Chapter 54: Padding the Bill

Chapter 54: Padding the Bill

Cherwood Borough, No. 22 Hope Road, Hat Trick Hotel.

The attendant at the front desk was just about to take a sip of water when she saw a lady enter through the door.

The lady was about 1.65 meters tall, wearing a light-colored long dress with flounces. Her slightly curled brown hair fell loosely down, and a pair of tinted-glass spectacles rested on the bridge of her nose, giving her the relaxed air of someone who had just returned from Desi Bay.

In one hand, she carried a dark-brown leather suitcase, walking toward the front desk at an unhurried pace.

A lady with outstanding temperament… That outfit is really quite nice… I wonder what she looks like with the tinted glasses off…

As a woman herself, the front-desk attendant habitually first examined the other party’s clothing and accessories.

Then she heard the lady speak in a voice carrying a hint of lazy charm.

“One night. Single room.”

“Two soli and eight pence.” The attendant first quoted the room rate for the day, then asked, “Do you have identification documents?”

She was not especially enthusiastic about the identity registration process, because the hotel itself had no real way to confirm whether those documents were genuine.

“Yes.” The lady set down the dark-brown suitcase, took a stack of identity documents from the handbag in her hand, and passed them over.

“Margaret Taylor…” the attendant muttered while registering her. Then she found a string of keys. “Room 2012.”

“Thank you.” The fashionable lady opposite accepted the key, picked up the dark-brown suitcase, and walked toward the stairway.

At that moment, an attendant in a red waistcoat approached and bowed.

“Do you need any help?”

His gaze immediately landed on the dark-brown suitcase she carried.

The lady’s lips curved into a smile. She shook her head.

“No. It is very light.”

After saying that, she did not linger. She walked up the stairs floor by floor and entered Room 2012.

After closing the door and setting down the suitcase, she suddenly raised her right hand, pressed it to her chest, and let out a long breath.

“Why do I feel like some perverted murderer…”

She was none other than Fors in disguise. Inside her suitcase was nothing at all except Mr. X’s head wrapped in newspaper!

Those two attendants definitely couldn’t have imagined that inside a fashionable young woman’s suitcase there were no clothes, no skincare products, no cosmetics—only a dead man’s head, cracked almost into fragments and covered in blood… If it were discovered, everyone in the hotel would be frightened to death… This is material for a detective novel!

Fors calmed her nervous mood, then picked up the suitcase again and opened the room door.

She observed the hallway. Seeing that no one was passing through, she hurried out and came to the front of Room 2016. Bending her finger, she knocked on the wooden door.

Her teacher, Dorian Gray Abraham, was staying in this room he had used last time.

After sensing a gaze examining her from the peephole, Fors heard the sound of the handle turning and the lock operating.

Dorian Gray, wearing a black formal suit, with very broad shoulders, warily swept his gaze left and right. Then he stepped aside, signaling for his student to enter.

“No one noticed you, did they?” he asked cautiously after closing the door.

Fors put down the suitcase and removed the tinted glasses covering the lower half of her face.

“No. I used a false identity.”

As a low-level Beyonder with decent experience in Backlund’s underworld, several sets of fake identification documents were indispensable.

Moreover, she had an expert in that area—Xio—to help her.

The only problem was that a fake was still a fake. It could not withstand comparison checks by the police department.

However, Fors had heard that some channels could produce real identification documents. In other words, they were documents filed and registered within the police department, and the photograph could even be replaced. Of course, the price was certainly much higher.

Dorian nodded gently and exhaled soundlessly. As he pulled a chair over for Fors to sit, he asked, “You said in your letter that at a Beyonder gathering in Backlund, someone offered a bounty to find direct descendants of the Abraham family, with the goal of obtaining information about Mr. Door?”

“Yes, Teacher.” Fors spoke the truth without question. “I myself do not know much about that family, so I thought I would ask you and see whether you were aware of anything.”

She concealed only two points. First, that the gathering was called the Tarot Club. Second, that she already knew her teacher was a member of the Abraham family.

Dorian sat down, lifted a white-glazed porcelain teacup, and took a sip. Outwardly calm, he asked, “Who offered the bounty?”

“I do not know. I only know that it was a lady. Her appearance was concealed. Uh… she should be very strong, and the force behind her should not be weak.” Fors described the image she had of Madam Hermit.

What she did not say was that the other party was closely connected to the Queen of Mysteries, Bernadette.

Dorian Gray pondered for several seconds.

“I do not know much either. I only know that Mr. Door should be an ancestor of the Abraham family, and that he disappeared during the War of the Four Emperors. You can exchange this information for some reward.”

Mr. Door is an ancestor of the Abraham family? Mr. Door, who caused the Abraham family to suffer the full-moon curse and made countless members lose control over so many years, is actually the Abraham family’s ancestor?

