Chapter 182: At Last, Results

Chapter 182: At Last, Results

In East Borough, inside a two-bedroom rented apartment.

Klein took the reply from the witch Trissy from Miss Messenger Reinette Tinekerr’s mouth, pulled over a chair, sat down, and unfolded it to read.

She knows of Mr. Door’s existence and has a way to speak with Him through the bloodline connection of the Abraham family… Can Trissy already endure Mr. Door’s cries for help without fearing that she will lose control? And she seems very certain about Mr. Door’s identity… She really has obtained more knowledge and secrets from the Primordial Demoness… But if that is the case, why is White Witch Katarina hunting her? As Klein looked at the brief contents of the letter, one question after another surged through his mind.

Because the matters Trissy had vaguely mentioned were all within his own understanding, he believed she was not lying in that regard, and that she truly had provided a highly feasible method.

Of course, the method’s success required three conditions: the correct ritual, a corresponding object from a bloodline descendant of the Abraham family to serve as a medium, and the willingness to bear tremendous risk.

Among those three, Klein lacked the first. Regarding the third, he still had considerable misgivings and wanted to find a safer, more concealed way to protect himself. Meanwhile, the witch Trissy seemed to lack only the second.

“For me, finding a bloodline descendant of the Abraham family isn’t difficult. I can directly contact them through Miss Magician. But once I give their hair, blood, flesh, or bones to the witch Trissy, I would expose them to the risk of being cursed…” Klein understood the Witch pathway quite well. He knew they were extremely skilled at curses.

As his thoughts turned swiftly, he gradually came up with a countermeasure: use hair, rotten flesh, or bones from the dead.

He remembered Miss Magician telling The Fool that she had once buried an old gentleman named Lawrence, undoubtedly a bloodline descendant of the Abraham family.

“I hope he wasn’t cremated… Though this is somewhat blasphemous toward a corpse, speaking with Mr. Door is also an inevitable step in breaking the Abraham family’s ancient curse. Using the dead is still better than involving the living… When I reply to Trissy, I can add this condition and falsely claim it is a requirement set by the Abraham descendants for providing the ritual medium…

“Also, I must first confirm that Trissy wants to speak with Mr. Door, not attempt to pull Him back into reality… They either are high-level beings themselves or involve high-level beings. It will be hard to obtain effective revelations through divination. But the Emperor once said that the ritual Mr. Door needs for His return is very complex. It definitely cannot be arranged with only a small amount of material from a bloodline descendant. I can ask the Queen of Mysteries and Miss Sharron to monitor Backlund’s underground trading markets and see whether there are any abnormal material or personnel movements…” Klein nodded slightly, deciding to go find Miss Magician soon and, while he was at it, urge her on with her manuscript.

…

North Borough, Pacefield Street.

On a bench by the street sat a young man wearing a black windbreaker and silk top hat. His face was thin, his forehead rather broad, and he was staring blankly at the yellowing leaves drifting from the Intis sycamores.

A monocle carved from crystal rested over his right eye, making him appear rather refined.

At that moment, an elderly man on his way to Saint Samuel Cathedral passed by. Seeing that the young man looked off, he stopped and asked gently, “Young man, what are you worrying about? Something lost in this war?”

He suspected the young man’s relatives, lover, or friends had died in the previous air raid, or fallen in the fierce battles at the front. That was why he was sitting by the road, lost and confused.

The young man raised a hand and pinched his monocle, then sighed and shook his head.

“I am merely pondering some rather complicated questions.”

“You’re a philosopher?” The old man froze for a moment, then blurted out the question.

“No. But I often ask others philosophical questions, such as: who am I, where am I, and where am I going?” The young man smiled peacefully, then continued his contemplation, his lips moving now and then as he muttered almost soundlessly.

The old man truly could not understand. He could only shake his head and slowly leave, watched by a wild dog by the roadside, sparrows in the trees, ants on the ground, and certain tiny organisms in the air.

The young man did not turn his head. His monocle reflected piece after piece of falling yellow leaves as he murmured to himself:

“Parasitize…” “Don’t parasitize…” “Parasitize…” “Don’t parasitize…”

“Watch the bait…” “Swallow the bait…” “Watch the bait…” “Swallow the bait…”

…

After obtaining hair from Lawrence’s remains through The Magician Forsi and seeing that the Tasok Newspaper had begun serializing the Backlund hospital horror story, Klein entered a state of patient waiting and promised that next week he would send Miss Magician to a new place to record new scenery and customs.

In the blink of an eye, a new week arrived. After lunch, Klein intended to nap briefly and prepare for the Tarot Gathering at three o’clock.

At that moment, Reinette Tinekerr walked out from the depths of the void carrying four blond-haired, red-eyed heads. One of the mouths was biting a linen-wrapped parcel.

