, then I felt absurd. I flipped my hand to check my palm.


    But then, something strange happened.


    There was no wound on my palm.


    I was definitely cut. I felt the skin tear and something hot flowing, but there was no wound. It felt surreal.


    Pain intensifies the more you recognize it, but it doesn¡¯t disappear. It¡¯s designed to linger as an afterimage to torment you. But as soon as I stopped thinking ¡®it hurts,¡¯ the pain vanished as if washed away.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Why doesn¡¯t it hurt?


    No answer came from inside the canopy.


    Come to think of it, the surroundings were very dark. The brightly shining vines were nowhere to be seen, and everything was ck. The bed with the canopy was the only thing visible in the ominously thick darkness.


    This is far from a normal situation.


    ¡°¡­Liam?¡±


    Ignoring the resistance, I reached out and grabbed the canopy.


    The thick fabric opened easily, despite its previous resistance, and inside was¡­


    A face I recognized. ck hair and grey eyes that were not easily seen in others. But it was rounder, smaller, and younger-looking.


    It was Liam Moore. But at the same time, it wasn¡¯t.


    Liam Moore, looking about eighteen, was lying on the canopy bed.


    I must be crazy. For a moment, I thought I had gone mad and pped my cheeks hard. But it didn¡¯t hurt. Like my cut palm, there was just the act of ¡®pping¡¯ without any sensation.


    ¡°Liam?¡±


    As I stood there with my mouth agape at the unreal scene, the eighteen-year-old Liam Moore raised an arm to cover his eyes.


    ¡°Stop calling me.¡±


    His voice, slightly higher and sounding very weary and despondent, mumbled.


    ¡°Leave me alone. Stop tormenting me by pretending to be human¡­.¡±


    I copsed into the chair in shock.


    What is this? Why is Liam younger? Outside, Owen and Herschel are there. What is this, a curse? But how is this even possible?


    Time is reversing for William Moore in 19th-century London, but wait, is this reality?


    But it was definitely reality until a moment ago. The sensations I felt running here were all real. It must have turned into unreality at some point without me noticing.


    Overwhelmed by sudden fear, I jumped up and ran to the door I came through. I frantically yanked at the doorknob, but no matter how hard I pulled, it wouldn¡¯t budge. I screamed.


    ¡°Owen! Get me out of here! Something¡¯s wrong!¡±


    ¡°Owen?¡±


    The eighteen-year-old Liam asked from the bed.


    ¡°This is the first time you¡¯ve called out a name other than mine. Who¡¯s Owen?¡±


    Voice? Can¡¯t he see me?


    I slowly turned my head in disbelief.


    A Liam who doesn¡¯t know Owen. My confidence evaporated. I wanted to punch the me from five minutes ago who thought I could save Liam Moore.


    What do I do? I felt helpless. Still, this is Liam, so maybe if I talk to him, he¡¯ll understand.


    I trudged back to the bed and managed to speak.


    ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Right next to you!¡±


    But he looked around with nk eyes, muttering.


    ¡°Not here.¡±


    This crazy kid. Can¡¯t he see me? He used to see things others couldn¡¯t from a young age. Herschel said so. Herschel, that liar.


    I sat on the bed. As the bed slightly tilted under my weight, Liam finally looked in my direction. Rather than seeing me, it was more like he sensed ¡®something¡¯ where I was.


    ¡°That¡¯s strange.¡±


    He muttered. His dry hand reached out. I extended my hand toward his, but it passed through his hand as if I were invisible. Gasping, I heard Liam ask.


    ¡°Who are you? Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°Why are you acting like you know me?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t answer. Whether I had really travelled to the past or was seeing an illusion, I didn¡¯t know what to say to this young Liam Moore.


    If it¡¯s really the past Liam, what should I do? I can¡¯t tell him he¡¯ll be in danger because of meter. The butterfly effect of my words could be terrifying.


    If it¡¯s just an illusion, for some unknown reason, will talking to an illusory Liam bring me back to reality?


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you here to curse me again?¡±


    I took a slow, deep breath.


    Calm down. Whatever you say, it can¡¯t get worse than this.


    ¡°No, I won¡¯t do that.¡±


    Young Liamughed. It was the sameugh I remembered, so I was at a loss for words. I should beforting him, telling him I care about him and don¡¯t want to hurt him. But this young Liam, who doesn¡¯t know me, was so shocking I couldn¡¯t decide how to approach him.


    So, I hesitated for a while before revealing half the truth.


    ¡°I got lost. I was trying to find someone.¡±


    ¡°Owen?¡±


    ¡°No, someone else. A very pretty and lovable crybaby.¡±


    He was looking at the area around me with a subtle expression. Propping himself up on the mattress, Liam spoke.


    ¡°You¡¯ve wandered into the wrong ce.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I can¡¯t believe it myself¡­.¡±


    As I mumbled to myself, Liamughed again.


    Just a few exchanges and he seemed to let his guard down. Heughed easily and trusted quickly. The thirty-year-old Liam Moore wouldn¡¯t have done that. He would have doubted to the end, dug in, and pursued the truth. The one in front of me was indeed a young and innocent Liam.


    With a more rxed face, Liam asked.


    ¡°Should I help you?¡±


    I observed the adolescent Liam for a moment.


    His shirt was a bit too big, and he wore cotton pants. Hisplexion was pale, and his bangs were stuck with sweat. His eyes were reddish underneath. He didn¡¯t look well.


    ¡°¡­You¡¯re sick. How can you help me?¡±


    When I asked that, Liam looked visibly offended.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sick. I just need some rest.¡±


    ¡°Then you should rest. I can manage on my own. I¡¯m older than you and have been through more than you think. It¡¯s best for kids to just lie down and sleep.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a kid. I¡¯m eighteen.¡±


    Well, that¡¯s still a kid. I quietly muttered to myself as I reached out to Liam.

 Chapter 114: Youngblood (2)

    It passed by quickly, but for some reason, I just felt like doing it.


    ¡°¡­Liam.¡±


    He blinked. Eighteen-year-old Liam was less guarded and more amicable than I expected. I wondered if I could use this opportunity to uncover some secrets.


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®hearing voices¡¯?¡±


    He stayed silent for a while, scrunching up his face before slowly opening his mouth.


    ¡°Just what it sounds like. I hear voices. They always wish for my death.¡±


    ¡°When did you start hearing them?¡±


    ¡°Since I was a child. From the moment I started remembering. As soon as I began to see and feel them, they started talking to me. I remember the first thing they said: ¡®You will never be free from us forever.¡¯¡±


    The voices enjoyed mimicking people, mocking Liam as he fell for their tricks. They deceived him so convincingly that he spent his childhood in terror, thinking they were real people. ¡°It was awful. Living most of my childhood being treated like a mad person really messed up my personality.¡±


    ¡°Wow, what jerks! Who do they think they are, tormenting people like that?¡±


    Was it my use of harsh words? Young Liam widened his eyes and then burst intoughter. His pleasant, melodiousughter rang softly.


    ¡°Tell me about the person you¡¯re looking for.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t expected the question toe back to me, so I looked a bit flustered. I was also worried that young Liam might catch on.


    Here lies the problem: Does Liam Moore¡¯s sharpness develop even at eighteen?


    ¡°Uh, well, why are you suddenly curious about that?¡±


    He looked at me as if asking why I was questioning the obvious.


    ¡°I need to know to help you. You do want to find them, right?¡±


    ¡°Too much honesty can hurt adults, Liam Moore.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s with that tone? You¡¯re not a teacher.¡±


    Oops. I guess I was too ustomed to the role-ying with the older Moore. As I tried to shift the conversation, he gave me a look as if saying, ¡®I¡¯ll let it slide this time.¡¯ Reluctantly, I recited the details of thirty-year-old Liam Moore.


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s thirty. Over six feet tall. An adult man.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°ck hair and grey eyes.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ uh¡­.¡±


    Liam sighed deeply and turned to look at me. After rubbing his hair into ce, he appeared a bit embarrassed, with his ears and neck reddening.


    ¡°¡­Are you looking for the thirty-year-old me?¡±


    Eek!


    I was naturally startled by Liam Moore¡¯s sudden politeness. Why had he turned into such a polite child? Where did the rebellious teenager go?


    My head spun in confusion as he sighed again. He returned to his usual cheeky tone and exined.


    ¡°You knew my name, and it wasn¡¯t just a voice. ck hair and grey eyes aren¡¯t amonbination. So, you¡¯re really looking for the thirty-year-old me, the ¡®adorable crybaby¡¯? What was the rtionship between you and me?¡±


    Damn it.


    Young Liam Moore¡¯s sharpness was already fully developed. I had underestimated him and let slip the information one by one, making it inevitable for him to catch on. Having walked into it myself, there was no way out but toe clean.


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re a crybaby.¡±


    ¡°Damn.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how many times you¡¯ve cried in front of me.¡±


    The sight of young Liam cursing at his thirty-year-old self was a spectacle. I kindly waited for his embarrassment to subside.


    After a while, Liam, who had been ruffling his hair, raised his head. Calming down quickly, he exined to me.


    ¡°There must be a problem with him. I don¡¯t know how you ended up here, but it wouldn¡¯t be possible without someone¡¯s interference.¡±


    Even though he was still unsteady and easily shaken, thinking that such a person would grow up to meet me felt¡­ strange. Knowing he would turn out well but throwing a bomb like me at the clueless young Liam made me feel conflicted.


    Anyway, time travel is impossible with just individual power. I sighed deeply.


    ¡°Ah, this is driving me crazy. Why is life so tough?¡±


    ¡°You can think of it this way: a lively eighteen-year-old is cuter than a thirty-year-old.¡±


    ¡°Do you really say that about yourself?¡±


    The lively eighteen-year-old grinned.


    ¡°I¡¯m quite shameless. Didn¡¯t the thirty-year-old me teach you that?¡±


    No. He¡¯s shameless too. I didn¡¯t want two Liam Moorespeting in ego, so I just nodded. In ego battles, I¡¯m always the one who gets caught in the crossfire.


    Liam cleared his throat and straightened up.


    ¡°Listen. I¡¯m currently resting in my room at Nifoisse Hall. I have the flu. Where are you?¡±


    I looked around briefly. Then I started to describe what I saw.


    ¡°It¡¯s ck, dark. There¡¯s no light.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s quiet. There¡¯s no sound at all.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    Sharing the same time but different spaces felt distinctly odd. I was a bit confused. My mouth moved on its own.


    ¡°There¡¯s only you here¡­.¡±


    Yeah, only you. Despite the darkness obscuring everything, it¡¯s like there¡¯s a spotlight on you, making everything around you clear. Then where am I?


    I couldn¡¯t understand. Struggling to speak, I gave up and looked down.


    At that moment.


    ¡°It seems like it¡¯s time for you to go.¡±


    Breaking the silence, young Liam spoke. He fixed his gaze on something I couldn¡¯t perceive. Was something changing? He slowly climbed out of the bed, parting the canopy with his thin arm.


    There was a change happening to him. The faint glow was dimming, and a boldness, a fearless expression, began to show on his face.


    Then a pale hand grabbed mine. So pale that you could see the veins clearly, it sped tightly around mine.


    ¡°How?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    How? Just a moment ago, you couldn¡¯t even see me. How are you now seeing and touching me?


    Young Liam helped me up and led me out of the bed, saying,


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do it. He¡¯s stitching up the rift from the other side.¡±


    ¡°Liam?¡±


    ¡°Thanks to him, I¡¯ve be somewhat simr to you. But only for a short while. After all, I¡¯m your ¡®past¡¯.¡±


    So, thirty-year-old Liam is fixing some¡­ tear in the soul from afar, and in the process, young Liam and I somehow synced up temporarily.


    I don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t exin it. Liam or Owen would know more about such theories than I do.


    Anyway, it seems like that¡¯s the principle. If thirty-year-old Liam can interfere, so can eighteen-year-old Liam. With both of them holding the threads from opposite ends, I, floating in the middle, was found.


    ¡°It¡¯s around here.¡±


    Young Liam groped the empty air as if feeling for a wall and caught hold of something. He turned to me, exining softly.


    ¡°Take a deep breath. It won¡¯t feel pleasant.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a kind exnation. I knew that much. Liam Moore was not a teacher. But shouldn¡¯t he at least tell me what¡¯s about to happen?


    Without time to prepare, the dark shadow began creeping up my arm, ready to pull me away.


    Terrified, I clung to young Liam¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Liam, wait.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the ce.¡±


    Young Liam smiled softly. He tightened my coat around me and ced his hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t it. Staying here won¡¯t do any good. You need to find your ¡®me.¡¯¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡ªuh, aaaaaah!¡±


    Without a chance to respond, I was shoved, and I began to fall immediately. As if someone had pulled the floor out from under me, the ground started sinking rapidly, increasing speed.


    ¡®I won¡¯t die from falling in a hallucination, right?¡¯


    But the unrelenting speed scared me.


    In the midst of it, the cheeky adolescent who pushed me bid farewell.


    ¡®Damn kid Liam!¡¯


    I never imagined there¡¯d be gravity in this space. I thought the darkness would continue indefinitely, but there was an end. I fell endlessly somewhere, unable to even scream.

 Chapter 115: Threshold (1)

    How can I stop this? How can I make it stop?


    Just then, something jutted out, hitting my side. My body spun in the air. I saw the ck voiding closer, unrelenting. It was twice as terrifying to see it getting nearer instead of farther.


    If I fall like this, my face will be crushed. If there¡¯s even a ground to fall onto!


    Frantically iling my arms, I tried to grab onto something, but there was nothing to hold. Think. How can I survive in this surreal space? How can I safelynd on the ground?


    My mind reached a conclusion. I need someone¡¯s help.


    Think. I¡¯ve seen a ce like this before.


    My mouth, which seemed unable to open, finally did, and I shouted,


    ¡°El¡ª!¡±


    £ª £ª £ª The fall stopped.


    I was floating in midair. It felt as if some intangible force had caught me. As I panted and fumbled around my waist, I felt a condensed mass of air supporting me.


    ¡°You should have called earlier.¡±


    A calm voice spoke. Neither male nor female, neither child nor elder, but a soft, androgynous voice addressed me.


    ¡°What on earth is this ce?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing special. It¡¯s just a space created by the magical storm conjured by William Moore.¡±


    ¡°Then, I¡¯m¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an unfortunate victim swept into this space.¡±


    ¡°Damn that Moore.¡±


    El chuckled. My body slowly descended to the ground. I was back in that dark, water-filled space I had visited before. I hastily exined.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think to call you. Since being kidnapped by ra, I haven¡¯t been in my right mind. When I came to, I heard Liam was in danger. I came for help and met this eighteen-year-old kid.¡±


    ¡°Oh, ra. Yes, she caused quite a mess. I don¡¯t know when she started involving herself in this.¡±


    ¡°I never imagined she¡¯d steal the notebook like that¡­.¡±


    I heard the sound of water rippling. Waves formed somewhere and reached my feet. I began to walk slowly. Lukewarm liquid soaked my ankles.


    ¡°That thing kept trying to touch me, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    I asked. I had a hunch about the answer, but I was still pondering whether I could truly trust El.


    Ironically, I did. I didn¡¯t know who this strange being helping me was, nor why it was interested in me.


    Was it out of curiosity? Or did it have something it wanted from me?


    El sighed and started guiding me. A white hand connected us.


    ¡°The reason I hide my true form is simple. First, ordinary beings would easily go mad under the unbearable terror of my appearance. Second, I am merely an ¡®agent¡¯.¡±


    ¡°An agent?¡±


    ¡°The real one is far away. I¡¯m just borrowing a human form to mimic a person. You could say my true form is simr to the ck King you fear.¡±


    I could have guessed as much. If such a being were human, that would indeed be strange. If seeing it could drive someone insane, it must be something akin to a ¡®god¡¯.


    I kept walking, following El, who led me somewhere. El stopped walking atst.


    ¡°Unlike him, I don¡¯t desire the ¡®end¡¯ just yet. So, how about you be satisfied with that and go find William Moore?¡±


    It was a suggestion, implying I shouldn¡¯t pry further and should just follow my purpose. It wasn¡¯t a threat, but it was firm.


    ¡°But I want to know.¡±


    ¡°Even if you forget your original purpose and go mad?¡±


    ¡°Even so, I want to know why I came to this world.¡±


    El sighed and let go of my hand.


    ¡°See a small part, but then forget it. That way, you can survive. Hang in there, Jane. I don¡¯t want you to go mad.¡±


    The voice grew louder. It became a grand whisper, a chorus echoing in my brain. Though it was a low murmur, it sounded enormous, hinting at the vastness of its ¡®true form¡¯. Just how colossal was it?


    The void brightened. No, the darkness remained, but something floating in the air began to glow, creating an illusion of light. The sea of blood, up to my ankles, churned.


    As Thomas Aquinas expressed, God is an infinite and indefinable vast sea.


    I saw it.


    Foam. Bundles of foam swelled and subsided. It existed here and everywhere simultaneously. Time and space intertwined, endlessly birthing and dying. It was the end and the beginning, grain bing wheat and grain again. Father! What bes of the tree that bears no fruit? He who has ears, let him hear! It was God! It was God!


    Yahweh! Yahweh!


    Countless truths surged into my mind like a tidal wave. Just as winter gives way to spring, spring inevitably wees winter. My nose tingled, and blood flowed. My eardrums swelled, and my eyes felt like they would burst. The whispers in my head sounded beautiful now. I was intoxicated with happiness. The pain was gone.


    The strangely coloured (perhaps pearlescent) bubbles spoke to me.


    This is only a part, but he is everything mixed together. Light and darkness are trapped here. Everything loses its power before him and merges into one.


    Here, light dies and is forever engulfed.


    I was in the universe for thousands of years in an instant, wandering through the void.


    The cold tore and scratched me, biting into my veins.


    When the universe re-emerges, it will be¡ªforever, forever, forever¡­¡­!


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    Pop.


    Everything subsided instantly, like bubbles bursting.


    The ecstatic sensations vanished, and my floating body was flung to the ground. I felt bone-chilling cold. It was deste. Only the gentlypping ck sea was warm, and if I could, I would submerge myself entirely in it. I panted, trying to process what I had just seen¡ª


    ¡°Even a glimpse causes this.¡±


    El¡¯s voice, mixed with a sigh, said.


    I had tasted the sweetness of the truth he showed. It was sweet, sweet ¡®annihtion,¡¯ like a sip of water after days of thirst. My stiff tongue forgot how to form words. I didn¡¯t know what to say. My brain felt like it was melting. My whole body trembled, craving what I had just seen.


    ¡°I¡­ I,¡±


    My trembling lips moved. If I could, I would endlessly utter words of adoration for him. Unlike the ck King, this was different. It wasn¡¯t just an avatar. It was something more immense¡­ greater¡­ one part of the whole.


    El interrupted my thoughts and asked.


    ¡°What did I say?¡±


    What did he say?


    The visions he showed kept shing before my eyes. But he had definitely warned me before that.


    My purpose, my reason, my existence, the reason I came here, what I had lost.


    But what was it?


    I saw a woman in the reflection of the ck water, her lower face smeared with blood, smiling.


    ¡®Is this me?¡¯


    Realising this, I grasped the fleeting memory. El¡¯s voice in my memorymanded. Forget.


    ¡°If I forget, I can survive.¡±


    ¡°Then what should you do?¡±


    My mouth moved on its own and answered.


    ¡°I have to¡­ forget.¡±


    Yes. I must forget this scene. Forever.


    Good. El¡¯s hand stroked the back of my head. Finally, I saw El¡¯s form. A ¡®human¡¯ figure in a white robe covering them from head to toe.


    Because I promised El, I tightly shut my eyes and began to push the visions to the back of my mind.


    The heat that seemed endless in my head cooled, and the nosebleed stopped. Something oppressive quickly left my body. I felt weak all at once and could finally breathe evenly. I was regaining my senses. My body was recovering.


    El, seeing me quickly oveing the shock, helped me up.


    ¡°This way.¡±


    The infinitely expanding space continued to expand even at this moment. El grabbed me and guided me to keep up with the expansion. Stumbling, I followed, reflected in the water. Eventually, a door appeared before us.


    ¡°Once is the hardest.¡±


    Opening it once to see what¡¯s beyond. That¡¯s the hardest part, El whispered.


    ¡°But if you move forward once, you¡¯ll forget the fear the next time.¡±


    Warmth flowed down my back. My body, which had been shrinking, stretched out. It was like a reward for enduring.

 Chapter 116: Threshold (2)

    As the trembling ceased, I naturally reached for the doorknob. But then, a sudden curiosity made me pause.


    ¡°Why are you doing this for me?¡±


    It was an impulsive question.


    Why? Someone like El had no reason to take an interest in me. To beings like them, humans must seem as insubstantial and scattered as mist. So why were they doing so much for me?


    ¡®They could let me die or go mad.¡¯


    I heard El¡¯sughter.


    ¡°Perhaps I, too, am beginning to understand it. Their ¡®interest,¡¯ you see. But it¡¯s a bit different for me. I find the children who endlessly search for answers quite endearing.¡±


    Them? Interest?


    A white hand covered my eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll send you to William. He will know the way out. Please, take care of yourself from now on. Don¡¯t recklessly provoke entities from beyond our world. And while you¡¯re at it, show me the end of your story.¡±


    I felt El open the door, making an order that was absolutely not easy. Beyond the door, a gale was blowing. It was a little unsettling, but thinking that Liam was on the other side made the temporary blindness bearable.


    El wanted me to be safe. El wanted an ending. That was enough.


    Yes, that was enough. I had my answer, and the ¡®door¡¯ closed in front of me.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I regained my breath.


    A rustling sound came from right next to my ear. My hearing returned. Next came my thoughts.


    What is this? My mind thought.


    Finally, my eyes could see. I squinted against the light pouring in, feeling as if it would pierce my eyeballs. Sunlight?


    I slowly opened my eyelids and turned my head to look around.


    Rustle.


    Then I felt a prickling sensation on my cheek. My cheek, eyelid, and forehead. Ouch.


    ¡°What is this?¡±


    A harsh voice escaped my throat. It was hoarse and a bit low. Though my voice was naturally low, this one was different. Startled, I touched my neck. Instead of smooth skin, I felt an Adam¡¯s apple. Why was it sticking out? My neck should be smooth.


    ¡®Huh?¡¯


    As I tried to get up, something fluttered and pped beside me, drawing my attention.


    It was a crow. It was pecking at my skin, as if checking if it could eat a dead animal. A crow sitting not too far away stared at me. It seemed quite angry about having its meal interrupted.


    ¡°Shoo!¡±


    I waved my hand. The crow still watched me with its beady ck eyes, as if urging me to lie back down.


    Feeling uneasy, I tried to get up,


    ¡­then noticed something strange. My limbs were much longer than my height. And I was wearing pants.


    ¡®No way.¡¯


    My hand was odd too. Much thicker and more knobby than my original one.


    Dirt was caked under my nails, and my palms had scraped wounds. Such injuries usually came from falling and trying to brace oneself. But I had no memory of falling.


    ¡°Is it possible?¡±


    I carefully started moving my body. Everything moved fine. Nothing broken or stabbed.


    I desperately needed a mirror. I had to see what had happened to my body. With that thought, I finally took in my surroundings.


    I was in a deep pit. Deep enough to stand an adult man upright and still have room. How did I end up here? Trees grew around the pit, with roots sticking out, and the sunlight poured in through the gaps.


    Damn it. How am I supposed to climb out of here?


    ¡°Did you see the look on that guy¡¯s face when he cried?¡±


    Just then, I heard voices. They sounded no older than their early twenties. Very elegant ents, but the content was vulgar.


    ¡°He fainted when we pushed him. A guy like him, crying like a baby.¡±


    One guy spoke, and the othersughed in agreement. At least three, no, four? The ground was so wet it was hard to tell by their footsteps. The one in front seemed to be the one who had pushed the owner of this body into the pit.


    ¡°Should we pull him out now? If he¡¯s missing for too long, it¡¯ll cause a fuss.¡±


    ¡°If he licks our shoes, maybe we¡¯ll pull him out?¡±


    Another guyughed.


    ¡°He¡¯s got too much pride for that. He¡¯d never do it. Boohoo, let me out, boohoo!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous that someone like him could be the next head of the Vermilton family.¡±


    Ah. So it was jealousy over family status?


    I began to understand. I was in someone else¡¯s body. Big hands, long limbs, an Adam¡¯s apple. Clearly, I was in a man¡¯s body.


    From what I could hear, this body belonged to the ¡®Vermilton¡¯ family. And it seemed like a well-known family. Given that the body¡¯s owner was pushed in here without much resistance, he must have been quite timid.


    I took a deep breath and surveyed the area. Plenty of things to climb on. This body felt quite light and agile, probably capable of following my will. But first, those who pushed a person into a pit deserved some proper retribution.


    ¡°Hey! Dn! Are you crying after falling over?¡±


    Dn. So the name was Dn Vermilton.


    A nasty voice called down from above, and a face appeared, framed by irritatingly shiny blond hair. Thanks to the shadow it cast, my eyes felt a bit morefortable. The guy seemed surprised to see me standing in the pit.


    I immediately hurled a clump of dirt I had in my hand at his face. The dirt hit him squarely in the centre of his face. He made a gagging sound and, staggering, fell into the pit.


    He iled about and shouted to the others above.


    ¡°Ahhh! Catch me! Catch me, Ben!¡±


    If they tried to catch him, I nned to drag them down too. But it seemed this kid wasn¡¯t very popr. No one made a move to help him.


    As I stepped back slightly, the guynded heavily on his butt. He must have hit his back on the way down because he screamed in pain.


    ¡°Oh. Hello. Wee. Cosy down here, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I greeted him nonchntly. The guy spat out all sorts of curses without responding.


    ¡®He who seeks revenge must dig two graves.¡¯


    I recalled an old proverb. One grave for myself and one for the person I was avenging. Okay, ready. Dn Vermilton had already been buried once, so no need to dig another for him. All that was left was to dig graves for these guys.


    The bullies who tormented Dn Vermilton didn¡¯t seem to have expected him to fight back. Right. I agreed. The original owner of this body probably would have stayed in the pit until rescued, exhausted. That¡¯s why they taunted him with conditions like licking shoes, something he¡¯d never do out of pride.


    ¡°You think you can cross the line because I didn¡¯t do anything?¡±


    But not me. If I get hurt, I¡¯ll repay double. I found myself in an unfamiliar ce, in the body of a boy, and nearly buried alive? How long had it been since Philip Peterson had buried me, and now another burial? I had enough of dirt. Though there¡¯s a famous funeral phrase in 19th century Ennd, ¡®Dust to dust, ashes to ashes,¡¯ it doesn¡¯t apply to me.


    I said,


    ¡°Brace yourself, you cheeky bastard.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    After shoving the other three into the pit, I watchedfortably. The boys, now dirtied and bruised, sat huddled together, repeatedly standing and sitting for an hour and a half. If they tried to ck off, I kicked the dirt pile next to me. They quickly straightened up. Good.


    While disciplining them, my mind was a whirlwind. This was the second time I found myself living parasitically in someone else¡¯s body. How did this happen?


    El had promised to send me to Liam. So why was I here? Does that mean Liam is here?


