Build an ancient-level power in the nightmare world

Chris did not immediately step forward to open the box; he continued to cover his mouth and nose with a wet towel.

He had opened the windows in the living room and bedroom beforehand, and the evening breeze created a crossflow, so if there was any poisonous gas in the secret box, it would be blown away quickly.

A moment later.

Chris breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the secret box was completely normal.

After placing the towel aside, he reached into the gap of the secret box with the key in his hand and carefully lifted the box little by little.

Chris's gaze remained fixed on the ever-growing gap in the secret box.

His eyes narrowed as he opened the secret box completely.

"Empty?"

Chris thought he was seeing things.

A hint of doubt flashed in his eyes as he bent down to examine the inside of the secret box carefully.

The inside of the box is still the same brass color as the outside, but it looks brighter and doesn't have the coppery green spots that have appeared on the outside.

At this moment, the entire secret box appears to be completely empty.

"That doesn't make sense."

Chris still couldn't believe that the secret box was empty.

He stretched out his fingers and carefully felt inside the box, tapping it gently to see if there were any hidden compartments or anything like that.

A moment later.

Chris slowly placed the secret box back on the table.

At this moment, he had accepted the fact that the secret box was empty.

Chris couldn't understand why anyone would spend so much money to entrust an empty secret box to Madison Asset Management and give it to someone 50 years from now.

He kept recalling his experience of retrieving the secret box at Madison Asset Management today.

Delicious desserts, winding underground corridors, the unreal feeling that made him want to escape, and the key pattern that could calm his mind by imagining its shape, Benjamin wearing a monocle.

Chris sat at the square table in the living room for a long time, but he couldn't come up with any ideas.

He now has two guesses in his mind: one is that the person who made the request 50 years ago was really rich and powerful, and played a joke on the future owner of the apartment building at 037 Nottingham Street.

Secondly, the secret box was switched by Madison Asset Management.

However, neither of these possibilities can be verified.

This situation does make Chris feel a little disappointed.

"Heh~ What am I expecting?"

Chris looked at the empty box in front of him and shook his head.

There was no windfall or anything strange or unusual; it was just an empty bronze box. Moreover, once opened, the mechanical devices inside the box were damaged.

Chris tried to close it again, but the bronze box could no longer be locked.

The only value of this bronze box now is probably the material itself.

Alternatively, if someone is interested in Madison Asset Management's secret box, they might offer a higher price to buy it.

Chris had already decided that he would put the secret box at the flea market the next evening to see if he could get some money for it.

He took out his pocket watch and glanced at the time; it was already past nine o'clock.

It's getting late, and he still has things to finish tonight.

Chris placed the copper box on the table, got up and closed the living room window. He then went back to the bedroom, closed the window and drew the curtains. From under the bed, he took out a set of tools he used when he was a traveling leatherworker repairing leather goods.

Then she took out a small handbag from the wardrobe. It looked somewhat broken and was made of many tiny pieces of leather.

Despite what happened at the company today, Chris had already placed the last few pieces of rare leather needed to make the handbag in the gap between his belt and underwear before the law enforcement officers arrived.

In that situation, even if he wanted to put the scraps of those rare leathers back where they belonged, he couldn't.

I simply brought it back. Anyway, this is probably the last time. The company is keeping a close eye on things now, and I probably won't be able to do this kind of thing again.

A moment later, Chris looked at the work he had spent a month completing and couldn't help but smile smugly.

Compared to the uniformly styled products manufactured in the company, he felt that the handbag in his hand was more of an art form.

Especially the few pieces of rare, bright silver lizard skin cut into crescent shapes, which gave the entire handbag an air of luxury.

He already had a rough estimate in his mind for the handbag: 6.5 silver crowns.

This is about half a month's income for him.

Of course, he also left room for customers to bargain.

Chris was increasingly looking forward to tomorrow's party.

He wrapped the small handbag in three layers of clean kraft paper before putting it back in the closet.

After quickly washing up in the bathroom, Chris lay on the bed, picked up the book he hadn't finished reading that morning, "The Shadow of the Iron Key," flipped to the fifth page from the bottom, and continued reading.

……

In a dark room, the dim candlelight flickered, casting its light on two young faces with distinct features and delicate skin.

The two men sat facing each other, with a black square table between them.

One of them wore a uniquely styled monocle above his right eye, and his black hair, styled in a slanted style, was meticulously styled with hair oil, giving it a metallic sheen in the candlelight.

The person sitting opposite him was staring blankly ahead, his pupils dilated, his eyes seemingly out of focus.

The young man wearing a monocle stared intently at the young man opposite him, who was about the same age. He gently lifted his monocle with his index finger, then asked in an unquestionable tone:

Tell me your real name.

His voice wasn't loud; it didn't even produce a noticeable echo in the dark, enclosed room.

But his voice seemed to possess a strange power, and the young man sitting opposite him, whose eyes were lifeless, trembled and his eyes rolled rapidly after hearing his voice.

"Chris... Chris..."

Intermittent murmurs came from the young man being interrogated.

"No, you're not Chris Fisher. Tell me who you are!"

The young man wearing a monocle had a glint of blue light in his eyes. His body trembled slightly, and a few bulging blue veins appeared on his forehead. A few beads of sweat slowly formed on his hairline, threatening to slide down his cheeks at any moment. He continued to question in an unquestionable tone.

"I... Ke..."

"You're not Chris! Who are you?" the young man with the monocle asked, his tone becoming more forceful.

"I...C...▊▊▍▊" The young man being interrogated opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, but the young man wearing a monocle did not hear any sound.