Mystery: Starting from the Shadow World

Chapter 29 Digestion Completed

"Philip, you've made some progress."

That evening, in front of No. 6 Narcissus Street, Klein pulled a piece of white paper from the book he was carrying and handed it to Philip with a somewhat strange expression. "This is a version that I secretly copied by hand."

After listening to Philip's reminder, he finally realized that besides the Night Watch squad, there was no reason why his alma mater, Hoy University, wouldn't have Rosell's diary. Although it was very likely that it had been copied by the Night Watch and the other two squads, it was still worth trying.

Klein then went to the University of Tingen in the afternoon, and unsurprisingly, he saw several pages of Rosell's diary, thanks to his work in the history department.

There just happened to be one of them.

just

Philip noticed Klein's expression and had some guesses in his mind. After all, even with just the three pages of the Night Watcher's diary, he had a general understanding of what kind of person Emperor Rosell was.

"Use this page of the diary to pay off the 5 pounds. You don't need to pay it back. From now on, you'll be charged 5 pounds for every new page." With that, he took the paper, leaving the poor man standing there dumbfounded, blinking in disbelief at the generous offer.

Philip walked into the living room, sat on the sofa, picked up the paper, and began to examine it:

"April 1st, to hell with it! Those two guys from the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom dared to look down on me, ruining my good mood today! They just relied on their extraordinary abilities, I heard it's called the 'Reader' pathway."

"I've decided to give these two self-righteous scoundrels who look down on others some nicknames."

"Zheyebuhui and Nayebuhui!"

"Hmph, it's just knowledge, isn't it? If it weren't for high school and university courses, I would have forgotten most of the brilliant inventions of human civilization on Earth. I would definitely let the people of this world experience what it means to be defeated by a lower dimension!"

"The extraordinary power of this world is amazing. There must be a way to help me recall that knowledge. Rosell, you are the protagonist of this world. These are just some minor obstacles on the road ahead. After you've finished cursing this world, you'll have to keep going."

"Speaking of which, Mrs. Cerbel seemed to have extended an invitation to me yesterday. I wonder what it would be like to have sex with her."

That's it?

Philip blinked, clutched the paper in his hand, and sat on the sofa, muttering, "If most of this senior's diaries don't provide important information like the acting method, then this expense is a bit of a waste."

The thought of Mr. Fool sitting solemnly in the head seat, reading about the romantic history of Emperor Rosell made Philip inexplicably want to laugh.

He suppressed the urge to smirk, shook his head, and got his thoughts back on track.

If Philip were an indigenous person who couldn't read Chinese, he certainly wouldn't have doubted the "Fool's" motives. But now that he can read Chinese, he naturally has some doubts, since from a practical point of view, there should be better options than Roselle's diary.

If Mr. Fool was thinking of the Tarot Club members, it would be understandable, since collecting diaries that no one could understand and could only serve as a memento wasn't too difficult. But to be fixated on just that was a problem.

Forget it, why think so much?

Judging from the value of the role-playing method, the cost of collecting Roselle's Diary is equivalent to drawing a lottery from a gacha pool. The white quality ones are stories of romance and ostentation, while the blue or purple ones are role-playing methods, and the gold grand prize is probably what Mr. Fool wants.

If that's the case, then we really should collect them.

Philip brewed himself a cup of coffee, returned to his room, opened the window, looked at the crimson moonlight, and silently began to sip it.

He didn't add sugar; the bitter taste of the coffee lingered and spread across his tongue. The moonlight reflected in his eyes, and the jarring sensation brought by the full moon, along with the sleepless fantasies in his mind, all these thoughts connected, creating a repressed emotion within him.

"The body is a prison for the mind, and the world is a prison for the body."

"Because of the pursuit of power, he was influenced by madness and curses, and corrupted by curses," Philip murmured softly, his hand gripping the cup tightening involuntarily, and a faint red light gradually appeared in his sapphire blue eyes.

"Because of inner reason and kindness, I use a cold exterior to avoid contact with others and prevent trouble; I use a strong will to suppress the madness in my heart and restrain the restless movements of my body."

"This is the prison that binds oneself."

In the hazy consciousness, the flame burning in the shadows showed signs of stabilizing again, pushing back all the surrounding darkness.

Three days later, on June 6nd.

On this peaceful Friday, Philip, who had just woken up, patted his chest, sensing that the "Prisoner" potion had been completely digested.

It was a frantic exhaustion, a dissolution of malice, something indescribable dissolving within his body, making his mental state better than ever before, as if all the torment of the past had vanished like smoke.

Philip's gaze swept discreetly over the location in the room where the Sequence 8 "Madman" extraordinary trait was hidden. The rapid digestion process over seven days gave him a strong surprise, but also brought a bit of shock.

It's moving way too fast. He even thought there was some other anomaly and took half a day off in advance, only to use it for the first time now.

But this is also a good thing.

Deep down, he knew that he was inextricably linked to his shadow world, but immediately advancing to the next level was clearly not a safe choice.

Wait until Sunday, or even next Monday, and take a day off. It's not too late to try again when you have plenty of time. If you can resolve spiritual dissipation in such a short time during the "prisoner" period, then meditating for a day and a night should be enough to resolve spiritual dissipation during the "madman" period.

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

If he still can't solve the problem, he has nothing more to say.

After dressing in formal attire and quickly washing up, Philip took the white umbrella he had recently bought and then spent 4 pence to take a tram to Blackthorn Security Company, ready to begin his uneventful day.

In the drizzling rain, Philip walked to the company entrance and found two strangers staring at each other. One of them, a slightly thin and handsome young man, took a few steps back, allowing the other, a tall and thin man with graying temples to step forward and knock on the door.

He didn't say anything, but silently walked forward.

However, the sound of water droplets hitting the umbrella couldn't be masked. Soon, the two noticed Philip and wanted to say something, but he only asked softly, "Is it a request?"

After receiving an affirmative answer, Philip, holding an umbrella, walked between the two, pushed open the door, and said casually to the person inside, "Rosanne, tell the captain there's money to be made."

"It seems like I can earn double the money."

Inside the reception area, Rosanne and Klein's casual conversation came to an abrupt halt. They stared blankly at Philip for several seconds before finally reacting, "A commission, two copies?"

Even Rosanne, who had been working there for five years, couldn't help but be surprised. The reputation of "Blackthorn Security Company" in the industry was not just negligible, but practically nonexistent.

Usually, you won't get any commissions for a whole month.

(End of this chapter)