    ¡°Enough. Stop.¡±


    As soon as I spoke, the four of them copsed onto the ground. Though they panted pitifully, they deserved it for trying to bury someone alive.


    ¡°W-will you let us out now, Dn?¡±


    I snorted.


    ¡°Why would I bother with that?¡±


    ¡°We did what you asked!¡±


    I tilted my head slightly.


    ¡°How much did you bully me?¡±


    The four of them mmed up. Their silence was amusing, and I let out augh. When I ced my foot on the dirt pile, they flinched and cried out.


    ¡°No answer?¡±


    ¡°¡­You bastard.¡±


    ¡°Is that supposed to be a boast, you little shits?¡±

 Chapter 117: Threshold (3)

    His expression seemed to say, ¡°You asked for it.¡± I shrugged and pulled my leg out of the pit. Then, without any hesitation, I turned away. Those guys, realizing the situation, started scrambling up the mound of dirt, shouting frantically.


    ¡°Hey, Dn! Dn! We were wrong!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we messed up! Don¡¯t leave us here!¡±


    Familiar voices.


    I walked on wearily until their cries faded away. Honestly, I was exhausted. I never imagined I¡¯d get lost in a ce like this. But to be lost in time and space? How many more times would I have to go through this?


    Whether I was in despair or not, my body instinctively remembered its destination. I saw a familiar school. There was no way I could mistake it. I muttered softly to myself.


    ¡°Cambridge?¡±


    Slowly, a specific memory associated with Cambridge surfaced in my mind.


    ¡°We took the same sses at Cambridge, didn¡¯t we?¡± It was a voice I had almost forgotten. The face was half-remembered. But now that the memory had resurfaced, I couldn¡¯t ignore the uneasy assumption forming in my mind. That this ce, like just now, was part of Liam¡¯s ¡®past.¡¯


    I moved forward. The security guard looked startled by my disheveled appearance. I considered walking past him but then decided to speak up.


    ¡°Excuse me. There¡¯s a pit in the forest.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Four people are stuck in there. I tried to get them out but failed. Can you call for help?¡±


    Honestly, I wasn¡¯t too worried about any repercussions. They had tasted defeat once and wouldn¡¯t dare mess with me again. Those guys would rather im they identally fell in a pit than admit they were beaten up and trapped by Dn Vermilton.


    Ignoring the guard who asked if I was okay, I began to trudge away. I needed to change my clothes. Fortunately, my synchronization with this body seemed sufficient, and I didn¡¯tck knowledge about Cambridge. This was a ce where the city and university werebined, with students staying in lodgings downtown instead of separate dormitories. It seemed to be a long-standing tradition. Dn had a ce near thew school.


    ¡°Dn, at least your amodation is decent,¡± I muttered, impressed by the surprisingly clean boarding house. I sensed someone behind me.


    ¡°What¡¯s with that look?¡±


    It was a nonchnt voice, but how could I forget it? I turned my head with a hint of joy. ck hair, thick, straight eyebrows. His handsome face made me gasp.


    ¡°L¡­ Moore.¡±


    I almost said his name but managed to call out his surname just in time. Liam gave a slight nod. He was holding a paper bag, probably with some groceries.


    He looked older and more mature than the eighteen-year-old Liam I remembered. He had shed most of his boyishness but still didn¡¯t fully seem like an adult.


    ¡°What are you doing standing there?¡±


    Liam asked. I pulled the door handle, but it was locked. I didn¡¯t have a key. I pointed to my empty pockets and shabby appearance, muttering pathetically.


    ¡°Moore, I don¡¯t have a key.¡±


    Liam clicked his tongue and shoved the paper bag into my arms. He stepped forward and unlocked the door.


    ¡°You probably lost it while getting beaten up again.¡±


    ¡°Your insight never fails to amaze.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but blurt out. Liam nced at me briefly. I exined.


    ¡°You always talk like you can see through people.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s with you suddenly talking to me?¡±


    Compared to the younger Liam, his words were much more restrained. Maybe he had mellowed out a bit. I shrugged, hiding my satisfaction at his growth.


    ¡°Anyone would lose their nerve after nearly getting buried alive.¡±


    ¡°So, they finally crossed the line?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I paid them back.¡±


    I tried to step inside the house, but Liam hissed, stopping me in my tracks. He sounded like he was scolding a seven-year-old.


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think abouting into our shared house with dirty feet.¡±


    Then, he threw a towel at me.


    ¡°Take off your clothes.¡±


    ¡°If I take these off, I¡¯ll be naked.¡±


    ¡°No dirt allowed.¡±


    ¡°When did you start caring about cleanliness?¡±


    ¡°Take them off.¡±


    Holding back tears, I apologized to Dn Bermilton¡¯s body. Sorry, man. I didn¡¯t mean to strip you in front of another guy. It wasn¡¯t even your choice.


    Reluctantly, I took off my shirt first, feeling a bit less self-conscious. Liam handed me aundry basket.


    ¡°Put them in.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to keep watching?¡±


    ¡°Pants too.¡±


    Fine, I¡¯ll take them off. I closed my eyes and pulled down my pants. At least I had underwear on. It should be okay. Dn¡¯s dignity might be a bit scratched, but it¡¯ll be fine after a quick wash.


    I quietly grabbed a house robe from the nearby hanger, put it on, and stepped off my shoes into slippers. I was ready to head to the bathroom.


    ¡°Is this good enough?¡±


    Finally, Liam moved aside from blocking the entrance. I sighed and walked past him. His piercing gaze still seemed to follow me, but I had no energy for a conversation. After being forced to strip, what was there to say?


    Even amidst this, Dn¡¯s body was dutifully providing me with information about his residence. Dn used the second floor; the bathroom was on the second floor. Liam Moore stayed on the first floor. The kitchen was also on the first floor.


    My impression of this was:


    ¡°You guys have a whole house to yourselves?¡±


    Wow, they must be rich¡­.


    £ª £ª £ª


    I needed to wash off the dirt, but it was someone else¡¯s body. And it wasn¡¯t even Liam Moore¡¯s body. I couldn¡¯t bear to see another man¡¯s naked body. So, Ipromised by closing my eyes tightly. I tried to keep them shut for most of the washing. It was my way of respecting Dn¡¯s body. I wasn¡¯t sure if Dn would appreciate it, though.


    Maybe I opened my eyes briefly while getting into the bathtub? It took over thirty minutes to wash out all the dirt and leaves from my hands and scalp. Once I finished and stepped out, I finally got a good look at the face of the body I had taken over.


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    Liam Moore had a rather somber aura, but Dn Bermilton looked even gloomier. He seemed like someone carrying all the world¡¯s misfortunes.


    His messy fringe covered his eyebrows and poked his eyes. His blond hair was stiff like a broomstick, even though he had enough products to take care of it. The curly texture made it look even worse.


    I fiddled with the wet fringe. The young man in the mirror moved his hand to touch his fringe just as I did. I muttered to myself.


    ¡°No one else would look as shabby as you, Dn, even after a wash.¡±


    Dn Bermilton had striking blue eyes, but they were hidden by his fringe. If he wore his hair up or at least cut it shorter, he¡¯d look much better.


    ¡°At your age, you should style your hair, dress nicely, and maybe date like everyone else.¡±


    I rummaged through the bathroom shelves and found a pair of scissors. I started cutting his fringe slowly.


    While I was in this body, I¡¯d make sure no one underestimated Dn. First impressions were crucial.


    I carefully trimmed his hair, leaving it in a neat, round shape. It took less than ten minutes to find some clothes in the wardrobe, put them on, and step out of the room.


    A delicious smell filled the house. It wasing from downstairs. The smell made me realize how hungry I was. I wasn¡¯t sure if Dn had eaten, but I hadn¡¯t had anything. It was already past five in the evening.


    I impatiently trotted down the stairs and found Liam Moore lounging at the kitchen table. He had his feet propped up on another chair and was engrossed in a newspaper. He looked like a loafer. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his shirt was loosely buttoned.


    He nced up at my approach. I stared nkly at him for a moment, then pointed at the food on the table.


    ¡°Moore, did you make this?¡±


    Liam nodded indifferently.


    Wow, sses. The sses suited Liam surprisingly well. He peered at me over the newspaper with a look that said, ¡°Why aren¡¯t you sitting down?¡±


    His expression changed subtly as he took in my altered appearance.


    ¡°You trimmed your hair.¡±

 Chapter 118: Threshold (4)

    ¡°Um,¡± I replied, pulling out a chair untouched by Liam and sitting down. Dinner was already set. A te, fork, and knife were ced at my seat as well. Liam must have done all this himself. His remarkable dexterity remained unchanged even in his twenties.


    Liam nced at the newspaper, asking indifferently, ¡°Newspaper?¡±


    ¡°Any one will do,¡± I responded, checking the date on the newspaper. It was May 1863. I had travelled back eight years from 1871. So, Liam¡¯s current age was¡­


    ¡°Twenty-two.¡±


    My goodness. He¡¯s really young. I was a bit taken aback, stabbing a bean with my fork. Looking at his young face in photos had been fun, but seeing him move and eat in front of me was unsettling. The reality of being in the past suddenly hit me.


    Liam, having silently finished his meal, was now solving a crossword puzzle. Noticing my gaze, he raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°What?¡±


    I asked cautiously, ¡°You don¡¯t eat broli?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Fussy eating is bad.¡±


    Liam red at me before burying himself back in the puzzle. Resigned, I began clearing the dishes.


    This was quite different from the scene at 13 Bailonz Street. Back there, Liam would chat incessantly after dinner. It made me realise how different he was back then.


    Or maybe¡­ ¡®Is he only like that with me?¡¯


    It was a usible thought. Liam Moore was sharp with everyone. His brother described him as someone who viewed women as stone, but I believed he treated everyone like inanimate objects. I could now understand why his nickname was ¡®Bastard.¡¯


    After a few more nces while tidying up, Liam sighed and said, ¡°Stop staring.¡±


    Quick to catch on. It¡¯s scary.


    ¡°Thanks for the meal.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    I hurriedly put the dishes in the sink and swiftly exited the kitchen, feeling his eyes boring into my back.


    £ª £ª £ª


    When I woke up, I was still in 1863. It wasn¡¯t despairing. I thought of this as a gateway, a path to the real Liam.


    However, Dn¡¯s head was telling me something else. I shouldn¡¯t be wasting time; I needed to prepare.


    Dn¡¯s body naturally dressed and packed, heading toward the library. A new fact popped into my head: ¡®Cambridge has final exams in May.¡¯ It was already May. Dn¡¯s head reminded me again: ¡®I have to take the exams.¡¯


    This was bad. Dn might remember what he learned, but I didn¡¯t. Not only could I not recall the material, but even if I did, writing about it was another issue. I had never studied Englishw or its precedents!


    The onlyws I knew were from protesting Liam¡¯s misdeeds at Scond Yard. For example, obstruction of justice.


    Dn¡¯s brain insisted, ¡®Exam period.¡¯


    I wanted to scream at Dn¡¯s brain. Hey, you can¡¯t let me ruin your grades. Snap out of it. I¡¯ll give you control or whatever you want.


    ¡®Hang in there.¡¯


    What? I never thought I could resent someone I met yesterday, but Dn Vermilton made it possible.


    Dn wanted me to write his major exams proficiently. It was impossible. Even students who attended sses all year struggled with these exams. How could I get good grades?


    Yet, I had no choice but to move as the body¡¯s owner wished. So, Ipromised by borrowing necessary books from the library, with Dn¡¯s faint consciousness correcting my hand when I picked the wrong ones.


    As I piled the books, I suddenly heard a gasp. In the quiet library, such a sound was startling. I looked around to see who made it. A male student was staring at me wide-eyed.


    All eyes in the library turned to me, apanied by simr gasps.


    Oh, right. People weren¡¯t used to seeing Dn like this. I quietly nodded and continued gathering books.


    The stunned stares didn¡¯t leave until I finished filling out the loan application.


    ¡°Sigh.¡±


    Current Dn had a straightened posture and a tidy haircut, which, while not as striking as Liam¡¯s, gave a clean, decent impression. A smile would make him easily likeable.


    The sunlight outside the library was warm in thete spring, a stark contrast to the students dragging themselves to the library. With the sun blinding my eyes, I lifted my head, feeling muddled.


    ¡°Vermilton.¡±


    I opened my eyes.


    Three steps down the stairs stood Liam Moore. He had his hands in his pockets, looking up at Dn with a skewed expression.


    I responded, ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°It would be wise to move.¡±


    With that, Liam started walking away. He assumed I would follow. Of course, I would¡­ but he walked briskly with his long legs, forcing me to run with my bursting bag in tow.


    ¡°Wait, Moore, slow down!¡±


    He ignored me. I nned to tell thirty-year-old Liam how self-centred and mean he was. See if he cares.


    Following Liam, I counted at least ten students who stared at me in surprise. Liam Moore, however, showed no surprise or curiosity, not even ncing at me, as if walking was all he knew.


    ¡°Hey, Moore!¡±


    Out of breath, I shouted. Finally, Liam nced back and stopped under arge tree. In the distance, there was a greenhouse-like ss building.


    ¡°Here.¡±


    After all that walking, we stopped under a tree?


    I dropped my heavy bag in annoyance, and Liam smirked.


    ¡°What are you?¡±


    Straight to the point. His bluntness made me shudder.


    ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m Dn Vermilton. Are you tired? Why are you talking nonsense?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Liam coldly cut me off, folding his arms. Sunlight through the leaves illuminated his frowning face.


    ¡°Dn Vermilton doesn¡¯t talk back like this.¡±


    Oh, Dn. Where did it all go wrong?


    I exined, ¡°I didn¡¯t avoid it. I just couldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Where did you learn to judge people so freely?¡±


    Liam raised an eyebrow.


    Oops, too provocative.


    ¡°See? You¡¯re not Dn Vermilton.¡±


    Liam stepped closer, pointing at my clothes.


    ¡°He¡¯s ambidextrous, primarily using his left hand. But you used your right. Your left hand seemed clumsy. The direction you cut your bangs is different. Your tone, intonation, expression, and posture are all different. It¡¯s obvious. Your im isn¡¯t credible.¡±


    Now Liam had me cornered against the tree, looking down with his cold grey eyes.


    ¡°I won¡¯t ask twice. Who are you?¡±


    I sighed. If I had known this would happen, I would have avoided meeting Liam Moore.


    But could I escape his suspicion? No. Once he started doubting, he¡¯d dig until the truth came out.


    I shrugged, meeting his eyes.


    ¡°Did Herschel teach you to threaten friends?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a threat, just an appropriate question. I have the insight to ask such things.¡±


    ¡°Fine. You¡¯re insightful. Keep observing.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know why I was having a battle of wits with twenty-two-year-old Liam, but honestly, the situation was quite amusing.


    When I suddenly startedughing, Liam looked at me like I was crazy, which made it even funnier.


    After a while, I stoppedughing, clutching my stomach.


    ¡°Sorry, Liam, but we¡¯ve met before. You know me.¡±


    Probably.


    Despite my exnation, Liam¡¯s expression didn¡¯t soften. His brows furrowed deeply.


    ¡°No, if we had, I¡¯d remember your remarkable vocabry.¡±


    ¡°Or maybe your memory¡¯s bad?¡±


    He squinted at me, as if trying to understand where this lunatic came from.


    I bit my lip, then slowly spoke, looking him straight in the eye.


    ¡°I got lost again. I was looking for someone.¡±

 Chapter 119: Threshold (5)

    If we really had met in the past, it would be something Liam would remember, even after all these years. If meeting eighteen-year-old Liam wasn¡¯t just a dream but reality, then twenty-two-year-old Liam would remember me too.


    Liam¡¯s eyes widened, almost popping out. In that instant, I realised it. We had indeed met before.


    Yes, I acknowledge it. Liam Moore was incredibly smart, and his memory was exceptional to the point whereparing it to others would be an insult.


    His hand braced against the tree, and his eyes, at a simr height, stared deeply into mine as if searching for something. His intense gaze made me turn my eyes away, feeling awkward. Then, he lightly tapped my cheek, as if to make me look at him again. Reluctantly, I met his gaze.


    Too close. That thought crossed my mind briefly. Indeed, too close. I could hear his breathing. Liam¡¯s shoulders, d in a waistcoat, moved slightly with each breath.


    I felt like I might lose my mind from his shallow breaths and the sudden proximity of his grey eyes. Damn it, why is Liam always so beautiful?


    In his clear, light-coloured eyes, there were fragments like pieces of a star, slowly swirling, glittering patterns. I realised this was proof of his magical power because I had undoubtedly changed.


    Finally, Liam¡¯s lips curled into a smirk. It was almost defiant. He gently ced his hand on my (or rather, Dn¡¯s) cheek, letting out a soft sigh.


    ¡°Why on earth can¡¯t you find your way, huh?¡± His tone was gentler, and the tension between us had eased. Feeling a surge of frustration, I snapped back.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who threw me into a strange ce, you jerk! Pretending you don¡¯t know? I fell out of nowhere and ended up here. Honestly, this is your fault.¡±


    Regardless, Liam seemed amused, resting his chin on his hand and smiling. It was infuriating.


    ¡°Seeing Dn Vermilton¡¯s face all annoyed is kind of refreshing.¡±


    ¡°You have the worst taste, you know?¡±


    ¡°Whatever.¡±


    He adjusted my messy bangs and stepped back. As I wobbled forward on unsteady legs, Liam patted my back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m not here to interfere with what you¡¯re trying to do.¡±


    I wondered if I should scold him. Lost in that trivial thought, the handsome man with ck hair began to speak.


    ¡°But you know¡­¡±


    I felt uneasy.


    The expression on his face was like the one he had before causing trouble, the same one that made Jefferson and Herschel tremble. The look he had when he outwitted Scond Yard and was thrilled about it¡­


    His eyes sparkled mischievously as they focused on me, making me apprehensive. What on earth is he about to say?


    Then, with his arm draped over my shoulder, Liam spoke.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it better to be younger and more vigorous than being thirty?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­!!!!!!¡±


    ¡°Your skin is firmer, your body is in better shape, and you have plenty of stamina.¡±


    The flow of the conversation was shocking. I struggled to understand his intent.


    ¡°Uh, uh?¡±


    But this young Liam gave me no time to ponder. He seemed determined to pry into my personal details.


    ¡°How old are you?¡±


    I hesitated and then mumbled.


    ¡°¡­Thirty-one.¡±


    ¡°Nine years difference. That¡¯s not bad.¡±


    He didn¡¯t specify the subject, but I had an inkling of what he meant. It felt like my head was ringing like a church bell, dazed and dizzy.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking for that person¡­,¡±


    ¡°Stop. Just stop!¡±


    I abruptly pushed against his firm chest. His muscles twitched under my palm. Was he insane?


    Liam looked at me, smiling with his eyes narrowed. The hand that had been on my shoulder was now at my waist. As I stumbled back, he caught me firmly.


    ¡°Careful.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re the one I need to be careful of.¡±


    Liamughed silently, seeming satisfied with my response. It was hard to believe this was the same Liam Moore who had been pressing me about my identity just moments ago.


    We returned to the boarding house without further conversation. Liam walked beside me, his expression unreadable, while I felt awkward with this younger, more assertive version of him. A thought crossed my mind, one that shouldn¡¯t be true.


    ¡®Is he possibly jealous?¡¯


    Of his thirty-year-old self?


    But it was such a silly thought that I just shook my head and dismissed it.


    £ª £ª £ª


    In the end, I couldn¡¯t return before the exams.


    There was no sign of Dning back. What would happen if I went back? Holding back tears, I was studying thew when Liam dropped a bombshell.


    ¡°You know there¡¯s a debate exam too, right?¡±


    My jaw dropped.


    ¡°What, what did you say?¡±


    A debate? With other students from the same department? Me?


    How on earth was I supposed to participate in a debate when I had just managed to grasp a few legal texts? It felt like asking to be executed. The professor would surely see through myck of knowledge. Probably the students too.


    Damn it, I didn¡¯t want to expose my ignorance here. I felt tears welling up.


    ¡°What about Dn?¡±


    Liam, watching my silent outcry with interest, asked. His demeanour had softened since I first arrived in this body, making me somewhat sure. Ah, he¡¯s really only kind to me.


    Liam handed me a mirror. Taking it, I looked at my reflection. I hadn¡¯t realised, but my condition had worsened.


    I noticed that Dn Vermilton¡¯s face changed little by little each time I looked in the mirror. Over time, Dn¡¯s appearance increasingly resembled mine. The once dull golden hair was now tinged with brown, and his pale blue eyes were turning light green, obvious even to me.


    ¡®Damn it.¡¯


    With his sharp intuition, Liam must have noticed the incongruity every time he looked at me. He frequently asked about Dn, ensuring I could notice it too.


    After a moment of contemtion, I answered.


    ¡°He¡¯s still here, I think.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s even more problematic. It means he¡¯s given up his body to another soul entirely.¡±


    Right. What should I do?


    Dn Vermilton didn¡¯t seem to have much attachment to his life. He seemed indifferent to whether he lived or died, as if he¡¯d just say, ¡®Oh, is that so,¡¯ if he died. I couldn¡¯t understand how anyone could be like that.


    Liam¡¯s long, thin fingers gently touched my cheek.


    ¡°Your face is starting to show. At this rate, others will notice the oddity too.¡±


    ¡°You think things will go back to normal if I leave?¡±


    Liam, silent, held my fingertips. I could see the lingering regret, but he knew too. Two people from different times couldn¡¯t stay together. Liam Moore would have to spend the next few years alone, looking forward to the day we inevitably met again, staring into the foggy London¡­


    ¡°I¡¯ll find a way to send you back.¡±


    Liam murmured. I replied gloomily.


    ¡°Let¡¯s find it as soon as possible. I don¡¯t want to embarrass myself across the whole university in Dn¡¯s ce.¡±


    A low chuckle came. The young man, smiling widely, rested his chin on my shoulder.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to be so pessimistic. You¡¯re the smartest person I¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    ¡°Coming from a genius, that¡¯s notforting at all.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all hard work. I wasn¡¯t born smart either.¡±


    I grumbled.


    ¡°Herschel doesn¡¯t seem to think so.¡±


    Liam, feeling wronged, jumped up.


    ¡°You should believe your godson over your godfather!¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    It was on my way back from the essay exam, thoroughly beaten. I scratched my head, trying to recall everything, but honestly, I didn¡¯t feel confident about it. To make matters worse, it started to rain. I trudged along, feeling even more miserable under the spring drizzle.


    The bullies who tormented Dn hadn¡¯t been seen for days. I assumed they were too embarrassed after getting beaten by me. Thanks to that, Dn Vermilton enjoyed a peaceful school life.


    But the problem was the constant stares. The admiring looks towards Dn, who seemed more confident and closer to being an heir. People¡¯s attitudes had changed dramatically, showing how easily opinions could flip.


    The rain showed no sign of stopping. I had to get home before it poured harder. I clutched my bag close and hurried along with others who were also running through the rain.


    As I neared home, my steps grew lighter. I stopped by a bakery to buy some bread and headed up the stairs.


    At that moment, Dn¡¯s body felt a sense of unease.


    ¡°Dn, what is this?¡±


    The house was inplete disarray.

 Chapter 120: Chaser (1)

    All the objects were broken, and the furniture was smashed to pieces. A shard from a broken vase brushed against my foot.


    I crouched down, holding the brass shoe horn by the front door. My body grew rigid with tension.


    And then, bloodstains. Fresh blood was sttered everywhere. It hadn¡¯t dried yet, so it must have been recent.


    ¡®An attack?¡¯


    But there were no signs of an intruder. No footprints, no sign of forced entry. Whoever trashed this ce, if Liam was still home, he could be in danger. I prayed that the blood belonged to the attacker.


    I nced at the kitchen to my right. All the dishes in the cab were smashed. Liam was nowhere to be found.


    To the left was Liam¡¯s room. There was a hole in the door, just big enough to see inside. My heart pounded as I peered through. I gripped the shoehorn tighter, ready to swing at any moment. But all I saw were torn pillows and signs of a struggle. No Liam.


    ¡®Damn it, where are you?¡¯


    The only room left on the ground floor was the study. I carefully opened the door, trying not to make a sound. A familiar metallic scent wafted through the crack. I knew this smell.


    Arge pool of blood in the centre of the room, torn curtains, a mess everywhere. Through the curtains, I could see rain sttering against the window. My head rang with a high-pitched whine. This was the same scene I had encountered on Bailonz Street.


    Something in my mind rapidly informed me of the truth. That much blood meant a serious injury, and the attacker might still be in the house. I should be fleeing, not dazed. But my legs refused to move.


    Then, I heard that unpleasantughter. The kind ofugh a little demon would make. It was a grating sound, like nails on a chalkboard.


    ¡°Kikiki.¡±


    I cursed under my breath.


    ¡®Damn it. Not again.¡¯


    It was him. The marauding¡­ something. I kept recalling its ¡®real name¡¯ but not its nickname. Seeing its true nature might have been a blessing. The mysterious creature I met during the auction on the train had appeared right in the middle of the city.


    ¡®A summoning.¡¯


    The voice felt like someone speaking directly into my mind. It was different from El. It continued.


    ¡®Things like this don¡¯t just slip into our world. Someone summoned it here.¡¯


    My mind was working quickly, but I knew this knowledge wasn¡¯t from Dn. It was something ¡®I¡¯ had known. Whether it was innate or acquiredter, I was ready to use it to save Liam Moore.


    Remember what you saw. How did it move?


    Reason answered.


    ¡®From the void.¡¯


    The air in a specific part of the room wavered and distorted. A faint outline appeared. A substantial mass was floating in midair. I could recognize it now.


    ¡®Like rippling waves.¡¯


    Waves, or tentacles, were undting. It was voraciouslypping up the blood on the floor as if it were a gourmet meal. As it absorbed the blood, its stic body turned a reddish hue. Unseen organs became visible through its transparent flesh.


    Should I run?


    ¡®No. It¡¯s toote.¡¯


    It already knew I was here. The ¡®blood¡¯ in front of it was too tempting. Transparent tentacles were waiting for me to move, just inches from the door.


    Where is Liam?


    ¡®Here.¡¯


    I barely managed to spot a hand sticking out from under a pile of copsed books.


    Liam was down. His experience hadn¡¯t been enough to catch this agile predator. It couldn¡¯t be helped; he was still inexperienced.


    What if this thing gets outside? There are so many people living near Cambridge. It would be a walking buffet for this thing. The thought made me nauseous.


    The creature seemed to have finished its meal. Its transparent and red flesh was visible. Now, its maw turned toward me.


    I couldn¡¯t rely on Liam Moore. I had to act. I had to save him.


    If I died here, the future would shatter. I had no intention of letting that happen.


    As I crouched, I felt something pass over where my head had been. It was terrifying, but fear wouldn¡¯t solve anything. I had to deal with it directly.


    I twisted my body, striking at one of the tentacles with the shoehorn. The floor dented under the impact of the tentacle. The shoehorn was flimsy, easily bending with even a minor shock.


    But luring the creature into the study wasn¡¯t a major mistake.


    The study was cramped and filled with furniture. Therge creature couldn¡¯t move easily. Liam Moore must have known this and led the marauding raider here.


    ¡°Even if your experience iscking, your instincts are sharp,¡± I muttered.


