Lord of Mysteries

What I "Saw" in Chapter 90

Sir Deville's bedroom was larger than the combined living and dining room of the Crane family's house. It consisted of a bed area, a living area, a dressing area, a washroom, and a bookshelf and desk area, with exquisite furnishings and luxurious details.

However, to Klein, the room was dimly lit and at least half the temperature of the outside.

At the same time, he seemed to hear cries and dying groans in his ears.

Klein was slightly dazed when he saw that everything had returned to normal: bright sunlight streamed through the window, filling the entire bedroom; the temperature was neither too high nor too low; the police, bodyguards, and butler around him remained silent.

He turned his head to look at the classic and luxurious bed and saw that there seemed to be pairs of blurry eyes hovering in the shadows, like moths that were not afraid of death next to a gas lamp.

After taking a few steps and getting closer, Klein's "spiritual vision" lost the scene he had just seen.

It wasn't a typical vengeful spirit, nor was it an evil spirit... What could it be? Klein frowned, recalling the occult knowledge he had acquired during this time.

In his view, today's task would be easy for the "corpse collector," the "grave digger," or the "spirit medium," but it was clearly not his area of ​​expertise.

Suppressing the urge to divine the direction of his investigation, Klein slowly looked around, searching for other clues to confirm his suspicions.

"Inspector," Sir Deville hesitated for a moment before asking, "have you found anything?"

"If it were that easy to discover, I don't think my colleagues would have waited until now," Klein said, making a polite remark while glancing subconsciously at the philanthropist.

Just as he was about to look away, he suddenly noticed a pale figure reflected in the mirror behind Sir Deville.

No, they were overlapping and twisted pale figures!

The figure vanished in a flash, and Klein seemed to hear faint weeping again.

He exhaled a breath of stale air, calming the fear that had almost made him draw his gun.

Having enhanced his inspiration and opened his spiritual vision, he'd be scared crazy sooner or later... Klein relieved his tension by making fun of himself, then turned his gaze back to Sir Deville.

This time, he saw something different.

Sir Deville, in this bedroom, was surrounded by pale, distorted shadows that occasionally flickered around him, making the light in that area appear slightly dim.

Each flash of the image is inevitably accompanied by illusory crying and groans that are difficult for normal people to hear.

It's hard for a normal person to hear under normal circumstances? Is it because it's daytime? Klein nodded thoughtfully.

He has already made a preliminary judgment on this case:

What haunts Sir Deville is a series of resentments, spiritual remnants caused by the emotions that are hardest for humans to let go of before death!

If this resentment and lingering energy accumulates for a period of time and becomes several times stronger, it will transform into a terrifying malevolent spirit.

But Sir Deville was a renowned philanthropist, and even Benson, a picky man, respected him greatly. How could he be plagued by so much "deathly resentment"? Was he hypocritical? Was it the work of an extraordinary being with ill intentions? Klein wondered, speculating about the possibilities.

He thought for a moment, looked at Deville, and said:

"Your Excellency, I have a few questions."

"Please speak," Deville said, sitting down wearily and weakly.

Klein organized his thoughts and said:

"When you leave here and go to new places, like the countryside or Backlund, do you experience at least a brief period of peace at night, before the situation slowly returns, gets worse and worse, until you can hear groans and crying even when you're sleeping during the day?"

Deville's half-closed eyes snapped open, a glint of light appearing in his azure pupils:

"Yes, you've found the root of the problem?"

He then realized that due to chronic insomnia and poor mental condition, he had completely forgotten to tell the police such an important clue!

Seeing that Klein's question had been answered affirmatively, Inspector Toller secretly breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that the Night Watch had found a clue.

Sheriff Gates was both surprised and curious, and couldn't help but scrutinize the psychology expert Klein several times.

This matched the characteristic of resentment gradually entangled and accumulated little by little... Klein, having received feedback, basically confirmed the answer.

He now has two ways to help Sir Deville get rid of his troubles: one is to set up an altar around the other party and use ritual magic to completely remove the "death resentment"; the other is to use other mystical methods to find the source of the problem and solve it from the root.

Considering the rule that "one should try not to let ordinary people know about the existence of extraordinary power," Klein decided to try the second method first, and if it didn't work, he would then pray to the goddess.

"Sir, this is a mental illness, a psychological problem." He looked at Deville and said this nonsense with a straight face.

Sir Deville frowned and asked in return:

"You mean I'm mentally ill and need to go to a mental hospital?"

"No, it's not that serious. In fact, most people have some psychological and mental issues to some extent," Klein casually reassured them. "Please allow me to reintroduce myself; I am a psychology expert from the Ahowa County Police Department."

"A psychology expert?" Deville and his butler both looked at their acquaintance, Inspector Toller.

Ptole nodded solemnly, indicating that this was indeed the case.

"Alright, what do I need to do to cooperate with the treatment? And I don't understand why my butler, my bodyguards, and my servants can all hear crying and groaning..." Deville gripped his cane with both hands, looking puzzled.

Klein answered in a very professional manner:

I'll explain it to you later.

"Please ask your butler, your servants, and your bodyguards to leave. Inspector Toller, Sheriff Gates, please leave as well. I need a quiet environment for initial treatment."

"Heal with magic..." Inspector Toller silently added, nodding to Sir Deville.

Deville remained silent for more than ten seconds before saying:

"Karen, take them to the living room on the second floor and wait."

"Yes, sir." Butler Karen did not object, because the request came from a formal police officer, a probationary inspector, and a psychology expert.

