Mysterious: The Innate Sacred Body of Destiny

Chapter 402 Testing and Confrontation (Free)

"Ms. Cassie, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

Lorne pushed open the door to the reception room, a businesslike smile on his face.

Hazel followed behind him, and she even went out of her way to get a notebook and a pen, trying her best to play the role of "secretary," but her wary gaze never left Tracy.

Tracy slowly stood up, calmly observing the man who walked in with her deep blue eyes.

"Mr. James Scott————"

Her voice was soft, with a strange magnetism.

At first glance, she was slightly taken aback.

That feeling—was very strange.

The man in front of her was well-dressed, with a cool and aloof demeanor, yet his clothes were inexplicably flamboyant. Wearing a monocle, he even had a scholarly air about him. She had never seen such a strange style of person before.

Moreover, she felt a stirring deep within her soul. It was a tingling sensation, like being struck by an electric current, that she couldn't comprehend.

Tracy frowned, trying to suppress this inexplicable feeling.

Lorne bowed slightly in greeting.

The three sat down again. Hazel sat beside him, while Tracy sat opposite him.

"Ted said that Ms. Cassie wants to buy a large quantity of weapons to arm the family's caravan?" Lorne got straight to the point, trying to keep the conversation purely in the realm of business.

“That’s right.” Tracy nodded, her gaze lingering on Lorne for a few seconds before shifting away. “The seas are always rough, and pirates are rampant. So we need a suitable batch of weapons.”

"No problem, our weapons are the best."

"Mr. Scott, I think—could we talk alone?" Tracy's gaze swept over Hazel beside her, with a hint of obvious reluctance. "Since this is business, I don't want any outsiders present."

The air in the room seemed to freeze for a moment. Hazel's body tensed sharply, her fingers gripping the notebook turning slightly white.

Although she was naive, her woman's intuition told her that this woman named Cassie was definitely up to no good! She was trying to get rid of her right away. What was she planning to do, a man and a woman alone in a room?

Just as Hazel hesitated whether to speak, Lorne's calm yet firm voice rang out.

He shook his head slightly, not even looking at Tracy, but turning his head to give Hazel a reassuring look: "I'm sorry, Ms. Cassie."

"Hayr also acts as my secretary, and at the same time, she is my most trusted assistant—"

"Moreover—" he paused, a polite smile playing on his lips, "as a gentleman, having a trustworthy companion present when alone with a strange lady can also prevent some unnecessary misunderstandings."

This also protects your reputation, doesn't it?

Upon hearing this, a warm feeling welled up in Hazel's heart, and her previously tense face relaxed.

He's protecting me! He's protecting me without hesitation, even in front of this woman!

Tracy's eyes narrowed slightly.

A trusted assistant? To avoid misunderstandings?

This protective stance made her feel inexplicably uncomfortable.

It's like—something that belongs to you has been taken by someone else.

hiss--

"Since Mr. Scott insists, I won't force him." Tracy suppressed her emotions and didn't dwell on the issue any further.

"Actually, I came here mainly because of your reputation." Her tone changed, and she shifted her focus. "The whole of Backlund is talking about your heroic deeds, Mr. Scott. I heard that you once single-handedly saved Duke Negan from a terrible assassin."

"That was just a coincidence, you flatter me," Lorne said modestly.

"No," Tracy nodded slightly, "I also heard that you rescued a group of girls from the mob."

"I was very impressed by the photo of you holding a weapon in the newspaper."

The weapon—the Ripper! Lorne's heart skipped a beat; in that instant, many thoughts raced through his mind—

Could it be that she still kept the original version, which is why—

She really is Tracy!

What a blunder!

Lorne didn't show his emotions on the surface, and patiently made a few polite remarks about weapons. Tracy also took the opportunity to steer the conversation to the gun that Lorne was holding in the newspaper.

"You mean the 'Ripper' shotgun? That's our factory's signature product."

“Yes, that’s the gun.” Tracy nodded, her eyes becoming somewhat profound. “I’ve never seen that unique design in Intis or Fenneport. I’ve heard that this gun has unparalleled suppressive power in close combat, and some even say that it can change the rules of urban warfare.”

"Since it's so powerful, I think it should also be suitable for dealing with pirates trying to board the ship, right? After all, such firepower suppression is crucial on the narrow deck."

"Therefore, I want to order a batch this time to arm the fleet."

Armed fleet—they're probably pirate ships, aren't they?

