Mystery: The Last Shepherd

Chapter 306 Will You Be My Lamb?
East District, an area effectively controlled by the Lehman Brothers, early morning.

"Oliver! Get up! It's your turn to assist the missionary today!"

Oliver was awakened by his roommate's energetic shouts. He opened his eyes in the warm blankets and slowly came to his senses.

Where am I?

It wasn't the thin, cold, tattered blankets of an orphanage, nor were there any other children kicking at me; it wasn't the cramped storage room of a cleaning company either, with no dripping water from the ceiling, no large patches of mold, and no unpleasant odor.
Ah, yes.

Oliver finally remembered.

I have already left those places.

"Oliver, hey, did you hear that?!"

The boy who woke him raised his voice.

“I’m awake, Charlie.”

Oliver answered, sitting up straight.

His room was filled with three bunk beds, taking up almost all the space, with only one aisle in between. Although it couldn't compare to a decent family's living conditions, it was like paradise to him.

The boys on the other beds had also gotten up and were chattering away, getting dressed.

"You're too slow,"

The boy standing in the aisle looked a bit older than Oliver. He was already dressed and holding his toiletries. "I have to do chores today, so I won't wait for you. Remember to be there on time!"

After saying that, he ran to the public restroom outside.

By the time Oliver finished getting dressed, almost everyone else in the room had already left, so he had to wash up by himself.

"Well"

The cold water from the bathroom splashed on his face, completely waking him up.

The missionary provided a very good life for everyone, but the only thing that made it a little difficult to adjust was the sheer number of rules. They had to be very hygienic, keeping their bodies and the surrounding area clean, washing their hands before meals, not allowed to drink tap water, and even queuing for everything.
After washing up, Oliver hurried downstairs. The streets outside were clean, with no mud or litter, unlike anything he'd seen in the East End. Several children were cleaning with tools.

Oliver saw his roommate Charlie, who had woken him up, wielding a broom and cleaning diligently.

A group of people emerged from nearby buildings, all heading in the same direction and gradually converging. Without even greeting Charlie, Oliver followed the crowd to a small square. There, several lines had already formed. People, holding bowls and spoons, were taking turns to receive their hot soup and bread for breakfast.

Some of them also wore a wooden plaque with their portrait on it on their wrist. Those with the plaque received an extra serving of food.

Oliver was not the only one rescued from despair by His Excellency the Missionary.

Bankrupt individuals, homeless people, the sick, orphans, prostitutes—he generously accepted them all, making them part of his sanctuary. The hungry received food, the homeless found shelter, and even homeless children like them were given opportunities to receive an education.

God!

They're not children from noble families, yet they still have to learn to read!

Of course, everyone knew it was for their own good. Even though the teacher was just a senile, down-on-his-luck old man who didn't explain things very clearly, they were still very grateful.

People walked forward in order, the aroma of hot soup emanating from the large tubs bringing a sense of comfort. The missionary was too kind to them, providing enough food to fill them up, and even the missionary work was abruptly halted after only one session.

Oliver received his portion, quickly finished eating, returned the utensils, and hurried to the other side of the square.

He quickly walked to a building where a line was already formed outside.

"Excuse me."

Oliver talked to the people, head down, and walked forward with the line to the room at the finish line.

Inside, a respected missionary was waiting for him.

"Your Excellency Missionary, I am very sorry I am late."

He apologized, feeling very uneasy.

"It doesn't matter."

The other person spoke gently, then looked up at the person at the front of the line, "Let's begin."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"What is your name?"

Lu Ze asked, his eyes gleaming with golden light.

“Jack, sir, my name is Jack.”

The old man opposite him answered blankly.

"What's your surname?" "I don't know, sir."

The latter honestly shook his head.

".Oliver, register him as Jack 6."

Lu Ze said helplessly.

This indicates that Jack is the sixth person to be named "Jack" without a surname.

"Yes, Your Excellency Missionary."

The child behind me struggled to write his childish words on a form and then wrote the same name on a sign.

Lu Ze took the sign, picked up a pen, and muttered a prayer.

"Swipe!"

His eyes quickly turned completely black, and he wielded the pen with lightning speed, sketching the old man's appearance on the wooden sign. This was a simplified version of ritual magic, achieved through the abilities of the Mystic and the spirituality of a Sequence 5.

"Jack, where is your hometown?"

"Your family situation"

"Previous beliefs."

Lu Ze asked a few questions, all of which were answered, and then continued to ask:
"Jack, what have you done before?"

“I was a tenant farmer of the lord, but later he turned the farmland into pasture and no longer needed us, so I had to come to Backlund to live. I’ve been working as a dockworker ever since, and half of my wages have to be given to the foreman.”

Have you ever done anything illegal?

"Peeped at the barmaid and customers in the room"

"All right."

Lu Ze interrupted him, knowing there was a child next to him and it wouldn't be good for him to hear.

"The next question requires your serious attention." He looked directly into the other person's eyes. "Answer me from the bottom of your heart: Are you willing to become my lamb?"

"willing."

The old man said this from the bottom of his heart.

As he finished speaking, an invisible connection was formed between them.

"why?"

"Because it is only here that I have had a full meal."

"."

Lu Ze paused for a moment, then looked at the little boy who was diligently taking notes, "Have you memorized everything?"

"I don't know many words."

Oliver answered, bowing his head.

In his view, the missionary seemed to possess a mysterious and unpredictable ability, and those who faced him would involuntarily tell the truth.

"give it to me."

Lu Ze took the record, added all the words he hadn't written down, drew the old man's face on the paper, and then handed the wooden plaque to the other person.

"Get it."

"Ah? Yes!"

The old man seemed to snap out of a daze, and seeing the wooden plaque in his hand, he was overjoyed. With this plaque, he could get an extra piece of black bread when collecting food, and an extra small slice of bacon each week. Although he couldn't remember what he had just said, at least he had this plaque, making his long wait in line worthwhile.

"The next person can come in."

Lu Ze continued shouting outside, and the next person in the group immediately came in.
He wasn't doing this for fun; he was creating files for the lambs.

A qualified shepherd must be familiar with the situation of his flock. Only by understanding the information of each lamb can he graze more smoothly.

To put it bluntly, it's all about playing a role.

The missionary role, which would connect him to an unknown entity, had to be abandoned, so he had to choose another method. And sure enough, as he used extra food as bait to lure the lambs to register voluntarily, he could feel the potion indeed beginning to be digested.

　Thank you to the reader "Pope of Tarot Club" for the 100 Qidian coins.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)