    As the raider struggled to retrieve its limbs that had pierced through the wall, I drove the shoehorn into its iling extremities. A strange, drawn-out scream echoed. But this wasn¡¯t fatal; it only agitated the creature.


    It started thrashing its tentacles wildly. I had to dodge them carefully to prevent them from hitting the unconscious Liam. Naturally, I was pushed into a corner opposite him.


    The creature seemed to realise I had nowhere left to retreat. The grating scream echoed again.


    I needed a weapon. Something to cut through and end this in one blow.


    But I had no power. All I had was a notebook and El¡¯s protection. Without that, I was just a regr person. My lips dried up as I swallowed nervously.


    Time seemed to slow down around me. Tentacles reached out. My back was against the wall.


    In this desperate moment, I felt an intense heat around my neck. A wee sensation.


    Lucita¡¯s ne. It had followed me. The ne floated in the air, emitting a light I had never seen before. A thin but strong barrier formed between me and the creature. Despite constant attacks, the barrier held firm.


    ¡®Don¡¯t rely on that.¡¯


    I forcibly snapped myself out of mycency. The barrier might hold for a few more attacks, but if it disappeared, I¡¯d be dead. I needed a weapon.


    Specifically, the one Liam Moore used to cut that thing on the train.


    ¡®What did it look like?¡¯


    A ss sword. Transparent, sharp, cold. It might have been ice instead of ss. A cold, stark sword, just like Liam Moore. No decoration, just a sharp de.


    ¡®How did Liam use it?¡¯


    I didn¡¯t know. But I was certain it existed and then didn¡¯t exist. I had seen it in Liam¡¯s hand one moment, then gone the next.


    ¡®Can you summon it?¡¯


    The voice in my head asked. It shifted from Liam¡¯s voice to Herschel¡¯s, Owen¡¯s, and even Plurititas¡¯. But the final voice was always¡­


    ¡­mine.


    It was the truth.


    I realised this had started after seeing El¡¯s true form. Whether a gift or a curse, I knew it would save our lives.


    ¡°Listen, I need your help just this once.¡±


    The ¡®truth¡¯ didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to give me any more information. Not until I ask.¡±


    But it didn¡¯t matter. I felt like I knew the answer.


    A sense of iplete confidence filled me. It was like having thirty-year-old Liam Moore beside me, my fear disappearing.


    I lifted my chin and looked at the barrier created by the ne. Cracks were forming, and it was reaching its limit.


    One,


    Two,


    Three.


    And then I leaped. It didn¡¯t matter if attacks came at me. I slid backward, fully arched.


    There was no need to draw the sword. No need to struggle to summon it.


    It was already in my hand.

 Chapter 121: Chaser (2)

    It was a transparent sword. Though not as solid and sharp as those crafted by Liam Moore, it was sufficient to kill that thing.


    I vividly remember the sensation it created. The feeling of slicing through the tough yet soft outer shell, then the sticky liquid pouring out as it prated the soft inner flesh, and finally emerging from the shell again. The entire process was so clear that I could almost describe it. Even after it passed through my hand, the sensation lingered.


    I exhaled. As soon as I opened my hand, the sword melted and vanished. St. The sound of the creature split in two, covered in some unknown liquid, hitting the study floor echoed.


    At that moment, the pile of books twitched.


    That¡¯s right, Liam!


    I rushed over and began digging through the scattered books. A faint coughing sound came from inside, then it went silent again. I was terrified he might pass out for good.


    ¡°Liam! Liam! Don¡¯t fall asleep! Got it?¡±


    I pushed aside the piled-up books, and a hand emerged. I grabbed it, and he gripped back with surprising strength. Then Liam Moore emerged as if rising from water.


    ¡°Ugh, ugh¡­¡± His abdomen was soaked in blood. Liam struggled to breathe, lifting one eyelid with difficulty. He looked at me, seeming very surprised that I was holding him, probably assuming I had been killed by that thing.


    ¡°Jane¡­!¡±


    Liam tried to shout but clutched his side and doubled over. The pain must have surged with every breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He grabbed my shoulder with his bloody hand.


    ¡°Get out of this house, now.¡±


    His voice was mixed withboured breaths. Then he pushed my shoulder. As I stumbled backward, Liam Moore pressed his side and stood up.


    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing in that condition?¡±


    I asked, bewildered. Maybe I was a bit angry too. Did he really intend to fight?


    Liam didn¡¯t know I had defeated the attacker. He probably thought it was still wandering around the house and that I had entered while he was momentarily away. He urged me to leave. I admired his sense of responsibility but his inability to assess his condition was reckless. Clutching his side, he gasped and said,


    ¡°I can do anything. It¡¯s dangerous here. Leave, now.¡±


    The idea of leaving him behind was absurd. He knew I wouldn¡¯t. If I hadn¡¯t defeated that thing, if I had been home a littleter, or if he had regained consciousness first, he really would have faced that monster alone, despite just having passed out and waking up covered in blood.


    In a fit of anger, I retorted bluntly.


    ¡°What? Because of the marauding raider? I know.¡±


    I pointed behind me with my thumb. In the middle of the destroyed studyy the amorphous mass, the freshly killed monster.


    Liam confirmed it. He stared nkly at the bisected creature, then his mouth opened slightly in confusion. His expression said it all, ¡®Why is that dead?¡¯


    ¡°Why is that¡­?¡±


    He alternated his gaze between me and it. I, without a scratch, and the dead ¡°marauding raider.¡±


    ¡°Did you¡­?¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s eyes rolled back as he muttered those few words. His eyes seemed to show the whites. I jumped up in panic, but before I could react, his knees buckled, and hisrge body copsed on me.


    Barely able to support his weight, I struggled to prop him up.


    ¡®So heavy!¡¯


    He looked agile, so I thought he¡¯d be lighter, but it must have been solid muscle. Tall and heavy, he felt like a giant mountain pressing down on me. I dragged him toward his room, my feet shuffling.


    Honestly, I wanted to somehow send a telegram to Herschel. If it were Herschel, he¡¯de and help Liam no matter what. But with Liam¡¯splexion paling by the second, I couldn¡¯t leave his side.


    I also couldn¡¯t call a nearby doctor. How could I exin the bomb-sted house? And that creature¡¯s corpse¡­? This wasn¡¯t some alternate dimension; it was a ce that existed in reality. With Liam unconscious, anyone seeing this would think we participated in some demonic ritual and drag us away.


    ¡®Oh my God, what is all this?¡¯


    ¡®Well, it happened like that.¡¯


    ¡®Is this person crazy?¡¯


    I ran the scenario in my head and knew it wouldn¡¯t work. My way was the best option. I reluctantly dragged Liam to his room.


    I spread out a nket on the floor andid Liam Moore on it. The white nket quickly turned crimson.


    I had to see where and how he was hurt, so I peeled back his side. As soon as I did, I screamed. His side was gouged out as if something had bitten into it, revealing red tissue, muscle, pink, and white¡­


    ¡°Aaahhh¡­!¡±


    It¡¯s a miracle he¡¯s not dead. The shocking sight gave me goosebumps and made me shiver.


    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±


    It was disgusting, but more than that, I had no idea how to treat this.


    It wasn¡¯t a wound I could dismiss as a knife stab. This wasn¡¯t some foreign drama about body parts; I never imagined I¡¯d see something like this in my lifetime, especially not the ¡°organ show¡± of someone I knew.


    I considered myself strong-stomached, but maybe Dn¡¯s body wasn¡¯t. Trembling and trying to control my twitching eyelids, I examined Liam¡¯s wound. Blood welled up with every breath he took. I can¡¯t describe it further. I mean it.


    Luckily, aside from the gouged-out side, there were no worse injuries. If you can call that lucky.


    I sprang up and looked around Liam¡¯s room.


    ¡®He better still have that hobby of making those strange potions.¡¯


    A messy desk, bookshelves, drawers, and a simple bed. Since his roommate was a regr person, he couldn¡¯t openly brew things, so he must have hidden them. But where?


    Somewhere not visible upon entering the room. A ce only noticeable if deliberately searched.


    Dn¡¯s eyesnded on the dresser. It wasn¡¯t my doing. Dn must have recalled the suspicious furniture. I hurried over and opened it.


    The top drawer was filled with dried herbs and stones. Though the ¡°truth¡± in my mind knew how to use them, I didn¡¯t trust my own skills. I needed a finished product.


    The second drawer wouldn¡¯t open, and the third was filled with disassembled scales and empty bottles. Judging by this, the potion had to be in the second drawer.


    I grabbed the handle of the second drawer and yanked hard. It jiggled but didn¡¯t open. I heard ss clinking and liquid sloshing inside, confirming my suspicion.


    Desperately, I shouted,


    ¡°Liam, where¡¯s the key? The key!¡±


    Of course, there was no response.


    ¡°Ugh, no help at all!¡±


    I had no choice. Though I¡¯d feel sorry for Liamter, he¡¯d have enough money to get a new dresser. I grabbed the poker from the firece and red at the locked drawer. Sorry, actually, not sorry. I mmed the poker down hard on the top.


    With the force of an adult man, the wood panel came off after a few hits. I reached into the now-open drawer and pulled out the ss bottles one by one. Knowing Liam Moore¡¯s meticulous nature, they were surelybelled.


    ¡°Barrier, Detection Potion, ck Mugwort Root¡­ what¡¯s that?¡±


    I pulled out anything rted to bleeding, wounds, or recovery. Thankfully, there were a few potions. The problem was that different potions were needed for different symptoms, and Liam Moore exhibited all of them.


    ¡®Isn¡¯t there some instant recovery potion¡­?¡¯


    There wasn¡¯t. I had no choice but to pop open a bottlebelled for stopping bleeding (it mentioned some nt I didn¡¯t know) and poured it over Liam¡¯s side.


    It seemed to be the same potion he used on small cuts. The bleeding gradually slowed. But the gaping wound was still there.


    I pulled out another bottle. I didn¡¯t know if it was safe to mix these. I looked at the ominous green liquid with a worried expression.


    If Liam Moore died, the cause wouldn¡¯t be bleeding or injuries but rather drug overdose, I feared. Still, trying to survive through this gamble was better than dying outright, right?


    ¡°Screw it.¡±


    I muttered and continued.

 Chapter 122: Chaser (3)

    It was a potion with no exnation of the ingredients used. Thebel had only one sentence written on it:


    [For deep wounds.]


    Ignoring the fear slowly creeping up in my mind, I carefully poured a tiny amount of the potion onto Liam¡¯s tattered skin. About 1 teaspoon, perhaps?


    The viscous green liquid dropped onto his skin and began to seep in, emitting a faint light.


    ¡®Why is it glowing?¡¯


    The green color and the light made me genuinely anxious. I even had the crazy thought that it might be radioactive.


    The wound¡¯s recovery was slow. It seemed to be healing, but then again, maybe not¡­


    Was the dosage insufficient? Still, since the bleeding had stopped, I didn¡¯t risk the adventure of pouring more of the unknown medicine.


    I¡¯m exhausted. It was a pitiful sight. Dn¡¯s body was as blood-soaked as Liam¡¯s. I staggered up, lit the firece, and came back. I felt a bit sorry for Liam, lying on the bare floor. Fortunately, the weather wasn¡¯t too cold. I copsed next to him. Honestly, I don¡¯t have the strength to sit up anymore. My vision is blurring. I felt like a giant mosquito had stuck a straw in me and was sucking out my blood.


    ¡®Ah, I need to bandage him.¡¯


    But I was too sleepy. I knew I should get up, but the warm air seemed to have rxed my tension. I fell asleep as if someone had pushed me.


    A question that I had pushed aside while treating Liam lingered hazily in my fading consciousness.


    ¡®Come to think of it, did I ever tell Liam my name?¡¯


    * * *


    When I opened my eyes again, six hours had passed.


    I was surprised when I woke up. It was shocking that I could sleep with a critically injured person beside me. I reflexively turned my head to check on Liam. Thankfully, he was alive. That green medicine must have worked well.


    As I pulled back the shirt, now stiff and brown with dried blood, I could see the wound beginning to heal, leaving a red scar. When I absentmindedly ced my hand on his side, he flinched his shoulder and slowly opened his eyes. Seeing that I had lifted his clothes and ced my hand on his body, Liam Moore showed a mischievous smile.


    ¡°Is it okay to just feel up someone who¡¯s sleeping?¡±


    ¡°You have the spirit to joke as soon as you wake up, so I guess you¡¯re doing alright?¡±


    When I retorted, Liam Moore blinked his eyes prettily. I feel like his brazenness is catching up to the thirty-year-old Liam Moore. I should have firmly established discipline then, but I missed that chance, and now he¡¯s grown into a cheeky adult. With mixed feelings, I touched his forehead. He had a slight fever.


    ¡°Does it hurt anywhere?¡±


    Liam buried his head in the nket again. He looked sleepy. His hoarse voice came out muffled.


    ¡°My whole body aches and hurts like it¡¯s been pounded. Did you perhaps step on me while I was sleeping?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not possible.¡±


    ¡°My side skin feels tight too.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because the flesh is growing back. A chunk of it had fallen off, remember?¡±


    That seemed to jog Liam¡¯s memory. He felt his side a few times, seemingly checking that it had healed well without any trace of the deep wound.


    The medicine really worked well. Maybe I should get some for myself next time.


    ¡°I see. It has grown back. What did you do?¡±


    At that question, my gaze turned to the drawer with its frontpletely smashed.


    After putting out the urgent fire, I had an ¡®oops¡¯ moment. Was it okay to break into someone¡¯s room and destroy their furniture? But it was already done, it was toote to worry about it now. All that¡¯s left is confession. I opened my mouth with a rather serious and solemn expression.


    ¡°Liam. Listen without crying.¡±


    Liam looked up at me with eyes as round as a deer caught in a trap. Seeing that, I momentarily fumbled with my words. The exnation I had prepared to give in advance was pushed back, and instead, an odd statement popped out.


    ¡°Your drawer, it had a lot of stuff.¡±


    And that was somewhat true. About 95% true?


    As soon as I finished speaking, Liam jumped up from his spot and looked at his drawer. At the end of his gazey the tattered drawer, looking pitiful. And on the floor, rolling around were empty bottles and nkets ruined with dried blood. Liam rubbed his face dry and pushed back his short hair, muttering.


    ¡°You managed to find it, huh.¡±


    ¡°Dn pointed out the suspicious things about your room.¡±


    Liam mumbled Dn¡¯s name. He might be regretting choosing the wrong housemate.


    Anyway, I was fine with it as long as he was safe. The rest is a problem for Liam and Dn to solve after I leave. That¡¯s what you get for acting so suspiciously.


    ¡°Hmm. And I also used some green medicine with it. It worked well.¡±


    The medicine that shed through Liam¡¯s mind seemed to be only one. Yes, it must be the medicine you made for severe injuries, it doesn¡¯t make sense if you don¡¯t know about it. He asked, looking alternately at his flesh and me, in a somewhat frightened tone.


    ¡°¡­How much did you use?¡±


    ¡°About a spoonful?¡±


    Phew. I heard a sigh of relief. It seems I fortunately got the right dosage.


    Liam stared at me for a moment, then reached out and ruffled my hair roughly. Even when I grumbled ¡°Ah!¡± andined, he seemed to just like it. The corners of his smooth lips curled up, revealing his canine teeth clearly.


    ¡°Jane, thanks to you, I¡¯ve survived again.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. I¡¯m just helping¡­¡±


    Wait. Did he say ¡®again¡¯?


    ¡°Again?¡±


    Liam had an ¡®oops¡¯ expression. As if regretting having spoken too hastily.


    I firmly grasped his clothes to prevent him from escaping. Liam, caught by me, rolled his eyes and went, ¡°Uh¡­¡±


    ¡°How did you know my name? What do you mean by saving you ¡®again¡¯? Aren¡¯t you twenty-two? How do you know me?¡±


    My time and Liam¡¯s are different. More precisely, the Liam here lives in a different time from me. Even if we met once when he was eighteen and again when he was twenty-two, it means that the Liam here shouldn¡¯t actually know ¡®Jane¡¯.


    We were together from Liam Moore¡¯s mid tote twenties. And ¡®I¡¯ first met Liam Moore in November of his twenty-ninth year. The Jane who saved Liam Moore is me, that is, me seven years from now. And I never told eighteen-year-old Liam or twenty-two-year-old Liam that I was ¡®Jane¡¯.


    ¡°What on earth does this mean, Liam Moore?¡±


    Liam¡¯s hand naturally felt around and embraced my waist. In that gesture, I saw the all too familiar thirty-year-old Liam. No, is he thirty years old?


    Liam Moore smiled, his violet eyes curving. Since when were his eyes purple? I¡¯m not sure.


    ¡°¡­It¡¯s thanks to that person.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be vague, exin properly.¡±


    ¡°In the process of patching up the cracks in his soul, I, on the other side, became able to read that person too. Now that he¡¯s weakened, it¡¯s be an opportunity for me to peek in.¡±


    In the end, it means he stole the memories of thirty-year-old Liam. I didn¡¯t know whether I should wee this or not.


    Would this be allowed? I mean, would the world tolerate this? The vicious bnce that doesn¡¯t even forgive humans the slightest truth and makes them pay the price with madness was unlikely to forgive Liam Moore for stealing a glimpse of the future.


    Seeing me anxious, Liam waved his hand.


    ¡°Of course, it wasn¡¯t much content. Just bits and pieces, only enough not to change the course of my life. After searching for a while, I found your name.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell mest time either, Jane.¡±


    No. That was because you pushed me away before I had a chance to tell you. I didn¡¯t try to hide my nk expression. When I let go of Liam¡¯s cor, he smiles brightly. Seeing that face, fatigue washed over me and I sat down a little further away.


    That¡¯s when it happened. A hot wind blew from behind me. I felt fine sand, warmed up, between my fingers. It was fine-grained sand that had blown in and umted from somewhere. I murmured faintly.


    ¡°Sand?¡±


    Liam, who was adjusting his clothes, stopped moving. Then he slowly raised his head.


    Why was there fear reflected in those eyes? I felt around the floor with a somewhat bewildered feeling. My fingers touched something t and smooth that I was leaning against.


    ¡°Are you going?¡±


    Liam Moore asked like that. His voice was full of anxiety.


    I couldn¡¯t answer. Am I trying to go? How do I appear in his eyes?


    What I touched was a mirror. A grand and ornate mirror that would suit ady¡¯s dressing table. Seeing how Liam had carelessly ced it on the floor, it seems he was just storing it or perhaps intending to dispose of it. Beyond the beautiful mirror carved with grapes, thorny vines, and thistles, something was calling me.


    The wind blew from across the mirror. My hair fluttered on its own.


    ¡°It¡¯s calling.¡±


    I murmured as if entranced. It was a certain intuition, like truth itself speaking to me.


    It calls me. From the other side. From there.


    ¡°Jane¡­¡±


    I heard Liam Moore¡¯s small voice. He was looking at me pitifully. I felt something like that emotion in his gaze towards me. A lingering feeling, wishing I wouldn¡¯t go. Perhaps if Liam Moore had been a little younger and more selfish, he would have held me back.


    Liam looked very confused by his own anxiety. Because of emotions that weren¡¯t his own. I know.


    Liam slowly approached on his knees and stopped in front of me.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    Confused eyes turned towards me.

 Chapter 123: Incised (1)

    His widely opened eyes had returned to an ashen color, and his appearance once again looked as young as twenty-two years old. So much so that it seemed ridiculous that I had mistaken him for being thirty.


    I grasped his firm forearm.


    ¡°Those aren¡¯t your emotions.¡±


    ¡°They are ¡®my¡¯ emotions.¡±


    Liam muttered, seemingly offended. But he knew it in his head too. That while it¡¯s the same person, it¡¯s not the same. I patted his arm as if tofort him.


    ¡°I understand you don¡¯t want to let me go. But this body isn¡¯t mine, you know.¡±


    He nodded. Though he looked quite sad, Liam knew I had to go. Liam Moore, rubbing his forehead roughly with his hand, spoke as ifmenting.


    ¡°I guess I¡¯m still young. How does he endure this?¡±


    It makes meugh. Liam admitting with his own mouth that he¡¯s young, how amusing is that? Seeing this side of the man who always pretended to be an adult in front of me just made meugh. As I gently embraced his neck, Liam sighed.


    ¡°Go, Jane. Dn probably doesn¡¯t want to hug me with his own body either.¡±


    ¡°Oh my. Sorry, Dn.¡±


    The young Liam, finally showing a bit of a smile, bumped his head against mine lightly before pulling away.


    ¡°Go on now. You said it¡¯s calling you. You should follow before its voice gets hoarse.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m worried about the mess in the house.¡±


    ¡°Who do you think I am?¡±


    I chuckled as I ced my hand on the mirror. Beyond the surface that rippled smoothly like water, I could see a deep blue sky. My arm sank in. And something slowly began to pull me in. Me. My soul that had been attached to Dn Vermilton.


    Before I waspletely drawn in, I turned around and threw a joke to Liam Moore, who saw ¡®me¡¯, with a grin.


    ¡°Who else? My crybaby detective. Just a bit younger and more energetic.¡±


    In the end, Liam Moore couldn¡¯t hold back hisughter, but I saw him clutching his side. Even so, he hurriedly shouted, as if afraid I wouldn¡¯t hear:


    ¡°I¡¯ll wait for you, Jane!¡±


    Thest thing I saw was his brow slightly furrowed in pain. And his bright smile, subtly distorted.


    The mirror closed. The hot airpletely engulfed me.


    * * *


    The sensation of hot sand slipping between my toes was vivid.


    I was in a stark white desert. When the sandden wind blew, I could feel the grains of sand scratching past my cheeks. The sharp sunlight tried to scorch my scalp. The searing heat rising, the boiling temperature of the sand. But deeper in the sand, it wasn¡¯t as hot as I expected.


    ¡°Liam?¡±


    Thrown onto the ground, I opened my mouth nkly.


    ¡°William Moore?¡±


    It was clearly a voice calling me. I felt the force pulling my name and existence from the mirror. But the person who called me was nowhere to be seen, and all I could see was an endless desert and blue sky. If it weren¡¯t for this situation, I¡¯m sure I would have found it beautiful.


    My skirt fluttered. Somehow, my clothes had returned to the familiar blue skirt.


    The truth in my mind whispered.


    ¡®This is Liam Moore¡¯s mentalndscape. You¡¯ve been affected by it.¡¯


    ¡°Mentalndscape?¡±


    Does it mean the inside of his mind? Does this mean that in Liam¡¯s mind, I always look like this?


    I slowly turned my head to take in the surrounding scenery.


    Endless sand dunes stretched out, repeating the same shape. The alien deep blue sky had not a single cloud. Was time even passing? Just the wind blowing from the other side without any answer. Beautiful but deste. At the same time, very monotonous and quiet.


    Liam Moore¡¯s mentalndscape is a ce ¡®like this¡¯?


    ¡°Then where is Liam?¡±


    ¡®He should be at the very center.¡¯


    The heat rises sizzling, making it hard to breathe even for a moment, and I¡¯m already worried about how long Liam has been here. Can Liam, with cracks in his soul, withstand this ce?


    I slowly started to move, descending the sand dune. My feet feel as if they¡¯re burning. I didn¡¯t particrly want to check how high the ground temperature could rise. Staggering, I called out Liam Moore¡¯s name at the top of my lungs.


    ¡°Liam Moore!¡±


    Where on earth has he gone?


    I know he¡¯s here. My ¡®sense¡¯ was telling me. After encountering El, I inherited some insight into the truth, and it was speaking to me.


    Telling me that Liam Moore would be waiting for me here. That it couldn¡¯t be anywhere else.


    When I turn my head, I see the paths I¡¯ve walked being erased. Footprints disappear, and I can¡¯t go back. So the only option left for me is to cross this vast, daunting desert.


    I felt the skin on my fingers tightening. As if someone had sewn my skin with thread, and that thread was stretching out somewhere long. A faint pain was felt on the skin, so I slowly caressed my fingers.


    As I thought I felt it, I could touch the thread. The silk wrapped around my fingers swayed loosely on the sand. Very asionally, like a fish caught on a fishing line, I felt a small, throbbing vibration. Like a heartbeat. As if someone was pulling from the other side.


    I thought I heard Liam Moore¡¯s voice on the wind.


    ¡®This way.¡¯


    The destination was clear. I started walking faster, using that voice as a guidepost. Even though I was sinking into the sand up to my calves, even though the sizzling sand was touching my skin and leaving red marks, I didn¡¯t care.


    No, that¡¯s not right. I ran. The faster I ran, the more I could hear Liam¡¯s voice.


    It felt like sand was entering my lungs. My throat felt rough and raw. I could even taste something metallic. It was that exhausted feeling you get after running for a very long time.


    When Liam¡¯s voice started to fade, I would change direction, and when it got closer, I would run that way. It felt like ying hide-and-seek in the middle of the desert.


    Is this the right ce? I¡¯m not even sure anymore.


    Is he here? He has to be.


    ¡°William!¡±


    And in an instant, the sand ended.


    * * *


    ¡°Blurp!¡±


    Very cold water drenched my body, snapping me back to my senses. I, who had be ustomed to the hot sand, fell in with a ssh as soon as the ground beneath my feet changed to water. It was so cold that I couldn¡¯t even scream.


    Btedly looking around, I realized it was a shallowke that came up to about waist level. Blue, cold, and transparent enough to see the bottom in one nce.


    I know this ce. I couldn¡¯t not know it. It¡¯s the ce Liam and I passed through when using the ¡®ss¡¯. If such a ce doesn¡¯t exist anywhere else, that is.


    Something cold settled on my shoulder. As I slowly waded through the icyke, snow was falling from the sky. ¡®Snow¡¯ falling in the desert.


    ¡°This is impossible.¡±


    My jaw dropped in disbelief. Behind me, the white sand dunes were still scorching, but here, snow was falling. It was impossible. How could snow fall in such hot weather? How could water freeze?


    The voice in my head spoke.


    ¡®Anything can happen here.¡¯


    I continued to cross theke. Kicking off the bottom that never deepened, towards the white ind in the center. Thin ice breaks at my knees. Transparent ice shaped like cattails grows at the edge of the ind, and the mix of white sand and snow created a texture that was both gritty and crunchy. The wet hem of my skirt was freezing in its damp shape.


    And when I finally set foot in the center of the ind, I was able to discover the person I had been searching for so desperately.


    It was Liam Moore.


    I couldn¡¯t be certain it was exactly Liam, but I recognized him by the faint ck hair visible amidst the white snow.


    Liam¡¯s body was half-buried in the snow. Snow fell on his pale skin, and thin ice had grown as if it had melted and refrozen repeatedly. Liam didn¡¯t seem to be breathing, and he remained motionless with his eyelids tightly closed. Was he asleep?


    ¡°Liam?¡±


    This won¡¯t do. He seems unable to wake up because of the cold.


    Only after clearing away the snow weighing down his body and grabbing his shoulders to pull him up onto the snow field was I able to face Liam Moore¡¯s condition.


    His shirt was unbuttoned haphazardly. Through it, I could see his well-muscled upper body.


    But, that, the state of it was a bit strange.


    ¡®What is this¡­?¡¯


    Liam Moore¡¯s upper body was split open from the center of his corbone to his navel. No, I should correct that. It was ¡®open¡¯. As if someone had taken a knife to it. But there was no blood at all. Like a diamond ore cut in half, it just shone palely in the snow.


