Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 22 Helena

The hotel's main entrance was made of wood and painted a dark blue.

Although the corners have begun to peel, you can still vaguely see the exquisite craftsmanship that once existed.

The lobby is only a dozen square meters, with an old fan in the corner.

A thick layer of dust had accumulated on the leaves, and each turn brought a slight breeze.

Several yellowed movie posters were pasted on the wall.

The contents are blurry and indistinct, with only scattered colors adorning the monotonous plaster wall.

Helena Diaz leaned back in her chair, propping her head up with her left hand, staring listlessly at the television under the table.

It's an old-fashioned CRT model, but thankfully the quality is good.

A cliché soap opera was playing on the screen, with frames skipping from time to time.

The female protagonist tearfully accused her lover of betrayal, her voice broken and intermittent, as if disturbed by something.

However, just a few seconds into the story, the scene abruptly switches to a car advertisement.

A slick-haired, powdered-faced male actor stood next to a red sports car, enthusiastically promoting his "fair" installment payment plan.

Is this four or nine units?

What nonsense.

She mentally grumbled and reached out to pat the side of the TV, as if that would restore the terrible signal.

The screen still flickered with static, accompanied by intermittent stuttering.

Damn it, I've wasted my money on this month's usage fee.

Do these gangsters even want to do business anymore?
The signal is getting worse and worse, but they're still collecting every penny, which is even worse than federal taxes.

Just then, two strangers walked in one after the other.

A man and a woman, dressed casually, were carrying a plastic bag.

"Need a room?" Seeing that someone had come to her, Helena stood up and spoke with the usual enthusiasm of a shopkeeper: "Fair prices, I guarantee you'll be satisfied."

"What's the price for a standard room?" The man's hat brim was pulled low, making it impossible to see his expression.

"Thirty yuan per night, hot water provided."

Helena answered with a smile, her gaze sweeping over the two of them.

The woman's face was mostly covered by her long hair, and her tightly pursed lips were somewhat pale.

Upon hearing this, the man took out a few crumpled bills from his pocket and placed them on the counter: "Keep the change."

Helena put away the money, her smile becoming even more genuine. She took a key from the drawer and handed it to the man.

"The innermost three floors, 305, is absolutely great value for money."

Once the two of them had gone upstairs, Helena turned her gaze back to the television.

Today is Thursday, and the occupancy rate is low.

Until the sun was about to set, apart from the beer supplier coming to restock and the old man from the hardware store at the street corner coming in to borrow a lighter, there was nothing else happening in the hotel.

Business is so tough.

Helena thought to herself, then pulled out a pack of tobacco from her bosom, took one out, and put it in her mouth.

He paused for a moment as he reached for his lighter, then remembered it had been borrowed. His lips twitched, and he simply tucked the cigarette behind his ear.

The TV series has already reached the point where the male lead proposes, kneeling on one knee with a diamond ring in his hand.

What a ridiculous plot.

She was about to roll her eyes when the screen suddenly flashed and the signal abruptly switched.

"Highest alert!"

A red icon suddenly pops up, accompanied by a familiar, deep drumbeat.

Helena frowned and unconsciously leaned forward slightly.

The man in the studio was impeccably dressed in a suit, his expression solemn, and the police badge hanging behind him gleamed coldly under the lights.

"We're taking a short break to bring you breaking news. Bahia State Police have issued the highest alert level. Two highly dangerous individuals are currently at large and are suspected of involvement in today's serious bombing."

Immediately afterwards, two photos, one of a man and one of a woman, appeared on the screen.

"The suspects are described as follows: male, Asian, approximately 1.8 meters tall, short hair; female, 1.67 meters tall, dark hair. Both are dressed casually and act cautiously. They may change their appearance. Citizens are advised to be vigilant."

"A reward of one million reais has been offered. Anyone who provides valid clues will be protected by the police and their identity will be guaranteed to remain completely anonymous."

The hotline for reporting violations is as follows: "DISQUE DENNCIA 2253-1177"

“LIGUE 190”

Helena's mind exploded instantly, a mixture of shock, fear, hesitation, and even a kind of uneasy excitement leaving her frozen in place.

That woman is all too familiar.

One million reais.

The two photos were still being shown on the TV.

Her lips were slightly parted, and her breathing was a little rapid.

You should call the police immediately, right?

But what if you mistake someone for someone else?
Helena paced anxiously in the lobby, her hands tightly rubbing the hem of her clothes.

She took a breath, steeled her resolve, and decided to go and confirm first.

If they really are wanted people, then there's no need to think twice; just go downstairs, make the call, and collect the life-changing bounty.

If not, it's better to avoid false alarms and being penalized.

Having made up her mind, Helena quickly walked to the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of beer.

The metal can walls felt cool and were covered with fine water droplets.

My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of my chest.

She ran upstairs in a few steps, forced herself to calm down, adjusted her breathing, and knocked on the door.

"Room service, would you like something to drink? It's complimentary for our guests today."

Helena tried to make her tone sound casual and natural.

There was dead silence in the room.

She frowned and knocked again, this time with more force:

"If you need anything, you can open the door and get it."

Still no response.

Helena placed the two cans of beer on the ground and pressed her ear against the door, trying to hear what was happening inside.

Nothing at all.

There were no footsteps, no whispers, not even the sound of breathing.

His pupils contracted, and a chilling unease crept into his heart.

Is nobody here? Or are they pretending not to be there?
With her finger hovering above the doorknob, Helena took a few deep breaths and gently turned it.

"Click——"

The door is open.

Her heart clenched, blood rushed to her head, and she instinctively pulled her hand back and took two steps back.

A few seconds passed, but there was still no sound from the room.

Helena held her breath, staring at the open door, wondering whether she should go in.

A few more seconds passed, but there was still no response from inside.

She hesitated for a moment, gritted her teeth, and reached out to push open the door.

A strong smell of blood hit his face.

The torn medicine packaging and used gauze were thrown into the trash can.

Other than that, there was no one.

Helena's mind went blank.

How could that be? They clearly only checked in this afternoon. When did they leave?
Never mind, it's too late.

She practically tumbled out of the room, lunged at the counter, and grabbed the phone.

The phone rang twice, and the hotline was connected.

Helena's palms were sweaty, and her ears were ringing.

She stared at the channel switching back to the wedding scene, swallowed hard, and said, "I'm going to report this to the police. I know where those two people are."

(End of this chapter)