My esoteric uncle Jules

Chapter 122 Inside the Cemetery

According to young Bell, the cemetery that old John was inspecting was a public cemetery in the town.

Although fewer and fewer residents have been buried in this cemetery in recent years, old John has never slackened in his duty as the "cemetery keeper".

Every day, a regular patrol must be conducted to prevent the appearance of "ghouls".

“No one can truly die,” young Bell said, his face filled with fear. “It’s Blanker’s curse.”

During his conversation with the young boy Bell, Jules learns that a "curse" flows through this land.

A curse unique to the people of Blancog.

Its origins have long been lost in the darkness of the past, and even the most learned priests have no way of knowing when it was born.

People only know that no corpse produced on this land is truly dead.

Instead, they will quietly return from death on a night when even moonlight cannot reach them—but not in the way they desire.

These terrifying beings are collectively referred to by the locals as "ghouls".

Locals are very secretive about these legends, and even when they do mention them, they are often tinged with irrational religious or mythological overtones.

However, Jules found something different in it.

After coming into contact with the occult, he would often instinctively deconstruct these myths or legends in a occult way.

Those stories that were originally shrouded in mist no longer seem hazy, but have taken on a clear color.

Judging from Blank's appearance, it seems that he has been shrouded in some kind of influence or ritual, causing the "death" here to be diluted or distorted.

"Could it be that a high-ranking being of the Winter's Rule once resided here?" he wondered to himself.

The concept of resisting death is itself closely related to the Winter Rule, and the connection between Silent Bookstore and the Winter Rule can be seen from the name itself.

Let's hope it's not another ceremony like the one in Innsmouth...

Thinking of this, Jules' lips twitched involuntarily.

Forget it, why bother caring so much? I'll be leaving here for London soon anyway.

That silent dwelling, however, is quite worth mentioning.

Logically speaking, since a considerable portion of the secrets of the Anti-Suppression Bureau came from this, why has it been neglected for a year without anyone inquiring about it?

But he remembered that the centipede had said that the place was closed and not open to the public for the time being, which meant that it was obviously aware of the situation.

So... who exactly is responsible for the liaison? And what exactly is the situation regarding this so-called abandonment?
"Sir, please save my grandfather!" The voice of the boy Bell pulled him back to reality.

He looked at the tearful boy, Bell, before him, hesitated for a long time, and said:

"Could you tell me what the characteristics of the 'ghouls' you've described are?"

After a moment of silence, the young Bell said:

"That's how you looked on the beach before."

Upon hearing this, Jules was stunned for a moment, then his face twitched:
"Besides appearance!"

"Besides appearance..." Upon hearing this question, young Bell fell silent again.

"It likes to eat anything rotten, has an extremely strong aggression towards living people, and..."

He paused for a moment before continuing:
"It seems that some of their habits from when they were alive will be retained."

As he said this, he unconsciously glanced at a corner of the dining table.

Jules followed his gaze and noticed a wooden chair that had been covered in dust for a long time in the corner.

The surface was covered with a thick layer of dust, enough to stain white trousers grayish-black if you sat down.

He could even see the barely perceptible wormholes on it thanks to his exceptional eyesight.

The boy noticed Jules's gaze, sighed, and said:

“After my mother turned into a ghoul, she returned home twice and behaved very much like she did in life.”

"We left behind everything she loved, just so she could come back a few more times..."

Jules' eyes flickered:

Where are the rest of your family?

"...Some went missing, some died, some went to work elsewhere, and in the end, only my grandfather and I were left." The boy's tone was very calm.

Jules didn't know what to say, so he patted him on the shoulder and whispered:

"Don't worry, I'll help you find your grandfather."

Although he always felt that Old John's enthusiasm was for ulterior motives, the other party had not initially intended to do anything to him, but rather to give him a proper burial.

After discovering that they were alive again, the other party showed considerable kindness.

Even if the other party does have their own ulterior motives, he wouldn't mind lending a hand.

