Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 151

"Green, calm down."

Lillian stood up. "Extraordinary beings are not like cabbages in the market, especially high-ranking ones who are good at seeing the trajectory of fate. They are either worshipped by powerful forces or live in seclusion in corners that are difficult for ordinary people to reach, and their whereabouts are a secret."

She turned around and said, "I suggest you go to the church of the Goddess of Night and ask around. You're part of their system, so you're at least somewhat connected. Asking through proper channels is much better than wandering around like a headless fly or being swindled out of all your possessions or even your soul by some unscrupulous underground fortune tellers."

These words served as a wake-up call for Green.

The Church of the Night ————.

Yes, I've now joined the Church of the Goddess of Night, and there must be people within the church who specialize in handling mystical matters and are skilled in tracking and divination.

"Perhaps it's in the Great Cathedral—" Green muttered to himself.

Lillian observed the change in his expression, nodded slightly, and seemed to be satisfied with his reaction.

"It seems you've thought of a suitable person. However," she changed the subject, her tone becoming meaningful again, "before you seek the church's help, there's one more thing I think you need to know. This might give you a more complete understanding of the whole matter."

Green looked up, frowning slightly. "What is it?"

Lillian walked back to her seat, but did not sit down. Instead, she leaned against the back of the chair, her gaze fixed on the flames in the fireplace.

"Veronica Thorne," she uttered slowly.

"Veronica?"

Green felt the name sounded familiar, but couldn't quite place where he had heard it before.

Lillian shook her head and clicked her tongue. "What? You forgot about the dinner in Fairfax?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Green instantly remembered.

Veronica Thorne. Viscount Linus's high-ranking personal physician!

He was the mastermind behind the entire dinner party incident, and also the culprit who pushed his aunt's family into the abyss!

"She's still alive?!" Green asked in a deep voice.

"Of course she's alive. A Sequence 5 Crimson Scholar," and a core member of the Crimson Order who has received the "baptism" of the Father God, how could she die so easily? Olivier's sword strike did severely injure her, making her post-advancement realm unstable, and may even have left her with a "Demon-Slaying" wound that is difficult to heal, but it was far from killing her."

She paused, her gaze shifting from the flames back to Green's face.

"Furthermore, based on the fragmented information I've gathered, Veronica didn't stray too far from Oberhafen after escaping the manor. She needed time to heal and a relatively safe place to replenish her strength."

"nutrient----"

Green chewed on the word, a chill running through his body. "You mean, she's still continuing to harm people?"

"For the Scarlet Order, the life, desires, and suffering of mortals are the most basic resources."

Lillian didn't answer directly, but her meaning was crystal clear.

"A wounded high-sequence extraordinary being, especially one who uses the 'lunar' pathway and relies on blood and desire, do you think she would simply lie down somewhere and recuperate peacefully?"

"Furthermore—I think Emily was able to be bewitched into killing your aunt, and there must be something behind it all."

"Of course, this is just speculation," Lillian said calmly. "After all, a young girl who has just lost her mother, is on the verge of a mental breakdown, and happens to come into contact with a 'witch's' potion is inherently prone to sliding into the abyss. Whether Veronica was involved or not, the difference might only lie in—the speed and direction of the fall."

Looking at Green's clenched fists and the raging fire in his eyes, she added, "I'm telling you this not so you can go and seek revenge right now. That would be suicide. It's to make you understand that Emily's tragedy may not be an isolated incident. You might be facing the edge of a larger, darker vortex. When you go to the church for help, you'd better have that in mind."

Green took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. Lillian was right; anger wouldn't solve anything.

Veronica is a Sequence 5 of the Lunar Path, a serpent lurking in the shadows of Oberhafen, while he is merely a Sequence 9 apprentice. Going to her now is pointless.

If Emily's downfall truly bears the shadow of Veronica—then finding Emily might not just be about "taking responsibility" or "witnessing the end," but could also uncover a deeper conspiracy within the Scarlet Order.

Or perhaps he realized he had ruined her plans and was seeking revenge?

Wouldn't it be more direct to target yourself directly?