    The voice in my head gave another hint.


    ¡®It¡¯s not an injury to his real flesh.¡¯


    I see. This is Liam Moore¡¯s broken soul.


    The soul he had mutted was crumbling like this. Moment by moment, like sand falling in an hourss.

 Chapter 124: Incised (2)

    It seemed as if his crumbling soul was shing with something trying to mend its wounds. I had a strong feeling that he shouldn¡¯t continue sleeping here.


    I brushed away the snow that was starting to umte on his cheeks again and shook him.


    ¡°Liam, wake up. We need to go home.¡±


    His eyelids still wouldn¡¯t open.


    Damn it, what should I say? What words would make this ice-cold man open his eyes?


    If I can¡¯t wake him, it¡¯s over. Not only will I be unable to leave, but Liam¡¯s seizure won¡¯t subside either.


    The people of Greenwich have no way to wake Liam, nor can they calm him down. So what will happen? They¡¯ll probably forcibly seal off the room to prevent Liam¡¯s power from leaking out. Herschel Hopkins cares deeply for his godson, but he loves the world more.


    That would mean Liam¡¯s death.


    This can¡¯t happen. After all the effort I¡¯ve put in, after everything I¡¯ve done to keep this man alive. I couldn¡¯t let him die here. I don¡¯t care what happens to me. Death? I¡¯m not even afraid of it. But not this man. My voice trembled involuntarily, probably due to the cold.


    ¡°Who asked you to go this far.¡±


    I lowered my head, still cradling his. I could see the force trying to bridge the cracks growing weaker.


    If this unparalleled fool couldn¡¯t find a way to remember, he should have just forgotten. If I had known he would destroy not only his body but his soul in an attempt to remember me, I would never have given him anything.


    ¡°Did you think I wanted you to be in pain?¡±


    I whispered. It didn¡¯t matter if the man heard me or not. I was just¡­ angry. While I was only thinking about how to escape from here somehow, he was¡­ wishing for me to continue living. With a choked voice, I gripped Liam¡¯s shirt tightly.


    You end up making it impossible for me to run away. Always. Whether it¡¯s death or ruin or the ck King, I don¡¯t care, I just seem to keep turning back towards you. I was more of a coward than I thought, someone who only cared about myself and those close to me living well. You keep making me choose you.


    ¡°Why do you do this to me?¡±


    I know. Human rtionships can¡¯t always be horizontal. They¡¯re like a scale; a stable rtionship can only continue when both sides hang an appropriate weight of feelings. But he always ced more heart, more sincerity on the opposite side, preciously holding my heart that became infinitely lighter in front of it. As if it didn¡¯t matter what happened to him as long as I was okay.


    If this isn¡¯t being a fool, then what is?


    Liam Moore had ced so much on his side that it was now immeasurable. The scale had tilted until it touched the ground. When one side tilts too much, the other side naturally spills over. Liam Moore had bet everything on me, and naturally, I¡­


    Yes. I admit it. I lost.


    I lost. Even though there¡¯s no winning or losing between people, Liam Moore had imed victory in this foolish seesaw game. In the end, I¡¯m the one spilling over towards him. Towards this foolish man.


    So only then, after countless deliberations and re-measurements, could I define the subtle temperature floating between us.


    I tightened my arms around him. And then, words I would never have uttered in my lifetime came out surprisingly easily. As if these words belonged to Liam Moore.


    You,


    ¡°¡­I love you. You idiot.¡±


    So now,e back from your night.


    £ª £ª £ª


    There¡¯s no need to regret the setting of the sun.


    Everyone knows it will return anyway, and another day will follow.


    Don¡¯t pity all decay. ept it. The sun still exists even when unseen, and when the night that lives and dies by naturalw ends, another day will be born.


    Love the fading day, rejoicing in its peaceful surrender.


    A voice was speaking to me. Was it a prophecy? Or perhaps the words of a god. I was waiting with my head bowed for the person in my arms to wake up, but the voice seemed to be telling me to give up.


    The blue sky was fading. The dimming light spoke of the passage of time. My kneeling legs no longer felt the cold, as if they would freeze and stiffen in ce. Snow began to pile up on my shoulders and head. At first it melted, but now it didn¡¯t. As if my body heat was being stolen away.


    The man who could be infinitely close yet easily distant was still in my arms. No longer distancing himself, as if he had forgotten how. Watching this, I quietly closed my eyes. Perhaps this would be my end.


    Just then, I heard a sound like arrows being fired and lifted my head.


    The sky I saw was darkening at an astonishing rate. I could see stars falling. The falling stars made a ¡®swoosh¡¯ sound.


    Why?


    Even if I asked why, there¡¯s no exnation. This is just inside Liam Moore¡¯s heart after all. How could one attach reason to the heart?


    Ah, how beautiful. A surrealndscape, a surreal man, and me there with him.


    For a moment, I felt breathless.


    What if Liam Moore doesn¡¯t wake up? Even the ¡®I love you¡¯ shock therapy with all my heart had failed, and I was afraid that Liam Moore might never wake up. What should I do? I realized I was more afraid of Liam not opening his eyes than of the ck King or the strange beings in the void.


    ¡®If only he hadughed, if he had smiled, it wouldn¡¯t have been as frightening as this.¡¯


    The tip of my nose stung. My eyes were hot too. Tears flowed non-stop as if a faucet had been turned on.


    I¡¯m sorry, Herschel. I¡¯m sorry, Owen. I apologize, people of Greenwich. I guess I was more ipetent than I thought.


    Saving Liam Moore is a failure. There are no fairy tale moments in this bleak 19th century fantasy London where shouting ¡°I love you!¡± makes someone open their eyes with a start. A kiss, passionate love ¨C all of it was insufficient to bring him back.


    I feel a heavy pain in my heart, weighed down by guilt. I clutch at my chest, breathing quietly. My cheeks are hot. Tears fall endlessly onto his face, which looks as if it were painted.


    Liam Moore began to blur.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Anomalies alwayse at unexpected moments, which is why they¡¯re called anomalies. No, I should call this a miracle. If this isn¡¯t a miracle, what on earth would be?


    I don¡¯t know what caused it. Perhaps even the truth in my mind will never know. The only thing I know is one fact: suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around my neck.


    It was such an abrupt change that I screamed in shock. Then, helplessly pulled in by Liam Moore embracing me, I was enveloped in his arms. The man¡¯s firm chest now repeatedly rose and fell, as if his breathing had finally cleared.


    Liam is breathing! The cracks that had pierced his body quickly shrank and then disappeared without a trace!


    A dumbfounded voice burst from my mouth.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    Before I could even wipe away my tears, I was rolled over and over in the snow in his embrace.


    I could see color returning to his skin. A warmth hot enough to melt snow touched me through the thin fabric. The snowfall that had been threatening to bury us both was gradually weakening. It seemed to know its master had returned.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    While I was stupidly repeating that sound, Liam called ¡®my¡¯ name.


    ¡°Jane.¡±


    Yes, it was the Liam I knew.


    A voice deeper and firmer than young Liam Moore¡¯s, eyes with a seasoned look, kind ash-gray eyes with a hint of mischief. These belonged only to the thirty-year-old Liam Moore.


    Liam ced his hand on my cheek with a faint smile, slowly rubbing with his thumb.


    ¡°I told you I¡¯d wait.¡±


    While he reached out to wipe my damp face, I just stared at the living, moving Liam Moore with my mouth agape. It felt like someone who had been put in a coffin hade back to life. The only voice I could manage was:


    ¡°How?¡±


    Liam smiled brightly.


    ¡°Is that important?¡±


    ¡°¡­No.¡±


    It¡¯s not important. What¡¯s important is the fact that Liam Moore exists here. Nothing else mattered.


    I could feel Liam¡¯s heartbeat in our embrace. His heart was beating very quickly, like a young animal. It seemed to be telling me about Liam Moore¡¯s survival, which made me rx.


    With relief, I finally patted Liam¡¯s shoulders, and he, as if he couldn¡¯t even feel the pain, justughed cheerfully and pulled me onto hisp. His firm thigh muscles supported me.


    ¡°Ah, my lovely Jane. The fact that I always see you when I open my eyes, it really gives me a romantic feeling.¡±


    I replied tly.


    ¡°The problem is that you keep losing consciousness in front of me, William Moore.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s true. It¡¯s my fault.¡±


    Seeing Liam admit it so easily made me feel strange. I thought he¡¯d make some excuse or something, but he just acknowledged it right away.


    ¡°But I¡¯m better than that bright green youngster, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    I take it back. He had no intention of making excuses at all.


    The thirty-year-old Liam was shamelessly bringing up the past even in this situation. Do we really need to talk about that here?


    I had so much I wanted to say. So many questions I wanted to ask. What happened when I left at twenty-two? What became of Dn Vermilton?


    However, I decided to spare him since he had just opened his eyes. So I only asked this:


    ¡°Do you remember everything?¡±

 Chapter 125: Incised (3)

    ¡°Jane, I¡¯ve waited for you for seven years. I always remembered the woman with brown hair and green eyes disappearing into the mirror when I was twenty-two.¡±


    ¡°¡­Ever since then?¡±


    ¡°Ever since then. I searched all over London for a woman named Jane. But strangely, I couldn¡¯t find her, as if she vanished like a ghost. I even wondered if I had gone mad.¡±


    It was November of his twenty-ninth year when I started as Jane.


    ¡°Then, in the spring of my twenty-seventh year, Jane appeared.¡±


    ¡°Another Jane, not me.¡±


    Liam Moore¡¯s fingers brushed my cheek as if ying the piano keys. I saw his lips curl into a gentle smile.


    ¡°I tried a few times, but ¡®that¡¯ Jane didn¡¯t remember anything. You were the same. Even though she was closest to me, she didn¡¯t seem to know about our encounters. So, I realised our time was tangled.¡±


    When did it start? When did Liam Moore begin to wee me? I can¡¯t remember. The first time I met him feels so distant, as if it happened a long time ago.


    His fingers slipped between my bitten lips, pressing gently. Liam Moore¡¯s eyes glowed as he whispered, ¡°Finally.¡±


    He whispered, ¡°We finally face each other, you and I.¡±


    Liam, who knows me, and I, who knows Liam.


    We just quietly looked at each other. Two people who met after a long, long time, with tangible bodies. Even if this ce is in someone¡¯s mind.


    I regained what I had lost. The past, tangled like a skein of thread, unravelled, and all that was left was to return.


    I had so much I wanted to say to him, but Liam seemed to have even more to say. He looked at me for a moment before apologising.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I heard your voice calling me, but I was still trapped because I hadn¡¯t fully reconnected.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®reconnected¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Finding the shattered pieces of my soul and putting them back together. If I miss even one, or connect them wrong, my very existence would be disrupted. That¡¯s what a soul is. It makes up the essence of a human and is thest bastion that sustains existence.¡±


    What should I say about the mind that mutted such a soul with its own hands? Is he strong or reckless, or maybe just out of his mind? I can¡¯t dislike this man who is fearless enough to gamble his existence for me.


    Once, I found such feelings unpleasant and creepy. Watching game characterse to life with monotonous voices and bizarrely vivid expressions scared me. But all those memories now feel so distant.


    Maybe I have known this man for a very long time.


    And in part, that¡¯s true. It feels like you have be my reason.


    If a soul makes up the essence of a human, why does it feel like my essence is with you? Like myst breath is tied to you.


    To shake off the restless feeling, I change the subject slightly.


    ¡°So that¡¯s why it took so long.¡±


    ¡°Well, I thought I was pretty quick.¡±


    Annoyed by his exaggeratedly proud face, I pressed his cheeks with my fingers.


    While my heart was in turmoil, he acted so nonchntly. I spent a mad amount of time looking for this man. Finally, I found him. And now, I intend to make him pay for all the worry he caused me.


    I grumbled, ¡°Naughty Liam Moore. You heard everything but gave no sign.¡±


    Wait a minute.


    And then I began to realise something dreadful.


    Liam said he heard my ¡®waking¡¯ voice. That means his consciousness has existed since I arrived here.


    My face started to burn uncontrobly. If there was a hole to hide in, or if thiske were just a bit deeper, I¡¯d dive in.


    I asked in a voice as small as an ant, ¡°You heard everything?¡±


    Liam, his face pressed t, smiled broadly.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You know what!¡±


    ¡°I want to hear it from your mouth again.¡±


    Crazy. What does he want to hear? I¡¯ll never say it. This isn¡¯t for Liam. I know it¡¯s petty to give something and then take it back, but I can¡¯t say it with a clear mind.


    As I shuddered, Liam, who was watching me with warm eyes, wrapped his arms around my neck. He sped his hands tightly to prevent me from escaping and looked up at me, smiling gently. It was a gesture typical of a 19th-centurydy.


    Everything happened so naturally. The problem was it suited him too well. I didn¡¯t know where to look, so I rolled my eyes around.


    Suddenly, his voice pierced my ears.


    ¡°I love you too.¡±


    My wavering gaze turned to him.


    I felt like I had been hit with a hammer. I just stood there with my mouth agape, reying his words in my mind like a broken cassette tape.


    Love you, love you, me? You? ¡­Why?


    He knew better than anyone how tomand attention with a single word.


    ¡°It might be toote to say this after everything, but Miss Jane Osmond.¡±


    William Moore¡¯s long, elegant fingers slowly caressed my neck, parting my hair and touching my bare skin. My face felt like it was about to explode. My heart pounded so loudly I felt dizzy, unsure if the sky was spinning or if I was.


    And then, as if flipping through a thinyer of water, the scenery began to change.


    The snowy field turned into a white bedspread, the falling snow into vines.


    Before I knew it, we were back in the room in Greenwich. The white vines had grown enough to coil around the bed, in the room in Greenwich.


    But one thing hadn¡¯t changed: the man in front of me.


    As my gaze shifted from the sudden embarrassment, he pressed my cheek with his thumb to make me look at him. Then he whispered softly.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to run, now¡¯s your chance.¡±


    How could I refuse that?


    Iplied. Yes, as if resigning to fate.


    It¡¯s always hard the first time, but surprisingly easy the second.


    ¡°I love you.¡±


    The man smiled brightly.


    £ª £ª £ª


    As soon as we returned, the tension in the room deted like a balloon slowly releasing air. Or like a bowl filled with water where a single drop causes it to overflow.


    I could feel the things the room had been trying to contain slowly returning to Liam Moore.


    Liam Moore, who was gathering the fierce forces he had let loose, looked a bit strained. I could see the cold sweat on his forehead and the pain twisting his eyes.


    The man pressed his forehead against my corbone and exhaled deeply. His arms tightened around me.


    I was confused. Isn¡¯t this his power? Didn¡¯t he originally possess it? I thought he would ept it effortlessly. That he couldn¡¯t possibly fail.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Liam nodded, clutching his chest.


    ¡°I forgot how light a body without magic is.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you use magic since birth?¡±


    ¡°Jane, people are born with empty hands and die the same way¡­.¡±


    What¡¯s he talking about? I tapped his cheeky lips as he bbered nonsense, and heughed weakly, like a deted balloon. Hisrge hand patted my head.


    ¡°It takes a bit of adjustment. Look around the room. What do you think those are?¡±


    Following his gaze, I turned my head. No matter how much I looked, I couldn¡¯t figure it out.


    ¡°Well, sparkling decorative nts? Delicate interior for Sleeping Beauty?¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m the princess?¡±


    ¡°Of course. The most beautiful princess in the world. But stop being trapped in the tower. It¡¯s exhausting.¡±


    Liam burst outughing and leaned his face into my embrace. His shoulders shook withughter. It was quite annoying that he didn¡¯t even try to suppress hisughter, but I didn¡¯t show it.


    Afterughing for a while, he taught me.


    ¡°Greenwich was drawing out my power so I wouldn¡¯t go berserk. If I lost control unconsciously, this ce would be a mess. That¡¯s why the nts were necessary. They absorb magic. What couldn¡¯t be extracted was hanging in the air. Think of it like the rtionship between oxygen and carbon dioxide.¡±


    I could feel the flow of magic. It spread gently in the air like dust, slowly swirling towards one point. That point was Liam.


    ¡°So it¡¯s returning now. No wonder the flow felt strange.¡±


    ¡°You can feel the flow?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s strange if you can¡¯t, Liam.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyshes trembled. His gaze, filled with some sadness, was clearly visible to me as I sat on hisp and looked down at him.


    Suddenly, an answer popped into my head as if someone had flipped the script for me.


    ¡®I see.¡¯


    He knew that I had fully stepped into the boundary.

 Chapter 126: Incised (4)

    I realised that I could never go back, that I could no longer live among ordinary people. I was no longer ordinary. I was prey to mythical beings, predators, and those who opposed Greenwich. Now, I too had be a target for the hunt, just like Greenwich.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid?¡± he asked.


    It was no different from a manhunt, except that the hunters were entities from both within and outside this world. But was there a need to fear it? I didn¡¯t have to tremble in fear of the terror created by the outcasts. Through several intense encounters, I seemed to have developed a kind of immunity, as if I had already experienced the worst.


    I calmly opened my mouth. This level of shock couldn¡¯t affect me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already seen the worst of the worst. What more is there to fear?¡±


    I had faced divinity directly and seen crude imitations of such beings. I knew of those who could drive a person mad just by being seen. Now, my expanded understanding protected me from losing my mind. Insanity and understanding were always a thin line apart.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid, Jane.¡±


    I blinked at his honest voice. Liam Moore, with a faintly furrowed brow, smiled as he said,


    ¡°I was never afraid before, buttely, I¡¯ve been scared.¡± ¡°Did I make you like that?¡±


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ve just gotten tamed.¡±


    What a fox. Iughed softly at Liam¡¯s response.


    When his body temperature had fully returned to warmth, I realised I was gripping his shirt as if I would tear it. The buttons were barely holding onto the fabric, and I could see his white skin through the gap.


    I swallowed hard. It was Liam¡¯s bare skin, with warm flesh showing through. It was different from the pale statue-like skin I had seen on the ind. This was the skin I loved, filled with warmth.


    Noticing my gaze, Liam made a feeble, mock crying sound. I raised my eyebrows, ready to scold him, when he dropped a bombshell.


    ¡°No, I can¡¯t. I have someone I promised to marry.¡±


    ¡°What? Marriage?¡±


    When did I ever say that? And who is he to say such things while holding another woman in his arms? Get your hands off my waist and then talk, William Moore.


    Ignoring my thoughts, he continued to shout,


    ¡°Don¡¯t do this!¡±


    My vision went blurry. This was maddening. What was this maiden-like speech? I felt like I had be someone forcing him into a situation. Liam was now wiping his dry eyes, babbling about keeping his chastity and being a virgin. It was honestly embarrassing.


    ¡°William Schofield Moore, you¡­¡±


    ¡°Kyaa!¡±


    ¡°¡­Alright, you adorable thing. You¡¯re never getting married now.¡±


    Liam giggled and leaned against me, his shoulders shaking withughter. Though I found hisck of effort to suppress hisughter quite cheeky, I didn¡¯t show it.


    After a while, he looked down at me, as if I were the most beloved thing in the world. His bangs covered his eyebrows, making him look very young. His fingers gently brushed my cheek.


    ¡°Jane, if I can¡¯t get married, will you take responsibility?¡±


    It¡¯s you who needs to get married.


    Setting aside my retort for now, I muttered in a sullen voice,


    ¡°Liam, honestly, aren¡¯t you already half responsible? Think about how terrible we are for the marriage market.¡±


    Saving me, taking care of me, looking after me, and now you want me to marry you? This ispletely thievery.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°See, it is.¡±


    We¡¯re a match made in heaven.


    But suddenly, Liam¡¯s expression changed. The yful look disappeared, and his eyes sharpened.


    Ominous.


    It was extremely ominous. Why was he making that face?


    Liam quickly turned his head to re at the door, as if caught in apromising situation.


    I hesitated but eventually looked up, though I couldn¡¯t bring myself to turn fully. I had a bad feeling. I asked in a barely audible voice,


    ¡°¡­Liam, no, right?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Say it¡¯s not. Please.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes were trembling as he stared at the door. I decided to abandon the futile questioning.


    We¡¯re doomed.


    Then I felt a presence. Did they hear us ying around? Who could it be? Was the door wide open? Did they see everything? I wanted to die.


    At that moment, a voice broke the silence.


    ¡°Liam¡­?¡±


    My thoughts cut off.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Coldness spread. Herschel Hopkins¡¯ voice stabbed through my eardrums.


    Sweat ran down my spine. My lips felt glued together.


    Liam¡¯s face turned pale, then flushed, and then blushed repeatedly. I knew that look. It was the face of someone contemting biting their tongue. So I turned my creaking head to look at the entrance.


    It was exactly as I feared. Herschel Hopkins stood there, holding the doorknob, as if nailed in ce, staring at Liam on top of me.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Fortunately, Herschel¡¯s broad back blocked the view, and the door was only slightly open, allowing just a small ant to pass through. Others from Greenwich couldn¡¯t see us. Is that fortunate? I don¡¯t know.


    Herschel¡¯s face was on the verge of copsing from shock. He had no desire to witness his prot¨¦g¨¦¡¯s disgraceful affair. After all, Herschel had almost raised Liam as a son, practically a nephew.


    Maybe I could understand Herschel. If only I weren¡¯t the protagonist of this embarrassing scene.


    I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. How should I exin this? I nudged Liam, but he was already half panicking. Wow, the fearless Liam Moore was losing it in front of Herschel.


    ¡°William, are you alive!¡±


    Owen shouted as the door opened wider. His red head started to poke into the room. No! Both Liam and I panicked.


    ¡°Wait! Cassfire!¡±


    Herschel hastily pushed down Owen¡¯s head. He seemed determined to shield the view from others. Owen, being the sacrificialmb, yelped as his head was pushed down.


    In the meantime, I sprang away from Liam, straightening my appearance, while Liam hastily rebuttoned his shirt.


    ¡®You missed a button.¡¯


    But I couldn¡¯t tell him. He had to endure it himself. He must.


    After fumbling a few more times, Liam finally buttoned thest one. I quickly gave him a thumbs up.


    Finally, Herschel let go of Owen¡¯s head.


    ¡°You old man, do you know how precious my head is? Are you crazy?¡±


    Owen shrieked, but Herschel, still dazed, kept looking back and forth between Liam and me. His eyes seemed ready to spin.


    Awkwardly, I pointed to the bed. Desperately hoping to sound like a regr caregiver.


    ¡°Uh, Herschel. Liam woke up.¡±


    There. Done. Not shaky at all.


    Owen lifted his head. He saw Liam Moore standing there with all limbs intact.


    ¡°Oh!¡±


    Owen gasped and rushed in. As Herschel moved aside, people from Greenwich poured into the room. The spacious room quickly became noisy and chaotic, making Liam grimace.


    ¡®He must be thinking what amotion this is first thing after waking up.¡¯


    These people all desperately waited for you to wake up. And I had no intention of stopping them.


    The nts that had grown in the room started to wither. They seemed to be absorbing all the remaining magic. The sight of ferns curling up and disappearing was more grotesque than mystical. Watching it, I quietly slipped out towards the door, leaving Liam to fend for himself.


    Liam struggled to free himself from the people crowding him, raising his voice in frustration.


    ¡°I told you, I¡¯m fine!¡±


    Oh, you must realise how unconvincing that sounds, don¡¯t you?

 Chapter 127: Incised (5)

    ¡°It¡¯s exceedingly rare for a soul to shatter and recover, Mr. Moore! A medical examination is essential to prepare for any potential side effects!¡±


    ¡°Damn it. Let it go! The problem¡¯s resolved, what more is there to inspect?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t refuse! It¡¯s just a precaution!¡±


    What a farce this was. There was nothing amusing about the situation. I stood at the doorway, watching his medical examination unfold, when our eyes met.


    Liam gestured desperately. Save me.


    I clenched my fist, showing my support. Hang in there.


    Liam¡¯s eyes widened, and he began to stir. It seemed he might push through the crowd ande towards me. Considering he had nearly died, I didn¡¯t quite fancy him springing up and dashing about, so I quickly turned and grabbed the doorknob.


    ¡°Wait, Jane!¡±


    ¡°Miss Jane needs to rest, man! After all she¡¯s done!¡± ¡°Jane!¡±


    Owen interjected just in time, allowing me to leave the room without any burden.


    I felt a bit sorry for abandoning Liam¡­ But those people scared me too.


    As I was about to close the door, Herschel Hopkins grabbed the doorknob and followed me out. Honestly, I was surprised. I thought Herschel would be rejoicing over Liam¡¯s safe return, spending his time with his mentor, not following me. But I was too exhausted for any argument.


    ¡°How long was I in there after I entered?¡±


    ¡°It took over two hours, Miss Jane.¡±


    Herschel responded politely, his voice tinged with a faint guilt, which I chose not to address.


    Liam¡¯s past haunted him like a specter¡ªit felt like I had been with him for more than a week, yet it was merely a little over two hours. Is perception of time so rtive?


    Ignoring the rising questions, I started walking aimlessly, pressing my feet firmly against the plush corridor carpet.


    I needed somewhere to cool my head, some alone time. I wanted to rest, to lie down and sleep. I wished Herschel would just stop following me.


    ¡®He is too curious.¡¯


    That thought whispered in my head. I thought such conversations were only possible in dreams, but here it was, speaking to me, in reality. I silently asked:


    ¡®What happened inside there.¡¯


    The voice began to exin patiently.


    It helped me realize that an ordinary person without magic would be crushed to death if they walked into that storm. Owen had a reason for his warnings. He had said, ¡®If amoner went in there.¡¯ Was Herschel curious about how I survived?


    ¡®You¡¯re too keen, Jane. It¡¯s worrying.¡¯


    Oh, whose fault is that? I grimaced crookedly.


    This unrealistic game turned my world upside down. If I hadn¡¯t been lured into ying ¡®Misty London¡¯ as a beta tester¡ªsupposedly set in the 19th century¡ªI would have beenfortably resting in my 21st-century room. In this game, my ordinary way of thinking waspletely altered, and I had to be ustomed to mysteries and the unknown.


    Herschel was still by my side, visibly anxious about the possibility of me copsing.


    ¡®Great leaders, or mentors, have a knack for making people nervous.¡¯


    Eventually, I stopped walking and sighed.


    ¡°Professor.¡±


    Herschel also stopped and looked at me, his voice slow in response.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    His eyes, filled with guilt as if he couldn¡¯t bear stopping me from entering Liam Moore¡¯s recovery room.


    I asked nonchntly.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t meant for just anyone to enter, right?¡±


    Herschel¡¯s face paled as if someone had sshed bleach on it.


    ¡°How did you¡­¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother to exin. It wasn¡¯t necessary.


    Herschel seemed relieved just knowing Liam was safe and active; the trauma of losing someone makes people irrational. I know that well.


    ¡°Does it matter how I know? What¡¯s important is that Liam is safe.¡±


    ¡°But Miss Jane, I¡­¡±


    What, you pushed me towards death? But that was just trying to grab a rotten lifeline.


    I had no intention of listening to their further excuses. I interrupted Herschel.


    ¡°I know. Liam is your priority.¡±


    And so was he to me.