“Who sent it?” Klein suddenly had an inexplicable, complicated premonition and, for a moment, did not reach out to take the parcel held in Miss Messenger’s mouth.

Reinette Tinekerr’s three free heads spoke in succession:

“Mutated…” “true…”

“mushroom…” “king…”

This string of modifiers… I think I roughly understand what’s going on… Klein controlled himself, preventing his expression from turning into a grimace, and slowly accepted the parcel.

After opening it, he unsurprisingly saw a large number of various devils—no, mushrooms.

Some were white and plump, looking as if they would spray milk if poked. Some had a black base, inlaid with bloody threads and fatty patterns. Some were covered in golden stars, their caps the size of a palm…

At this moment, these mushrooms were still wriggling faintly, as if they wanted to spread mycelia, spores, and other things outward.

Klein swallowed, picked up a letter nestled among the mushrooms, unfolded it, and began reading:

“My dear friend Gehrman,

“I have finally completed your commission and invented mushrooms that can be planted in dark and hostile environments. They grow and reproduce by devouring the flesh and blood of monsters, requiring no other conditions…

“Their descendants are divided into two types. One accumulates various toxins and cannot be eaten, but can serve as a source of poison. The other can be used as food as long as they undergo high-temperature steaming, boiling, pan-frying, or deep-frying. You must remember that they cannot be eaten raw or undercooked. Otherwise, they will reproduce inside your body, using your flesh and blood as a seedbed…

“Taking taste and combinations into account, I invented eleven kinds of mushrooms in total. Some are rich in milk, which can be drunk directly. Some resemble beef. Heh, when frying them, there is no need to provide extra fat. Some are delicate like fish meat, yet contain no sharp bones. My suggestion is to roast or boil them…

“All of this success is inseparable from your help. If I had not already advanced to Druid, perhaps it would have taken me several years, or even more than ten, to solve the various problems I encountered in experimentation…

“If you have any other ideas suitable for me, please make sure to share them with me.

“Your eternal friend,

“Frank Lee.”

Klein held the letter and fell silent for quite a while. When he looked up, he discovered that Miss Messenger was still waiting.

…He silently sighed, walked to the desk, found paper and a fountain pen, and slowly wrote:

“…I am very happy that you have achieved success. These mushrooms will be of great help to me. They will effectively reduce famine in certain regions…

“…I am currently busy with some matters and have no sufficiently novel ideas for the time being…

“…Your friend,

“Gehrman Sparrow…”

After folding the letter, Klein looked at Miss Messenger and hesitantly asked, “What is Frank Lee’s current condition?”

The head of Reinette Tinekerr that had not spoken earlier took the lead in answering:

“Excited…”

The other three added in turn:

“Active…” “happy…” “satisfied…”

Then the four heads spoke again:

“No longer…” “afraid…” “of being buried…” “in soil…”

“Why?” Klein subconsciously asked.

The four blond-haired, red-eyed heads Reinette Tinekerr carried spat out one word at a time:

“He…” “can…” “absorb…”

“nutrients…” “and oxygen…”

“from…” “the soil…”

After Frank became a Druid, he really has undergone no small evolution… For a moment, Klein did not know whether to be happy for his friend or mourn for the crew of the Future.

After watching Miss Messenger leave, Klein used meditation to force himself to sleep. At two-thirty in the afternoon, he awoke to prepare for that week’s Tarot Gathering.

When three o’clock arrived, rays of crimson light rose inside the ancient palace above the gray fog, congealing into corresponding human figures.

Miss Justice Audrey immediately stood, lifted her skirt in a slight curtsy, and bowed toward the head of the bronze long table.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Fool~”

As an experienced Psychiatrist, she possessed a strong ability to regulate her own emotions. And this week, she had indeed not encountered any particular incidents, mainly focusing on raising charitable donations, contacting pharmaceutical factories, and organizing volunteer medical workers.

However, compared to before, the light, joyful feeling naturally present in her greeting had clearly diminished quite a bit.

The Fool Klein nodded gently, returning the greetings from the members of the Tarot Club. Then he turned his gaze toward The Hermit.

He still owed this lady eight questions.

The Hermit Cattleya lowered her head and spoke with perfect deference.

“Honorable Mr. Fool, this time I still have two questions.”

After receiving approval, she continued, “The first question is: what is the current state of the demons in the Abyss?”

The Queen of Mysteries first suspects the Emperor’s mausoleum is hidden inside the Abyss… That matches the Emperor’s own line of thought. As expected of his biological daughter… Unfortunately, there are no “citizens” there who can be driven… The Fool Klein muttered inwardly, his expression unchanged as he answered:

“The current Abyss is a place where even most demons cannot survive.”