Mysterious: The Innate Sacred Body of Destiny

Chapter 388 A Familiar Figure, Conversation with Sharon

"Are you Fors' pen pal?"

Looking at the travel-worn young man before him, Xiu asked with some surprise.

"Ah—yes, Miss Hugh, we meet again."

Realizing he was no longer pretending, Lorne decisively changed his tone, adopting one that was both unfamiliar and polite.

"I never expected to run into you here."

"Me too." Hugh nodded, his gaze falling on the suitcase Lorne was carrying, and he asked naturally, "You—"

"Did you just come back from out of town?"

"Yes." Lorne nodded and dusted himself off.

"I just got back from a business trip out of town. I spent the whole day on the train, and my bones feel like they're going to fall apart."

"A business trip?" Hugh blinked in confusion.

"Yes. Thanks to a friend, I recently found a fairly stable job." Lorne fluently repeated the "engineer" rhetoric he had given Mrs. Griffin and the Dunns before.

"I see—" Hugh nodded after hearing Lorne's explanation.

"I was wondering why you hadn't shown up for so long. Turns out you were busy with work."

"Yeah, we're forced to do this because of the pressures of life."

Seeing Hugh's serious expression, completely believing his story, Lorne suddenly felt guilty for deceiving an innocent child.

"Come to think of it, it seems like you haven't written to Fors in a while." Hugh suddenly realized something, looked up at Lorne, and said in a slightly strange tone.

"Uh—actually, Fors hasn't written to me for a while—" Lorne touched his nose somewhat awkwardly.

"Besides, as you know, I often have to travel between different cities for business, so correspondence is really inconvenient." He shrugged, looking helpless.

"By the way, Miss Hugh, what are you doing here? Did you just get back too?" Lorne changed the subject at the right moment.

"I—I'm here to visit a friend in this area." Hugh's eyes darted around, and he told a little lie.

In front of his seemingly refined pen pal, Fors, it was somewhat embarrassing and damaging to his image to say that he was a "bounty hunter" who had come to teach the gangsters a lesson and maintain order.

The two, who were lying to each other, exchanged a few more pleasantries by the roadside before tacitly choosing to say goodbye.

"Goodbye, Miss Hugh. Remember to give my regards to Fors, okay?"

"Okay, I'll pass it on. Goodbye."

Lorne turned around, picked up his suitcase, and disappeared into the crowded flow of people.

"Phew—I'm a little hungry—"

After getting rid of acquaintances, Lorne rubbed his stomach, looked up at the dim sky, and saw that it was getting dark.

"Laqi".

He gently patted the bag at his waist and found that the orange cat was sleeping soundly and showed no sign of waking up.

"Sigh... I'll just find a restaurant and grab something to eat."

Lorne looked around and finally spotted a restaurant in the distance that looked well-decorated and had a decent ambiance.

"That one is fine—it looks alright."

He walked against the flow of people toward the restaurant.

However, after taking only a few steps, he suddenly felt a tremor in his heart.

My spiritual intuition seemed to be slightly stirred—

"strangeness----"

Lorne stopped and cautiously surveyed the crowd around him. Everyone was in a hurry, their faces showing either fatigue or excitement, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Forget it, I'm not dressed formally either, and I look all travel-worn. I might get kicked out by the waiters at those fancy restaurants."

"Let's go back and figure out how to solve the dinner problem."

Thinking this, Lorne decisively turned around and headed towards the street corner, intending to hail a horse-drawn carriage to leave.

Inside the restaurant.

"Glug."

Tracy took a sip of the scarlet liquid in her glass.

The dim gas light shone through the wine glass, illuminating her beautiful face, which was filled with sorrow yet remained stunning.

"Brando—when will we be able to see each other again—"

She tilted her head back and took a large gulp of red wine, seemingly trying to get herself completely drunk. At least in her drunken dreams, she could still see the figure that haunted her soul.

"Ah, it's that short guy. Judging by his appearance, is he getting ready to go back?"

Through her blurry vision, she glimpsed the street corner outside the window, where Hugh was turning and leaving, disappearing into the alleyway. "Looks like she's heading back? I've been following her for days and haven't found anything—what a waste of time."

"Sigh—if only Brando could suddenly appear in front of me right now."

She gave a self-deprecating and dejected laugh, then raised her glass and downed the remaining red wine in one gulp.

"Well----"

Just as she put down her wine glass and continued to face the cold world without him, her gaze inadvertently swept across the crowd outside the window and suddenly fixed on a familiar figure.

"That—that's it!"

Tracy's pupils suddenly contracted, and her body leaned forward uncontrollably, completely disregarding her manners, until she was almost pressed against the glass window.

"Brando?! I—am I dreaming?"

She rubbed her eyes hard, as if she thought she was hallucinating because she was missing someone too much or because she was drunk.

Although with a Sequence 5 constitution, let alone this bottle of red wine, even ten more bottles of Lie Lang Qi might not be able to get her drunk.

But at this moment, looking at that figure that was faintly visible in the crowd, she really felt an extremely unreal and dazed feeling.