    I quietly looked out the window. Thendscape was unfamiliar, borrowing only the name Greenwich, yet existing nowhere on Earth. The scenery had not changed in a moment: dawn and dusk coexisted, clouds frozen in time. I suddenly said,


    ¡°I went into the mental realm.¡±


    ¡°The mental realm?¡±


    ¡°Liam¡¯s mental realm was a desert. With falling snow.¡±


    Herschel stumbled over his words, looking as if he didn¡¯t expect me to understand such concepts.


    Yeah, I agree. I wouldn¡¯t have known for a lifetime if I hadn¡¯t ¡®directly¡¯ encountered El¡­.


    ¡°Since when, Miss Jane?¡±


    Herschel looked terrified. I feigned ignorance.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Since when have you known these things¡­.¡±


    Ah. I see. Herschel Hopkins was worried I had undergone the same ordeal as him. Perhaps, being possessed by ¡®The ck King.¡¯


    An interesting assumption. Of course, imagining myself as a minion to that dreadful entity was revolting. Just the thought made me nauseous, like stepping into a bed of maggots.


    I tried to reply. Not long, but it¡¯s okay. The same things.


    ¡°That¡¯s true. But don¡¯t worry. I haven¡¯t been possessed by him.¡±


    Yet, these words spilled out against my will. My eyes narrowed.


    The five letters I had just blurted out matched exactly the rhythm Liam had spoken before. How they escaped my lips, I couldn¡¯t say, but one thing was clear: they were The ck King¡¯s name. Its bizarre, song-like quality was impossible to mimic in humannguage. I knew that name. I even spoke it without hesitation.


    Distant thunder rumbled, as if warning me for uttering that name.


    I felt no sense of impending doom, but Herschel did. He called out my name in fear.


    ¡°Miss Jane.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Speak, Professor.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve crossed a boundary.¡±


    Those who cross boundaries can always sense such dissonance. Herschel had noticed something different about me.


    ¡°That knowledge, then¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t misunderstand. It¡¯s not something I gained at a loss.¡±


    Herschel continued to look at me with concern.


    ¡°Did you gain power?¡±


    I looked at my fingertips.


    Power? No.


    To be brutally honest, I was still ¡®helpless.¡¯ Given that the threat was none other than ¡®The ck King,¡¯ I doubted that catching a few marauding raiders could protect me. In front of such entities, I was no different than a mere ant.


    ¡°Unfortunately, no. I only gained ¡®understanding¡¯ of the situation.¡±


    ¡°The greatest power of all.¡±


    ¡°No, Professor. It¡¯s a curse.¡±


    I muttered coldly as Herschel flinched. Regardless, I found this very cumbersome.


    Now, knowing the risks of knowing, I could fully empathize with Liam and Herschel.


    Understanding is madness. It would be easier to think of it as merely night and cover it up, but for humans who must see the flesh lurking nearby by holding up a torch, understanding is akin to a curse. Once it manifests and reveals the horrifying and ugly truths hidden in the dark, a person goes mad.


    Maybe that¡¯s why my thoughts had be so simr to Liam¡¯s. I had be a colder person. I instinctively knew I had to look at everything dryly.


    So, I asked in an unconcerned tone.


    ¡°Liam¡¯s awake. Why are you still here?¡±


    Herschel cleared his throat and scratched his cheek.

 Chapter 128: Incised (6)

    Herschel¡¯s hesitant expression made it clear he was embarrassed even to speak about ¡®that matter.¡¯


    As expected, Herschel opened his mouth.


    ¡°Did Liam, that boy, confess his feelings to you, Miss Jane?¡±


    The way he phrased it, it was as if he doubted it ever happened.


    I wanted tough. There was no need to treat Liam as a rogue who toyed with women without confessing his feelings. I wasn¡¯t sure what had happened to Liam¡¯s image.


    What to do? Liam alwaysined that I should trust him more than any leader, but it seems neither the leaders nor I really do. Well, that¡¯s on Liam, but Herschel¡­


    What life has Liam Moore led? Reflect on that.


    My slight smile finally softened Herschel¡¯s expression.


    ¡°There¡¯s the Miss Jane I know.¡± I touched my cheek awkwardly.


    ¡°When have I ever not been?¡±


    ¡°You seemed unfamiliar just now.¡±


    I agree. That¡¯s the nature of truth. It¡¯s always unfamiliar.


    Even if that truth means I can never return to the past, I can¡¯t regret it once I¡¯ve known it. As I shrugged off an unrepeatable past, I answered Herschel¡¯s question.


    ¡°¡­Yes. He confessed. We are together now.¡±


    ¡°Tog¡ª¡±


    Herschel, upon hearing my answer, seemed as surprised as one could be. I just waited calmly for him to recover from his shock. Herschel, speechless, just stared at me.


    ¡°Why do you look so surprised? After all you¡¯ve seen just now.¡±


    Funny man.


    As I chuckled quietly, Herschel lightly sshed his face with water, then finally managed to say,


    ¡°¡­He¡¯s absolutely the worst choice for a husband.¡±


    And then he started listing all of Liam Moore¡¯s ws.


    ¡°Of course, Liam iszy, loves to sleep in, skips meals to delve into murder and cold cases, has very few friends, and makes plenty of enemies with his brusque manner. But maybe it¡¯s hopeful that his essence isn¡¯t all that bad. He¡¯s going to be quite the handful for you, Miss Jane.¡±


    Honestly, I was aware of this. We all knew what Liam Moore was like. But to hear this from his mentor, who usually views people as rocks, and now he finally finds someone he likes, this was hisment. I didn¡¯t know whether tough or cry.


    ¡°Professor, is that an insult or apliment?¡±


    ¡°Both are correct.¡±


    ¡°¡­Anyone would run away hearing that!¡±


    Then, Liam responded.


    ¡°Yeah, unless you¡¯re really trying to ruin my marriage prospects. Right?¡±


    ¡°Exactly¡­?¡±


    Wait, why is Liam¡­?


    I was startled into silence, my heart nearly stopping as I turned around. There was Liam, his face unabashed. Whether he had run here or not, his shoulders were heaving slightly. Liam¡¯s hand reached out and gently sped mine.


    I had definitely left him to be devoured by the folks at Greenwich, yet how he managed to follow me here was beyond me. How did he even know I was here?


    He had apparently managed to shake off the crowd and was now smiling mischievously at me. Herschel started rubbing his temples again, apparently developing a headache from Liam¡¯s unexpected appearance. Liam¡¯s smooth chin rested on top of my head.


    ¡°It¡¯s strange. Every time I¡¯m not around, people talk about me.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a reason for everything, Liam.¡±


    ¡°Jane!¡±


    What¡¯s with his indignation? Given his usual antics, he should be well aware that he¡¯s hardly suitable marriage material.


    Despite knowing this, I poked him in the ribs, finding his obliviousness annoying, as Liam twisted andughed.


    ¡°To be honest, Liam, I think you need to bend over backward a hundred times.¡±


    ¡°Herschel!¡±


    I muttered.


    ¡°Hmm. It seems so. William Schofield Moore.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Liam silently acknowledged his guilt as Herschel added fuel to the fire.


    ¡°My God, my own apprentice could have been a marriage swindler. Miss Jane, perhaps you should reconsider. Just his looks aren¡¯t enough to offset the many demerits. Maybe just date briefly, find someone better¡­¡±


    Of course, I knew all too well this was all due to Liam¡¯s own doings, and Herschel was merely teasing him.


    While saying this, Herschel was actually happy for both of us. He would be the first to deliver a joyous speech if Liam and I were to marry. I wonder if Liam knows that.


    The more I thought about how frequently London¡¯s cerebral detective had been verbally thrashed, the funnier it became, and I burst outughing.


    I resolved then: to tease him about his hidden true name for life. I¡¯ll torment him until his hair turns white. Even if he cries that he was wrong, it¡¯s toote. No mercy.


    Liam grumbled sheepishly.


    ¡°I was going to reveal it. If only the boss hadn¡¯t burst through the wall, I would have, but that¡¯s all because of someone.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re going to y it that way?¡±


    ¡°You started it, Herschel!¡±


    ¡°Oh dear, Mr. Moore. Short of words before your superior, are we? Where are your manners¡­¡±


    19th-century Britons sought propriety. My head hurts.


    The argument between the two men showed no signs of ending anytime soon. No, it wasn¡¯t even an argument anymore. They were clearly enjoying the situation. It seemed they often used these meaningless quarrels to air grievances umted against each other. Liam over the ¡®Dahlia Case,¡¯ Herschel¡­ well, he seemed to have a lot stored up.


    The problem was that this could go on for quite some time. They seemed excited just to have the stage set for their exchanges, but I felt like my ears would bleed being caught between them. When Herschel threatened to write a dissertation titled ¡®Study on the Impertinent Behavior of My Apprentice,¡¯ I finally separated them.


    ¡°William.¡±


    ¡°¡­!¡±


    Liam instantly quieted down, his eyes wide.


    ¡°Professor Hopkins.¡±


    Herschel also fell silent.


    Peace atst. I thought, perhaps I should only meet these two men in a formal, official capacity, or maybe only in public settings with many eyes watching. Definitely not in private.


    ¡°Good. It¡¯s quiet now. Professor, please get some answers about Liam¡¯s condition. He¡¯ll just tough it out and won¡¯t be honest with me.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡±


    ¡°And Liam Moore, you¡­¡±


    Caught like a deer in headlights, Liam looked at me with innocent eyes. That¡¯s cheating. Where does he get off trying to slide by with his good looks?


    Unfortunately for me, I¡¯m very weak to his charms. I pulled him by the arm.


    ¡°Come with me.¡±


    Liam started walking without a word, clearly delighted that I hadn¡¯t sent him away, his face radiating joy.

 Chapter 129: Incised (7)

    Ah, that was the problem.


    This clever fool is overly principled about such matters. Like any 19th-century man, I suppose, but when Liam really acts like one, I can¡¯t help but feel a bit distanced.


    After much self-reproach, Liam said to me, ¡°Jane, let¡¯s go back to Bailonz Street right now.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about? You¡¯ve just woken up.¡±


    ¡°¡­I left the ring behind!¡±


    All this fuss over a ring. He was so visibly distressed that I found myself soothingly stroking his back.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need a ring.¡±


    ¡°But I had one made for you. I have a ring from Plurititas, but I hate the idea of not having one from me.¡±


    So that was what really bothered him. I discreetly nced down at the ring on my hand. I could understand why Liam disliked this ring. It wasn¡¯t just any gem; it resembled the eye colour of Plurititas. It seems he had nned to give me a ring he had prepared himself, but somehow he ended up proposing first.


    Honestly, I hadn¡¯t given it much thought. Plurititas didn¡¯t seem particrly interested in me. To him, I was just some ¡®curious youth¡¯. He seemed more interested in Jonathan¡ªbuying him clothes, meals, even paying him.


    Thinking about it again made me angry. That man really knows how to irritate people. The nightmare of that Christmas dinner came creeping back. I felt like I could shoot Plurititas right now if I saw his smirking face.


    ¡°I might have to kill Plurititas.¡±


    Even to my extreme deration, Liam simply nodded.


    ¡°I was thinking the same.¡±


    ¡°No, you should be stopping me!¡±


    ¡°Jane, embarrassingly, I¡¯m quite narrow-minded and petty, and I only care about you. I get jealous easily, even if there¡¯s no intention from the other person. And then some guy gives you a ring. Obviously¡­¡±


    Before he could continue, I pulled him close. My detective, suddenly yanked towards me, finally shut his mouth. I wrapped my arms around his broad back, holding him close. I could hear his heart pounding like a baby bird¡¯s.


    ¡°Calm down, Liam.¡±


    It was finally quiet.


    ¡°¡­That¡¯s why I deliberately kept the ring finger on my left hand empty.¡±


    Liam whispered softly as I muttered to myself.


    ¡°If you hadn¡¯t proposed, your finger would have been quite lonely.¡±


    ¡°It would have been fun even if we just lived like this.¡±


    Liam chuckled briefly and rested his chin on top of my head.


    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°Still, ept the ring,¡± he said.


    I was already nning to. I intended to show off the wedding ring on my left ring finger to Jefferson and Herschel. I was confident enough tough and scrapbook an article titled ¡®Liam Moore, Finally Married!¡¯


    Suddenly, we heard voices calling for Liam. It was Owen. ¡°Where has that damn fool gone?¡± he grumbled irritably. As I gave Liam a bewildered look, he began to avert his gaze shamelessly.


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem now?¡±


    Around the corner, Owen¡¯s red head appeared.


    Eventually, Liam was dragged away by Owen, clutching his ear like a mother leading a wayward son.


    As I watched this unfold with great interest, I wasn¡¯t spared either. Two women nked me, linking arms with mine (¡°Hey, wait!¡± I protested), and we began to trudge along.


    £ª £ª £ª


    After a long and tedious examination that finally showed no abnormalities, we were free. Liam sprawledfortably on the sofa.


    ¡°Can we go back to Bailonz Street now?¡±


    ¡°Well, that should be fine. The problem is you running off to find trouble, William.¡±


    ¡°Trouble finds me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the same thing.¡±


    Liam smirked. Owen, taking off his gold-rimmed sses, began massaging the bridge of his nose. His face looked worn, visibly aged, no doubt due to the ck-haired young man seated here. We all knew it. Liam protested.


    ¡°I rest when I need to.¡±


    Owenughed incredulously at the unbelievable statement.


    ¡°As if you can rest. You¡¯re addicted to work.¡±


    While others get addicted to alcohol or nicotine, this guy was hooked on work, Owen confided in me, not caring that the subject was right there.


    ¡°He just storms in, dumps a pile of work, and leaves. Then he gets kidnapped. I go looking for him and find him terribly entangled with beings you should never mess with. Just when I thought we could rest, thedy gets kidnapped twice. I find them and Liam passes out. Almost like he¡¯s dying, you know?¡±


    Indeed, so much had happened in such a short time. Hearing the summary made me wonder how we¡¯d managed all these events in just a few months. Owen¡¯s agitation was hardly surprising.


    Owen¡¯s voice trembled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be here in Greenwich this often¡­¡±


    ¡°Owen, it¡¯s your job.¡±


    ¡°A job with no quitting time¡­¡±


    It was indeed dreadful.


    Oweny sprawled on the sofa, fiddling with his feet before he kicked off his shoes in annoyance. sses on his forehead, he covered his eyes with his right hand.


    ¡°We can¡¯t just leave The ck King as is anymore.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s increasingly circling around you and thedy.¡±


    ¡°I know that too.¡±


    Owen sighed heavily.


    Liam was silently brooding, his chin propped on his hand. After a while, he finally spoke.


    ¡°But there¡¯s no way to resist.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s too fickle. Either he gets bored and leaves¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s unlikely.¡±


    I interjected. As if he would get bored and leave.


    ¡°A character who threatens to turn the world upside down the moment I stop entertaining him isn¡¯t likely to just walk away.¡±


    ¡°Your poprity is now bing frightening, miss.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Owen. You¡¯ll get your share of poprity soon.¡±


    Owen chuckled. We spent some time sprawled on the sofa, liberally cursing mythical beings.


    Owen said he hadn¡¯t encountered many of these beings. Liam had met quite a few due to case requests. Sometimes they impersonate humans, wearing skin and living among us, unrecognised.


    Stories of a hound that bursts from walls to hunt victims relentlessly, a race that collects brains, something that drinks human blood¡ªlistening to these, it felt terrifying. Why must monsters overrun a perfectly normal world?


    ¡°But the bigger issue is the gods outside.¡±


    I knew that too. The truth in my head told stories of those gods and their worshipers. Thanks to that, I could follow Liam and Owen¡¯s conversation without missing a beat, and simultaneously, I felt disillusioned. Anger towards those who, despite everything, desired power enough to summon such beings.


    ¡°It¡¯s strange that those who summon them still exist. We should have eradicated them long ago.¡±


    Owen picked up on Liam¡¯sment.


    ¡°Even if we had, they would have crawled back.¡±


    ¡°Like cockroaches.¡±


    ¡°Honestly, no different.¡±


    We continued, specting humorously on what the god of cockroaches might look like. Was this some form of sphemy? Probably. If The ck King or other beings had heard our conversation, they would have wanted to kill us immediately.


    Suddenly, a thought urred to me. Though impossible and merely wishful thinking.


    ¡®If I end this game and leave this bizarre 19th-century London, wouldn¡¯t The ck King give up on me?¡¯


    After all, in our world, The ck King is just a fictional character from a novel, known only among certain people and virtually unknown to those like me who have little interest.


    In the end, this ce is just a world where a writer¡¯s fictional story became reality.


    So, if I cross worlds, wouldn¡¯t that entity find no way to follow me? How could it appear in a world without a medium to manifest? In such a world, they would be mere foreigners, just as I am forever a foreigner here.


    If there¡¯s no way for them to follow, they¡¯ll naturally lose interest. Initially, they might be furious about my disappearance, but once they realise they can¡¯t follow by any means, they¡¯ll give up.


    And since ¡®the door¡¯ favours me¡­ It wouldn¡¯t allow any harm toe to me.


    So, if I leave, wouldn¡¯t that make this ce, and Liam, safe?

 Chapter 130: Bizarre London (1)

    My gaze suddenly turned to Liam. His eyes were still on me. Always. Even now. Unchanging.


    Looking at him, I suddenly wanted to ask:


    ¡®Could I leave you behind?¡¯


    Ah, I couldn¡¯t do it. Just thinking about Liam being left alone made my chest burn as if on fire.


    How fickle human emotions are. Those ash-grey eyes that once terrified me now only bring joy. It seemed impossible for those eyes not to hold me; it was such a natural sight.


    Perhaps this is what the ck King truly wanted. If I end up truly loving Liam, I will never be able to run away.


    The ck King already knows. That I¡¯m not someone who could throw Liam away as bait and escape alone. Maybe this fate was decided from the moment I embraced Liam in that cave?


    ¡®When did we start being yed?¡¯


    Is this also ultimately God¡¯s arrangement? I don¡¯t know. But¡­ for some reason I don¡¯t understand, I had a clear sense of it.


    Even if I had met Liam Moore somewhere else, I would have fallen in love with him. Because he¡¯s a person impossible to hate.


    When I reached out my finger and gently stroked Liam¡¯s cheek, he slowly closed and opened his eyes. His lips curled up softly, as if enjoying the caress, and I found it newly endearing.


    Just as I was about to speak¡ª


    ¡°Hey, if you¡¯re going to be lovey-dovey, go outside.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    Only then did I remember there was someone else here besides us. Sorry, Owen. We didn¡¯t mean to make you watch this cockroach couple¡¯s public disy of affection.


    Liam whispered to me.


    ¡°Shall we return to Bailonz Street?¡±


    It was a wee suggestion. I was ufortable staying in Greenwich for long, and I was worried about Mary, who had been left alone at home for quite some time.


    Liam also seemed eager to return to Bailonz Street as soon as possible. I could read the urgency on his face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t use the ss.¡±


    ¡°Jane, but¡ª¡±


    I warned him. Knowing his physical condition, I couldn¡¯t let him further damage his health.


    ¡°Promise me you won¡¯t use it for a while, Liam.¡±


    Under my stern gaze, Liam finally raised both hands and feet in surrender. He shrugged once and replied.


    ¡°¡­I promise.¡±


    ¡°You heard that, Owen?¡±


    Though he suddenly became a witness to our exchange, Owen seemed rather amused. He muttered as if finding it fascinating.


    ¡°What the Greenwich folks couldn¡¯t get him to do after a hundred requests, one word from the miss does the trick. Is this why they say people should get married?¡±


    ¡°¡­Cassfire.¡±


    Liam¡¯s sharp gaze shot towards Owen. Facing it directly, Owen cried out exaggeratedly.


    ¡°Oh my, I¡¯m scared to death!¡±


    He didn¡¯t look scared at all.


    Owen grinned shamelessly. Then he struggled to his feet, shoved his feet into the shoes he had taken off, and headed for the door, scratching his messy hair. He looked quite shabby.


    ¡°You can use the passage instead of the ss. Please make sure he doesn¡¯t use magic for a while, even if it¡¯s inconvenient.¡±


    ¡°Of course. That¡¯s my specialty, after all.¡±


    ¡°You two are quite the perfect match, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Liam grumbled. Hey, you¡¯re jealous over the strangest things.


    Liam and I followed behind Owen. We stopped midway to receive and change into new clothes, as our current appearance made us look like patients who had escaped from a hospital. They said they had made new clothes based on the measurements of what we were wearing when we were found. Great discharge gift sense. They said they burned our original clothes. We would have burned them anyway, so I was very grateful to Greenwich for taking care of it for us.


    We then headed straight for what they called the passage. Liam seemed to know the location too, naturally heading that way. For my benefit, as I knew nothing, Owen exined.


    ¡°We¡¯ve created several passages that can lead to Greenwich. Any Greenwich person can use them, so they¡¯remonly used. It¡¯s safer too. Only people with short tempers like Liam use the direct entry method, which honestly, I think is crazy.¡±


    I remembered Owen rushing in breathlessly and getting upset before. I asked.


    ¡°Why choose the difficult path?¡±


    ¡°Think about it. It¡¯s like digging a tunnel to enter when there¡¯s a door right in front of you.¡±


    I see. Just hearing about it, it seems very inefficient. Why abandon the established path to forge your own? While being a self-directed adult is praiseworthy, this was too much. I red at Liam from the corner of my eye, and he subtly averted his gaze. What an amusing man.


    ¡°Liam.¡±


    ¡°Ahem.¡±


    As he cleared his throat in embarrassment, I couldn¡¯t help butugh. Owen pulled me aside, saying, ¡°Let¡¯s let it slide this time.¡±


    After turning down a few more corridors, we stood before a door. It was a teal-coloured door with a keyhole engraved on it. As we approached, we could feel a breezeing from inside.


    Owen reached out first, and we heard several clicking sounds from inside the door. Winding a spring, pulling down a lever, and then the door slowly opened by itself.


    A thin cloth was fluttering slowly over the ck darkness. Beyond it, various scenes, like shards of broken ss, distorted and disappeared repeatedly.


    ¡°All the doors of London converge here. Conversely, from here, you can choose from the many doors of London.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I understand.¡±


    ¡°Miss, how about just bing a Greenwich person? Honestly, I think you¡¯d be more capable than Liam.¡±


    I grinned and took Liam¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Maybeter.¡±


    The thin cloth enveloped us. We felt a strange sensation of being pulled somewhere.


    * * *


    When we opened our eyes, we were next to a church bell. Whether there was no one to guard it, or it wasn¡¯t time yet, the bell wasn¡¯t ringing.


    This ce was quite high up, offering a full view of the Thames River below. Outside, it was dawn. In the distance, we could see the horizon wherend met the sky turning red and brightening. A fishy, slippery river breeze brushed past our foreheads. It hadn¡¯t been long since we left, but London¡¯s murky air felt oddly weing.


    ¡°How much time has passed since we disappeared?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. But I¡¯m certain our Mary will be screaming for the second time.¡±


    True. How surprised she would be if we returned at dawn. I could already imagine Mary¡¯s shock when shees up to clean the firece ashes as usual, only to find us sittingfortably on the sofa.


    I hoped Greenwich had shown some flexibility this time and informed others of our whereabouts in advance. But that was probably a vain hope. I knew the Greenwich people were even more old-fashioned than Liam or Herschel.


    ¡°We¡¯re pretty terrible tenants, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    Liam agreed.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s why we pay Mrs. Mayer a hefty boarding fee.¡±


    As if paying rent and causing mental distress to thendy were the same thing. Goodness, an adult who tries to solve everything with money. How did that small, cute Liam grow up like this?


    As I giggled, Liam¡¯s expression softened, and heughed along with me. I leaned my head on Liam¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯m already scared thinking about getting scolded by Mrs. Mayer.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Jane. I¡¯ll take your share of the scolding.¡±


    ¡°No, we should contact your parents too. It¡¯s better if we both get scolded equally.¡±


    ¡°Ah. My parents¡­¡±


    Liam reached out his hand. I naturally took it. The warm touch spread across my bare skin.


    ¡°Be careful, Jane. The stairs are steep.¡±


    As we slowly descended the stairs, corroded by humidity, we realised something. London¡¯s dawn was not as quiet as we thought. The streets were chaotic. The ck night sky and the red horizon. We also realised how discordant they were.


    Liam crouched low, holding onto me.


    ¡°Something¡¯s off.¡±


    I agreed. The ring on my thumb kept shing, warning of danger. The sapphire light was blinking like a lighthouse in the night. That¡¯s when we heard it.


    ¡ªScreech!


    An ominous beast-like sound tore through the night sky. It sounded like arge cloth hitting the air. p. Something was gliding towards us.


    Liam cursed and pulled me close with one arm, ducking low. We heard something rush past above our heads. Then it was gone in an instant. Though it was too dark to see clearly, it seemed to be a flying creature about twice our body size.


    ¡°Does it react to light?!¡±


    We instinctively knew it would return.


    I stopped Liam¡¯s hand as he tried to grasp at the air. I couldn¡¯t let Liam strain himself. Instead of him, I drew out my sword. Liam looked at me with a surprised face.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. It was too dark and quick to see what it was.¡±


    ¡°We need to move from here first¡­ Liam, duck!¡±


    I swung my sword. It was almost reflexive. I felt the de cut through something hard and tough. A long, terrible scream rang out.

 Chapter 131: Bizarre London (2)

    ¡°I cut off its wing.¡±


    At that moment, in stark contrast to the tense situation, a calm voice spoke to me. It was my voice, yet not my voice. Yes, it was Truth. It must have decided I needed help.


    I heard something heavy slicing through the air and falling. There was also a sshing sound of liquid pouring out. A peculiar, pungent scent spread. It wasn¡¯t the usual smell of blood.


    ¡®Wow, talk about perfect timing.¡¯


    I panted heavily, gripping the sword with both hands.


    What was it? An animal? A bird? No, was there such a ¡®thing¡¯ among winged beasts?


    The creature, having lost one wing, crashed into the church bell. A resonant ¡®dong¡¯ echoed. It iled with its remaining wing, trying to fly again, but only collided with the bell once more. The sound of pping and the bell¡¯s tolling continued incessantly.


    The voice advised:


    ¡®Now¡¯s your chance. You must kill it.¡¯ Can I kill it? That thing? No, it was strange that Truth thought I could easily kill a monster in the first ce. I had shed a ¡®Marauding Raider¡¯ once before, but that was sheer luck. Honestly, this time too, I had reflexively thrust out the sword, and the charging monster just happened to get cut by it.


    The voice urged me again:


    ¡®You must kill it to escape. Quickly.¡¯


    ¡°Ah, damn it. Let¡¯s do this, then!¡±


    I panted as I leaped up the stairs two or three at a time.


    Why did something like this appear in London? Isn¡¯t this insane?


    Although I was out of breath, tension and excitement kept me moving without fatigue. Through the cold light created by the sword and ring, I could finally see the creature¡¯s appearance clearly.


    ¡°¡­!¡±


    It was a being with thick leather tightly clinging to its bones, a pair of bat-like wings, and extremely thin and long limbs. It also had a long tail like a lizard. The tail, as thick as a human body, was whipping against the floor ¨C a hit from that would surely break bones.