Fors was deeply shocked by what she heard.

Having already learned a little from Mr. Fool about the Abraham family’s problems, she could hardly believe that the source of all this was actually the origin of their bloodline!

Does Mr. Door not know the consequences of His actions?

Fors muttered soundlessly. Her brows unconsciously furrowed.

Dorian Gray noticed his student’s abnormal reaction and asked in slight confusion, “Is there a problem?”

Damn it. I failed to hide my expression just now…

Fors considered her words, then said, “I simply do not understand. After more than a thousand years, other than direct descendants of the Abraham family, who else would want information about Mr. Door? And for what purpose?”

Perhaps they want to find Mr. Door? Ah, right. The Queen of Mysteries is Emperor Roselle’s daughter, and Mr. Door appears in Roselle’s diary. So it is normal for the Queen to want to find Mr. Door and explore the truth of those years… But Mr. Door disappeared during the War of the Four Emperors, more than a thousand years before Roselle’s era. How could they be connected? Could Emperor Roselle also hear the full-moon ravings… Uh, I remember Mr. Fool once teased Mr. Door, saying He might be calling for help… If that is true, then it is really, really…

As a writer, Fors momentarily could not find the words to describe how she felt.

Dorian revealed a bitter smile.

“Clearly, I am also puzzled by this question. If you find the answer, remember to tell me.”

Fors did not continue struggling with this issue, afraid Dorian Gray might discover something suspicious. She changed the subject instead.

“Teacher, why did you suddenly come to Backlund?”

Dorian smiled, took out a cigarette, brought it to his nose and sniffed it without lighting it.

“There happened to be some matters I needed to handle in Backlund, so I also came to check your digestion progress.”

In truth, he had been startled by the information Fors relayed in her letter. He could not believe there were still people in the world asking about Mr. Door. One had to know that even within the Abraham family, most had basically given up trying in that regard. Only he himself still persisted, actively teaching his student.

This also reminded him of a prophecy circulating within the family: that the Abrahams would draw closer and closer to destruction.

He linked the two matters together and hurried to Backlund to confirm his student’s condition, hoping she could advance as quickly as possible and preserve a sliver of hope for the Abraham family.

“I’ve just finished grasping the various knowledge of astrology,” Fors answered somewhat guiltily.

Because she had been short on money some time ago, she had not yet purchased the high-end crystal ball required by an Astrologer.

To avoid continuing that topic, Fors shifted to asking Dorian Gray about the acting principles of an Astrologer and received reminders such as “astrology is not omnipotent.”

Near the end, Fors glanced at the dark-brown suitcase beside her.

“Teacher, there is one more thing.”

“What is it?” Dorian leaned back against the chair and leisurely took a sip of black tea.

Fors followed the draft she had prepared earlier.

“After learning that Louis Wayne once betrayed the organization and caused you all great harm, I have always wanted to find him and avenge you.”

“Give up that thought!” Dorian immediately sat upright. “Even if you have Leymano’s Travels, you absolutely cannot defeat him, let alone kill him! Your intentions make me very gratified, but you have no need to take risks.”

Of course I couldn’t do it alone… Fors muttered soundlessly, then said directly, “I know an extremely powerful bounty hunter. I previously spent nearly ten thousand gold pounds to ask him for help.”

She had no way to estimate exactly how much the payment she had given was worth, so she used the price Miss Audrey had once offered to assassinate the Intis ambassador.

That may be a swindler… Louis Wayne is most likely a Traveler, and he also has the Aurora Order’s support…

Dorian was just about to point out that no bounty hunter could be Louis Wayne’s match when he heard his student say, “He has already succeeded.”

Cough! Cough! Cough!

Dorian choked on his own saliva and began coughing as if he would tear his lungs apart.

The teacup in his hand abruptly fell toward the floor, only to bounce up like a magic trick and “sit” steadily on the coffee table.

“He gave me Louis Wayne’s head.” Fors pulled over the dark-brown suitcase, opened it, and took out the spherical object wrapped in newspaper.

As the newspaper unfolded bit by bit, Dorian saw the face he would never forget. Compared with when he had attacked the Abraham family headquarters, the smug smile on Louis Wayne’s face had vanished entirely. His head was covered in cracks, as though glued together from fragment after fragment—savage, painful, and despairing.

As an Astrologer, Dorian Gray’s spiritual intuition told him without question that this was Louis Wayne’s head.

“Good. Very good…” Dorian muttered several words in a rather agitated voice, then raised his head to look at his student. “Who is that bounty hunter? I cannot imagine such a powerful expert hidden among Backlund’s bounty hunters.”

Fors considered her answer for a moment.

“Gehrman Sparrow.”