Mysterious: The Innate Sacred Body of Destiny

Chapter 376 Tracy and Hugh

"Quiet down, everyone!"

"Only one bottle per person! Don't squeeze!"

At the entrance of the Backlund Women and Children's Relief Fund, a large crowd gathered, and Heyzore worked hard to maintain order amidst the flow of people.

She wore a simple long dress today, without any embellishments. But even so, her straight back, fair skin, and the poise she had cultivated since childhood made her stand out from her surroundings.

"Give me a bottle! Please!"

"I need those medicines! My child still has a fever!"

"Don't push me! I was here first!"

"I'm a worker at Mr. Scott's factory! I should go first!"

The scene was extremely chaotic. Countless rough hands reached out frantically forward, as if grasping at a straw while drowning. The stench of sweat, the smell of machine oil from work clothes, and the pervasive anxiety in the crowd mingled together, making it suffocating.

Free, useful, and open to all beliefs —

The speed at which these words spread among the workers and poor in the East End was beyond imagination.

For people who normally don't even dare to enter the hospital, this kind of medicine that can be obtained for free and is actually effective is a blessing.

"What are you doing! What are you doing!"

Just then, a commotion arose from the edge of the crowd.

A policeman maintaining order suddenly and roughly pulled a thin worker out of the crowd, tied his hands behind his back, and forced him to the ground.

"Let me go! I just came to get my medicine!" the worker struggled desperately, shouting his innocence.

"Stop!" Hazel rushed forward to stop him. "Let him go! You're being too rude!"

"Miss Macht!" The policeman looked up, a hint of impatience on his face. "This guy isn't sick at all! He's just faking it to get medicine!"

"Look at his face, it's a bit dirty, but it's very rosy! His forehead isn't hot, his neck isn't sweaty, and when he squeezed through the crowd just now, he was stronger than anyone else!"

"You invited us here just to arrest these people, didn't you?"

Hazel paused, looking at the worker pinned to the ground. Although he was still protesting his innocence, his eyes darted away, avoiding her gaze.

A buzz of discussion immediately erupted from the surrounding crowd. Some people suddenly realized what was going on, some looked disdainful, and some had a glint in their eyes as if they had come up with something.

Feeling the gazes of the people around her, she sighed and waved her hand: "Let him go. Be more careful next time."

Meanwhile, not far away.

A man standing in the shadows at a street corner is silently observing what is happening in front of the fund.

He was clutching a pale green vial called "Hope" tightly in his hand.

As an MI9 operative, his job was to monitor anything unusual in Backlund. Clearly, the distribution of the drug had caught his attention.

"A panacea —"

He recalled the urban legend about a "panacea" that had been circulating widely in the East District.

There might be some deeper connection between the two.

"The only thing that's certain now is that this medicine does indeed have the effects it's advertised—"

"Kills germs, treats infections, reduces fever—"

"Let's report it and see what happens—" He carefully put the medicine into his pocket, turned around and disappeared into the depths of the alley.

Logert Arms Factory.

"Hey! You guy with the camera! Stop right there!"

Hugh grabbed a man who was trying to climb over the wall and sneak into the factory.

"Ouch! Let go! Let go! I'm a reporter! I have the right to interview!" The man grimaced in pain and struggled desperately.

"This is a private place! Without an appointment, even reporters are not allowed in!" Hugh shoved him out without any politeness. "I just wanted to go in and take a few photos to see where this hero works on a daily basis. The readers are eager to know."

"Readers crave gossip, sensationalism that can make money." Hugh stepped forward. "If I see you again, I'll hand you over to the police!"

The man grumbled as he straightened his clothes, but ultimately left unwillingly.

"Thank you, Miss Hugh." Old Kohler came over and sincerely thanked Hugh. "If it weren't for you, this guy would definitely have sneaked in."

"It's nothing, just a small favor," Hugh said modestly, brushing the dust off his hands.

In her spare time lately, she would come over to help Scott take care of the factory, as he had previously requested, since old Kohler was getting old and might not be able to handle some unexpected situations.

"However, a lot of things like this have been happening lately."

"Yes, this is the fourth one this week. We've already told them that Mr. Scott is out of town on an inspection tour, but there are still so many unscrupulous reporters trying to sneak in."

"They seem to have heard that Mr. Scott didn't have his own house before and had always lived in the factory."

So they figured there must be some secret hidden there—honestly, isn't this just nonsense? It's even interfering with the workers' commute to and from get off work." Old Kohler muttered in dissatisfaction.

In an effort to explore the life of this top-tier hero, especially to uncover his gossip, numerous tabloid reporters swarmed around him like flies drawn to a fishy smell.

His other factories were also harassed to varying degrees. But the worst situation was at Loggert Arms Factory, where Lorne lived and worked.

This place is seen by many as a "hero's lair," and is full of great news value.