    Moreover, its ws were so long they looked like they could easily tear skin like paper. Between the hollow eye sockets, I could see an eye as big as a fist. The enormous eye, the gaping hole of a nose, and the densely packed sharp teeth ¨C it was a hideous and terrifying sight.


    It iled about, then crawled on all fours and bared its teeth at me.


    Even Truth in my head had never seen such a strange creature. More urately, how should I put it? It was like a hybrid of several known creatures mixed together. If there was a word to define this, it would probably be ¡®chimera¡¯.


    My body trembled involuntarily at the sight of those massive teeth right in front of me. It was wary of me. One small mistake and some part of me would be severed. I had to handle this in one go without fear.


    I chanted to myself like a mantra:


    ¡°I can do it, I can do it. I can do it!¡±


    I can do it. Even if I can¡¯t, I have to.


    I raised my sword and stabbed at the monster¡¯s neck. At first, it felt like it hit something and wouldn¡¯t go in. Its outer skin was very tough. Fortunately, this sword was sharper than I had thought. I put my whole body weight into shing with the sword.


    sh!


    A wave of heat hit me. Blood sprayed. It took several attempts, but I finally seeded in killing it.


    Only when the monster¡¯s movements ceasedpletely, after thrashing about and spraying blood, could I lean on the sword and let out a long breath.


    My legs were trembling. A unique, pungent smell rose up. It was like the smell of a sewer. The bluish light from the sword dispelled the surrounding darkness. Only then did I have the presence of mind to wipe the blood sttered on my face. I raised my hand to rub it off, and something smeared. It was a viscous purple liquid.


    ¡°Ha, haha¡­¡±


    Oddly enough, although I had been trembling so much just a moment ago, the fear disappeared once I realized I had killed the monster. Perhaps it was because I now knew that even these things die when you cut off their heads.


    I heard someone approaching from the side. I knew it was Liam by the way he gently embraced me, hiding me within his cloak. Liam sped my hands in his.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± I mumbled.


    Liam replied, ¡°I know. You¡¯ll always be okay.¡±


    Yes, what do I have to fear when you¡¯re here?


    Swish. When I let go of my hand, the sword transformed into a bundle of light and disappeared. But I wasn¡¯t particrly worried. I knew I could summon it anytime.


    ¡°Did you see?¡±


    Although I didn¡¯t ask what he saw, Liam nodded.


    It was amotion that shook the night of London. Who would have thought that I, who knew nothing, would end up catching a monster alone?


    ¡°I told you. You have a talent for fighting.¡±


    Even Liam, who knew more than me, didn¡¯t seem to fully grasp the situation. I asked,


    ¡°Why is something like this,¡±


    ¡°Shh. Jane, let¡¯s quickly get out of here. Before more of theme.¡±


    There are more of these things?


    I turned my dazed head to look around. Only then did I see unidentified creatures flying in the reddish sky far away. They were holding something. I thought I knew what it was, but I wanted to ignore it.


    Just then, a piercing scream tore through the night air.


    ¡°Help me!¡±


    Why hadn¡¯t I heard it before? Below, it was chaos with gunshots and the shouts of officers. I thought it had been peaceful. What on earth had happened outside while we were staying in Greenwich?


    As my trembling subsided, Liam whispered in a low voice. It was a voice lowered as much as possible, as if afraid someone might hear.


    ¡°It¡¯s strange. If something like this was happening, Meridian¡¯s eye would have surely caught it. There was no anomaly in Meridian while we were staying in Greenwich.¡±


    ¡°¡­Then there¡¯s only one possibility.¡±


    It seemed Liam and I were in agreement for once. All these terrible events started as soon as we arrived here.


    But how did they know we wereing?


    ¡°Jonathan. What about Jonathan?¡±


    I hurriedly looked towards Haledon in the distance. It was red there too.


    No, that can¡¯t be right. That¡¯s not the east.


    And then I realized that we were making one big mistake.


    It wasn¡¯t the dawn breaking. The mes rising from various parts of the city were devouring the night and illuminating the darkness. The acrid smell of burning stung my nose. The sound of something exploding came from the direction of the port.


    ¡°Ah, London¡­¡±


    What awaited us was a burning London.


    £ª £ª £ª


    We hurriedly descended from the church and ran through the streets.


    Broken ss and fallen people were visible everywhere. I ran to check their pulses, but couldn¡¯t feel anything. It¡¯s chilling. They¡¯re all dead.


    ¡°Why.¡±


    Why did they do this? Who? The ck King? But why? Did I somehow fail to interest him? Is that why, is that why he did this?


    ¡°Why the people¡­?¡±


    For a moment, I thought I saw yellow eyes glinting in the shadows. As I recoiled, it disappeared again. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was a hallucination due to shock or if the ck King¡¯s gaze was truly following me. I couldn¡¯t distinguish. But I couldn¡¯t dwell on it, so I raised my head and red at the street.


    The London night streets, which should have been dark with the gasmps extinguished, were as bright as day due to the fires burning everywhere. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my eardrums.


    What should I do? Where should I go first?


    Should we go to Bailonz Street, or to Haledon for Jonathan? Or if not¡­ if not¡­ What should I do? I don¡¯t know.


    Liam, who was trying to take me to safety, paused. Then he took out his pocket watch. The hour and minute hands were moving very quickly, and it was emitting a light in a color I had never seen before.


    ¡°Meridian has also noticed the problem in London.¡±


    ¡°Then they¡¯lle from Greenwich soon, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they¡¯ll have to.¡±


    ¡°Is this happening only in London?¡±


    Suddenly, I thought of Liam¡¯s parents staying in Hisford. What if Hisford has also been reduced to ruins? I should ask Liam if we need to go to Hisford.


    However, Liam shook his head.


    ¡°Hisford will be fine.¡±


    Then he said that my family was more important, and we should go to Haledon to find Jonathan.


    I squeezed my eyes shut. My heart keeps wavering. But I mustn¡¯t be shaken. It will surely hinder meter, at a crucial moment.


    Think calmly. Jonathan will be safe. Plurititas is in Haledon.


    Judging from Plurititas¡¯s usual behavior, he¡¯s the type to protect his own people for sure. I don¡¯t know why he keeps Jonathan by his side, but I¡¯m almost grateful for it in this situation. At least Jonathan probably won¡¯t die. It¡¯s funny that Plurititas is the only one I can trust now.


    ¡°No, we need to go to Bailonz Street.¡±


    The people there have no understanding of this situation, don¡¯t they? Mary, George, Mrs. Mayer.


    Even if they¡¯ve already been attacked, we need to go there. We had to find those people.

 Chapter 132: Bizarre London (3)

    Screams echoed loudly in the distance. I instinctively turned my steps towards Bailonz Street instead of heading towards the cries.


    ¡°Help!¡±


    ¡°Monster, it¡¯s a monster!¡±


    ¡°Run away!¡±


    As we moved against the flow of fleeing people, an inexplicable anxiety crept up on me. It was like¡­ how should I put it? Like knowing a tragedy awaited us, yet still heading towards it.


    Ahead, an overturned carriage came into view. The horse was nowhere to be seen. A few officers were using the carriage as a barricade, buying time for civilians. They shouted at us:


    ¡°Don¡¯t go that way! It¡¯s crawling with monsters!¡±


    I stopped and asked, ¡°What about Bailonz Street? What¡¯s happened to Bailonz Street?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know! That area is swarming with monsters, we can¡¯t get anywhere near it!¡± Bang! One person fired a gun while another reloaded. One of the reloading officers seemed to recognize us. Pointing at Liam, he shouted:


    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re Mr. Moore, aren¡¯t you? Inspector Jefferson left a message! He said to take shelter in a safe ce! Somewhere underground where those things can¡¯t follow, with no way out!¡±


    Bang! He fired again.


    Unfortunately, the bullets fired did not reward their courage at all. They couldn¡¯t even scratch the monsters¡¯ hides.


    Seeing the bullets bounce off tly, their expressions turned to despair. Firearms were the most lethal weapons of this era. Yet they couldn¡¯t inflict any critical damage. The bullets only served to enrage the monsters who were hit harmlessly in the head! It must be that only weapons imbued with magic, like the ones we use, can effectivelybat these creatures.


    ¡°Fighting is pointless. Evacuate right now! You can¡¯t keep holding out here!¡±


    I tried to dissuade them from wasting bullets. My n was to evacuate with the civilians.


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°No buts, we¡¯ll all die at this rate!¡±


    While they hesitated, debating whether to flee, one person was snatched away by a monster¡¯s ws and disappeared. A terrible scream echoed through the night sky, followed by the sound of something falling with a st. Witnessing this, the remaining officers finally started taking shelter inside the building.


    ¡°What should we do, Jane?¡±


    Liam lifted the edge of his cloak to deflect an attack. The cloak hardened like a shield, protecting us from the assault. ng! The deflected ws retreated, only to strike again. It seemed intent on ramming us repeatedly.


    We should flee too. I know that.


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m not sure. I think evacuation should be our priority, but¡­¡±


    I don¡¯t know. It seems like the ck King¡¯s doing, but why choose to trample London like this? I don¡¯t know what to do in this situation, or what we should do next. I don¡¯t know anything. I just want to sit down and rest, or rather, die once and wake up again.


    But I didn¡¯t even have the luxury to whine. If I had time for that, I needed to move.


    Bang! Another attack was deflected.


    The monster let out an enraged roar. It seemed to be calling itspanions with that cry. Monsters clustering together red at us with gleaming eyes.


    However, our defense only grew stronger. Lucita¡¯s ne had joined forces with Liam to create a protective barrier. This should hold out safely until we could retreat to a safe ce.


    Liam was looking at me with eyes full of trust. With his usually slicked-back hair falling forward, he looked even younger.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Jane. If you¡¯re unsure, just follow your heart.¡±


    I was about to respond when something came rushing from afar.


    A red sh, and the ws striking at us weakened. I saw bat-like beasts being cut in half. Something hade to our aid, dispatching those creatures.


    As the obstructions to our view cleared a bit, a blurry figure came into sight.


    ¡°A leopard?¡±


    It was a leopard with golden fur and red eyes.


    A leopard in the middle of London? Very uniquely, it didn¡¯t seem to be an actual animal. How should I put it¡­ A hologram? It looked like it was formed from the surrounding air. It was here and not here at the same time.


    As I stood there dumbfounded with my mouth agape, the leopard spoke.


    That is, it literally spoke.


    [Found you.]


    A familiar voice came from the leopard¡¯s mouth. It had been a very long time since I¡¯d heard it.


    [Hello, Miss Jane. I¡¯m d to see you¡¯re safe.]


    ¡°No way¡­ Lucita?¡±


    The leopard raised its front paw to cover its mouth and chuckled.


    [I was able to find you thanks to the ne. Well done. You¡¯ve returned well. London is in shambles, as you can see. Hybrids are hunting people indiscriminately and taking them to altars. It started suddenly just a short while ago.]


    ¡°Hybrids? Altars?¡±


    [This isn¡¯t the ce for this conversation. There are too many ears listening. Let¡¯s quickly cover the main points and be done with it.]


    Listening ears? I looked around. But there weren¡¯t any notable living beings in sight. Perhaps I just couldn¡¯t notice them.


    Lucita continued speaking.


    [Come to my mansion. Ah, I¡¯ll give you one piece of news that you¡¯ll be happy to hear.]


    I was about to ask what it was. But in an instant, the leopard¡¯s mouth opened wide and a voicepletely different from Lucita¡¯s husky tone burst out. It was a bouncy, clear, and lively voice.


    [Miss!]


    There were only a few people in London who would call me ¡°Miss,¡± so I immediately recognized the owner of the voice.


    ¡°Mary?!¡±


    It¡¯s Mary! Mary is safe! I don¡¯t know why she¡¯s with Lucita, but finally, the tension eased and something like augh came out.


    I asked,


    ¡°Mary, are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? What about George and Mrs. Mayer,¡±


    [We¡¯re all safe! This person suddenly came and brought us here!]


    Ah, what a relief. Learning that not a single person from 13 Bailonz Street had died put me at ease. Thanks to Lucita¡¯s quick action, we had avoided the worst-case scenario.


    As Mary retreated, the leopard¡¯s eyes turned red again.


    ¡°Thank you, Lucita.¡±


    The leopard shrugged at my thanks. It didn¡¯t seem to think much of it. Then, it said to me:


    [Shall we meet at the mansion?]


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there soon.¡±


    [I¡¯ll be waiting.]


    The leopard leapt over us. Despite its massive size, itnded surprisingly quietly and sprinted through the streets of London. Soon, Lucita disappeared from our line of sight.


    With Lucita¡¯s departure taking themotion along, the street became very quiet. The corpses of the monsters that had been attacking usy strewn about haphazardly on the ground.


    I stood there speechless, filled with gratitude and joy. Connections are the best, Lucita is the best.


    Liam pulled me along.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go rescue your brother-inw.¡±


    Hearing those words snapped me back to reality. This isn¡¯t the time for this. I still had many people I needed to save.


    ¡°Right. He should be holding up well.¡±


    He smiled andforted me.


    ¡°Your brother-inw can take down suspects with his bare hands, right? He¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    £ª £ª £ª


    Fortunately, Haledon was only a five-minute brisk walk from here. Bailonz Street was thirteen minutes away, and not far from Haledon was Whitmore Gardens, where Lucita¡¯s mansion was located. It¡¯s closer than I thought.


    Liam and I began to cut across the city center, weaving between buildings. To be honest, with those things flying around outside, we couldn¡¯t just run down the middle of the street. Even though Liam¡¯s cloak and Lucita¡¯s ne could block attacks, it would be insane to practically announce ¡°Come and eat me!¡±


    Burn marks and debris from copsed buildings were everywhere. Haledon seemed to have been reduced to ruins as well. People appeared to have already evacuated. Only empty houses remained.


    We headed straight for 278 Mte Avenue.


    ¡°Plurititas! Hey!¡±


    I shook the tightly closed ck iron gate like a madwoman.


    Plurititas¡¯s mansion was in considerably better shapepared to other ces. For some reason, the monsters didn¡¯t seem to have targeted this ce. No, looking at them circling above the mansion, watching for an opportunity, it seemed they couldn¡¯t attack here. Had Plurititas done something?


    ¡°Old man! Are you alive?¡±


    At my shout, Liam, who had been quiet, cleared his throat once and stepped forward. His expression was quite ominous.


    ¡°What are you trying to¡ªeeek!¡±


    Bang!


    Why on earth did he have to kick the gate?! The ce he kicked caved in. Is it okay for it to bend like that? Is it¡­ is it really okay?


    As I was looking back and forth nervously, the mansion gate began to open slowly with a heavy sound.


    The butler, that is, the automaton we had blown away before, was there to greet us at the entrance. The sharp cries of beasts echoed across the sky that had turned red from the inferno.


    ¡°The master is waiting for you.¡±


    Liam responded as if spitting out the words.


    ¡°Well, isn¡¯t that just perfect!¡±

 Chapter 133: Bizarre London (4)

    Ignoring the butler¡¯s guidance, we headed straight for the library. It was where Plurititas showed affection, wasn¡¯t it? Anyone could guess he¡¯d be there.


    Sure enough, just like the day we first met, Plurititas was in the library. Snow-white suit, snow-white hair, pale skin. The man resembling a white, thin spider sat perched on the desk, smiling at me. It was surprising that even in this chaos, he matched his clothes¡¯ color perfectly. Plurititas slowly opened his mouth.


    ¡°First ¡®old geezer,¡¯ and now ¡®old man.''¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so petty about every little thing.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m an old man with a bit of a long memory.¡±


    Something was ced on the desk. It was a silver cylindrical container, identical to those filling the walls. Now I knew what was inside. Liam frowned.


    ¡°London¡¯s in ruins, and you¡¯re examining your collection?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s times like these when one must maintain peace of mind. I was getting bored anyway, thinking of acquiring a new piece for my collection.¡±


    Plurititas¡¯s gaze slowly scanned Liam. More precisely, Liam¡¯s head¡­ This is truly terrifying. It¡¯s amazing that I forgot what kind of person he was. When I visited alone before, he sent me back withoutying a hand on me, but why does he covet Liam¡¯s head whenever he sees him? Sure, Liam is smart, but still.


    ¡®Wait, is this his own way of showing affection?¡¯


    While having thoughts that would shock both Plurititas and Liam, I asked him.


    ¡°What about Jonathan?¡±


    Plurititas smiled gently. That smile felt ominous. I wondered why he was smiling like that.


    At that moment, I made a slight¡­ ominous assumption. Could it be that the container behind Plurititas¡­


    Feeling a chill, I urged Plurititas.


    ¡°Plurititas, where¡¯s my brother?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. He¡¯s safe.¡±


    So show me his face, I wanted to say. However, Plurititas, brushing off my concern nonchntly, continued.


    ¡°Actually, we were thinking of bestowing our own kind of ¡®favor.¡¯ We thought of letting him live forever in a state without pain, aging, or sorrow.¡±


    This is ominous. Surely he doesn¡¯t mean chopping off my brother¡¯s head and turning his brain into one in those containers, calling it a favor? His definition of favor couldn¡¯t be that twisted, could it?


    Plurititas¡¯s smile deepened. Damn it. It seemed I was right.


    ¡°You have a good brother.¡±


    This is bad. I red sideways at the cylinder. If there was anybel or anything with the name ¡®Jonathan¡¯ on it, I was ready to empty all six bullets from my cherished revolver into Plurititas.


    No way. But what if Jonathan really had be a brain in a container? How could we reverse that? Can a body live without a brain? Even with 21st-century knowledge, that¡¯s impossible.


    ¡°Ah, so where is he? I know my kid is good! But I swear, if you eye my brother¡¯s head one more time, I¡¯ll kill©¤¡±


    That¡¯s when it happened. At the perfect timing, the library door creaked open.


    Familiar green eyes peeked through the gap. It was my younger brother, who looked like my twin. Jonathan blinked a couple of times and then spoke.


    ¡°I know you told me to wait outside, but you shouldn¡¯t fight¡­¡±


    ¡°Hey, Jonathan Osmond!¡±


    I yelled. It¡¯s funny how he casually says ¡°Don¡¯t fight, you shouldn¡¯t fight¡± in this situation. While I felt like my blood was drying up, what? Don¡¯t fight?


    Noticing my unhappy expression, Jonathan fumbled for an excuse.


    ¡°Well, I am the bodyguard after all¡­¡±


    This is ridiculous. The very idea that Plurititas needs a bodyguard is nonsense. Does Jonathan think this man looks like someone who can¡¯t take care of himself? I pointed at Plurititas.


    ¡°Does he really look like he needs protection to you?¡±


    ¡°¡®He¡¯¡­¡±


    Plurititas wiped his dry eyes with an exaggerated gesture. The sight was so detestable that I was grinding my teeth, and Liam tried to soothe me.


    ¡°If you joke about my brother¡¯s wellbeing one more time, I¡¯ll burn all your collections to ashes!¡±


    ¡°Oh my, it¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve met such a bold young person.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not joking, Plurititas!¡±


    Plurititasughed and reached out his hand to me. I didn¡¯t particrly want to take it. Seeing my expression was not at all pleasant, he added subtly.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Good that you know.¡±


    Not hiding my displeasure, I approached Jonathan and carefully examined him to see if he was injured anywhere.


    Only after confirming that Jonathan was surprisingly very fine, and even seemed to have energy to spare, did my heart start to calm down.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening outside, sis?¡±


    ¡°Bat-like things are killing people. The world¡¯s gone to hell.¡±


    ¡°It seemed fine here.¡±


    ¡°Probably because they can¡¯t get in because of Plurititas.¡±


    Jonathan blinked innocently. He looked like he didn¡¯t understand what I was talking about.


    Right, Jonathan doesn¡¯t know anything about the boundaries. As I vaguely avoided exnation, Jonathan tilted his head.


    I asked.


    ¡°So, Plurititas. Are you going to stay here?¡±


    Outside, monsters were eagerly waiting for a chance to invade this ce. No matter how skilled a scientist Plurititas was, could he handle all those monsters?


    There was more than one thing for him to protect here. There were his collections, Jonathan, and perhaps these automatons. Of course, thinking about it, it didn¡¯t seem like he would easily abandon and leave, but those things seemed to respond to people, not objects, so it would probably be okay to leave collections and such behind.


    Plurititas looked quite surprised at my question.


    ¡°Are you hoping I¡¯ll apany you?¡±


    No way. I¡¯d have to be crazy.


    In the end, I answered honestly.


    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯d be fine just taking my brother, but he¡¯s your bodyguard now.¡±


    He seemed somewhat pleased. Jonathan was now naturally standing beside Plurititas like his shadow, seeming quite ustomed to this job in the time I hadn¡¯t seen him. Seeing that made me feel very ambivalent. I wondered if Jonathan felt the same way when he saw me getting used to Liam¡¯s work.


    How did my brother end up with this side?


    But Jonathan is probably thinking the same thing as me, so I don¡¯t want to say it out loud. I didn¡¯t want to say that both siblings were unlucky with people. Or that we have terrible judgment in people¡­


    I nced at Liam. He was adjusting his cloak, and when our eyes met, he gently pulled up the corners of his mouth. It was a reassuring smile. I let out a long sigh and added.


    ¡°To be honest, you can¡¯t keep holding out here. If you show even a slight weakness, they¡¯ll push right in. Do you know how long you can hold out? You know too. He¡¯s taken action himself.¡±


    Plurititas slowly caressed his lips with his thin, long fingers. He seemed to be pondering. He must know well too, having watched the outside. What¡¯s happening.


    Ships in the harbor sinking, houses burning, streets filled with dead people. All these grotesque scenes were like a nightmare. It felt like it might disappear if I closed my eyes and opened them again, as if in a terrible nightmare. I even thought it might be a hallucination from the ck King, but the fact that all this is reality makes it even more tormenting.


    ¡°Where are you thinking of going?¡±


    Plurititas asked. I answered.


    ¡°Whitmore Gardens.¡±


    At my answer, he chuckled and muttered as if he understood.


    ¡°Ah, where that old snake lives.¡±


    Hostility? It¡¯s not hostility. Just a dry, businesslike tone, as if addressing a colleague.


    ¡°Old snake?¡±


    Is he talking about Lucita? As I was bewildered, Plurititas shrugged. Then he took out a coat from the coat rack behind the desk. He¡¯s nning toe along. I just watched as he silently slipped his arms into the coat. Jonathan was naturally helping Plurititas with his coat.


    A person white from head to toe, and even putting on a white coat on top of that, he looked just like a ghost. I wondered if that was okay, if it wasn¡¯t too conspicuous.


    ¡°It¡¯s unsettling to leave my long-cherished collections behind.¡±


    Plurititas looked at the containers filling the library once more, seemingly regretful.


    ¡°Have some faith in the security system.¡±


    ¡°My technical skills aren¡¯t what they used to be these days.¡±


    ¡°¡­Because you¡¯re old?¡±


    He grinned.


    ¡°Because I¡¯m old.¡±


    So it was true.

 Chapter 134: Bizarre London (5)

    Plurititas passed by us without a hint of regret, as if he had never felt wistful. Seeing his temperament bubbling like boiling porridge, I wondered how he had survived this long with such a capricious nature.


    ¡®With that temper of his.¡¯


    Jonathan followed Plurititas like a shadow. The butler also followed his master, but with a single gesture from Plurititas, he turned and left. It seemed he wouldn¡¯t be taking even him along.


    Probably the automaton butler and servants would stay here, waiting for the situation to end. A mansion filled only with automatons. Imagining it was more eerie than I had expected.


    Jonathan naturally picked up something near the entrance, and I gasped when I realized it was a hunting rifle. What kind of house keeps hunting rifles like umbres?


    After rummaging through a drawer for a moment, Jonathan then began stuffing his pockets full of ammunition!


    ¡°¡­¡±


    As I stared at the scene in a daze, Jonathan blushed shyly.


    ¡°I feel morefortable with these.¡± What kind of talk is this, like an alcoholic clutching a bottle?


    ¡°You didn¡¯t do this at Scond Yard.¡±


    ¡°That was just for show.¡±


    For show. My head is spinning. Jonathan spoke quite gently and kindly.


    ¡°ept it now, sis. Your brother was always this kind of person.¡±


    ¡°Brother, I suddenly feel a distance from you.¡±


    ¡°Haha.¡±


    Jonathan, having finished arming himself heavily with firearms, said to Plurititas, ¡°I¡¯m done.¡± Plurititas stepped forward and turned the doorknob to open it.


    Beyond the door, a red sky was visible. I could see Jonathan¡¯s hand tightening on the gun. The four of us walked out through the front door to the mansion¡¯s gate.


    Those ¡®hybrids¡¯ were still circling in the air, looking for new victims. As if this was the only ce left to target in the area, monsters swarmed above Plurititas¡¯s mansion.


    ¡°Oh my.¡±


    Plurititas sighed.


    ¡°I never thought there would be so many insects above my house.¡±


    ¡°It seems like all the monsters from around Holleden have gathered here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it seems so.¡±


    As soon as I turned my head from looking up, Plurititas¡¯s bright blue eyes were right in front of me. My heart nearly dropped. Why does he look at people like this? As I startled, he, who had been bending down to meet my gaze, straightened up with a heartyugh. Liam let out a displeased groan. Plurititas¡¯s long, thin finger pointed at the shoulder of my shirt. It was where purple blood had sttered.


    ¡°But you¡¯ve already caught one? Your skills have improved quite impressively in such a short time.¡±


    The sensation of catching and killing that monster came back to me. Cutting through the membrane and stabbing where the heart should be. Doing it with surprising naturalness. I clenched and unclenched my hand as I muttered.


    ¡°It was just luck.¡±


    Just luck. I was only trying to save Liam Moore.


    How many more times will I spend days with him after falling into his past, and then encounter the monsters I¡¯ve faced before? What are the chances of facing part of El¡¯s main body and staying sane? And luckily learning the truth, being able to draw the sword?


    It¡¯s all luck. I felt like everything surrounding me was interlocking like well-fitted gears, leading me somewhere.


    But is it really luck? Such a thought suddenly urred to me. Until a nonchnt answer cut through the air.


    ¡°Luck is a skill too.¡±


    Ridiculously, I found somefort in Plurititas¡¯s words. Isn¡¯t he talking as if I achieved this by my own power? I¡¯m just a pitiful paper boat swept up in some huge wave, but hearing such words, how should I put it, it made me feel a bit more at ease.


    ¡®Right, luck is a skill too.¡¯


    Who else could do this like me? Try bringing a gamer from South Korea and give them ¡°Misty London¡± to y. They wouldn¡¯t even be able to get this far. Thinking that I¡¯m doing exceptionally well, that¡¯s what makes me feel better.


    Gunshots were heard again in the distance. The acrid smell of gunpowder carried by the wind reached us.


    Plurititas was calmly crossing the street as if none of this frightened him. Striding with his long legs stretched out.


    ¡°This is crazy, has that man decided to die?¡±


    He was already standing several steps away from us, looking around. I was about to tell him to be careful, but then realized that would be quite a foolish thing to do.


    Plurititas didn¡¯t need to. Intimidated by his strange aura, the monsters covering London¡¯s sky didn¡¯t even dare toe down.


    Plurititas, even wearing a snow-white silk hat, seemed quite out of ce in this terrible scene. The way he walked, slowly stretching his long limbs, made him look like a tourist at an amusement park.


