Halfway down she remembered that she had forgotten to take the torch on the wall.
But she immediately gave up the idea of going back because she saw a faint flame jumping at the corner of the stairs.
At least it shows that there is oxygen underneath.
She thought so.
The stench grew stronger, and Hitzfeld went down the stairs faster and faster.
She walked as lightly as possible as she passed the corner and completely came out of the gloomy and narrow corridor. In front of her appeared a spacious space built underground with walls made of granite.
There were torches hanging on the walls, which were the source of the fire.
There are three beds, a table, a bookshelf, a spinning machine, and a machine similar to a processing lathe in the space.
The bookshelf was filled with all kinds of books, and there were white candles on the table and in the corners that had burned down to the point where only the bases were left. There was a vase in the corner of the table, with a book, a bottle of ink, and a notebook spread out in the middle.
Hitzfeld didn't dare to breathe.
She fixed her eyes on the third bed.
The other two beds were empty.
The first bed sheet was clean as new.
Although the second one was empty, you could see all kinds of disgusting blood stains on the sheets.
Only the third one had something lying on it - it was covered with a layer of dirty black and gray cloth, and the stench of corpse came from underneath.
Nerves relaxed.
It can be said that I breathed a sigh of relief.
Although it is terrifying to find a dead body in the cellar, a body that doesn't move and just stinks is much better than a nightmare monster.
Seeing the feet sticking out from under the dirty cloth and confirming that it was a motionless corpse, Hitzfeld walked to the table and turned the book facing inward to check.
The densely packed small characters...she couldn't understand a single sentence.
Is this Sara?
Frowning slightly.
Although his efficiency gradually decreased after working on the language day and night, Hitzfeld was already able to read newspapers and letters roughly.
Even difficult encyclopedias and biographies could be read by her guesswork, and she had never encountered a situation where she could not understand them at all.
She couldn't help but frown and observe the characters carefully. She found that although they were all the Sara letters she had learned, the splicing methods were different and the tones marked were different. It was as if they had become another language completely.
A language somewhat similar to modern Sara, but more complex and seemingly more ancient.
Is this a funeral book?
Flipping through the pages, Hitzfeld saw some horrific manuscript illustrations.
A naked person was nailed into the coffin. Several people in black robes stood beside him with their arms stretched out, cutting wounds on their arms with knives and spilling blood into the coffin.
There also seemed to be instructions for making a special coffin, with all the steps broken down and explained in pictures, so you could roughly replicate it even just by looking at the pictures.
On the page Hitzfeld was looking at, the coffin was only about halfway completed.
She frowned and suddenly felt that this thing looked familiar.
A hand quietly pressed on her shoulder.
She shuddered violently, turned around with a pale face, and saw Mrs. Glee standing behind her with a sullen face.
"Husband...ma'am?"
Hitzfeld felt his heart beating violently.
Madam, why do you walk without making any sound?
"Um...I'm back..."
The sound becomes smaller and smaller as time goes by.
Because Hitzfeld noticed that the lady seemed to be in a bad condition.
Her face was still as rigid as ever, but her eyes were like a wild beast, as if she would open her mouth and bite like a zombie in the next moment.
This feeling is fleeting.
"He's back."
She heard Madame's stiff voice.
"it's a pity……"
"……what?"
"As you can see, this is the cellar, and it's also where I usually study mortuary science."
“…” Hitzfeld unconsciously went to look at the corpse.
"From a nearby family."
The lady shook her head.
"It died tragically, so I sent it to me to repair it."
"Stop reading those ancient books and come up with me."
She fended Hitzfeld off and took the bottle of ink from the table.
Hitzfeld kept staring at her face, seeing that she was concentrating on the ink, and only gradually relaxed her facial muscles after she grabbed it in her hands.
"hurry up."
She turned away from her gaze.
"I want to know what happened to you in Port Wayne."
Chapter 44 Oracle
An hour later, in the study on the third floor.
The lady sat behind the desk and poured a cup of tea for each of them.
“…No more.”
Pushing the teacup across the center line of the table, the subsequent questioning made the girl tense up again.
"No." She looked up and glanced at the lady's face. "It's just that I found the receipt in the house, and because of your perfume... the library didn't make it difficult for me and let me receive the document."
"They didn't give you any trouble."
"Um……"
"You are not asked to hand it over."
"Yes, but..."
"Who is the person they sent to talk to you."
"An old man who calls himself Alfred."
"Alfred."
She saw the lady give a slight sneer.
"Did he tell you his code name?"
"No."
"That really fits his character." The lady's smile became more sarcastic. "Pretentious, conceited, and afraid of taking responsibility... He thinks you've read the documents, so revealing the code name won't be conducive to negotiating with you."
Hitzfeld was a little confused.
The code names of Shadow Lion members should be all kinds of weird.
Her knowledge of this organization was extremely limited, and the number of Shadow Lion members she had actually come into contact with could be counted on one hand. How could it be possible that her impression of them would change just because she heard a code name?
Unless this code name has appeared in those documents and manuscripts, and the image is not very positive.
Night crow.
She immediately locked onto this person.
He is familiar with his wife and made a mistake in the Golem Curse 40 years ago. He followed his wife and ended the disaster in a not-so-glorious manner. Although he was a key teammate, he did not share any risks with his wife in the process.
The illusory face generated when reading the manuscript gradually overlapped with Alfred's old face. Hitzfeld couldn't help but think of the old man's emphasis when they first met.
He resented having any honorifics added to his name.
Now I think, maybe he is not disgusted by honorifics, but hates any form of affixes?
As a teammate, he misjudged the situation 40 years ago and made the mistake of not taking the lead.
Later, he even captured the corrupt Ivan Gulliver and forced his wife to execute him there personally.
He must be feeling guilty, right?
Because of his understanding of Lilith Dawson and the remaining guilt, he stayed in the empty house on Iris Street for such a long time.
From this perspective, when he said he had lived there for almost forty years...it wasn't necessarily a lie.
"Did he come back with you?"
An oppressive gaze swept over.
"……No."
"Then he is destined to be a waste in this life."
The lady sneered and continued to lock the girl's face.
"So you understood my intentions and why I asked you to read the letter."
"……Yes."
"Then why did you come back?"
"I……"
Hitzfeld looked at his wife with his one blue eye and saw that the corners of her lips were twitching slightly and the skin of her entire face was flushed red due to some intense emotion.
"lady!"
She was startled and immediately stood up and tried to walk around the table.
"Don't come over." The lady stopped her immediately.
"Don't move, just stand there and turn around!"
"..."
Hitzfeld looked at her deeply, suppressed the discomfort and fear in his heart, and turned his back little by little.
"Now tell me why you came back to die."
She felt a cold breath coming towards her.
It was as if a humanoid monster quietly came up behind her and was touching her with its slender, sharp claws through a thin layer of air.
"because--"
Taking a deep breath, Hitzfeld said tremblingly.
"because I--"
She racked her brains for an excuse.
The lady's condition was obviously not right.
She wasn't sure if telling the truth, "I came back to save you, to stop you from doing something stupid alone," would have the opposite effect.
The scenes that I experienced after waking up appeared before my eyes.
Suddenly, she thought of the silver pendant that her lady always wore on her chest.
It was a sun-shaped pendant. As far as I can remember, she always wore it and never took it off no matter what she wore or what the occasion was.
"Because I received an oracle from the goddess!"
New lies came out of his mouth.