Watching them leave one by one and close the door, Klein looked at Deville, with his dark gold hair and blue eyes, and said:

"Sir, please lie down on the bed, relax, and try to fall asleep."

"...Okay." Deville hung his coat and hat on the coat rack, walked slowly to the bedside, and lay down.

Klein then drew all the curtains, making the room dark.

He took off the pendant, quickly made a simple fortune-telling using a pendulum, then sat on a rocking chair not far from the foot of the bed, sketched a ball of light, entered meditation, and let the spiritual world unfold before his eyes.

Immediately afterwards, he leaned back in his chair and fell into a deep sleep, allowing his astral body to come into contact with the outside world.

He was using the technique of "dream divination" to "communicate" with the resentment that haunted Sir Deville in a dreamlike spiritual environment.

Only through communication can we obtain answers and solve problems!

Oh oh oh!

The faint sound of sorrowful weeping echoed in Klein's ears, and he "saw" one pale, transparent figure after another appearing around him.

A series of painful groans echoed as Klein, barely regaining his ability to think, reached out his right hand and touched one of the wounds.

Suddenly, those figures transformed into moths drawn to a flame, one after another flying towards him.

Klein's vision suddenly blurred, and his head felt as if it had been split in two. One half was calmly scrutinizing the situation, while the other half saw the "mirror."

The image in the mirror shows a strong young woman dressed as a factory worker, walking through a dusty factory, her head throbbing in waves.

Her vision was sometimes blurred, and her body grew thinner day by day.

She seemed to hear someone calling her Charlotte, saying that she had developed a kind of hysteria.

Hysteria? She looked in the mirror and saw a faint blue line on her gums.

……

The camera shifts, and Klein seems to see her again, transformed into a girl named Mary.

She walked through the lead factory, young and lively.

Suddenly, half of her face began to twitch continuously, followed by her arm and leg on the same side.

"You have epilepsy," she heard someone say as she was convulsing.

She collapsed, convulsing more and more violently, until she finally lost consciousness.

……

Another girl was there. She was sullen and wandered aimlessly through the streets, even experiencing a speech impediment.

She had a severe headache, blue lines on her gums, and she experienced spasms from time to time.

She met a doctor who said:

"Lafferty, you've been affected by lead."

The doctor looked at her with pity, watching her convulse again, several times in a row, watching all the light disappear from her eyes.

……

Images flashed through Klein's mind, and he was half immersed in them, and half observing them calmly.

Suddenly, he fully understood what these girls had gone through:

They were female workers who had been in contact with lead white for a long time and were exposed to dust for a long time. They died of lead poisoning.

Sir Deville happened to own a lead factory and two ceramics factories, all of which employed relatively inexpensive female workers!

Klein silently "watched" all of this, feeling that there was only one thing left to clarify:

Such "deathly resentment" is negligible, and even if it accumulates in number, it is impossible for it to have any impact on reality or on Deville.

Unless, unless a stronger, more persistent resentment brought them together as a whole.

Just then, he "saw" another girl.

The girl, no more than eighteen years old, was glazing porcelain in the factory.

"Halle, how have you been lately? Have you been having headaches? If they're severe, please let me know. Sir Deville has decreed that anyone with a severe headache must leave the factory and no longer be exposed to lead," an elderly woman asked with concern.

Helene touched her forehead and replied with a smile:

"A little, but it's alright."

"Then tell me tomorrow if it's serious," the older woman advised.

Helene agreed and returned home, occasionally pressing her forehead.

She saw her parents and brothers return from outside, and their faces were filled with sadness.

"Your father and brother have lost their jobs..." her mother said, wiping away tears.

Her father and brothers lowered their heads and whispered:

"We'll go to the docks and look for work."

"But we don't even have enough money for bread the day after tomorrow... Maybe we'll have to move to the very back of the street..." Helene's mother looked at her with red eyes. "When will you get your salary? It's 10 shillings, right?"

Hailey pinched her forehead again:

"Yes, Saturday, Saturday."

She didn't say anything more, remaining quiet as usual. The next day, she returned to the factory and told her supervisor that her headache was gone and there was no problem.

She smiled and walked 5 kilometers to work every day, then walked another 5 kilometers home, and the act of massaging her head became more and more frequent.

"Have you not found work yet?" Helene asked her father and brothers, looking at the dark bread simmering in the soup.

Her father said with distress:

"The economy is bad lately, and many places are laying off workers. Even at the docks, it's a one-day-off-day job, and you can only earn 3 sous and 7 pence a week."

Helene sighed, said nothing more, and remained as quiet as ever, only subtly hiding her suddenly convulsing left hand behind her back.

The next day, she walked to work again. The sun gradually shone brightly, and the number of pedestrians on the street gradually increased.

Suddenly, she started convulsing; her whole body was convulsing.

She collapsed by the roadside, foaming at the mouth.

She gazed at the sky, her vision blurring. She saw people coming and going, people approaching, a carriage passing by, and the white dove emblem of the Deville family, poised to take flight.

She tried to open her mouth, but no sound came out.

So she didn't say anything, remaining as quiet as usual.

But unlike usual, she died.

I highly recommend a book: *Continuing the Flame*. Synopsis: Where have all the immortals and Buddhas gone? Who will inherit the legacy of the Hundred Schools of Thought? Where did the ancient civilizations of Atlantis and Maya originate? Let's see how Chu Xu unveils the long history.

(End of this chapter)