Green was somewhat puzzled by this.

"I understand." Green's voice was a little hoarse. "Thank you for reminding me, Lillian. I will—act cautiously."

Lillian nodded, as if she had fulfilled her obligation to inform him.

"Well then, if there's nothing else, I won't bother you any longer."

She walked to the door, placed her hand on the doorknob, paused, and without turning back, said, "Remember, Green, every shortcut fate offers comes with a price. Asking the night for guidance is no exception. Good luck."

After saying that, she opened the door, and her figure silently disappeared into the shadows of the passageway outside, as if she had never been there.

The underground office returned to silence, broken only by the low hum of the ventilation ducts and Green's own breathing.

The flickering firelight from the fireplace reflected on Green's face, revealing his intense contemplation.

Lillian's final words were quite meaningful. Were the "shortcut" and "price" implying that seeking help from the church also carried risks?

Or does it refer to all extraordinary means in general?

He shook his head, suppressing these thoughts that couldn't be verified for the time being. The most urgent thing was to take action.

He needs to make some preparations first.

First, he needs an item closely associated with Emily as a potential medium for possession.

He still needs to go home.

Green then put on his coat and left the basement office.

Using his ability to open doors and his familiarity with the terrain, he skillfully navigated through the alleyways.

It blends into the wall, disappears, blends in again, and disappears again.

Green's figure appeared and disappeared amidst the intricate alleyways and shadows of buildings in Oberhafen. The "Apprentice's" "door-opening" ability proved unexpectedly useful at this moment, allowing him to avoid potential eyes and ears on the main street. As he pushed open the door to Emily's house, Green felt inexplicably agitated.

He took a deep breath, walked to the dressing table in the room, and opened the drawer.

The jewelry inside was Emily's most prized possession; girls always love to look beautiful.

Jewelry lay scattered haphazardly in the dressing table drawer. The pearl earrings, silver hair clips, and brooches with cheap gemstones that Emily had once carefully chosen and treasured were now piled up like abandoned trash.

Green's gaze swept over the cold objects, finally settling on the deepest part of the drawer, in an inconspicuous corner. There lay a small silver hair clip, simple in design, without any decoration, and even somewhat dull.

This was a birthday gift from Aunt Sylvia to Emily, and Green remembers that she cherished this hair clip very much.

Emily had complained countless times that it was old-fashioned and outdated, but she never actually threw it away.

Before the Fairfax dinner, Emily hesitated about wearing the expensive dress when she tried it on, but ultimately tucked it into the bottom of her handbag.

"Perhaps—subconsciously, she still wants to carry a part of her mother with her when facing that world she both longs for and fears," Green murmured to himself.

He carefully picked up the hair clip, wrapped it neatly in a handkerchief, and placed it in his inner pocket. Just as he was about to turn and leave, his gaze was drawn to a note tucked between the edges of the dressing table mirror.

It was a piece of paper torn from a notebook, its edges jagged, with a line of words written on it in scribbled, trembling handwriting, the ink slightly blurred as if splashed with water: "Mom, I'm sorry. But I can't stop. Someone is calling me—"

There was no signature or date.

Green's breathing suddenly filled the room.

The handwriting—it's Emily's. But the tone, the content—it's filled with despair, chaos, and a strange sense of being pulled by some external force.

"Someone is calling me—" Green muttered to himself.

Lillian's speculations, Veronica's shadow, seem to find confirmation in this desperate message. Emily's downfall may not have been entirely her own choice.

These two things are, respectively, a faint echo of familial affection and a desperate confession of depravity, or rather, a search for clues to Emily, who is being devoured by the "shadow."

After leaving Emily's room, Green did not immediately go to St. George's Hospice.

He stood in the dimly lit hallway, his gaze fixed on the closed door of the master bedroom.

Behind the door was Aunt Sylvia, still immersed in immense grief and almost unresponsive to the outside world.

Mrs. Lefevere was bustling about quietly in the kitchen; the sounds of dishes clattering and water running could be heard. Sura's room door was ajar; there was no light inside. She must be at school.