    I thought I glimpsed something huge I had seen before in that back view. But it didn¡¯t feel¡­ terribly frightening.


    ¡®Probably because I¡¯ve seen worse?¡¯


    Putting aside my thoughts for now, I took a step. Jonathan and Liam followed behind me.


    ¡°Sis, these people¡­¡±


    Suddenly Jonathan spoke up. I knew what Jonathan was talking about, but I didn¡¯t add anything more. I just pulled him along to keep walking.


    These are people who are already dead. It¡¯s foolish to try to save people who are toote to be saved. We couldn¡¯t put ourselves in danger for that.


    Even so, I kept muttering to myself.


    ¡®They¡¯re dead people. They¡¯re already dead anyway.¡¯


    Therefore, we shouldn¡¯t stop our steps due to unnecessary lingering feelings or sympathy. I deliberately ignored Jonathan¡¯s dark expression.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Crack, the sound of ss breaking made me startle and shake my shoulders.


    Lucita¡¯s house is on a street where houses seem to be packed tightly together, a bit further in from the entrance of Whitmore Gardens. Although it follows an old housing style on the outside, the deeper you go inside, the more unusual the depth of space bes. I guessed that some magical device must be making the insiderger than the outside.


    As I was trying to recall my previous visit to head towards Lucita¡¯s house, we heard a human voice from an overturned carriage right in front of us.


    ¡°Help me! Is anyone there? Please help!¡±


    It was truly the scream of a dying person, barely managing to cry out. As if using theirst bit of strength to shout.


    Someone trapped inside was weakly pounding on the carriage wall. The coachman who had been driving was already dead, and the horse was nowhere to be seen. The carriage seemed to havepletely overturned due to a broken wheel.


    ¡°It¡¯s a person! Sis! There¡¯s a survivor!¡±


    We had seen several carriages attacked like this on our way, but this was the first time there was a survivor inside. Jonathan approached the carriage. He tried to pull the door handle hard, but it wouldn¡¯t budge, as if it was stuck somewhere.


    ¡°Damn, the door won¡¯t open!¡±


    ¡°Wait a moment.¡±


    I bent down to examine the carriage. After rolling several times, the wood around the door seemed to have twisted as the door sank. It couldn¡¯t be opened from either outside or inside. Thanks to that, they had survived the attack from those monstrous creatures, so should we consider it fortunate¡­? Even when I rammed it with my shoulder, it didn¡¯t budge at all.


    ¡°Help me!¡±


    ¡°Step away from the door!¡±


    The (former) people¡¯s baton protecting London citizens shouted like that and started striking the carriage door hard with the butt of his hunting rifle. As door fragments flew, Liam gently pulled me back.


    But isn¡¯t that too loud? Such a worry crossed my mind. An ominous howl could be heard from afar. We need to rescue this person and evacuate before those things are drawn by this sound. If we inevitably face them, we¡¯ll have to fight.


    I was tense, with my sword drawn, a few steps away. While some of us were on high alert, nerves on edge, Plurititas was just staring nkly at Jonathan.


    ¡°How kind.¡±


    He said, while¡­


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it natural? There¡¯s a person in there.¡±


    ¡°Do we really need to help?¡±


    I was puzzled. If there¡¯s a living person, shouldn¡¯t we at least help them get to a safe ce? Isn¡¯t it right to help in this situation?


    But Plurititas just fixed his blue eyes on the carriage indifferently, with his long hand on his chin. As if something¡­


    ¡°Plurititas, what do you see?¡±


    ¡°¡­It could be. Or it might not be.¡±


    It was a strange thing to say. But it didn¡¯t feel good. It felt like heading towards a cliff edge while knowing a precipice awaited.


    I hurriedly tried to stop Jonathan, shouting.


    ¡°Jonathan, wait a moment!¡±


    But Jonathan¡¯s muscles worked too well. He had already struck the door, and due to the full force he used, the twisted wood easily broke apart. The door creaked open. Jonathan, with a relieved face, asked towards the inside of the carriage.


    ¡°Are you alright? We¡¯vee to rescue you.¡±


    From the dark inside, a steady voice flowed out.


    ¡°Help me! Help me!¡±

 Chapter 135: Postpone (1)

    To be precise, every sound from the beginning to the end of the phrase ¡°Help me¡± was unnaturally uniform. Even the faint breath mixed in the speech seemed calcted. With the carriage wall between us, I foolishly failed to notice the sense of unease.


    I don¡¯t want to subject my brother to this kind of supernatural experience.


    ¡°How is this¡­¡±


    There was something inside the carriage. Whether it was a monster, something ominous, or something mimicking a human, I didn¡¯t know. I couldn¡¯t see it from my position, but Jonathan must have seen it, as he stood there in a daze, utterly shocked. It seems he was quite traumatized.


    ¡°You idiot, what are you looking at!¡±


    I grabbed Jonathan¡¯s cor and yanked him towards me. Jonathan stumbled back.


    And that was the right choice. If we hadn¡¯t created distance, we would have been attacked immediately.


    My mind became crystal clear, as if it couldn¡¯t be any clearer. Now I could start to see the scene inside the carriage. Perhaps because my eyes had somewhat adjusted to the darkness.


    Ah, why is that thing here? Something was crawling out of the carriage with a scraping sound.


    ¡°¡­This is insane.¡±


    There are a few experiences in life that make you think, ¡®This is enough for a lifetime.¡¯ Always thinking this will be thest time.


    For me, that was the November morning when I opened my eyes in Bailonz Street. Crazy sights, crazy world, crazy people. How many insane things have I seen while encountering numerous incidents!


    But this went far beyond that,pletely trampling my sense of reality. In other words, it was an insane sight.


    A blood-soaked person was crawling out on their elbows. Just looking at the crushed legs and head wounds, it was an injury that couldn¡¯t possibly allow survival. Yet they were alive. No, is it right to call this alive? My mind is in chaos.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be happening.¡±


    No, really, this can¡¯t be happening. Something that shouldn¡¯t exist was in the middle of London.


    The truth in my mind warns me. This is a ¡®non-existent concept¡¯. Neither 19th century London nor any god worshipped by the cultists could create such a thing.


    ¡®Really, why is thising out here?¡¯


    There was blood and flesh around its mouth, and it kept chewing as if it hadn¡¯t fully swallowed something. While doing so, it shouted.


    ¡°Help me!¡±


    It was around this time that I remembered I had seen quite a few movies like this.


    A scene from a drama ys in my head. The protagonist wakes up after an ordinary day to face a world turned into a wastnd. Ridiculously, it felt like my surroundings had changed just like that. Like a scene from a movie.


    In movies, survivors who enter empty houses typically encounter these things. These things tear people apart and infect them. A scene from a movie where they try to cut off a bitten areaes to mind. Some are very fast runners, some only move at night, and some are sensitive to sound.


    They appear to be alive, but in reality, they are the dead.


    An eerie footstep was heard. Something was slowly approaching us, dragging its feet. A chorus of ghastly sounds, whether sorrowful sobs, groans, or death throes, could be heard. From corners, streets, inside houses.


    They il about with arms stretched forward. Saliva constantly drips from their wide-open mouths. Their lifeless eyes, clouded and pale, stare at us (I¡¯m not sure if they¡¯re really seeing, but I assumed they were looking).


    Just then, a window in the building right next to us shattered, something fell out, and started crawling towards us at high speed.


    It felt unreal. Seeing that sight, I could only mutter:


    ¡°They¡¯re zombies.¡±


    ©¤Wooooo.


    It was an eerie howl.


    What should we do? Can we get through this on our own?


    The most immediate problem now was the one that looked ready to bite Jonathan, its mouth wide open.


    ¡°Jonathan!¡±


    ¡°Got it!¡±


    Jonathan aimed his hunting rifle with a click and shot the zombie crawling out of the carriage. Seeing that it stopped moving when shot in the head, it seemed their hardness wasn¡¯t much different from movie zombies.


    Thanks to Liam quickly using his cloak to cover me, their blood didn¡¯t ssh on my face.


    ¡°Jane, over here.¡±


    Liam and I stood back to back. Instead of a sword, he was holding a cane with a silver handle. It was the one I had used before to threaten a thug (or attempted kidnapper).


    Jonathan immediately turned his gun and shot another zombie closest to us. However, they were closing in on us faster than he could shoot.


    ¡°Sis, what on earth is all this?¡±


    ¡°How would I know?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you know? You just called them by name.¡±


    Plurititas said leisurely. He was calm despite the imminent danger.


    Right. I did call them that. But that word was the only way I could exin it. I made an excuse.


    ¡°It¡¯s something from voodoo rituals, I read a book¡­ Well, anyway.¡±


    He repeated my answer.


    ¡°Voodoo.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I just read it for case investigation!¡±


    No. I enjoyed it on Over-The-Top media services. I even yed games thoroughly.


    Plurititas just smiled annoyingly with a ¡®I see¡¯ expression, and for a moment I wondered if this person really knew something. Liam mediated between me and Plurititas.


    ¡°Sorry, but now¡¯s not the time for banter.¡±


    While we were talking, we got surrounded. The zombies were approaching us in a circr formation.


    I red at them, gripping my sword tightly. They all seemed to be London citizens.


    ¡°Are they infected?¡± I asked.


    Liam, examining them, muttered, ¡°Can¡¯t be sure yet.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not ghouls.¡±


    ¡°Right. Those are¡­ indeed dead people who¡¯ve risen again, but they¡¯re a bit different from ghouls.¡±


    The sword in my hand vibrated slightly. It seemed to be indicating what needed to be cut.


    Jonathan stood close to us too. Plurititas didn¡¯t stand back to back with us, but he wasn¡¯tpletely defenseless either. He probably had at least one means to protect himself if attacked.


    ¡°Sis, you know how to use a sword?¡±


    Jonathan asked me that.


    I pulled out a sword from nowhere, and this guy is surprised not by that, but by ¡®Sis with a sword?¡¯ How should I deal with my overly naive brother? It¡¯s also quite strange how he¡¯s not very surprised to see monsters. I don¡¯t know. I feel a sudden distance.


    That¡¯s when Liam muttered. In a tone of utter iprehension.


    ¡°But this is strange. Why aren¡¯t they attacking?¡±


    Only then did I realize that they were standing still without moving. Corpses surrounding us, I moved my lips, looking at the silent corpses seemingly detached from themotion. They surrounded us without moving. They might be waiting for something.


    That¡¯s when it happened. Someone walked out from the zombie crowd. Jonathan¡¯s gun immediately pointed at it. It was also a dead man.


    ¡°What are you.¡±


    An icy voice I had never heard before flowed from Jonathan¡¯s mouth. It was a chilling bass several times lower than Jonathan¡¯s usual speaking voice, and I learned for the first time that my brother could speak in such a way.


    ¡°What are you? Tell us what you want.¡±


    And the corpse opened its mouth.


    ¡¾Jane Osmond.¡¿


    ¡°Me?¡±


    I muttered, dumbfounded.


    Me? It wants me? It¡¯s absurd enough that a corpse is speaking, but of all things, the first thing it says is my name.


    Jonathan shouted, ¡°Don¡¯t listen, sis! It¡¯s all nonsense!¡±


    ¡¾Jane Osmond.¡¿


    The voice addressed me again. Why does this voice sound so familiar? I definitely, definitely remember hearing it somewhere. I looked into its eyes.


    It looks different from the other dead. Most of the dead¡¯s eyes have lost their color, appearing blurry, as if covered by a pale film. However, the eyes of the corpse that spoke to us were very clear, and felt¡­ yes, like those of a living person.


    And decisively, those pupils. Clear yellow pupils resembling a goat¡¯s eyes were looking at me. It¡¯s what I had read in the shadows, in the darkness.


    ¡°No way,¡±


    Could the one whomitted all this be¡­


    He seems to have realized my guess too.


    It was him. The one also called Chaos, the King of the Dead. He¡¯s smiling at me. His lips curl up smoothly and a cruel smile is revealed to all. This is how the king moves in secret. Wearing a human body, blending in with the crowd.


    His voice gradually became more ominous. Something that human vocal cords could never produce. My whole body shook with shock, just like when I faced the entirety before. There was power in the voice.


    It¡¯s the king. The Faceless King, Chaos with a snake¡¯s tongue, was treading on the earth.

 Chapter 136: Postpone (2)

    But how? How did he descend here?


    It waspletely different from ra or Herschel¡¯s time. Then, he had borrowed the body of a perfectly living person, but this¡­ isn¡¯t it a dead body?


    The king addressed me in a rather kind and regretful tone.


    ¡¾Did I not tell you?¡¿


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡¾That I never came to bring peace to the world.¡¿


    ¡°No!¡±


    The voices of singing skeletons were chorusing. The shadows lengthen.


    ¡¾I¡¯ll praise you for momentarily overwhelming my limbs. But you shouldn¡¯t think otherwise. Even if you try to run away, I can see through your moves.¡¿ The king was there. But to me, he seemed to be getting closer and closer. Very enormous, and feeling like I could never ovee him again.


    I can¡¯t win. This can¡¯t be won. He wasn¡¯t an opponent I could defeat. Should I ask for El¡¯s help? But it seemed that even with El¡¯s help, there would be limitations.


    Limbs, the limbs he mentioned must be ra. The king was quite pleased with erasing even the memories so that ra wouldn¡¯t notice.


    I barely moved my trembling hand to point the sword de.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡¾Didn¡¯t I answer? Jane Osmond, I said.¡¿


    Then he added with an ¡°Ah¡± sigh,


    ¡¾This story will soon spread throughout London.¡¿


    It was an iprehensible deration. What story?


    But after hearing the following words, I could guess his purpose. It feels like the ck King¡¯s madness is spreading to me.


    ¡¾Children of man, listen. The end is approaching.¡¿


    Like the words of a god, it was a merciful and devout voice. Calling such a thing a god would be sphemous, but he loved sphemy more than anyone else, so he would surely wee it more.


    Yellow eyes flood towards me. He smiled at me.


    ¡¾Only one hour of grace will be granted,¡¿


    He showed his teeth and smiled at me.


    ¡¾If Jane Osmond is offered to me, the end will note.¡¿


    Bang!


    As soon as he finished speaking, a gunshot rang out. It was fired from beside me.


    The flying bullet pierced straight through the ck King¡¯s head, but he seemed to have deliberately left it alone even though he could have blocked it. A gigglingughter burst from the dead man¡¯s mouth.


    ¡¾Haha, hahahaha!¡¿


    Bang! Jonathan reloaded and fired another shot. And one more, one more, one more¡­ until the dead body stoppedughing and became a form that couldn¡¯t even make a sound anymore, he poured out all the bullets.


    ¡°Jonathan. Jonathan. It¡¯s okay. Stop it.¡±


    I grabbed Jonathan¡¯s shoulder. Tick, tick, Jonathan, who had been pulling the trigger of the empty gun several times, staggered and propped himself up with the gun barrel. His back heaved deeply, as if unable to control his anger.


    ¡°That¡­ thing.¡±


    Jonathan turned to me with bloodshot eyes. His mouth opened, and words spilled out with rough breaths.


    ¡°Why does that thing demand you be handed over, sis.¡±


    This is unexpected. There was some possibility of Liam going wild. That¡¯s why I was holding Liam tightly. But I didn¡¯t expect the rtively quiet Jonathan, who had never caused trouble, to react like this. How should I put it? Should I say I¡¯m perplexed? It¡¯s like seeing my past self. Me, who was anxious about what Liam was hiding.


    Jonathan, disregarding my reflections, desperately spit out words.


    ¡°Sis, what on earth is going on? You know how strange you¡¯ve beentely. Suddenly carrying around a sword you never used before. Knowing the names of those monsters. Not seeming surprised by these events, what, what is it?¡±


    ¡°Jonathan. Calm down first. You¡¯re too excited right now.¡±


    ¡°How can I calm down when you¡¯re in danger!¡±


    The zombies that had gathered start to turn away one by one. True to the words of one hour¡¯s grace, it¡¯s clear they intend to give us an hour of freedom. Is the ck King controlling them? Why does Chaos want me?


    Plurititas grabbed Jonathan¡¯s shoulder. Jonathan just red at what he had shot for a while with reddened eyes, then slowly turned his head.


    Liam lets out a sigh. Plurititas, watching Jonathan walk ahead towards Whitmore Gardens, whispered to me in a low voice.


    ¡°Did we hide it for too long?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking the obvious.¡±


    ¡°I guess it¡¯s about time to reveal it.¡±


    I¡¯m scared. If we reveal it, we¡¯ll have to start with my identity, but what about Jonathan¡¯s shock? I had the game system, Liam, and El. Thanks to them, I¡¯ve been able to endure safely without mentally breaking down until now. But Jonathan¡­


    ¡°With London in this state, my brother-inw must be sensing something too.¡±


    Jonathan, who was walking ahead, turned his head and shouted angrily.


    ¡°Call me ¡®brother-inw¡¯ one more time and the next bullet will put a draft hole in your head, William Moore!¡±


    ¡°Oops.¡±


    Liam, exaggeratedly flinching, tightly closes his mouth. Even Liam seems afraid of someone with a gun.


    Right, Jonathan must be sensing something too. He must be. That¡¯s why he couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    Only then does my mind calm down. I quickly moved my feet. We need toe up with some n during this one hour.


    As I did so, I recalled the ck King¡¯s words.


    ¡®If I¡¯m offered to him, the end can be avoided?¡¯


    In other words, it depends on his mood, doesn¡¯t it? There¡¯s no guarantee he won¡¯tpletely destroy London after taking me. The king was someone who could bring back the end that had passed, just as he could stop theing end.


    ¡°¡­The master is waiting.¡±


    Lucita¡¯s butler was waiting for us with an ufortable face.


    As Plurititas, Jonathan, Liam, and finally I stepped in, the door closed as if swallowing us.


    Bang.


    £ª £ª £ª


    Lucita¡¯s mansion was in disarray. It seems we¡¯re not the only visitors.


    As we walked down the corridor, whispers could be heard from behind numerous doors. The only thing that has changed since I first came is me. Now that I¡¯ve crossed the boundary, their voices were all too clear to me. It seemed Liam and Plurititas could hear them too, but poor Jonathan knew nothing.


    Cheering at the sight of humans after a long time is cute. I also heard sounds of them licking their lips at the sight of Jonathan.


    ¡°The brown-haired one looks delicious.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like the ck-haired one. Looks fierce. Probably tough. Might prick my mouth if I eat it.¡±


    ¡°There are two brown-haired ones.¡±


    ¡°The man. He looks firm.¡±


    That¡¯s when I thought it was fortunate that Jonathan couldn¡¯t hear these things. Saying someone else¡¯s brother looks delicious! There¡¯s no greater rudeness than this.


    I was about to call Jonathan to take care of him, but Plurititas was one step ahead. His arm lightly wrapped around Jonathan¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Hey, bodyguard.¡±


    ¡°Yes, boss.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t the water here a bit off?¡±


    His tone was just like a troublemaker causing a scene at a bar. Saying the water is off. Who uses such expressions these days?


    As I tried to hold back myughter with a subtle expression, Jonathan responded to Plurititas more seriously than I expected.


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The whispering everywhere is quite unpleasant. Can you hear it?¡±


    ¡°It sounds a bit distant to me.¡±


    Is it because Jonathan responds to everything like this that Plurititas keeps giving him extra work and overtime?


    I was puzzled. Jonathan is sociable, but he doesn¡¯t approach work colleagues more than necessary. He didn¡¯t allow them to approach either.


    I remember when Jonathan was first assigned to Scond Yard. It was not long after I came to London. At his request to pick him up, I was waiting in a hired carriage. I vividly remember him tly refusing his seniors¡¯ temptation to stop by a pub for a drink on his first day and walking out. And how he immediately went to his t after getting in the carriage.


    I don¡¯t understand why such a Jonathan is particrlyfortable with Plurititas. Did he decide to change his attitude as he got older? Or is it because he¡¯s paid well?


    Jonathan calmly said,


    ¡°If you wish, I could silence them.¡±


    ¡°What do you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°Through dialogue and persuasion.¡±


    But why is he holding the hunting rifle during the ¡®dialogue¡¯ part, and¡­ taking out bullets during the ¡®persuasion¡¯ part? Jonathan¡¯s persuasion seemed toe only through the trigger. The Osmond family certainly didn¡¯t raise Jonathan like this.


    He must be crazy, now he¡¯s not just threatening people but monsters too. He must be living with his liver outside his body. That must be why he can live and eat in that ominous Plurititas mansion.


    Feeling somewhat devastated, I tightly closed my eyes.


    ¡°Jonathan. Don¡¯t forget this is someone else¡¯s house.¡±


    And as I warned him sternly, Jonathan immediately became docile. As he slung the gun back over his shoulder, Jonathan shyly replied.


    ¡°Okay, sis. I got it.¡±

 Chapter 137: Postpone (3)

    Despite Jonathan¡¯s talk of shooting up someone else¡¯s house, he¡¯s still my kind, gentle brother ¨C just as I remember him. The same caring, sweet little brother from my memories.


    Just as I started to feel reassured, a slight uneasiness suddenly crept in.


    What would happen if I revealed my true identity to him? To exin why that king was targeting me and what he wanted, I¡¯d have to confess that I¡¯m a 21st century person upying Jane Osmond¡¯s body, and that his real sister had disappeared.


    With my mind tangled in theseplex thoughts, I mechanically followed the butler¡¯s lead. I was so lost in thought that I wouldn¡¯t have noticed if we¡¯d veered off course. Now I deeply understood Liam¡¯s feelings fromst year.


    When I finally lifted my head, I found myself right in front of Lucita¡¯s reception room. The door was slightly ajar, with the warm glow of the firece flickering through the gap. The butler spoke up.


    ¡°Master, your guest has arrived.¡±


    Lucita was lounging on the sofa, savoring a ss of whiskey. I could see expensive Louis XIV-style furniture, on which she had propped up her feet. An air of ennui hung heavily about her.


    Only when our eyes met did Lucita break into a bright smile. She sprang up from her seat and eximed:


    ¡°Miss Jane!¡± She¡¯s a woman so beautiful it seems almost impossible. Her lush golden hair still cascaded down in alluring waves. This time, however, instead of her usual risqu¨¦ dress, she wore a ck velvet empire waist gown. The ckce gloves covering up to her elbows were particrly striking.


    She still exuded that image of¡­ a powerful figure ruling the back alleys. But I suppose familiarity breedsfort ¨C after seeing her a few times, I was getting used to it.


    I greeted her naturally:


    ¡°Lucita, it¡¯s been a while.¡±


    We sped hands and exchanged a light handshake. Lucita responded casually:


    ¡°I was a bit hurt that you never sought me out after thest job. I was ready to lend a hand whenever you were in a crisis.¡±


    ¡°You were away from London at the time, weren¡¯t you? But I¡¯m here now, so cut me some ck.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Although you¡¯ve brought along some goldfish poop. Still, it¡¯s good to see your face.¡±


    Goldfish poop.


    I cleared my throat at that crude expression.


    Following Lucita¡¯s gaze, I saw Plurititas making himselffortable in an armchair as if he owned the ce. Good grief, this old man is really pushing it now.


    I quickly shot him a look. What are you doing? Why are you acting like that? Is this your house?


    Plurititas grinned slyly. His eyes curved like a fox¡¯s, looking quite devious. That ominous smile made me hesitate. Regardless, the old man picked up the ss Lucita had set down, sniffed it, and raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Since when did you start drinking?¡±


    His tone was quite familiar. Do they know each other? No sooner had I wondered this than Lucita¡¯s sharp retort shot out:


    ¡°Since your shell was still soft.¡±


    Lucita¡¯s expressions are¡­ always so peculiar. Wouldn¡¯t most people say ¡®skin¡¯? Shell? It sounds like something attached to an insect or crustacean.


    Plurititas seemed unfazed by her barbed words. He just smiled leisurely.


    ¡°Haha.¡±


    Then he took a swig of Lucita¡¯s whiskey!


    He¡¯d done it. I thought it odd that Plurititas had been so quiet on our way here. He hadn¡¯t pushed himself forward or spoken unnecessarily, making me think, ah, perhaps this gentleman has finally grasped the gravity of the situation. But to snatch someone else¡¯s ss and down it¡­.


    ¡°Ack, are you crazy?!¡±


    That was me shouting, and


    ¡°Damn brat, how dare you taste my drink!¡±


    That thunderous outburst came from Lucita¡¯s mouth.


    Brat? Plurititas, a brat?


    As I was reeling from shock, Plurititas didn¡¯t seem particrly bothered by thebel. Rather, he smacked his lips and replied:


    ¡°Someone was calling me ¡®old man¡¯ earlier, but being called a brat makes me feel giddy and young again.¡±


    ¡°You should have died old.¡±


    ¡°Having a tenacious life force is one of my few prides.¡±


    The atmosphere quickly turned sour as these two strong personalities shed.


    Lucita was the first to turn away. There was no way to retrieve the whiskey that had already gone down someone else¡¯s throat, and even if she could¡­ well. Did Lucita consider it contaminated now? In any case, it seemed she was trying to let go of the issue that was now out of her hands.


    Lucita quickly brought out a new ss. Then she took a deep breath. It looked like she was trying to suppress a sigh boiling up from within.


    Suddenly, I started feeling terribly sorry for Lucita. I should have left Plurititas behind. It¡¯s my fault for growing oddly attached after meeting him a few times. I should have let him rot in the mansion forever with his precious collection.


    ¡°Would you like a drink?¡± Lucita asked in a calm voice.


    Liam and I shook our heads almost simultaneously.


    ¡°How about the brown-haired young man over there?¡±


    ¡°I abstain while on duty.¡±


    ¡°How stiff¡­¡±


    Looking disinterested, Lucita turned back and rang a bell. I guess she¡¯s going to offer something other than alcohol. Then she gestured to us.


    Does she mean for us to sit? While I was hesitating, Liam naturally took a seat. I sat down next to Liam, opposite Plurititas. Jonathan politely declined to sit and stood a step behind Plurititas. He seemed determined to continue his guard duty even here. I muttered with a slightly exasperated look:


    ¡°Jonathan, that¡¯s overprotective.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just working as much as I¡¯m paid for.¡±


    ¡°Just how much are you getting paid to act like that?¡±


    Jonathan just smiled with his mouth shut.


    Suddenly I felt my hair stand on end. It¡¯s scary. Just how many pounds is he getting to act like this? But once I hear the amount, I have a feeling I¡¯ll never be able to call it ¡®overprotective¡¯ again, so I just sighed. Then I raised my hand to point at Jonathan. I needed to introduce my brother to Lucita, who was watching us with great interest.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for thete introduction, Lucita. This is my brother. As you know, it¡¯s chaos out there¡­ I brought him along as we were hurriedly seeking refuge.¡±


    ¡°Yes, any family of yours is always wee. We have plenty of rooms, after all.¡±


    Herce-gloved fingers extended to point at Plurititas.


    ¡°Should I give a room to that thing too?¡±


    ¡°Uh. Um. For now¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to put him in the barn.¡±


    Plurititas replied with a smug face:


    ¡°I¡¯m a bit picky about beds. And lighting. Oh, and I¡¯d like a firece too. I need temperature control, you see.¡±


    If only he could keep his mouth shut, he¡¯d be quite a nice person(?).