After seeing the boy off, Jules didn't rush back. Instead, he walked to the fireplace and leisurely spoke to the raven known as "Columba":
"You can see it, right?"

If the priest had any spies or informants at the beginning, it would undoubtedly be these strange crows.

The crow flapped its wings and hooted hoarsely:
"I can indeed see things in the distance with the help of these crows, but you can rest assured that I have no ill intentions."

Jules stared at the crow and said calmly:
What are your thoughts on Old John's disappearance?

The crow was silent for a moment before speaking:

"It may indeed be caused by ghouls, but I cannot intervene."

Jules frowned:

"What do you mean? He's a local."

The crow shook its little head, its tone deep:
"I must remain in the monastery at all times to maintain the rituals that suppress the ghoul graveyard; I cannot leave."

A ritual to suppress the ghoul's graveyard? Jules pondered for a long time before saying:
"Then tell me, if I want to find old John, what should I do?"

The raven stared at Jules and said:

“Those ghouls have a keen sense of smell. I can give you a string of prayers that will make you forget the ‘lost things’ for a short time.”

Upon hearing this, Jules didn't rush to ask for the prayer, but instead frowned slightly:

"So, does that mean old John's life is in danger?"

“You can rest assured about that,” the raven’s voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping. “These gravekeepers were chosen by me, and they naturally know the corresponding prayers.”

But he immediately changed the subject:
"However, the prayer may lose its effect by the time the sun sets the following day."

Jules crossed his arms and said leisurely:
"It seems you, a priest of Blancog, don't care much about the lives of the Blancog people?"

The priest behind the raven fell into a long silence.

Just as Jules thought the other party was prepared to read the message and not reply, a long sigh followed:

"Having witnessed too much life and death can numb one."

"If you still can't find Old John by tomorrow evening, then don't bother looking anymore, just come find me."

After saying this, the crow's eyes gradually lost their luster and became much dimmer. "Hey, you still haven't told me the prayer!" Jules had just spoken when he suddenly felt something and fell silent along with the crow before him.

The sound of wind and snow began to howl in my mind, its syllables vaguely forming a prayer:
"Let us call upon the white dove of bones, the god of forgetting and remembering, the god of the dead and the living, and may your power make the departed forget us."

……

The next day, early morning.

Following the boy's simple hand-drawn map of Blancco and his memory of visiting the dilapidated monastery where the priests lived yesterday, Jules walked toward the town.

He also learned a little about the geography of Blancco – a small island in Cornwall, southwest England, with a somewhat secluded feel.

The island has only one small town, which is more of a distribution center for agricultural and livestock products than a town.

However, Jules discovered that, unlike the outside world, the town here even openly sells certain books related to the occult.

The residents were used to this, but most of them did not possess any extraordinary powers.

The various contradictions puzzled Jules greatly—this place was too strange.

Moreover, why would the Anti-Corruption Bureau tolerate someone like Blankoug? Given their modus operandi, they would never allow occult knowledge to circulate here.

He didn't believe they didn't know.

Since the Anti-Suppression Bureau was able to contact the Silent Bookstore, there was no reason why they wouldn't know about Blanker's current situation.

The morning light bathed the streets, giving Jules a sense of warmth.

In the past, he rarely saw such a vibrant scene in Innsmouth.

Vendors set up wooden tables, their calls rising and falling, wool and hay piled on carts, and several farmers haggling over prices.

The sound of the blacksmith's hammering echoed intermittently from not far away, producing a rhythmic clanging sound.

On both sides of the street, there were even vendors who simply laid out a bundle of straw with a few tattered books piled on top of it.

Jules watched all this quietly, already planning his next move.

Actually, besides looking for Old John, he also had his own reasons for coming here.

The priest told him to take charge of the Silenced House, and he went there without knowing anything? Impossible!

He decided to first subtly inquire among the locals about what the silent housing had been like in the past.

He slowly walked toward a bookstall, where several tattered books with sheepskin covers were piled on the floor, exuding a unique, decaying smell.