"I can't drag this on for long," Lorne thought to himself, then put on a sincere expression.

"Well—Ms. Cassie, with all due respect, if you intend to use it to arm your fleet, the Ripper might not be the best choice."

"Why?" Tracy raised an eyebrow.

"Because the 'Ripper' has a rather complex internal structure," Lorne patiently explained. "The marine environment is extremely harsh; the high salinity of the sea breeze and the humid air can cause severe corrosion to the delicate mechanical structure. Without regular maintenance, this gun is prone to problems at sea."

"I have my reputation, Ms. Cassie. I cannot sell you unsuitable products just to make money. That would be irresponsible to the safety of your caravan."

Not suitable for sea use —

Tracy's expression darkened slightly, and a sense of displeasure welled up inside her.

That's Brando's masterpiece! It's the culmination of his genius!

She remembered how Brando had saved her time and time again at sea with this very gun.

Why does it become so delicate in your mouth?

Wait, how does James Scott know so much about the situation at sea? Tracy suddenly realized something.

"But as far as I know, this design concept is very advanced. Perhaps with some truly knowledgeable people making improvements, it could be perfectly adapted to the marine environment?"

She looked up, her gaze seemingly casually landing on Lorne's face: "And Mr. Scott seems to know a great deal about the conditions at sea? He's even considered details like seawater corrosion."

Do you often go out to sea?

Oops—a mistake—

James Scott's character is a self-made factory owner who, despite his large business, primarily operates within the Backlund region and has no history of venturing overseas.

In order to quickly steer clear of this sensitive topic, he subconsciously revealed his familiarity with the situation at sea.

Sensing the probing gaze, Lorne shrugged. "I've sold my weapons to many colonial garrisons. They've given me a lot of feedback on the situation at sea."

"As a responsible supplier, it is my duty to collect customer feedback and make improvements."

"Moreover, I took advantage of a business trip a while ago to go to the beach. Although I didn't actually go on a sea trip, I still got some firsthand experience."

This explanation is reasonable and logically sound.

Tracy stared at Lorne for a few seconds, seemingly trying to discern the truth in his words. Finally, she withdrew her aggressive gaze and smiled faintly: "I see. It seems Mr. Scott is indeed a very responsible person."

Although she said that, Tracy's doubts did not disappear.

This man—his reaction was too quick, and his reaction was flawless.

"If Ms. Cassie really likes that gun, I can send you a custom-made one," Lorne continued.

"Hmm—custom-made."

"A custom-made one?" Tracy repeated the words softly, a hint of something unreadable flashing in her eyes. She looked up first...

He thanked her, then casually remarked, "Actually, I'm quite curious, is this excellent design your work?"

"Are you a genius mechanic?"

It was another trap—Lorne didn't answer immediately.

Admitting to designing it yourself? That would be tantamount to admitting your identity. While you could argue it was a coincidence, denying it would require explaining the origin of the design.

"This is a trade secret, Ms. Cassie."

After a long silence, Lorne spoke slowly, in a businessman's tone: "Behind every successful weapon lies the hard work and wisdom of countless engineers. As for who specifically designed it—I think that's not important."

"It doesn't matter—" Tracy muttered.

How could Brando's design not be important!

I need to stay calm. He neither admitted that he designed it himself, nor did he deny it.

She looked up at Lorne's cold face, and that inexplicable sense of familiarity surged up again.

However, when Lorne opened his mouth, his businessman-like shrewdness and worldliness made her feel a sense of unfamiliarity.

Brando isn't like that. He's innocent, he cares about me, and he wouldn't lie to me—

Am I just overthinking things?

Tracy wavered.

Perhaps it's because I miss him so much that I mistake anyone who looks even slightly similar for him.

So, what about the shotgun incident? Did he buy Brando's design, or did he hide Brando away?

She remembered the figure she saw at the train station that day, and she now believed it was definitely not a hallucination.

In order to get more clues, Tracy forced herself to suppress her thoughts and patiently talked to Lorne about some business cooperation topics.

But as the conversation deepened, she discovered something even more terrifying.

She found herself inexplicably drawn to the man in front of her.

She had just been annoyed by his disparaging remarks about "The Ripper," but when those deep eyes looked at her through his monocle, her anger inexplicably dissipated.

Even when their eyes met unintentionally, and he leaned forward slightly to explain a technical detail, she felt a shyness and panic she had never experienced before.