This home, once filled with trivial arguments, the warm aroma of food, and Uncle Victor's stern admonitions, is now like a wrecked ship without a helmsman, slowly sinking in a sorrowful, icy sea.

Green was both a survivor on the ship and the one who might have indirectly caused it to run aground.

A heavy sense of guilt washed over him again, almost crushing him. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcibly suppressing the turbulent emotions within him.

"Now is not the time to blame yourself."

He told himself, "Find Emily, find out if Veronica was involved, and stop what could be a bigger conspiracy—that's the best way to answer to Auntie, to Sura, to this family, and even to Emily herself."

He glanced one last time at Aunt Sylvia's door, then turned and left the Hayes house quietly.

"We have a medium," Green muttered to himself, "but will Clarice agree to go directly to the fortune teller in the church?"

Her attitude—

Directly requesting a divination involving relatives and clearly related to an out-of-control extraordinary individual would likely attract strict scrutiny. As far as he knew, the Church often arrested, imprisoned, or even killed on the spot those who were at high risk.

"We can't go directly to Clarice," Green quickly concluded. He needed a more roundabout and reasonable approach.

He thought of Eliza.

The woman who always had a gentle smile and was in charge of paperwork and logistics seemed to have some knowledge of the occult and appeared to be easier to communicate with than Clarice.

More importantly, Eliza seems to know something about Emily's situation, as she mentioned the possibility of "church asylum" last night.

Perhaps Eliza could be used to test the church's standard procedures and attitudes toward things like finding out-of-control relatives?

Alternatively, one could at least inquire which deacon or monk within the church is skilled at tracking and taking over, without immediately alarming the higher-ups.

Having made up his mind, Green carefully put the hair clip and note away, straightened his collar, and made himself look less disheveled. He took a deep breath and headed towards the back door of the sanatorium.

The knocking rhythm is three long knocks followed by two short knocks; this is a coded signal agreed upon by the outer members of the Night's Watch.

The door opened a crack, revealing Rick's perpetually expressionless face. He saw Green, nodded slightly, and stepped aside.

"You're back?" Rick's voice was as calm as ever. "The vice-captain is in the medical room; Elvin's condition needs a follow-up examination. Ms. Eliza is in the archives organizing the list of losses from last night's attack."

"Thank you, Rick," Green said, and walked straight toward the archives.

The corridor was filled with a stronger smell of disinfectant than usual, and several newly repaired marks on the walls showed the intensity of last night's battle.

The civilian staff walked briskly, talking in hushed tones, and the atmosphere remained tense.

The door to the archives was ajar.

Green knocked lightly, then pushed the door open and went inside.

Eliza was standing on a tall, mobile ladder, holding a leather-covered register in her hand, her brow furrowed as she checked the numbers on the bookshelf.

Hearing the voice, she looked down and saw it was Green. A tired but sincere smile appeared on her face.

"Green, you're here. Perfect timing. Could you check if this number is correct? A-7-23————" She handed the register down a bit.

Green walked over and glanced at the labels on the bookshelf.

"That's right, it's A-7-23, 'Records of Abnormal Spiritual Fluctuations at the East Wharf (Volume 3)'. Would you like me to get it for you?"

"Oh, no need, I'll just check it."

Eliza carefully climbed down the ladder, dusting off her hands. "Last night was a complete mess. Luckily, the other party had a clear objective and only targeted container A-7, otherwise the losses would have been much greater."

She sighed, walked to the table next to her, poured herself a glass of water, and said, "How is your family? I heard from Clarice. My condolences."

Her gentle and concerned tone eased Green's tense nerves a little.

"Thank you, Ms. Eliza," Green said softly. "It's still being processed—but there are some things I just can't figure out."

Eliza looked at him, her eyes filled with understanding and encouragement: "Is it about your cousin Emily?"

Green nodded, carefully choosing his words: "Yes. I know the church—there might be some rules. But as family, I can't just give up like this. I want to find her, at least—to know what happened to her, and whether there's any chance of saving her."

He paused, observing Eliza's reaction. "I've heard that the Church sometimes offers guidance and assistance to—extraordinary individuals in distress?"

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