Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

Chapter 101 The Person I Love and the Person Who Loves Me

In the accounting office on the first floor of Green Shade Mansion, they began interrogating the doctor overnight.

"I didn't join Green House voluntarily," Albert said, his hands cuffed, trying to exonerate himself. "Olivia Brundell threatened me, controlled me, and forced me to work for her."

"Oh? She's the city's most important charity worker. I won't allow you to talk about her like that!" Gordon shook his head vigorously.

"Damn it. She's a cultist!"

"Aren't you one?"

"I am a licensed doctor, a veterinarian, and a member of the Benevolent Society. I was forced to work for Green Shade Mansion."

Gordon took out Albert's medical notes.

"Today, I completed the thirteenth demonic limb-splitting experiment. Olivia's mother said I was a good boy." This is what you wrote. Oh, that title appears dozens of times in the notebook.

"—" Albert's expression twitched, and his whole body trembled violently.

He buried his head in the table for a long time before finally raising it with difficulty.

"—I——I saved those patients who suffered from workplace injuries, illnesses, and pollution. Ordinary hospitals refused to admit them, but I gave them a chance to live!"

Gordon opened a stack of medical records.

"Of the 40 patients who underwent the full procedure, 14 died during the operation and 19 died within 30 days after the operation — your patient only died a few days later, it doesn't sound like he survived."

"Experiments must come at a price." Albert's face turned pale.

"Very good, very good, you've finally told the truth. You're not a doctor who saves lives; you're just a disgusting experimenter. What you want to study is—paranormal biology. Like Professor Winslow?"

Albert's expression changed abruptly when Professor Winslow was mentioned.

His fear and shame gradually faded, replaced by a stubborn and ugly excitement, clearly the fanatical expression of someone speaking of true faith.

"Yes—no. Winslow. That guy who only dissects dead things, I'm going to surpass him," Albert murmured. "I can establish entirely new directions, the fusion of humans and supernatural beings. I can modify organs, rebuild decaying tissues, and directionally give life entirely new structures. Yes, gills can replace diseased lungs, and demonic muscles can allow the disabled to work again. The healing factors secreted by demonic glands can save lives from terminal illnesses. Ha—can you understand?"

At this point, Albert looked up at Gordon again.

"I know you. We've investigated you. You love money, lots and lots of money. I'll testify for you, and you'll spare my life. We'll discuss this together after we get out, how about that?"

"Let's get some exciting comments out." Gordon snapped his fingers.

Shirin suddenly stepped forward.

"The investigator would never collude with you! I've seen those corpses. You make money by harming people, while the investigator only makes money by helping others!"

"————!" Albert felt an irresistible surge of justice. He seemed too lazy to refute it, or perhaps too weak to do so.

"Now, all you can do is tell them everything you know and cooperate with the police." Shirin's tone was bright and resolute. "Your knowledge will be given to real doctors, your crimes will be fully assessed, and we've spent all night looking for you to hand you over to the law!"

"—" Albert lowered his head and sighed deeply.

"In short, this kind of craft will kill a lot of people. It's costly and risky. The difference between you and me is that I don't do business at a loss."

"It's best to tell us yourself." Martin rested his chin on his hand, clearly also waiting to leave work. "In the Department of Extraterrestrial Affairs, we have no shortage of means to retrieve information from memories and minds. Whether or not you are willing to cooperate does not affect our ability to obtain information—silence will not make the truth disappear."

"Ask away." Albert completely gave up resisting.

"You ran away quickly, not with Olivia. Why? Your body is still clean; you haven't reattached your limbs or undergone Blackwater baptism. Is it cowardice, or—did you believe from the beginning that the Blackwater Hermits couldn't win?"

"I don't know, but Olivia doesn't have the complete trust of the Blackwater Order's higher-ups. I knew it was bound to fail."

Gordon realized that someone like Albert had never truly undergone the Blackwater baptism; he—seemed to be from another organization. "A member of the Society of Benevolence." He was merely studying monsters, but didn't want to be studied by them.

Where did she go?

Albert took a deep breath.

"The chapel in the water. It's deep underground," Albert finally said.

Gordon told Martin to remember this concept.

Based on his understanding of the underground hydrographic map of Lundenim, the chapel in the water was indeed located deep underground and could not be reached by ordinary means; one would have to dive deep to get there.

The map often features red circles representing the Blackwater Hermitage. The Chapel of Wading Water appears to be a core location of the Blackwater Hermitage, marked with at least three circles, while Green Manor is only marked with one.

"Do we have a 'submarine'? Or should I describe it in more detail?" Gordon asked Martin.

"I think so. You want to use it?" Martin thought of some conceptual weapons from the Imperial Navy.

"That thing feels stronger than a sea monster."

"should."

"And who is 'Ningning'?" Gordon turned to Albert.

I'm not sure.

"Her name is on the assassination list."

"I've never seen her. Olivia rarely talks about the deep waters. But she makes Eileen sing underground, and there's often singing underground in Lundnium. Eileen is calling to her—or comforting that—thing. Occasionally it responds, and each time it gives that monotonous tone, Olivia is very happy; she thinks it's a successful invocation of some being."

Gordon gradually pictured a figure crawling out of the sewers. A mermaid? Could that be Nene? It certainly sounded like a mermaid's name. But it could also be another aquatic creature; until he saw the real Nene, nothing was certain.

In a clean spot, Albert, with his hands shackled, sat in a chair and was forced to disclose the grafting structure, medications, and related medical details. The giant cheetah awaited treatment on a makeshift operating table.