My heart was racing, my breathing was rapid, and my cheeks were burning—this feeling—was like the butterflies in my stomach when a girl is facing her sweetheart.

How is this possible?!

Tracy clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging deep into her flesh. The intense pain brought her back to her senses.

My heart has long belonged to Brando! Even though he's gone—my love still belongs only to him!

Conversely, his love can only belong to me!

How could I possibly have feelings for this man? It's impossible! Absolutely impossible!

Heroes and pirates are not a good match at all!

Could it be that I've changed my mind?

No, absolutely not! My love for Brando is absolute.

Therefore, the only explanation is—

Tracy looked up again, her gaze fixed on Lorne, her eyes becoming somewhat crazed and distorted.

If my feelings for this man are real, if I haven't changed my mind—then there must be something wrong with this man!

She looked at the cold, aloof man before her, trying once again to connect him with the figure in her memory.

No. Their temperaments are different; they give off completely different vibes. Brando is very innocent and naive.

There's something wrong with his appearance too—

But this peculiar attraction—

"Ms. Cassie? Are you alright?"

Seeing that the other person was staring at him blankly, Lorne suppressed his unease and politely reminded him.

"Ah—I'm sorry, my apologies." Tracy snapped out of her reverie, quickly composed herself, and put on an elegant smile. "I was just suddenly thinking about some things from the past, and I got a little distracted."

She didn't press the matter further, nor did she immediately retaliate. After all, this was Backlund; if she took action, the consequences would be unpredictable.

But her doubts grew wildly like weeds. She even had an even more insane idea: to find an opportunity to knock this man unconscious, take him to a secluded place, and confirm things properly.

She was very familiar with Brando's body—

"However, may I tour the factory? I'd like to see firsthand how these sophisticated weapons are manufactured."

o

"A factory tour?" Lorne frowned slightly.

"What's wrong? Is it inconvenient?"

"No, a gentleman would not refuse a lady's request." Lorne did not refuse. "However, some core areas are confidential and can only be viewed from the outside."

"No problem," Tracy readily agreed.

"She's not ladylike at all, why be so polite to her?" Hazel thought to herself, while looking at Lorne with a hint of resentment.

The atmosphere became somewhat awkward during the rest of the visit.

Tracy wasn't focused on the machines and workers; she was observing Lorne's reactions the whole time.

Lorne himself remained calm, his premonition of disaster was relatively stable, but Hazel stayed close to Lorne, watching Tracy's every move warily.

Tracy was somewhat displeased by this. Although she still doubted Lorne's identity and felt that she "shouldn't" have feelings for this man, she couldn't control her emotions when she saw him being so intimate with another woman.

Fortunately, the visit wasn't too long.

Afterwards, Tracy didn't press the matter further. She and Lorne signed some preliminary agreements, indicating that she would visit again if given the opportunity.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Scott."

At the factory gate, Tracy reached out her hand, wanting to shake hands.

Lorne hesitated for a moment, then reached out his hand.

Hands clasped together.

Tracy's hands were cold and soft, just like they had been before.

"Looking forward to our next meeting."

Then, she turned and left.

"That—" Hazel watched Tracy's retreating figure, and tugged at Lorne's sleeve with some concern. "Scott, that woman—she's really dangerous. You'd better stay away from her in the future."

"I know." Lorne looked at the faint chill lingering in his palm, his face grim.

Calmness does not mean there are no flaws.

However, Tracy wasn't calm enough; she had more flaws than I did.

Tracy, Brando is dead, why bother with him?

On the other hand, Tracy didn't go far after leaving the factory.

She stood in the shadows at the street corner, looking back at the factory.

"James Scott —"

She murmured the name to herself.

"Whoever you are, since you have connections with Brando—you're not getting away."

"I have plenty of time to play this game of hide-and-seek with you."

She stuck out her tongue and licked her dry lips, revealing a chilling, morbid, and expectant smile on her face.

She had gained something today; there was something she was vaguely certain of—

"Brando, you're still alive after all."

"I'm really looking forward to the moment when we're completely honest with each other."

I've been so busy lately with exams and course design that my thoughts have been a bit scattered, and I made a slight mistake in the plot.

I apologize for the mistake.

This chapter is free.

I'd also like to take a break; I've been incredibly busy these past couple of days, and I need to use this time to organize my thoughts.

Maybe we really should create a group chat, so we can discuss any problems that arise.