"Is it really him?"

It wasn't until she watched the figure gradually disappear around the corner that Tracy suddenly realized what was happening.

"No! Don't go! Wait for me!"

"Don't abandon me again!"

A wave of panic instantly overwhelmed Tracy.

She suddenly stood up, pushed back her chair, and tried to rush out, completely ignoring the astonished looks of the other guests.

However, when she reached the restaurant entrance, two uniformed waiters stopped her.

"What are you doing! Get out of here!" Tracy shouted anxiously.

"Excuse me, miss, your meal bill hasn't been settled yet." One of the waiters smiled professionally and stepped in front of the beautiful lady.

Payment----

In the past, Tracy only needed a charming smile to make these troublesome men swoon, even kneel down and kiss the tips of her shoes. She wouldn't need to care about such unnecessary things.

But ever since Brando left, she has never smiled at a man again.

"Get out of the way!" Tracy's voice was filled with barely suppressed anxiety and coldness.

"Miss, 30 pounds." The waiter's voice trembled slightly.

As the figure on the street corner was about to disappear completely, Tracy's last shred of reason snapped.

"Get out of here!"

She didn't even use her extraordinary abilities; relying solely on the strength granted by her Sequence 5 physical attributes, she impatiently swung her hand and slammed it down. "Bang!"

The waiter who was blocking the way felt as if he had been hit in the chest with a heavy hammer. He was sent flying backward and crashed heavily onto a table, causing a chorus of gasps and screams.

Tracy didn't even glance at him, pushed open the door, rushed into the crowded throng, and ran wildly in the direction where Lorne had disappeared.

"Brando! Brando!"

She weaved anxiously through the crowd, ignoring the surprised and angry looks from those around her, searching everywhere for that familiar figure.

However, it was rush hour, and the crowds near the train station were incredibly dense and chaotic. Various horse-drawn carriages, pedestrians, and...

The vendors were mixed together, and the view was severely obstructed.

No, not anywhere.

She circled the street corner several times, but to no avail. The figure vanished completely, like a drop of water merging into the ocean.

"Could it be fake?"

"No—impossible—"

Tracy stood dejectedly on the street, looking at the vast sea of ​​people, her eyes filled with despair and resentment.

"Brando, don't leave me—" She clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her palms, causing a slight stinging pain.

"I will definitely catch you—I definitely will!"

"I have a strange feeling—"

In the speeding carriage, Lorne sat with a furrowed brow. A bead of cold sweat trickled down his neck.

His spiritual intuition had been subtly stirred, but unlike his previous "premonitions of impending doom," this time he felt an indescribable, sticky, and strange sensation.

This feeling is somewhat familiar—it seems like I've had a similar experience while at sea.

"That's strange—"

Lorne lifted the curtain and looked out the carriage window at the street scene rushing past.

"stop!"

As the carriage entered a somewhat familiar street, Lorne suddenly called out and stopped the driver.

This is Iron Gate Street.

He originally planned to go straight back to his residence on Rose Street.

But now, he changed his mind. Since he's just passing by, why not—

Let's grab dinner at the Brave Ones Bar, and while we're at it—let's chat with Sharon.

Brave Ones Bar.

Looking at the familiar sign that was blackened by smoke, Lorne lifted his suitcase and walked straight over.

The two burly security guards at the entrance merely gave Lorne a wary once-over when they saw him carrying a large suitcase.

He glanced at him, but didn't reach out to stop him.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, a wave of heat mixed with a strong smell of alcohol, cheap tobacco, and sweat hit me.

As evening fell, the bar was bustling with activity, almost every table was full. The patrons were talking loudly, clinking their beer glasses together, and the noise was deafening.

"Meow————"

The sudden noise seemed to wake the orange cat inside the bag. It meowed in dissatisfaction, rolled over in the bag, and scratched Lorne's side with its paw.

Lorne patted him reassuringly, then made his way through the crowd to the bar.

"A glass of South Wales beer."

He said to the bartender who was wiping the glasses, "Some more cured meat and dried fish, not spicy."

The bartender looked up, glanced at Lorne, and without saying anything, turned around and filled a large glass with golden beer from the barrel behind him. Then, he took a plate with a few slices of cured meat and dried fish from under the counter and pushed it in front of Lorne.

"How much?" Lorne picked up his glass, took a sip, and the cool liquid flowed down his throat, dispelling some of his fatigue.

The bartender stopped wiping the glasses, glanced at Lorne, and calmly replied, "It's free."

"The old man instructed that as long as you come, all your expenses at the bar will be covered by him."

"That Ian's got a knack for it," Lorne smirked, taking another big gulp of wine. Then, he picked up a few pieces of dried fish, tore them into small pieces, and placed them in the opening of his satchel.

Lachi sniffed the air, revealing a clear expression of disgust. Having been eating at the Golden Retriever's house for so long, its tastes had become quite picky.

But considering the hunger pangs in its stomach, it reluctantly opened its mouth and began to eat in small bites.

"In that case, is the old man here now?"

Seeing that the orange cat had almost finished eating, Lorne wiped his hands and asked.

