Bailonz Street 13

When the carriage finally brought us to Whitmore Gardens after about a twenty-minute ride, it was nearly 4 PM. The place was filled with three or four-story flats, most of which had ‘For Rent’ signs, giving the area an eerie feeling. A few lit homes had tightly drawn curtains, with people moving busily inside.

‘A large family?’ I thought, but Liam’s expression suggested he noticed something different. He gently brushed a nameplate and mumbled something I couldn’t hear. Then, he boldly knocked on the door.

A curt voice snapped from inside, “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

With that, the door opened just enough for a foot to enter. The house inside was dark, filled with continuous, sinister whispers. A skeletal hand gripped the doorknob, hidden in the shadows.

“The master does not receive unannounced visitors,” came the voice, crackling like dried wood.

“Would he say the same if he knew his benefactor was here? Tell him Liam Moore has come to see the ‘One who has not yet fallen.'”

The servant’s hollow, skull-like eyes widened, and the door slammed shut. Footsteps receded as he went to deliver the message.

During this time, Liam advised me to keep my head down and focus on the floor, probably to avoid exposing my disguise. I nodded and kept my lips sealed, eyes cast down.

A creaking voice led us in. Liam went first, and I followed. We walked through a dark corridor.

Though it appeared to be a small flat from the outside, the hallway was long and complex, lined with doors, reminiscent of a hotel. It felt like the darkness was deliberately extended to trap any light or like a refuge created by those hiding from the light.

As we walked, I felt eyes watching from all directions, and occasionally, a door would creak open as if someone was peeking at the visitors. It felt like Orpheus, tempted by beings while leading Eurydice to the surface.

I felt something pulling me to turn back. My pace slowed as insistent hands clung to my clothes, trying to see my face. Then, a strange, crisp sound of static snapped in the air.

A brief, sharp scream, countless hands hurriedly letting go, and the relentless pursuit vanished instantly.

Strange things were happening. Yet, Liam Moore never once looked back as he walked ahead.

At the end of the beast-like corridor was a large door. As it opened, a vintage room with a roaring fireplace was revealed. The floor was covered with a red carpet, meticulously clean, and furnished with French-style furniture, reminiscent of an old era or a royal chamber.

Liam, shielding me behind him, approached a massive wooden desk. “Long time no see, dear Liam Moore. ■■■ ■■ ■■,” a warm and gentle female voice greeted.

Her latter words, spoken in a foreign language, were incomprehensible to me, sounding like a mix of harsh German and smooth French. The word seemed to start with ‘Kreuz…’

I sensed Liam Moore’s body tensing with stress, indicating a formidable opponent. However, Liam’s voice remained surprisingly calm, dismissing my initial thoughts.

“I’ve come seeking your help, Lucita.”

Hearing this, the woman let out a satisfied laugh. Even I didn’t expect the proud Liam Moore to ask for help. Perhaps he also felt a sense of satisfaction in this.

“Then it would be polite to introduce your companion.”

The sound of a long dress trailing, and suddenly, her voice was right beside me!

A cold hand touched my cheek, then gently cradled my chin. The touch was soft and seemed harmless, yet chilling, as if it wasn’t human.

The woman whispered like singing a lullaby.

“Oh, such a pretty child. Won’t you lift your head and introduce yourself?”

“Lucita, this child is not related to you—”

“Indeed, but if you, my ‘benefactor,’ cherish this child, isn’t it proper for me to see his face?”

“Lucita!”

Liam’s loud voice carried a hint of panic, pulling at my arm in protest. But the woman was faster, lifting my chin.

When I raised my head, I saw someone indescribable.

A stunning blonde beauty with long, thick eyelashes, a white and glossy cheek, finely shaped features, and cherry-colored lips. Her slim, smooth body was draped in a thin, black dress, revealing her marble-like, cold figure. But the most striking feature was her eyes.

Those eyes… It’s hard to call them human. They were a vivid red, but the color wasn’t the problem. The shape of her pupils, elongated and slit like a reptile’s, was terrifying. The flames from the fireplace behind me reflected in her eyes, creating the illusion of fire dancing in her gaze.

For a moment, her cheeks glistened with what seemed like scales, then settled. The woman looked down at me with a curious smile, then lifted her head to look at Liam, seemingly filled with a strange desire.

“She’s a woman.”

Liam didn’t answer, but I knew his face must have been twisted with frustration.

“A woman!”

I was mesmerized by her snake-like appearance, feeling the chill of her touch on my cheek, raising goosebumps. But that was all.

Lucita, as she was called, seemed surprised by my mild reaction.

Had I forgotten something? Ah! She expected an introduction. So, I slightly lifted the edge of my hat and introduced myself.

“…Jane Osmond. Yes, I’m a woman.”

“Such an adorable and audacious child….”

This time, it was Lucita who muttered in disbelief.

“Liam, you certainly know how to pique my interest!”

When I turned my head in confusion, even Liam looked at me with slight astonishment, but neither of them explained further.

I didn’t ask either. With everything that had happened, my mind was already overloaded, and I had little desire to delve into their long history (which seemed worthy of the term ‘benefactor’).

In the end, the three of us sat down, sharing cups of the mysterious tea brought by the unsettling servant. Despite its strange color, the taste and aroma were surprisingly excellent.

Liam Moore still hadn’t touched his cup. I tried to distance myself from their conversation, but Lucita’s persistent kindness made it impossible. Liam shielded me with his body as he explained the situation.

“You’ve heard about the recent murders in London, right? We’re chasing the ones behind it. With your information network, you must know what’s going on.”

“Murders happen every day. Be more specific about what you’re curious about.”

“…Is their goal really related to the brain?”

Lucita sank deeply into her armchair, her long blonde hair curling with her movements.

“There have been a few strange occurrences lately. Those who follow the Black King, and the scholars of the End Star. But neither group is very active. The ones operating in London are just those hiding in the sewers, chanting dark prayers. If they followed the Black King, they wouldn’t cause chaos with just six people. You know that well, having experienced it yourself.”

“……Followers of that one are always active. I suspected the scholars of the End Star. But I don’t think they’re directly involved.”

It was a string of incomprehensible terms. They seemed to be searching for a religious group, but why bring up scholars or kings? What was the Black King, and what did the End Star mean?

They appeared to avoid direct expressions, likely to prevent me from ‘understanding’ the implications of those terms.

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