Mystery: Starting from the Shadow World

Chapter 2 Shelter

On the quiet street, a pungent, pale yellow mist lingered all around. Occasionally, one could spot a gas lamp by the roadside, but none of them were lit. Only the crimson moonlight poured down from above.

Philip walked along the road, his body trembling uncontrollably from the cold, but he did not stop. After all, at this hour, carriages were rare in a run-down place like the East End, let alone at this time.

If he didn't leave soon, he might run into someone he knew. His goal was very clear: to go to the steam train station and find a safe small city to lay low.

Extraordinary beings are those who create magical potions using various extraordinary materials and gain special powers by consuming them; the Rose School members who killed him earlier were such beings.

They possessed potions from the "Prisoner" pathway. Philip was once a "madman" at Sequence 8 of this pathway, but after being killed by Tyr, a "werewolf" at Sequence 7, the extraordinary properties Philip had ingested were dropped as equipment.

Therefore, he can now only be considered a half-Sequence Nine prisoner again, and his extraordinary characteristics will naturally be sold for money or transferred to the indulgent faction.

That thing is worth way more than the 300 pounds I have on me. I'll get my revenge sooner or later.

As his thoughts wandered, Philip estimated the distance he had to walk and shook his head. This metropolis of five million people would take him an unknown amount of time on foot.

Or, find a hotel?

He had been so focused on running away that he hadn't noticed anything, but now, in this dimly lit place shrouded in mist, he felt as if something was watching him from the shadows, preparing for a fatal blow.

hiss~

Let's find somewhere to hide first.

He couldn't be sure those libertines had really gone far away; they might have other targets, or they might even live nearby. What if he accidentally bumped into them?

During the day it's so chaotic, there might be a chance to survive, but at night, apart from disturbing the peace before you die, you really can't do anything else.

Just then, a shelter for the homeless came into view in the distance.

Two policemen with short batons were standing at the door, looking serious. They seemed to notice Philip not far away, glancing at him silently without reacting.

"Shelter"

Philip stroked his chin and muttered those three words to himself. The original owner of this body had never lived there before, so he didn't know the general idea, but since there were police officers, it meant that there was at least no danger to life or serious security problems.

The more he thought about it, the more feasible it seemed. He stepped forward, but before he could speak, the older, more robust policeman on his left coldly said, "The fee won't be lowered just because you came in the early hours of the morning."

Oh, this.

Philip lowered his head, slightly changed his tone, and said smoothly but nervously, "Okay, sir, I understand. However, I would like to know how much it costs here, as I've never been here before."

The policeman didn't even bother to look at him, and simply said to the person next to him, "Cole, take him in."

The young policeman standing on the right lowered his hat brim, nodded, then looked expressionlessly at the boy in front of him, waved the short baton in his hand towards the inside, signaling the boy to follow.

Inside the spacious shelter, a dozen or so rows of wooden benches were scattered with many people, most of them wearing dirty work clothes, leaning back in their chairs, their faces showing visible fatigue, but unable to sleep at all.

Whenever someone closes their eyes for half a minute or more, the police officers loitering nearby will grab their batons and rudely shake them awake, adding, "Sleeping is prohibited!"

what?

Upon hearing this, Philip even wondered if he had misheard. However, the policeman named Cole turned to him calmly and said, "Can you afford one penny, two pennies, or four pennies?"

"What exactly is it?"

Philip took a copper penny from his pocket and asked curiously.

After hearing the slight clinking of the coins, Cole explained, "If you only have a penny, you can only sit here and not sleep, or you can sleep on that rope over there."

He stretched out his hand and pointed to the area on his right. Philip looked in that direction and saw many people lined up side by side, hanging from ropes, struggling to fall asleep.

Philip blinked, stunned. But that wasn't all. Cole pointed to the left and said, "If it's two pence, you can sit in that chair over there and lean against the rope hanging in front of you to sleep."

"Four pence, thank you."

Philip pulled out four pennies and handed them to the policeman, not daring to listen any further. His mind was filled with the lingering thought he couldn't suppress: "The person who designed this lousy place is definitely... something else."

During this process, the policeman wandering in the hall only turned his head to glance at the situation, but after noticing the fourpence in Cole's hand, he naturally looked away.

"Very good, come here." Cole put away the fourpence, beckoned to him, and then walked towards the interior of the shelter.

Philip stood there, looked around for two seconds, then shook his head and muttered to himself, "I probably will never understand this kind of performance art in my life. It's outrageous."

A penny is worth about three or four dollars on Earth, but here the shelter only provides the miserable experience of sleeping on a rope for one night.

He wouldn't have dared to even think about it before.

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

Led by Cole, Philip entered the shelter. The smell lingering in the room made him touch his nose, giving him a completely new understanding of the air quality in Backlund.

"I suddenly regret it a bit. It feels like every second I spend in this place is harming my health. I hope the air quality in smaller cities is better."

Just as he was thinking this, Cole stopped and pointed to the "bed" next to him, saying, "You'll sleep here. Keep an eye on your belongings."

After saying that, without waiting for Philip's response, he walked back towards the outside, leaving the boy standing there in a daze, stroking his chin in thought.

Looking at the cramped bed in front of me, which was only the coffin lid away from the coffin—no, it could no longer be described as a bed. Apart from a thin blanket, it was a small coffin without a lid!

Philip's eyelids twitched, but remembering that he had already paid and there was still plenty of time before dawn, he had no choice but to resign himself to lying down inside.

After shrinking into the coffin, whether it was due to his easygoing nature or something else, he didn't feel like he was going to die. Instead, he was somewhat relieved that the people nearby didn't snore much and the smell wasn't too bad.

Of course, it's also possible that the nose has completely stopped working and is no longer functional, so there's no reaction.

Philip closed his eyes, rolled over, and pressed his bag underneath, preparing to get through the next few hours in this position that he was least comfortable with.

As his mind gradually blurred, he soon fell into a deep sleep, but his consciousness strangely sank, as if flowing into the abyss of shadows.

(End of this chapter)