"I'm now removing the Silver Scale Armor of Source Energy," Albert said. "The limb tissue will immediately reject it. You must hurry, or he'll die."

"I'm about to start. What's your name?" Gordon sterilized the equipment, preparing for surgery.

"Yalon," the swimmer murmured.

"Yalon, you've lost your right arm. Even after the giant claw tissue is removed, you're still a man with one arm, but a prosthesis can be fitted. Also, as long as the removal is thorough, the infection is controlled, and you can get through a period of high fever, you'll be free."

The swimmer looked at the giant pincer that had been with him for more than half a year, his eyes filled with disgust, not dependence.

"Tch, cut it now."

As dawn finally broke, the heavy pincers finally detached from the swimmer's shoulder, crashing to the ground with a loud thud.

Albert left halfway through the film because he realized that his lifelong medical skills were not as good as Gordon's.

The swimmer's right shoulder was repaired and stitched up, with bandages wrapped around his chest and back. Dazed, he raised his only remaining left hand and touched his shoulder, which had finally regained its human shape.

He touched it for a long time, and finally couldn't hold back his tears.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet." Gordon took off his blood-stained gloves. "You still need to testify, receive treatment, and cooperate with the investigation. The prosthetic limb will only make you look more complete. Fun fact: a normal person's life isn't necessarily better than that of a cultist."

The swimmer cried even harder.

At six o'clock in the morning, the lights at Green Shade Mansion finally went out. After a night of revelry, a night of raids, and a night of interrogations, this famous mansion in the northern part of Lundnim finally quieted down, with more police officers and clerks moving back and forth.

Martin remains in good spirits.

Gordon wasn't asleep; his mind was just drowsy after all the ups and downs. He was drowsy because of the rhythm of the dream, and he didn't know how Martin had managed to do it.

The two stared at each other for a while.

The entire mansion, with its immense impact, is estimated to require weeks to process. Countless pieces of information, data, and individuals undergoing transformation, along with the fates of numerous singers and dancers, a living doctor, and a multitude of urgently needed medicinal formulas—

"Achievements————"

"No," Martin gestured for them to stop.

Then he pushed a new stack of documents over.

"This is the desensitized Green Manor report, the one you said you were going to give to that mystic. I've removed any information that was too sensitive or inconvenient to share. But the remaining content still has value circulating in the supernatural world."

"Thank you, you know all this." Gordon flipped through it.

It includes Albert's human modification cases, cases that can be used for research on "Blackwater Syndrome", various underground waterway conditions, and even several sheet music by Ellen. It is a commercially available version compiled by Martin through his voluntary labor, which is of great significance.

If Eve saw this, she would probably be very satisfied with her decision to help and wouldn't regret handing over the clues to the ritual.

"This is an incredible world, Gordon. It's too big, too bad. People like us should stay on the line between reason and madness, leaving the good side to the countless ordinary people of Lundnim, and keeping the bad side to ourselves—" Martin sat on the sofa, leaning back, as if to prove that even such people need time to catch their breath.

"Goodbye." Gordon slipped away. Martin watched his retreating figure, closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh.

Gordon returned to the Blackwood Hotel. The morning mist slowly receded from both sides of the Bachelor's Road. Milk trucks rolled over the cobblestones, and newsboys ran wildly with the Lundnim Morning Post in their hands, shouting the news that Green Shade Mansion had been "ambushed".

He walked upstairs on the dark red carpet and knocked on the door.

Eve had already woken up and was standing behind the window, welcoming the beautiful morning light.

Now that the daylight was bright, she no longer needed to use the flame to illuminate everything around her; she raised her hand and let the light fall on her gloves.

"The Rhythm of a Shallow Dream is a terrible thing," Gordon emphasized. "I wasn't sleepy at all last night."

"That's why I'm giving it to you," Eve smiled. "I didn't want to use it again after using it once."

Gordon's brain was about to explode, and he took a deep breath.

"In short," he said, "the operation was a great success. We dismantled an underground clinic, found out where Olivia went, and obtained a huge amount of information waiting to be deciphered. And—"

He placed several boxes on the table.

The intelligence from the underground clinic, Albert's extraordinary bio-modification files, and the copy of the ancient Logris inscription found in his temporary hideout—it's unknown what new information they contain.

Paper, ink stains, disaster, and information leading to the unknown are all wrapped up within it.

Eve approached and examined this important information; these raw materials were enough to start a new research project.

"Is this enough to pay for—the knowledge of last night's rituals?" Gordon leaned against the door.

"Far beyond." Eve's gaze swept over the ancient inscriptions of Logris.

"Very good," Gordon held up two fingers. "I want the information on the source material. Two copies."

"Ah—this road of no return." Eve's gaze instantly became subtle.

A road that never stops moving forward, never gives up, and with no turning back.

"A source substance that can represent computation, knowledge, or simply enhance the mind's thinking ability; a source substance that is powerful and violent enough to evoke the image of a ferocious beast."

"Information on the source material is too expensive, Gordon. I'll go find it, but it'll be more expensive than you think," Eve smiled.

"Then consider it a debt I owe you. Over time, we'll build a long-term, effective relationship. The greatest relationship in the world is supposedly a debt relationship—" Gordon said, leaning forward wearily. Eve instinctively reached out to support him, but Gordon recoiled.

"Mr. Vic—you can rest here."

"I'm going back." Gordon pulled at his collar, his eyes bloodshot. "The people I love, the people who love me, are waiting for me."

o

"Oh—" A complex, unspoken emotion finally surfaced in Eve's expression. Gordon—Gordon. He showed signs of weariness, vulnerability, and a need for belonging, but that didn't mean she could easily approach him—

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