Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 261 Emma, ​​Long Time No See

At this moment, Constantine felt a pang of regret.

He regretted running up there. One second he was thinking, "To hell with it, I can't possibly hide from this street and Emma for the rest of my life." But the next second, the mixed smell of paint and oil paint wafting from the studio filled his head. The smell was so familiar, it was just like when she was still alive.

In my memory, her elbows were never clean; they were always covered in paint.

“This painting is wrong.” He walked up to the flower petals, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and stared at the woman’s pale red hair. The faint smoke drifted before his eyes and clung to the woman’s face on the canvas, causing Constantine to lose himself in thought.

"Your hair color is wrong, friend."

“It seems you really are Emma’s friends—I’ve only heard about her, I’ve never actually met her.” The painter breathed a sigh of relief: “It’s strange, I’ve heard about her ever since I moved in, and I’ve been painting this picture ever since.”

“Yes.” Constantine walked to the window and looked down at the street through the glass. The hard concrete was spotless, showing no trace of the bloodstains that had once been there. “I heard she was blown down by a strange wind, right?”

"Correct."

Constantine didn't continue speaking. He wondered if Emma's death from that height hadn't been too long. He just wondered if she had screamed, agonized, or begged for mercy before the fall.
Did she ever resent herself?
No one answered his question; there were no demons here, only his own memories echoing within him.

"I have to go," he thought. "There's nothing here but nightmares."

This is goodbye, Emma, ​​my dear. I'm sorry.

"Is there a letter from Emma?" Ma Zhaodi suddenly asked from the side.

“No.” The painter shook his head. “There was only one package, which I returned to the post office, but…”

"but?"

"But something happened at the post office that afternoon. A crazy driver drove a bus inside, and the storage room was reportedly completely destroyed, with all the metal cabinets crushed—so whatever was in that package is probably gone."

Ma Zhaodi and Constantine exchanged a glance, not particularly surprised—or rather, it was expected.

"Do we need to go to the post office?"

"Let's go back."

As Constantine went downstairs, he lit another cigarette. Ma Zhaodi could tell that he wasn't in good shape; he was hungry, sleep-deprived, and perhaps a little sad.

According to the British, it's probably like a wet stray dog ​​walking on the side of the road after a heavy rain.

He was even kicked by a passerby.

Once back on the street, he managed a few more curses, complaining about the damn rain, the damn subway, and the damn New York—it was almost no different from when he was in London. But he quickly quieted down again, and Ma Zhaodi guessed that he probably didn't have the energy to put on his usual jerk attitude anymore.

"Would you like to go get something good to eat?" Ma Zhaodi suggested first. "Food can help soothe your mood."

“Old Ma, all I want to do right now is sleep,” Constantine replied impatiently. “I don’t want to do anything else, so leave me alone.”

Ma Zhaodi was quite helpless, but there was really nothing he could do about Constantine's current emotional state. When he refused to communicate, he could only let himself get rid of this feeling.

"Hi, John."

A woman's voice suddenly rang in his ears, and Constantine's steps downstairs abruptly stopped.

"Emma?!"

He turned his head in astonishment and, sure enough, saw a beautiful young woman waving at him. Her short hair was as red as fire and as crimson as blood, more vivid and lifelike than the long hair depicted on the painter's canvas. "Emma?"

Upon seeing Constantine's reaction, Ma Zhaodi immediately frowned. His enhanced senses were extremely sharp, almost as if he had eyes in the back of his head; but at this moment, he could not hear any footsteps behind him, nor could he smell any perfume or musty smell from the raindrops.

He turned his head and found that there was indeed nothing on the street. He immediately had a thought: at this moment, either Constantine was having some kind of mental problem, or there was something on the street that he couldn't see.

Coincidentally, at that moment, Constantine was thinking the same thing as him.

Emma is dead. He stared blankly at the woman, thinking, "But I can hear her voice and see her."

Emma has become a ghost, he thought, or perhaps I've gone mad.

Suddenly, Ma Zhaodi reached into his pocket and took out a blue porcelain bottle. Constantine glanced at it subconsciously and saw him pour out some clear liquid and apply it to his eyes.

Cow Tears
Price: $1,000

Note: This kind of item, which occupies one inventory slot, has a limited number of uses, and whose effects can be replaced by "Opening the Heavenly Eye" or "Opening the Eye Talisman," is probably only destined to be exchanged for copper coins—but then again, for ordinary people, it might be the most convenient option for seeing ghosts.

When Ma Zhaodi opened his eyes again, he indeed saw a red-haired woman on the street. This was his first time seeing a ghost, and he found it quite novel. So he said to Constantine beside him, "Looks like you're not crazy. Your girlfriend really has come to find you."

“It’s my ex-girlfriend,” Constantine replied. “And what were you holding just now? Can holy water help people see ghosts?”

“I’m sorry, I’m an unbeliever and have never been to church,” Ma Zhaodi replied. “In our culture, cow tears can help people see ghosts.”

“Great! I know there’s a dairy farm in London. I’ll sneak in and get some whenever I have free time.”

"I'm afraid cow's tears won't work."

At this point, Emma finally couldn't help but interrupt their banter: "Can't you two have some respect for me? I'm still standing here."

"I'm sorry." Ma Zhaodi smiled awkwardly, "It's my first time seeing a ghost, I'm not used to it, I'm a little nervous, and I just can't stop talking."

Constantine opened his mouth, as if trying to think of something to say.

"What's wrong? You don't seem very happy to see me."

Are you alright?

"Good question," Ma Zhaodi thought to himself.

"What do you think? I'm dead, Constantine."

Upon hearing this, Constantine calmed down.

If she's here for revenge, then I don't have time to fight her; I need to save my energy for dealing with Namos. He thought that since things had come to this, he might as well be open and honest, face it directly—it would be best to win her over; maybe she could even help him deal with Namos.

Don't get too involved, Constantine. You have to use everything you can to deal with that terrible evil spirit.

You don't have time to feel guilty—anyway, you're a complete scumbag to begin with.

With that thought in his mind, he lit another cigarette, then looked up and gave his girlfriend, who had died because of him, the sweet smile he used to give her.

"Emma, ​​it's been a long time."

(End of this chapter)