    I flinched at the murderous intent suddenly emanating from Lucita, and pressed myself against the sofa. Her cheeks were gleaming like opals, and her pupils had elongated like a snake¡¯s. Lucita pointed to the door with her finger.


    ¡°The butler will show you the way. Get out now.¡±


    I nodded vigorously at Plurititas. Inwardly, I was screaming. Just go, please go!


    Did Plurititas read my mind? In the end, he left the reception room with Jonathan, wearing an expression of deep disappointment (which was clearly an act).


    Simultaneously, the three of us heaved a deep sigh. One Plurititas had drained the energy of three people. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s because he¡¯s lived so long that his tongue has grown poisonous, or if he was born with a cursed mouth.


    Only then did the air in the reception room be peaceful. And at that very moment, the answer to Lucita¡¯s true identity shed through my mind. I eximed:


    ¡°Lucita! You¡¯re a snake!¡±


    Massaging her throbbing temples, Lucita muttered:


    ¡°Yes, Miss Jane. A snake.¡±


    ¡°No wonder your pupils¡­¡±


    Her expression turned very sullen. Surprise? No? With an expression difficult to describe, Lucita stared at me nkly.


    ¡°This is the first time I¡¯ve received such a mild reaction. I¡¯m not sure how to respond.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been through too much to be surprised anymore.¡±


    I groaned and leaned heavily on Liam¡¯s shoulder. Liam put his arm around me,forting me. Part of me wanted to bury my face in my hands and wail out all my grievances. With a sense of despair, I opened my mouth:


    ¡°Did you hear it too, Lucita?¡±


    Although I didn¡¯t specify what exactly, both Lucita and I knew what I meant.


    ¡°It rang throughout London, how could I not hear it? You¡¯re probably the most famous person in London right now, Miss Jane.¡±


    I smiled with a gloomy face.

 Chapter 138: Postpone (4)

    Just a few months ago, I wasn¡¯t nearly as famous as Liam. People might have known Liam Moore, the bad boy of criminal investigation, but no one paid attention to the assistant trailing beside him.


    If word got out that Liam Moore was in danger, all of Greenwich and London would be in an uproar. Jane Osmond in danger? That would only be an issue in our household.


    The problem traces back to when Liam went missing. As luck would have it, my photo was stered across the front page of the London Daily Report. And not just there. It appeared in every gossip rag, reputable newspaper, and daily and weekly publication. Chances are, quite a few people would recognize my face now.


    From ¡°Who¡¯s Jane Osmond?¡± someone would surely remember me. Especially those from Scond Yard.


    ¡°I¡¯m doomed. Anyone in London who subscribes to a newspaper will have seen my face.¡±


    Liam remained still, his lips buried in my hair. I couldn¡¯t guess what was going through that brilliant mind of his, but one thing was certain ¨C he would do everything in his power to save me. Liam whispered softly:


    ¡°I swear. I won¡¯t let anyone take you away.¡±


    ¡°But how do you n to do that?¡±


    Lucita asked. She was leaning forward, arm draped over the sofa, watching us. Liam answered nonchntly: ¡°I¡¯m thinking.¡±


    But his voice couldn¡¯t hide the underlying tension.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem like you or yourdy have any options.¡±


    ¡°We still have to try.¡±


    I feel like crying. Just a few months ago, I was an ordinary person in Korea, working part-time jobs, going to university, studying for certifications, living like everyone else.


    But I don¡¯t have the luxury of time to wipe away tears. Ten minutes have already passed. Time flies in the blink of an eye, and the ck King will soon demand a choice. Me, or the world. Choose one of the two.


    Others might argue for the sacrifice of the few for the greater good. To be honest, isn¡¯t it easier that way? He¡¯s not asking them to kill me directly or cut off a piece of me to offer up ¨C just hand me over to the ck King and everyone else will be saved. It¡¯s an easy and tempting choice.


    ¡®Liam won¡¯t choose the world.¡¯


    That certainty suddenly struck me.


    I¡¯m still unsure how Liam Moore feels about me, but one thing is clear ¨C I must exist in Liam¡¯s world.


    As if to say this ce has no meaning without me, Liam tightly wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He was trying to appearposed, but his hand was trembling terribly. It had been a while since I¡¯d seen Liam so shaken.


    ¡°The, I mean, the ck King seems to want me alive.¡±


    ¡°He must want something from you, Miss Jane. Your soul perhaps, or your lifespan, or something only you can provide.¡±


    There are too many possibilities to even speak of. I closed my mouth with a serious expression and rested my chin on my hand.


    Just then, a knock sounded at the reception room door.


    ¡°Master. I¡¯ve brought the tea.¡±


    The voice was sickeningly sweet. Even melted butter poured over wouldn¡¯t be this greasy. Given Lucita¡¯s usual personality, it seemed unlikely she¡¯d appreciate someone like this. Why allow them to call her ¡°Master¡±?


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    The next moment, I recoiled in horror, pressing myself against the sofa¡¯s backrest.


    A smarmy face with a wide grin appeared. We¡¯ve definitely met before, and Liam and I remember him. I could feel Liam bing intensely alert. The muscles in his arm, pressed against mine, tensed up.


    ¡°Why are you here¡­?¡±


    I pointed usingly at him.


    Of course, Lucita had taken him away. But I thought she¡¯d quietly disposed of him somewhere no one would find, not put him to work diligently in her house. She did say she¡¯d make good use of him, but I didn¡¯t think she meant it literally.


    ¡®Lucita really doesn¡¯t lie¡­¡¯


    The culprit who had ineptly caused monsters to be drawn to the train, the host of that bizarre auction, was holding a tray.


    I turned to see Liam lookingpletely dumbfounded. It had been a while since I¡¯d seen him so visibly shocked. The thought running through both our minds must have been identical.


    Wow. What the hell? What¡¯s with that get-up?


    With his dark brown eyes and well-groomed brown hair, he looked like any ordinary Englishman you might see anywhere. But he walked in with an efficient manner, set out cups on the table, and poured tea with great skill.


    In other words, perfectly¡­


    ¡°A b-butler?¡±


    That seemed to be the correct answer. The host proudly offered me a teacup and replied.


    ¡°Mm! An aspiring butler trainee.¡±


    Lucita muttered, holding her head:


    ¡°I never asked for this.¡±


    ¡°But Luci, Master!¡±


    ¡°¡­Sigh.¡±


    It seemed a lot had happened in the meantime. Looking at Lucita¡¯splicated expression, I couldn¡¯t help but feel sympathy. We did capture and hand this guy over to her, but we never expected it to turn out like this. Ament escaped my lips involuntarily.


    When I muttered, ¡°It¡¯s creepy¡­,¡± Lucita responded, ¡°I understand.¡± Regardless of our banter, he was absorbed in his work.


    ¡°Today¡¯s tea is a perfect blend of Darjeeling and Yunnan leaves, brewed twice with water boiled this morning. It has a very smooth texture with a pleasant umami aftertaste, and when you hold the tea in your mouth, you¡¯ll notice an exotic aroma¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes¡­¡±


    ¡°For apaniment, I¡¯ve prepared Earl Grey scones with raspberry jam and clotted cream¡­¡±


    Despite the borate exnation, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to even touch the scones. The atmosphere was so tense, it felt like I might choke just drinking the tea. As I sipped the tea with trembling hands in this absurd and misced gathering, the host suddenly asked:


    ¡°But really, why is He looking for you, sis?¡±


    ¡°Cough, cough. H-He?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a long story.¡±


    ¡°How long?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes, humans without talent resort to such means to gain magic¡­¡±


    Really?!


    I spat out the teapletely. Even someone whose secret birth was revealed couldn¡¯t have spit it out more naturally. My nose stung and tears welled up from swallowing the tea wrong, but he paid no attention and brazenly took a seat.


    ¡°It¡¯smon for humans born without the ability to sense magic to be obsessed with demonology or sorcery, poring over ancient texts. And very asionally, those who find something real end up summoning something. They use that power to im a lineage of magic, only to end up killed by real monsters. Who would be interested in such stories?¡±


    You just exined it all, didn¡¯t you? In just a few sentences, you¡¯ve piqued people¡¯s curiosity.


    Seeing my eyes widen, he waved his hand dismissively.


    ¡°Let¡¯s skip that part. The question is, why you, sis? Think about it. To Him, humans must all be like insects, so why single out one person and say, ¡®If you give me this one, I¡¯ll let everyone else go¡¯? You¡­¡±


    ¡°Please use my name.¡±


    The aspiring butler quickly corrected himself.


    ¡°Whether Miss Janees or not, don¡¯t you think He ns to kill everyone anyway? So, it¡¯s a kind of moral experiment. If you don¡¯t send her, it¡¯s ¡®Oh, I see. You chose conscience over survival. How admirable. As a reward, I¡¯ll grant you a painless death.¡¯ If you do send her, it¡¯s ¡®As expected, you¡¯re despicable. Die, all of you.''¡±


    ¡°Huh? That makes sense.¡±


    Think about the ck King we saw. Would someone so capricious, caring only for his own amusement, really value human life?


    For a moment, both Lucita and Liam wore expressions of being taken in. Even I agreed, causing the aspiring butler to grimace. His face showed he had lost all interest.


    ¡°You¡¯ve really changed in the short time I haven¡¯t seen you. I preferred you when you were like a nk te, more lovable in your ignorance.¡±


    Changed? Is Liam Moore some kind of virus?


    ¡°nk te is a bit harsh.¡±


    ¡°Because anything could be drawn on it. You¡¯ll start taking even casual remarks seriously now. For example, if the man next to you said he was ¡®cursed,¡¯ I thought you¡¯d get scared and run away¡­¡±


    Ah, so that¡¯s it. He wanted to separate Liam and me? Because I was someone who knew nothing about Greenwich or Lucita? And what benefit would he gain from that?


    ¡°Why did you do such a thing?¡±


    When I asked, the butler smiled brightly.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it interesting? To see the guardian of Greenwich clinging to something like love.¡±


    Ah, damn it. So from that time, perceptive people could see the unusual nature of our rtionship. I thought we had hidden it thoroughly, but realizing it wasn¡¯t hidden at all was shocking!


    Thud.


    I startled at the ominous sound. Liam¡¯srge hand was gripping the sofa¡¯s armrest tightly.

 Chapter 139: Believe (1)

    I felt sorry for the wood of the armrest barely holding on. The elegantly shaped armrest was on the verge of bending.


    The sharp sound just now ¨C wasn¡¯t that actually the sound of Liam¡¯s reason snapping? With his veins bulging, I worried Lucita¡¯s precious furniture might break. Lucita must have sensed it too, as she warned Liam:


    ¡°Fight outside. Not in my house.¡±


    But no one left. For one, Liam had me here, and that man¡­ despite provoking with his words, he seemed to hate the idea of actually fighting. The man clung to Lucita¡¯s arm, whimpering.


    ¡°Waaah, Master. I can¡¯t fight. You said you¡¯d raise me to be pretty.¡±


    With her arm being tugged, Lucita let out a groan.


    ¡°How did I end up with this in my twilight years¡­¡±


    Indeed. Even Lucita, known as the First Invader, seemed to be dealing with this type for the first time.


    Lucita eventually stroked the aspiring butler¡¯s head as if soothing a young animal. It was skilled training. As he closed his mouth, the room became very quiet, and the atmosphere instantly improved. Liam¡¯s expression also soon softened. Liam released his grip on the sofa armrest and ced his hands neatly on his knees.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to drive out the ¡®Crawling Chaos¡¯.¡±


    I was shocked.


    How could a mere human stand against a divine being? No matter how much power one has, a human is still human. Why are gods called gods? We shouldn¡¯t try to ovee beings we can¡¯t handle. There¡¯s no way we could win. All we can do is ept theing death.


    ¡°It¡¯s impossible.¡±


    When I stated this firmly, Liam lowered his eyes. It was the expression he wore just before bing stubborn.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be a dog¡¯s death, Liam Moore.¡±


    ¡°Even so, to not even try-¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s not even worth trying. It¡¯s not going to be as easy as dealing with mythical creatures or the monsters out there.¡±


    No.


    That¡¯s not it.


    I stopped speaking and covered my mouth with one hand.


    There might not be absolutely no way. Though it would be no different from burning down the house to kill a bedbug¡­


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t we drive out something from the outside with another outside force?¡±


    And simultaneously, two people answered.


    ¡°Are you crazy?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s insane, Jane.¡±


    It was Lucita and Liam. On the other hand, the aspiring butler looked at me with interest.


    ¡°Why did you think that?¡±


    ¡°Before, well¡­¡±


    I exined one by one. His minion who kidnapped me before, the white-haired old man who defeated it, and the ck King¡¯s anger when his connection to his minion was temporarily severed. It was the second time Liam heard this story, but not for Lucita.


    When the story ended, the three just sat with their mouths shut. Lucita¡¯s face, in particr, was the most serious. She rested her chin on her hand, lost in thought, then let out a deep sigh. Only the aspiring butler, suddenly caught up in thisplex and long story, seemed excited.


    ¡°The Great Abyss, right? I¡¯ve only heard stories. I never imagined someone who actually met it would exist. Miss Jane, you¡¯re really an interesting person. Is it your constitution?¡±


    ¡°Constitution?¡±


    ¡°A constitution that attracts outside things.¡±


    Constitution sounds a bit strange.


    I quietly shrugged my shoulders. Once I revealed it, the rest became surprisingly easy. I wondered why I had struggled so much to keep it hidden.


    ¡®If the world ends here anyway, it¡¯s all over.¡¯


    Lucita intends to help me. Then I also had an obligation to reveal the truth to one of the few helpers Liam could trust.


    I also told them about the existence of ¡®El¡¯ who helps me. That he is some kind of agent, and is very favorable towards me, so he wouldn¡¯t stand by and watch me fall into danger.


    Come to think of it, I had never told this story to anyone. It would be the first time Liam heard it too. Liam muttered, resting his chin on his hand.


    ¡°El?¡±


    ¡°Is there such a name?¡±


    ¡°It could be an abbreviation or an alias. They don¡¯t easily reveal their identities.¡±


    After a moment of silence, Liam met my eyes. His dark, storm-cloud-like eyes were still looking at me warmly.


    ¡°If you know anything more about this agent called El, tell me.¡±


    ¡°Uh, well. First, he stays in a ck space, always wrapped in a white cloak. Honestly, that¡¯s all I¡¯ve seen, so I don¡¯t know much¡­¡±


    ¡°Mm-hmm.¡±


    ¡°His voice is very neutral, and sometimes it sounds like multiple people speaking at once.¡±


    Multiple people at once.


    Liam quietly repeated my words. He looked like he was getting an idea. There was a very slight hint that he knew something but wanted to deny it.


    ¡®What don¡¯t you know?¡¯


    I wanted to ask. How much he knew, how he could deduce so much about someone from just a few casual words.


    Looking at Liam Moore¡¯s face full of confusion, I wondered how he maintained his sanity. It¡¯s amazing that he hasn¡¯t gone mad, knowing so much.


    After a brief moment of suppressing a faint anxiety, Liam asked in a calm tone.


    ¡°Have you seen his true form?¡±


    I pressed my lips tightly together.


    It doesn¡¯t seem like a good idea to talk about El¡¯s true form. What did El say in the first ce? Didn¡¯t he say ¡®You must forget to live¡¯? Just having his true image in my mind had brought a pain that felt like my brain would burst. I still remember the sensation of blood gushing from my nose like a broken faucet. When a single existence was almost crushed! The weight of truth is always like that. If I were to recall that enormous pressure just to be honest¡­ I could never speak of it.


    ¡°You have seen it.¡±


    At Liam¡¯s confident murmur, I carefully chose my words. And very cautiously, I found an expression that could be an answer but was very metaphorical.


    The waveing now would not be like the one just before.


    ¡°One and All.¡±


    The air froze. The three people, except for me, knew the weight of those words.


    The truth in my mind was biased and didn¡¯t give me any more information than that. Perhaps it only passed on as much as a human could handle. So while I knew how to exin him, how to summarize him, there was just one thing I couldn¡¯t know ¨C his name.


    ¡°This is really giving me a headache.¡±


    Lucita¡¯s voice, sounding resigned, was full of fatigue.


    ¡°Who would have thought that the one we should be most careful of wouldn¡¯t be the outsider, but Miss Jane.¡±


    ¡°Is it that serious?¡±


    ¡°Anyone would react like this if they knew the weight of that ¡®El¡¯ who¡¯s helping Miss Jane.¡±


    Liam briefly raised one hand to interrupt our conversation.


    ¡°Are you thinking of bringing him in?¡±


    I¡¯m not sure if he¡¯de even if we tried to bring him in. El is an agent, and the ck King probably has his own true form as well. It doesn¡¯t seem like the two would sh, and even if they did, wouldn¡¯t I just end up as a shrimp caught between two whales?


    I slowly shook my head.


    ¡°We should keep El as ast resort. Here¡¯s what I think, Liam. First, as the king said, I¡¯ll go to him.¡±


    Liam calmly waited for my next words. His gaze, looking at me with his hands neatly sped together, was unwavering.


    He¡¯s someone who would follow without question if I came up with a solution. Even if it was reckless, even if it put himself in danger.


    ¡°And then?¡±


    ¡°We need to find out what his scheme is. It doesn¡¯t make sense to exchange the world for me. He clearly has some other n, but we can¡¯t figure out his intentions, so I think I need to meet him directly.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°Meanwhile, others will have to somehow solve what¡¯s happening in London. Put Plurititas to work too. We can¡¯t let the world end, right?¡±


    Finally, he nodded. Liam must have known that just sitting here and racking our brains wouldn¡¯t solve the problem. Time was limited and continued to flow even at this moment.


    Lucita frowned at the idea of me voluntarily going into danger. But it seemed she couldn¡¯t find a better n either, so she agreed.


    Now Lucita and her butler started discussing among themselves about protecting the city.


    ¡°We should deal with the hybrids first.¡±


    ¡°The altars are quite unpleasant too.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s someone perfect for that. I¡¯ll leave it to Greenwich.¡±


    Hmm. I suppose Greenwich is more expert in magical matters. They¡¯d probably be more reliable than Lucita¡¯s clumsy and messy aspiring butler.


    The butler pondered for a moment and asked.


    ¡°What about the walking corpses?¡±


    ¡°Right, we¡¯ll have to think about that too.¡±


    It didn¡¯t seem like we needed to get involved. I also thought there were people who would do their part even if we weren¡¯t around.


    Liam and I made eye contact. He seemed to have had the same thought as me. Liam stood up and led me out of the reception room.

 Chapter 140: Believe (2)

    Lucita would probably guess that if I didn¡¯t return, I had set off towards the ck King. Now all that remained were Jonathan and Mary who were here.


    It would be best for Mary to be safely protected without knowing anything. If she were to insist on following us outside and get hurt, I would never forgive myself.


    As for Jonathan¡­ At least he¡¯s someone who can protect himself, so I n to ask his opinion. Whatever he chooses, Jonathan seems like he¡¯d make a choice he wouldn¡¯t regret.


    ¡°How should we exin this to Jonathan?¡±


    I muttered, feeling a bit lost. Liam smiled gently.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start by facing him first. Something will work out.¡±


    ¡°You think so?¡±


    ¡°Of course. You¡¯re good at handling unexpected situations.¡±


    That¡¯s too ttering a statement. I turned my head to look down the corridor, which was quiet. The previous whispering was no longer audible. Not that those beings had disappeared ¨C I could sense they were still beyond the doors. They were just lying low and keeping quiet, seemingly aware of the dark clouds looming over London. Perhaps this ce would be theirst stronghold.


    As we closed the reception room door, the ornate door reverted to an ordinary wooden one. If you didn¡¯t carefully remember the way back, you might get lost here. No, getting lost is the mansion¡¯s purpose. I realized this was how Lucita protected the mansion, confusing intruders¡¯ eyes this way.


    Memories of when I first came here flooded back. People I thought I¡¯d never be involved with started entering my daily life one by one, making me live in this reality.


    Did my expression lookplicated? Liam watched me carefully and gently ced his hand on my shoulder. Then he said:


    ¡°Right now, just think about yourself, Jane.¡±


    ¡°I still think I should at least say hello. And exin the situation.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t Plurititas probably doing that?¡±


    ¡°Oh no. I¡¯m suddenly feeling anxious.¡±


    Liam seemed to realize what he¡¯d said only after he¡¯d said it. He must have recalled Plurititas¡¯s excellent exnatory skills. Ahem, Liam cleared his throat and nodded towards the end of the corridor.


    ¡°There¡¯s the butler. Let¡¯s go ask about your brother-inw¡¯s room.¡±


    * * *


    Following the butler¡¯s guidance, we turned down several corridors before reaching a staircase.


    It was truly strange. I was sure we had been going in circles. The walls full of portraits all looked the same. But then a staircase appeared, and climbing it, we were on the second floor. It seems one loses their sense of space in this house.


    Just as I was about to lose my mind, the butler pointed a bony finger at one of the doors.


    ¡°Yourpanions are beyond that door.¡±


    Speaking curtly, he rubbed his bent back and went back down the stairs. His face was scrunched up as if he hated being in the same space as us more than death itself.


    ¡®Does he hate people?¡¯


    But what could we do? We couldn¡¯t say ¡°You should show us the way out too¡± to someone who clearly disliked us. Fortunately, I have the all-purpose detective Liam Moore with me, so it should work out somehow, right? That¡¯s what I tell myself.


    When we knocked on the door the butler had indicated, we heard the sound of slippers dragging. Soon, Jonathan opened the door. Inside, a neat room was visible. At a nce, it looked like a hotel room.


    ¡°Are you alone?¡±


    ¡°No. The boss is inside.¡±


    So they¡¯re in the same room. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s because they came together, or if Plurititas wasining of separation anxiety again. At this point, shouldn¡¯t we report this to thebor department? My face must have shown exactly what I was thinking because Jonathan smiled broadly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be like that.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯ve gotten mixed up with a bad employer, make sure to tell me. I¡¯ll try to do something about it.¡±


    ¡°What kind of image do you have of my boss, sis?¡±


    A crazy old man. Like some kind of matryoshka doll, revealing a new level of craziness every time we meet.


    Come to think of it, am I living in a huge world of crazy matryoshka dolls? I thought Liam was the strangest person, but when people even stranger than Liam started appearing one by one, I gave up trying to understand.


    But I couldn¡¯t say this out loud, so I kept my mouth shut. Jonathan gently urged:


    ¡°Come in, sis.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I need to get going again.¡±


    Wouldn¡¯t it be crazy to go inside where Plurititas is lurking? If I had to choose someone I didn¡¯t want to be in an enclosed space with, Plurititas would be my first pick. Sorry to him.


    Jonathan stared at me nkly. Then he spoke:


    ¡°I know you¡¯ve encountered those monsters more than once or twice. I don¡¯t know how long you¡¯ve been dealing with them, but I¡¯ve been told about this situation.¡±


    Plurititas, that loose-lipped old man. Thanks to him, I have less to persuade and exin, but I had no idea what or how much he had told Jonathan. I hurriedly mumbled an excuse.


    ¡°Well. Actually, it hasn¡¯t been that long for me either. I just got caught up in it somehow, and I only know a little about how to defend myself¡­¡±


    Jonathan sighed. His face looked so tired, as if he had aged ten years in just one day.


    ¡°Given the situation, I¡¯ll be honest. I lied to you about something, sis.¡±


    At that moment, I felt like I had been hit hard on the back of my head.


    A lie? Jonathan? To me? To his sister? So this is what it feels like when the trusted ax cuts your foot.


    Before I could recover from the shock, Jonathan¡¯s bombshell statement followed:


    ¡°The work I do, it¡¯s not just ordinary bodyguard work.¡±


    My knees suddenly buckled. Jonathan yelled ¡°Ack!¡± in surprise, and Liam hurriedly supported me.


    I should have known. Yes, his expression was odd when talking about the money he received.


    To be honest, if a stranger suddenly tries to hire you for arge sum of money, you should suspect two things. First, employment fraud. Second, human trafficking. But damn it, my poor brother Jonathan seemed to fit both categories.


    ¡°That crazy Plurititas!¡±


    He¡¯s probably listening inside. Listen up. Listen, you job scammer.


    Regardless, the fraud victim¡¯s expression was gentle. Why such an expression? For a moment, a thought I shouldn¡¯t have entered my mind.


    Does he¡­ actually know? I mean. Everything.


    Jonathan soothed me with a benevolent expression. But his words continued to strike me.


    ¡°Anyway, our boss wants a peaceful retirement too. To achieve that, he needs to live in harmony with humans, right? We have to deal with anything that disrupts that harmony.¡±


    I was left speechless at his strange expression.


    ¡°You, you, then.¡±


    Jonathan smiled shyly.


    ¡°He taught me on my first day of work.¡±


    ¡°Do¡­ do you know what that person collects?¡±


    ¡°Smart brains? But I¡¯m a bit slow, so I should be fine.¡±


    Right. Jonathan is a bit slow. He¡¯s also the type to strictly follow rules and procedures, not moving unless there¡¯s a manual.


    No, no, what are you feeling relieved about, Jane Osmond!


    ¡°How can you be sure he won¡¯t turn you into one of those collections!¡±


    ¡°We negotiated everything while writing the contract. Come on, sis.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay. That¡¯s good. Did you check for any unfair uses?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    Should I be thankful that Plurititas left Jonathan¡¯s head alone¡­


    While I was leaning against the doorframe with a lost expression, Jonathan spoke:


    ¡°I knew a lot more than what you were trying to hide from me, sis.¡±


    I replied emptily:


    ¡°I just had that thought myself.¡±


    ¡°I want to tell you that you don¡¯t need to protect me, sis.¡±


    ¡°Ah, about that.¡±


    It seemed like it was time to finally correct this. I¡¯ve been called ¡°sis¡± for so long when it¡¯s not even in my destiny.


    I took a deep breath and opened my mouth towards Jonathan, who thought I was his sister.


    ¡°I¡¯m going outside.¡±


    ¡°What? Sis, by outside you mean¡­¡±


    I cut off Jonathan¡¯s words. It was a fierce tone. Even I was surprised that I could show such coldness, so how much more shocked must Jonathan be hearing this? His face was colored with bewilderment. Maybe it was fear. His expression seemed to ask, ¡°What on earth is she going to say?¡±


    Jane¡¯s memories ovep. On the day she decided to leave that awful old mansion, Jonathan wore a simr expression as Jane dragged her suitcase out into the rain. I shook off the recollection of memories by tightly closing my eyes.


    ¡°And I have one more really sorry thing to tell you.¡±


    Don¡¯t be scared, Jane. You can do this. It¡¯s not even that difficult to say.


    Taking a slow, deep breath, I fumbled to grasp Liam¡¯s hand. His long, strong fingers intertwined with mine. I felt my head clearing up remarkably.


    ¡°I¡¯m not your sister.¡±


    Silence fell.


    Jonathan¡¯s pale green eyes were staring at me. He didn¡¯t even blink, making me wonder for a moment if the pause function had finally returned. His body seemed frozen in shock,pletely motionless except for his eyes, which kept trembling.


    After a long while, Jonathan finally managed to move his lips. A strangled sound barely escaped his mouth.


    ¡°¡­What did you say?¡±


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