Mystery: Starting from the Shadow World

Chapter 106 You've Gotten Rebellious?

"Um?"

In the evening, a questioning whisper was heard.

Philippe, having returned to 17 Braun Street and just closed the door, turned to look at the skeletal messenger holding a letter. After a brief silence, he pointed to himself and said, "Are you sure this is for me?"

Upon hearing this, the tall, skeletal messenger tilted his head slightly, then loosened his grip, letting the envelope drift slowly towards Philip with the chilling aura, where the latter caught it in time.

That certainly seems to be the case, but this guy is being a bit disrespectful to me, Philip thought to himself. After waving goodbye to the disappearing messenger, he opened the envelope and began to read.

"Philip, I'm Klein."

Philip looked at the first sentence on the paper, closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead, and muttered to himself in a daze, "Strange, how come there are scams these days? The methods are a bit too sophisticated."

As he muttered to himself, he peeked through his tightly closed eyes and carefully checked the paper several times. Only after discovering that the handwriting on the entire paper was similar to Klein's memories and that he could not detect any elements of hallucination or hypnosis did he gradually accept reality.

The letter was simple; aside from greetings and well wishes to Philip and Azik, all the words clearly conveyed one message—

I'm broke, please help!

Philip couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle as he imagined the other person crawling out of the coffin and saving every penny with the gold coin he had left behind to come to Backlund. The tension that had been building up inside him eased considerably.

Let me think, how should I provide relief? Should I just give him money? No, the thought of being tricked by this guy makes me a little upset. I have to squeeze him a little harder. Philip pinched his chin, the warm glow of the gaslight reflecting in his sapphire blue eyes.

Immediately afterward, he smiled abruptly, having found the answer in his heart. Without lingering, he tidied up the living room briefly and then went into his study to begin writing a reply.

A dozen minutes later.

Mission accomplished. Hmm, let's roughly calculate this guy's expenses. I should give him a little something. If he comes looking disheveled, he won't be able to withstand any scrutiny later, and I'll only be the one suffering.

After careful consideration, he added a 1-pound note and made a note on the new balance, instructing the other party to take good care of it.

The skeletal messenger's head emerged from the ground, its eyes burning with black flames as it looked at the letter Philip handed it. After a few seconds of silence, it reached out, took the letter, and left.

Philip was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but his expression quickly turned strange. He then opened the box he had brought back, inside which was the prize he had acquired on this trip: "Heart of Bloodlust".

This piece of junk... I hope it won't break down.

Philip thought with some concern.

At Mr. A's party in Queens, this item that grants its owner the ability to fly would definitely be very popular, and many people would be interested in buying it. However, he was still somewhat unwilling, since he himself needed this ability very much right now.

Philip held the translucent heart in his hands, then walked to the window, letting the crimson moonlight fall upon it. The shimmering red dots carried a persistent, tingling sensation, causing black hair to grow back on the back of his hand.

Undeterred, Philip took out a silver knife and skillfully made a cut on his wrist. He then placed the wound above his heart, letting the crimson blood flow onto the "bloodthirsty heart."

However, the heart seemed to have come to life, slowly pulsating at a speed barely visible to the naked eye. Under this seemingly resisting action, only a small portion of Philip's blood was absorbed, while the rest flowed down his palm and onto the ground.

Philip fell into a brief silence.

He pinched his chin, frowning slightly, debating what to do with this unlucky thing. However, his peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of the crimson moonlight scattered on the ground, and he suddenly recalled some difficulties he had experienced in the past.

Good, continue!

Seeing that the blood flowing from his wrist was still being rejected, Philip simply placed the "Bloodthirsty Eye" directly on the table, then used his water glass, which he usually kept in his study, to catch his precious blood, preparing to give this unlucky thing a good thrashing.

After the dizziness and weakness subsided slightly, and the wound on his wrist had healed, Philip looked at the water glass and found that it was half full of blood. He immediately began his plan.

He held the "Bloodthirsty Eye" in one hand and dipped his fingertip into the blood in the cup, vigorously smearing it on the translucent heart, trying to cover its entire surface.

Each time, only two or three drops are produced, which are almost impossible to seep out and drip down, so they can only obediently remain on the surface, and no matter how unwilling they are, they can only absorb the blood completely.

I don't believe it. I don't care what it is. If it won't make me sick, then let me drink it. I don't even pamper myself, so how could I possibly pamper you? Thinking of his past experiences, Philip felt indignant.

However, the doctrine of temperance that was almost etched in his heart made him subconsciously close his eyes, control the growth of negative emotions, and calmly perform "technical adjustments" to the extraordinary weapon in front of him.

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

As time passed, the night grew darker and deeper.

The next day.

East of Backland.

As Klein walked out of the hotel, he recalled Philip's reply from the previous night. He pinched the brim of his half-high silk hat, pressed it down slightly, and sighed silently to himself.

He thought Philip would transfer him a few dozen or a dozen pounds for emergency use, but to his surprise, the other party not only gave him 1 pound, but also said that he would provide a location and that he should go there to rent it the day after tomorrow, pretending to be a tenant.

Sigh, there's a strange feeling. Klein shook his head slightly, glanced down at his fairly neat clothes, and then carefully found a horse-drawn carriage and left the East District.

Even though the economic situation is not optimistic, he still chose a hotel on the very edge of the East District last night when choosing a place to stay, because the advantage of this is that there is at least a basic guarantee of security.

The current target is the Joewood district.

Not only would it reduce the chance of encountering local night watchmen, but the area also has a large flow of people and relatively good security, making it easy to hide. Hillston, which also meets these conditions, was ruled out because the price was slightly higher.

Hopefully, the address Philip provides won't be too bizarre, otherwise I'll refuse. As Klein thought this, he gathered his thoughts and prepared to consider the tarot meeting at 3 p.m. today.

Mr. Hanged Man seems particularly concerned about Qilingus's situation. Now that the guy has run away, I wonder how he'll react. I hope he won't keep urging me to send any more helpers; I really don't have any.

(End of this chapter)