"Yes, it's here." The bartender pointed to a door deep inside the bar. "It's still over at the billiards hall."

Inside the billiards hall.

"It's you, Mr. Disenke."

Ian, who was wiping his golf clubs, greeted Lorne, somewhat surprised, as Lorne walked in.

"Yeah, it's been a while." Lorne nodded and placed his suitcase at his feet.

"How's the shipment I gave you before?"

"Excellent, the quality is very good." Ian smiled with satisfaction. "My customers love it, saying it's much better than the junk they used before. You can send over another batch; the price is negotiable."

"Okay, I'll arrange it in a while."

Lorne gave a brief reply and then fell silent. He looked around, his gaze settling on a dark corner, and asked softly, "Sharon, are you there?"

The next moment, the air distorted slightly. A figure dressed in an elaborate black Gothic court dress and wearing an exquisite black soft hat silently appeared.

The moment Sharon saw Lorne, her pale blue eyes flickered almost imperceptibly, a fleeting hint of joy quickly passing through them before returning to their usual cool indifference.

"You're back."

"Mm." Lorne nodded.

The two exchanged a brief greeting, then turned their heads simultaneously with remarkable tacit understanding to look at Ian, who was holding a golf club and seemed somewhat superfluous.

"Uh... I understand."

Ian's lips twitched slightly, understanding immediately. He shook his head helplessly, put away his golf clubs, and tactfully walked out, closing the door behind him.

"How was your journey?" Sharon asked, taking the initiative to ask when there were no outsiders present.

"It was alright. I ran into some acquaintances and took care of some personal matters—" Lorne briefly recounted his experiences on the trip, then asked, "I didn't expect you to actually be here today."

"Marich is in charge of the villa area today."

"So responsible?" Lorne nodded. "How was it? Nothing happened while I was gone, right?"

"Something's happened." Sharon's voice was calm, but it made Lorne's heart sink.

"Something's happened—what happened?" Lorne asked nervously. "Is the evil spirit in the basement causing trouble again? Or—"

"No," Sharon shook her head, a serious look appearing on her delicate, doll-like face, "it's a witch."

She then recounted in detail how a mysterious witch had broken into Lorne's villa a few days earlier.

"The witch—is she the one who works with Sherlock Moriarty?"

"No," Sharon denied.

"Although the other party is disguised and their face cannot be seen, judging from their figure, it should not be the same person. This witch is stronger."

"Hiss—I'm not even in Backlund anymore, so why did I still attract the witch's attention?" Lorne was puzzled.

James Scott's identity shouldn't suggest any deep involvement with the Witch Cult.

"The other party seems to have sensed the presence of the ghost in the underground ruins," Sharon added. "She's trying to find the entrance to the basement."

"You mean, the other party might have come because of that evil spirit?" Lorne asked thoughtfully.

"It's possible," Sharon nodded. "But you've become too famous lately. There's a high chance someone is still watching you, trying to investigate your background. That evil spirit might just have accidentally attracted her extra attention."

"Sigh—that's why I have to leave for a while." Lorne sighed helplessly, clearly prepared for the fact that he was being targeted by various groups.

"It seems my popularity has decreased a bit, but not by much."

The two chatted about the related topic for a while. The only saving grace was that, apart from the witch's infiltration, no other more serious incidents occurred.

"By the way, I'd like to ask you to help me investigate the Aurora Society," Lorne suddenly said.

"An aurora viewing party?"

"Hmm. They seem to be making some big moves in the East District—I'm a little worried." Lorne recalled Will Onsetin's words.

The other party said that the Aurora Society seemed to be doing something in Backlund, and that his opportunity for promotion was also related to the Aurora Society.

"You could also ask Ian to keep an eye out for it. I heard there's a strange meat-slice cult in the East District a long time ago," claiming that as long as you believe in the "true creator," you can eat sizzling, oily meat slices every day. That would be a breakthrough. "Okay," Sharon nodded in agreement without asking any further questions.

"Thank you, Ms. Sharon." Lorne gave a sincere smile.

Having collaborated so many times, the two have developed an unspoken understanding and trust in each other.

"Meow~"

Just then, Rachel suddenly popped out of Lorne's bag. Her amber cat eyes stared at Sharon in mid-air for two seconds, seemingly assessing her. After a moment, as if sensing something, she let out a muffled purr and ducked her head.

"Looks like it's a little afraid of you—" Lorne joked somewhat awkwardly.

"Your pet?" Sharon glanced at the bulging handbag.

"More or less." Lorne chuckled awkwardly and picked up the suitcase that was on the ground again.

"It's getting late, I'll head back now."

"I still have a lot of things to do, and I also want to go and take a look at the villa."

Watching Lorne's departing figure, Sharon couldn't help but ask, "You haven't been home yet?"

"No, I just got off the train and came straight to you before I even put my things down," Lorne said matter-of-factly.

"What's wrong?"

Sharon looked at him and gently shook her head: "It's nothing."

She paused, seemingly choosing her words carefully, before finally saying in her usual calm and even tone, "Be careful on the road."