Just as Hugh and old Kohler were talking about the recent troublesome situation, a woman wearing a white linen shirt, a black men's coat, and a veil slowly walked towards them.

She had a head of alluring black curly hair. Although her face was not clearly visible, her slender figure and unique temperament still made her stand out.

"Excuse me, is this the Logert Arms Factory?"

Her voice was cold and carried an invisible pressure.

Even though she was a woman herself, even through the veil, Hugh could instantly tell that behind the veil was a woman of exceptional beauty and mature charm.

"Yes, is there anything I can help you with?" Old Kohler replied.

"Is James Scott there? I need to speak with him."

Another one coming to see Scott?

Old Kohler and Hugh exchanged a glance, both seeing understanding and a hint of helplessness in each other's eyes—here we go again.

"I'm sorry, miss. Mr. Scott is not in Backlund right now; he's out of town on a business trip."

"What?!" Tracy suddenly raised her voice, a hint of urgency in it.

"When did this happen?"

"About three days ago."

Three days—what a coincidence!

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Tracy pressed, her fingers unconsciously tightening slightly.

Her years of experience in the business world told her that the other party was not lying.

"I—" Old Kohler was about to say he wasn't sure either, but Hugh stepped forward and stood between the two, saying, "Scott only went to investigate not long ago, he might not be back for a long time—"

"Miss, is it urgent that you need to see him?"

Tracy looked at the petite girl who had suddenly stepped forward.

She keenly sensed a peculiar, law-enforcer-like authority emanating from the other person—

Tracy squinted slightly and looked him up and down a few times.

Are they low-sequence extraordinary individuals?

"Miss?" Seeing that the other party did not speak, Xiu spoke again.

"I have some private business with him," Tracy said, turning her gaze away.

Personal matters? As expected, another Scott fan.

Xiu nodded slightly, understanding in his heart.

Since Scott became famous, he has received more and more visits from people. Political and business figures, as well as some nobles he'd never even heard of. Scott once complained to himself that his drawers were overflowing with invitations, and someone even asked him for advice on how to write a tactful rejection letter.

This phenomenon was exacerbated after the other side rescued Duke Negan.

According to old Kohler, many young ladies had secretly run off to the vicinity of the factory. Among them were many elegantly dressed young women who were clearly from wealthy or even aristocratic families, who came seeking "adventure."

Hugh guessed that many young ladies with fairytale dreams had come here because of Scott's legendary heroic tales. They fantasized about bumping into the handsome and brave hero and having a romantic encounter, just like in the novels.

As a former noblewoman, Xiu knew all too well how naive those innocent young ladies could be.

Besides, many people also coveted Scott's enormous wealth. Numerous women with ulterior motives began loitering in places where Scott might appear, meticulously planning "chance encounters," hoping to stage a "hero saves the damsel in distress" scenario and rise to power overnight, even if it meant becoming his mistress and reaping huge benefits.

This young lady, though dressed rather strangely, wearing a men's coat, exudes an air of nobility or wealth, suggesting she's likely the daughter of a noble family or a wealthy merchant. She's wearing a veil, probably to avoid being recognized by acquaintances.

Clearly, Hugh had mistaken the other person for yet another fan of Scott.

Tracy frowned slightly, clearly annoyed by Hugh's gaze.

"Miss, if you're looking for Mr. Scott's autograph or to invite him to some kind of dinner party, I advise you to go back," Hugh kindly advised. "He's really not here right now, and—even if he were, he probably wouldn't have time to see you."

"Many people come to see him every day—"

What? What is she saying?

Tracy was taken aback by these words.

At first, she just thought that James Scott had something to hide and was deliberately avoiding people.

But after Xiu said those words, how could she, who had always been out and about, not understand the meaning behind them?

This little guy—he actually thinks I came to him because I admire James Scott?

This is outrageous!

Her heart belongs only to Brando! This woman actually thinks she has feelings for someone else! This misunderstanding is simply defiling her emotions!

Even though the other party was completely unaware, and even though she knew it was just a misunderstanding, Tracy still felt an overwhelming surge of anger.

Moreover, judging from the tone of their voices, many of the people who came to see James Scott were women.

She meant that she would be attracted to that kind of playboy.

How is that possible!

Of all the people in the world, only Brando is special.

How could anyone else taint the feelings that belonged to Brando?

Moreover, it's highly likely that Scott plagiarized Brando's idea and stole his design.

hiss--

"Calm down, calm down. Only he could possibly know Brando's whereabouts. We can't let a moment of anger ruin everything."

"Since he's not here, I won't bother him."

Tracy took a deep breath, suppressing her anger, and said coldly.

After saying that, she turned and left, her pace much faster than when she came, as if she didn't want to stay there for even a moment longer.

"She seems angry? Was I upset?" Hugh looked at Tracy's slightly stiff back and shook his head slightly.

"What a strange person."

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