The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

George and Inspector Douglas declined the help offered by the old lady and their uncle, as well as the lawyer's suggestion to report to the local government or the church hospital.

George, Bates, and the inspector then left the living room and headed to the alchemy room on the third floor.

After George briefly explained the current situation of the manor, the inspector spoke first:

"George, I have to tell you some inside information. It's actually very rare for the 'Lord of the Flies' to appear on the mainland of the Kingdom of Britta... I've only encountered one case since I joined the Anti-Corruption Bureau."

He paused, as if recalling some unpleasant past event.

"It was in a remote village in Cornwall, where livestock were dying in large numbers and villagers were coughing and vomiting. The department sent me to lead the team to deal with it because we didn't initially think of it as 'Lord of the Flies' at all."

The inspector's fist clenched unconsciously: "We wasted precious time, taking a week to find the source and resolve it. In the end, that village was basically finished, and even several team members..."

George could hear the self-blame in his voice, as well as a deeper worry.

"I'm saying this to tell you that even if I send a distress signal to the local anti-combat agency right now, it will take more time to allocate enough resources—we might even need to go to London to get the specialists who can provide the right solutions."

Douglas looked directly into George's eyes and said slowly, "I'm willing to trust you, George. I'm impressed by your abilities. But I must say, if you find yourself lacking in competence, please tell me immediately."

George paused for a moment, then nodded.

"I understand, Inspector."

Douglas breathed a slight sigh of relief, then quickly got to the point.

"Then we need to find your missing brother as soon as possible. If he has truly become the vessel for the 'Lord of the Flies' power, the situation will completely spiral out of control once he leaves the island and goes to the surrounding areas."

Bates then spoke up: "Given the current time constraints, I suggest we split into two groups."

After a brief discussion, the plan was quickly finalized.

Inspector Douglas and Lieutenant Bates immediately set off to contact the Night's Watch on the island and search for Frederick.

Miss Moore was left behind to help George guard the mansion, since George was the only one with relatively systematic alchemical knowledge and had already demonstrated his ability to create targeted potions; his time was precious.

After seeing the inspector and Bates off, George went to his sister's room on the second floor and comforted her.

He then intended to go to the servants' quarters to check on the situation there, but on the stairs he encountered a male servant sent by Carson, whose face was covered with a cotton cloth soaked in vinegar.

Upon hearing the servant's report, he checked the cards of [Cultist Elliott] at the card table and then hurried to the temporary isolation area on the north side.

The rooms on the north side, originally intended as spare rooms for temporary servants, have now been designated by George as an area for quarantine.

After arranging the affairs of the mansion, butler Carson faithfully continued his young master's decision, and now he led George, who had rushed over upon receiving the news, to the room of the person in quarantine.

"Young Master, Master Albert's condition is relatively mild compared to other patients, but it is still quite alarming."

The butler's tone was clearly worried: "Please make sure you are mentally prepared."

George nodded silently.

Upon exiting the room, George peered through a small pane of glass in the door and saw Uncle Albert lying on a simple wooden bed.

He put on a mask and held the amulet before opening the door.

Upon entering the room, he saw that his uncle's face was flushed, his breathing was rapid and heavy, and large patches of bright red rashes were clearly visible on his skin.

The situation was indeed as the housekeeper described, "shocking."

"Uncle?" George approached the bedside and called out softly.

Albert's eyelids twitched, and he opened them with difficulty, staring unfocusedly at the ceiling, his lips moving.

"George, you're right... Be careful not to get infected..."

George examined him—high fever and multiple rashes, some skin abnormalities, and some confusion.

He went back out and checked the next few rooms; the situation was much the same.

All the quarantined servants—the male servant who had been in contact with the uncle, the handyman who was sent to contact the gardener, and several unfortunate female servants—developed varying degrees of fever and rashes, and some had even fallen into a coma.

The progression of the disease is worrying, and there are no doctors, no specific diagnoses, and the isolation conditions are inadequate...

George knew very well that an effective treatment had to be found as soon as possible, otherwise these people wouldn't last much longer.

-----------------

It was lunchtime, but the entire residence was filled with worry and the inconvenience caused by the quarantine measures.

Because Mrs. Patmer unfortunately contracted the virus, the kitchen was almost empty, and there were very few servants available to work.

The servants were simply unable to prepare a decent meal, and the male servants were even less of a threat. Mrs. Hughes wished she could cook for herself.

It was at this moment that Arthur appeared at the kitchen door.

He took off his usual hunting attire, rolled up his sleeves, and looked around the empty kitchen and the few surviving servants who looked troubled.

This person still had their usual optimistic smile on their face.

"Looks like our proper Gallian lunch is off, guys. But don't worry, I'll show you something."

He rolled up his sleeves, skillfully inspected the ingredients, and took out a portion of them under everyone's gaze.

Large chunks of beef, some lettuce, tomatoes, hard cheese, and several jars of estate-made pickles in the corner and canned tomato sauce in the cabinet.

"Beef patties? We can make burgers. New World cooking will save our lunch." Uncle's voice was reassuring.

"Mince the beef, add some spices and salt, and shape it into patties. Wash the lettuce, slice the tomatoes, and grate the cheese. And these pickled cucumbers, sliced ​​thinly and served with ketchup, would be delicious."

Several servants were infected by this atmosphere. Although they were still afraid of the epidemic, they at least found something to keep them busy.

Soon, the sounds of chopping vegetables and mixing meat filling the kitchen filled the air, and Uncle Arthur even started humming an unknown tune.

So when the clock struck twelve and the second half of the day began, George had just returned to the first floor of the mansion when he smelled a strange fragrance.

It was an intense aroma of oil, caramel, cheese, and tomato sauce, unlike anything the estate kitchen had ever done before.

He entered the dining room and saw Arthur Tumbert with his sleeves rolled up, directing several servants to place plates on the long table.

The other people in the manor watched them work with varying expressions.

"Ah, George, you've come at the perfect time!" Arthur Tumbert said, rubbing his hands together as he approached George. "Since Mrs. Patmer is ill, I'll take care of it myself."

He pointed to the assortment on the table: slightly charred beef patties, thick slices of lamb bacon, melted cheese, sliced ​​fresh cucumber and lettuce, and several jars of deep red sauce.

"We call it a 'hamburger'—although the name comes from the Roman Federation, it is indeed a genuine New World flavor."