The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

George followed a male servant whom the housekeeper randomly stopped, and soon arrived at the servants' quarters.

Intermittent, low murmurs emanated from Elliott's room, like the cries of a drowning person on the verge of death.

He pushed open the door, and in the room with only one window, Elliott lay on the bed, his face ashen, his forehead covered in a fine layer of cold sweat.

His eyes were half-open, his lips were moving, and he uttered some broken syllables indistinctly.

"No...where am I...I can't...where am I..."

Upon seeing George enter, a male servant standing guard nearby quickly stood up to greet him.

George simply nodded in response, walked to the bedside, and reached out to touch Elliott's forehead.

As his fingertips touched the cool, damp skin, he immediately focused his mind on the card table in his mind and summoned Elliott's cards.

[Acquaintance - Eliot]

[Sexual nature: Mortal (semi-revelation), acquaintance, defiled (abyss, already deepened)]

[Elliott was resilient and humble, possessing a talent he was unaware of. Unfortunately, his talent brought him more suffering than hope.]

[Note 1: This person's personality leans towards the "Star" and "String" principles, but is more deeply influenced by the "Abyss" principle; related talents are currently in flux.]

[Note 2: This person's recent contact may have aggravated the contamination. If the contamination is not removed as soon as possible, they will irreversibly awaken to the "Abyss" Principle, and it will be difficult to reverse the situation. (Hint: Alchemical artifacts or potions based on the Candle Principle can solve this problem.)]

George's heart skipped a beat.

The pollution has worsened and may lead to irreversible consequences.

He pondered for a moment, then took out a silver flute from his bosom.

This is the tool he uses to perform the only technique he currently knows that he can reliably utilize: "Song of the Glass Island".

George sat down on the edge of the bed, took a deep breath, and brought the flute to his lips.

He activated the warm spiritual fire within his body while recalling the techniques conveyed by the cards.

The notes flowed from the flute holes, their infused spiritual rhythm as moving as a stream flowing in spring.

Mendelssohn's "Spring Song," a piece that George practiced extensively in his previous life, was now being infused with a greater sense of tranquility and peace in his music.

The sound of a flute echoed in the small room, and the spring sunlight was shining into the servants' quarters through the window.

The amazing effect was immediately apparent—the oppressive atmosphere in the room began to dissipate, and the air seemed to brighten up.

Elliott's convulsions gradually subsided, and his furrowed brows relaxed.

His breathing went from rapid to steady, and finally completely calmed down.

Before the song was finished, Eliot slowly opened his eyes.

"Young Master..."

He looked around blankly, his gaze finally settling on the flute in George's hand.

"Was that you just now? I feel like... a beam of light woke me up from a very long nightmare."

George put down his flute and helped Elliot sit up. The manservant beside him quickly brought a glass of water from the bedside table and let him drink a couple of sips.

"It's just some music, it might be helpful to you," George replied vaguely, then became serious.

How are you feeling right now?

Elliott shook his head, a grateful look on his face. "Much better, young master. That dream was terrifying...like being in an abyss."

He was about to say something more, but George interrupted him.

"If your health permits, I'd still prefer you to stay with Bates for the time being. What do you think?"

A male servant chimed in, "Master George, we would be happy to take care of William."

Judging from his tone, it seemed he was defending the servant's professionalism, and George had no choice but to respond with an understanding smile.

Elliott seemed to understand something, so he cooperated by getting dressed and getting up.

After George had dealt with the helpful manservant, he escorted Elliot, who was dressed in his servant's uniform, to the stairwell and watched him go up to Bates' room as instructed.

He took a deep breath, adjusted his expression, and pretended to still be worried about the incident by the lake. He then casually pulled a servant aside to ask him questions.

After making several inquiries, he found Carson next to a storage room where cleaning supplies were stored.

The butler was directing several servants to prepare cleaning tools—shovels, sacks, thick gloves, and several buckets of lime for disinfection.

"Carson," George called out.

Carson turned around and saw George. He immediately stopped what he was doing and bowed slightly: "Young Master."

"How's the situation here?" George asked, his gaze sweeping over the tools.

Carson's answer was as appropriate and concise as ever.

"The arrangements have been made, young master. The first batch of cleanup crew will meet at the lakeside in half an hour. I will personally supervise to ensure that all debris is handled cleanly according to requirements."

"I'd like to go take a look this afternoon too," George said.

Carson paused, looking up at George: "Young Master, the smell and environment over there might not be quite right..."

“I know,” George interrupted him, a wry smile on his face, “but I saw Father like that with my own eyes… and now, if the master wants to make an appearance among the servants, I’m the perfect person to do so.”

He observed Carson's expression: "After all, Father is in a coma now, so I need to start taking on a lot of responsibilities, don't I?"

Carson was silent for a moment, then nodded slightly: "You're right, I will prepare the appropriate tools for you."

He paused for a moment, then asked George to go to the butler's room.

After closing the door to the butler's room, Carson, who sat opposite George, had a somewhat subtle look in his eyes: "Are you sure the master is really unconscious? Didn't he leave any arrangements?"

George's inner alarm bells skipped a beat, but he remained calm on the surface: "Thomas said Father collapsed from exhaustion, but left notes for me and Grandma before he woke up. Why do you ask that?"

"It's nothing, young master." Carson lowered his head, regaining his usual respectfulness. "I just felt... since the Viscount has made arrangements, that's fine."

He didn't press further, and hesitantly brought up the second matter in front of the puzzled George.

"I noticed that Mr. Elliott was rather unfamiliar with certain manservant skills, such as cleaning your shoes and repairing your morning clothes."

"More importantly, I discovered that he seemed to have nightmares frequently—of course, he was trying his best not to let it affect his work, but it was still unavoidable that he occasionally appeared to be in poor spirits."

"And today, Mr. Elliott has done this again."

At this point, the old butler coughed lightly.

"Although I can see that William has demonstrated diligence and integrity after spending this time with you, as your butler, I feel it is necessary to remind you..."

"Thank you, Carson, but I think William has taken good care of me." George smiled gently, his tone protective.

"If he didn't cause trouble for the downstairs neighbors, I personally think he's beyond reproach. Like you said, he's a loyal and honest man."

"Ah, since you are so satisfied with him, then of course I have no problem with him."

Carson changed the subject, saying, "I'll have someone prepare the appropriate tools for you, young master. You can come to the lake this afternoon."

George nodded, said nothing more, bid farewell to the butler, and turned to leave the butler's room.