The stall owner, an elderly man of about sixty, chuckled as he saw Jules' interest:
"These sacred texts have been passed down from our ancestors. If you like them, feel free to buy them."

The Bible? Jules raised an eyebrow and casually picked up a book to flip through.

He casually flipped through it and found that what he was looking at was a book about introducing the basic concepts of the "Winter Rules".

How could this be a sacred text?

He flipped to the end and found that the book also contained information about ghouls, but only in fragmented pieces, which were not enough to form a complete understanding.

He hesitated for a moment, put the book back, and asked:
"Has the old man seen any trace of ghouls recently?"

The old man paused for a moment, then chuckled wryly.

"How could something like that, which I've seen before, possibly still be alive?"

Jules hummed in agreement, feigning a smile:
"I've also recently heard that ghouls have been spotted on the island?"

"Hey, it's all a lie!"

When the matter was brought up, the old man shook his head and said:

"It's true that corpses will turn into ghouls, but they will eventually go to the ghoul graveyard and pose no threat to us. Why worry about these things!"

“The old man is absolutely right,” Jules nodded.

After being flattered by Jules, the old man quickly became excited and his face turned radiant—after all, most old men have a wealth of experiences they have but nowhere to share them.

At this moment, encountering someone like Jules, whose emotional value is off the charts, one can't help but talk endlessly.

Because he was prepared, Jules easily steered the conversation toward the issue of silenced housing.

He asked casually:
"I wonder, how much do you know about the monastery that caught fire a year ago?"

“That monastery…” The old man stroked his chin, lost in thought.

“I don’t know about other things, but one thing I’m sure of is that it’s haunted. When I was very young, my parents warned me not to go near there because the caretaker was eccentric and didn’t like us trespassing.”

"However, although they have eccentric temperaments, they are good people and often teach for free, imparting knowledge."

"I see..." Jules nodded, thanked him, and left.

He had intended to leave two pennies as payment, but he was embarrassed to discover that perhaps the months he had spent at sea had left him penniless.

Jules left the bookstall and walked straight toward the cemetery without stopping.

As the morning light grew stronger, the hustle and bustle of the streets was left behind, leaving only the sound of the wind and the low murmur of the distant waves in his ears.

The cemetery is located on the edge of the town, not far from it—in fact, its influence is, in some ways, greater than that of the town itself.

After all, these cemeteries contain the remains of all the dead in Blancco over thousands of years.

Before long, the entrance to the cemetery came into view.

The iron gate was half-open, and the rust gleamed a dark red in the sunlight.

Jules stopped at the doorway and whispered a prayer:

"Let us call upon the white dove of bones, the god of forgetting and remembering, the god of the dead and the living, and may your power make the departed forget us."

A chill instantly crept up his spine, and he felt as if he were separated by an invisible membrane.

That familiar feeling of being forgotten by the world surged up again, only to quickly fade away.

He stepped into the cemetery, the withered leaves crunching under his feet with a jarring sound.

The tombstone was crooked, the soil smelled damp and rotten, and several crows perched on a high place, their eyes cold and sinister.

Jules held his breath and carefully searched for traces of old John.

"This cemetery is so big, how come there isn't a proper caretaker..."

He hadn't expected that the cemetery looked big from the outside, but even bigger from the inside—the outer wall was simply ridiculous.

The cemetery extends far into the dense forest, making it difficult to see clearly.

If old John runs into there, things might get complicated... Thinking of this, Jules frowned slightly.

He could sense that while the prayer did indeed guarantee that he would be "forgotten" by the ghouls, it also required him to remain absolutely silent.

Otherwise, the ghouls would still be able to find him.

However, so far, he has not seen any trace of ghouls.

But he did find some traces of humanity—perhaps belonging to old John.

Just as he was about to continue searching along these marks, the crisp sound of leaves being crushed underfoot rang out.

Moreover, it doesn't belong to him!
(End of this chapter)