The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

George raised an eyebrow, put down his cane, and took the note, unfolding it.

The handwriting was familiar to the Viscount, but it wasn't written with ink; rather, it looked as if it had been burned directly onto the paper, with some areas even showing gaps.

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Study the following books on your own, and you will then know how to open the tower doors yourself.

The disaster on the lakeside has subsided temporarily, but it has not been eradicated. I have bought you time.

Three people will be arriving at the estate soon. The inspector is "one of ours," and the lawyers will be handled by Grandmother and Albert. If the High Court representative causes the situation to spiral out of control, he can be informed as a last resort:

"Immortals in mortals, the answer is written on the face."

——ED

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After reading it, George silently folded the note and put it in his pocket.

The Viscount's arrangements were meticulous, but it's reasonable that he left so many words before falling into a coma.

He looked up at Thomas: "Father mentioned a reading list. Where are the books?"

Thomas replied, "They're all in the temporary alchemy room, in the cabinets inside."

He gave out the locations of a series of drawers.

George nodded, then asked, "So now I have to practice alchemy there on my own?"

Thomas expressed his approval.

"Okay, I understand." George nodded. "Then, I..."

Just as he was about to take his leave to check on Elliott, he heard footsteps at the door.

The door was pushed open, and the old lady Violet walked in under George's gaze.

She was still leaning on her cane, her lips were tightly pressed together, and the deep sorrow in her eyes was almost undisguised.

The old lady's gaze swept over George and Thomas before immediately turning to the bed.

"George, Thomas. Edward, he..."

"Madam, the master has taken his medicine and is currently in stable condition." Thomas stepped forward and bowed.

"But it is still unknown when he will awaken from his coma."

The old lady walked to the bedside and glanced at the Viscount.

To George, it was a rather sorrowful look in his eyes.

She then looked at George: "You're saying the crisis outside... has been resolved?"

"Yes, Grandmother," George replied briefly. "Father personally dealt with the source, and the lake has returned to calm, but there is still a lot of... debris to be cleared."

"Very good, very good," the old lady repeated, her gaze lingering on the viscount's pale face for a long time.

George bowed slightly: "Grandmother, since you are here, I should go and show myself to the guests."

He was about to turn around when the old lady spoke up: "George, wait."

George stopped and turned around.

The old lady shifted her gaze from him to Thomas, who had been standing quietly to the side: "Thomas, did Edward leave you a message?"

Thomas took another note from his pocket and handed it to the old lady with both hands: "Yes, madam. This is from the master."

The old lady took it, quickly read it, and a complex expression appeared on her face.

She handed the note to George: "Take a look too."

George took it and found that it had the same handwriting, but the content was relatively shorter.

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Mother:

Take good care of yourself and work with Albert to help George familiarize himself with the estate's affairs and the family's "privileges" as quickly as possible.

Remember, he needs our support, not pressure, right now.

——ED

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After reading it, George silently handed the note back.

The old lady turned around, sat down in the armchair by the bed, and her gaze returned to the viscount's face, clearly not intending to leave immediately.

George had no choice but to stand patiently to the side, the only sound in the room being the soft crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace.

After an unknown amount of time, the old lady seemed to finally confirm that the viscount was indeed just sleeping and not in any other danger, and then she slowly stood up.

"Let's go, we need to talk." She looked at George, her voice softening.

George's heart skipped a beat.

He was worried about Elliott's situation, but he couldn't refuse his grandmother's invitation.

"Yes, Grandmother."

They left the viscount's room, walked along the corridor for a while, and came to a door with intricate carvings.

The old lady pushed open the door, revealing a tastefully furnished small room with a lake view oil painting hanging on the wall, its brushstrokes slightly rough but its colors harmonious.

The lake in the painting shimmers with bright colors, clearly indicating that the painter had excellent sunshine and a gentle breeze when he painted, as if enveloping the room in a tranquil and beautiful atmosphere under the shade of summer trees.

On the small table sat a large vase of flowers emitting a sweet fragrance; George recognized only hyacinths among them.

The old lady asked George to sit down, and then sat opposite him.

"George, a lot has happened since you came back..." she began.

"Edward's note tells me that he wants you to grow up quickly, and Albert and I should help you."

Although George was anxious, he listened patiently.

The old lady gazed at him: "I was a man from King George's time. I know that Edward has many things he's hiding from me, and from you as well."

"But I am still a woman and a mother. No matter what happens, I believe that a family should stand together, especially in difficult times—because family is our strength, and it is your strength too."

"So, no matter what happens next, remember this, okay?"

George could sense that this seemingly dignified old lady was expressing a certain stance at that moment.

As he pondered how to respond, a knowing smile appeared on the old lady's face.

"Perhaps you're more worried about your personal servant right now? I heard a brief story about him from Carson. Although it's a bit... unusual, as long as you keep it in mind, the family won't make things difficult for him. Go on."

George felt a sense of relief and, without bothering to correct the old lady, immediately stood up: "Thank you, Grandmother."

The old lady waved her hand, indicating that he should do as he pleased.

George bowed and quickly walked out of the quiet room.

Distracted by the old lady, he calmed down.

On his way downstairs, George went to his room to retrieve his flute and pamphlet before descending to the ground floor of the mansion where the servants lived.

It was clear that the servants' quarters had lost many familiar faces and gained many unfamiliar ones. The servants greeted George with a somewhat apprehensive air.

Such was the prevailing custom of the time, and besides, he had important matters to attend to, so he merely nodded hastily in response to the servants' courtesy.

Following the original owner's memories, he went straight to the butler's room and was about to knock on the door when he heard a scolding female voice coming from inside.

"...You can't touch Miss's cookie jar!"

George was somewhat surprised and wanted to stop knocking.

But the momentum of the movement still carried him, and he had already struck it.

With a "thump," the butler's room fell silent instantly.

George was trying to figure out how to explain when a voice came from inside the door: "Who is it?"

He simply pushed the door open and went in.

Inside the butler's room were two women—Mrs. Hughes, the sullen housekeeper, and a maid who had been scolded and was looking dejected.

Mrs. Hughes was about to reprimand the "intruder," but when she saw that it was the serious-looking young master who entered, she was surprised and quickly bowed.

"Excuse me, young master. I didn't know you were here."

"It's alright, Mrs. Hughes, I was just being a little rude."

George looked at the maid and stopped talking.

Mrs. Hughes, understanding the situation, dismissed the blushing maid and smiled somewhat sheepishly:

"Please forgive me, Miss Sybil has been in poor spirits lately, which has caused the maids serving her to become somewhat lax..."

George remained noncommittal, then asked, "I'd like to know if Mr. Carson is here? I need him to take me to Mr. Elliott's room."

"Oh, Mr. Carson is probably outside the mansion arranging the move," Mrs. Hughes said hurriedly from the small table to the door.

"Mr. Elliott is being looked after, so it's inconvenient for me to go to the manservants' quarters, but I can find one to take you there."

Thank you very much.