CHAPTER 52: CHAPTER 38: COLLUDING WITH EACH OTHER

The darkest and hardest times have passed, and a pale golden dawn appeared at the edge of the sky over Old Dunling.

The soldiers stood around the Underground Palace, the night’s battle finally over, all corpses were burned on the spot, ashes continuously rising like black snowflakes falling.

Enjoying the long-lost light, on the outermost Forbidden Guard, Red Falcon reached out his hand gently catching the black snowflakes, then the falling rain washed them away.

It started to rain.

A light drizzle was falling from the gloomy sky, completely purifying the demon’s ashes. The morning was so cold, Officer Pres still stood aside knowing nothing, holding the gun Red Falcon had given him. The cold rain soaked his clothes, making him shiver involuntarily.

The end filled with gunpowder appeared in his view as the light fell, and the morning wind brought the burnt smell.

"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. From now on, there is a crown of righteousness waiting for me."

A weak voice rang through the communicator, mixed with static, sounding ancient and mysterious. Until this voice sounded, Red Falcon’s always stiff face finally relaxed a little, and he spoke to the communicator.

"I thought you were dead."

"Luckily, Galahad pierced my chest with his sword, I would be dead if it was slightly more to the left, but fortunately, God still protects me."

The voice of Bluebird came, surprisingly he wasn’t dead.

"Looks like you need to take a break."

"Yeah, it’s just a bit regrettable, I thought I could finally go to Heaven?" Bluebird said with a smile, "I was ready for a deathbed repentance, but this group saved me again."

"Of course, Bluebird, we’re all brothers, why would you escape this Hell first?"

Red Falcon finally breathed a sigh of relief. The sunlight was warm and filled with hope.

No one died, that’s really good.

...

Lorenzo walked difficultly by the Thames River, the wounds on his body slowly self-healing, but even so, his vision started to gradually darken until the cold raindrops fell on him, making him a bit more conscious.

The cold air came with the rain curtain, dispelling the bloody and burnt smell at the tip of the nose.

After walking for an unknown amount of time, he finally saw the small boat. Eve was sitting on one side leaning against the wall, the girl’s face was pale, and the rain had messed up her hair, looking quite a mess.

The two exchanged a look, then smiled tacitly.

This was truly an unforgettable night. If it wasn’t for the involvement of demons, Eve would have really wanted to write a novel about all this, of course, the story would be about a peerless female hero with a weak detective.

"You look like you’re going to die." Eve slowly stood up.

"You’re almost the same."

Lorenzo walked over, and Eve willingly supported him. The two of them just staggered along, leaning on each other.

"You need a doctor, Lorenzo."

Looking at Lorenzo’s pale face from blood loss, Eve was a bit worried. Although she was also injured, her injuries were not fatal. But Lorenzo was different; with his injuries, someone else would have been dead by now.

"I can’t go to the hospital."

Lorenzo flatly refused; he had Secret Blood within him, something not normal people could come into contact with, not even doctors.

"But you need to bandage the wound!"

Eve insisted again, somewhat understanding why Lorenzo refused, but if this went on, he might really die.

Lorenzo was also aware of his condition, but it was still not possible. The secrets he carried were more important than anyone imagined; he himself was a moving prison, locking these things within his body.

But he couldn’t die, once the Prison Guard died, the things in the prison would eventually escape. His eyes wandered around the street, seemingly protected by the Goddess of Fortune, Lorenzo saw something and forced a wry smile.

In Eve’s puzzled gaze, Lorenzo gathered some strength and then raised the Winchester, this gun was just for show at the moment, but it seemed decent enough to intimidate.

Thus, Lorenzo stopped in front of a door, a shiny nameplate read "147 Hammerling Street."

The loud knocking did not take long to wake the house owner, Director Buscalo, who was very angry as he came downstairs. He had been having nightmares for days after being threatened by that strange person with a shotgun days ago, and now having finally fallen asleep only to be disturbed in the morning.

Angrily opening the door, Director Buscalo was ready to vent his full anger, but after opening the door, it was that familiar face, along with a familiar shotgun.

"Good morning, Director Buscalo!"

Lorenzo skillfully pressed the shotgun against his head, displaying a kind of familial enthusiasm on his sickly face.

...

"So does this count as a home invasion robbery?"

"No, it’s just staying over at a friend’s house."

"Do you think pointing a gun at someone’s head and barging in is ’staying over’?"

"That just shows the closeness of the friendship between Director Buscalo and me."

In less than a minute, Buscalo came to terms with the situation, so now Lorenzo was sitting comfortably on the sofa, half-naked, stitching up his wounds.

Buscalo’s home was filled with medical equipment, although not as complete as a hospital, it was sufficient. He stood shakily to the side, watching Lorenzo extract pieces of metal from the wound with tweezers.

His perception of the world seemed to be shattering; this man had extracted at least two pounds of metal from his body, by rights he should be dead several times over, yet here he was, brimming with life, even able to banter with Eve while performing surgery on himself.

"Miss, are you his friend?"

Turning to Eve, the girl sat on the other side bandaging her own wounds, compared to Lorenzo, hers were merely superficial, the worst being her arm which needed simple stitching.

Upon hearing Buscalo’s words, Eve looked at the unlucky man, unsure of what he intended.

"Sort of."

Eve thought for a moment before responding.

"Miss, you’ve made a poor choice in friends, this won’t do!"

Buscalo remembered Eve from the autopsy on Wol, where she consistently annoyed him, but how now was the detective mixed up with a madman like Lorenzo...could she be an undercover agent for Suyalan Hall?

This thought made Buscalo more frazzled, the more knowledge, the faster the death, and his brain couldn’t stop thinking; the bodies he processed frantically replayed in his mind, even though Lorenzo hadn’t done anything, Buscalo felt like he’d died countless times in his mind.

While considering how to leave a will, Lorenzo spoke up suddenly.

"Director Buscalo, could you please help me stitch here?"

Lorenzo revealed his back, an area he couldn’t reach, leaving the task to the doctor.

Could Buscalo go? He was terrified, seeing Lorenzo as a relentless Evil Ghost.

But then Eve picked up a shotgun, her cold yet sly gaze showing she was no longer a misguided friend but entirely complicit!

Where was the ardently investigative detective who left no clue unchecked? It’s only been a few days, why such a drastic change?

Ignoring Buscalo’s rapidly shifting psyche, Lorenzo revealed his deep wound to him; with Secret Blood calming it, his supernatural healing was declining, he needed someone to stitch it.

"Don’t look at it."

Buscalo reluctantly took the needle, clueless about Lorenzo’s warning against looking, seemingly an unnecessary embarrassment for men, but then he understood.

It was the eerie tattoo, seemingly alive, writhing in his view, piquing Buscalo’s interest; trying to discern its form led to an eye-stabbing pain, as if the resurrected Hunting Falcon instantly blinded him.

"I told you not to look."

Lorenzo said softly, forcibly draping a blanket over his back to conceal much of it.

"What...what’s happening?"

Cold sweat suddenly covered Buscalo, his breathing labored like after a marathon, feeling an unprecedented mental and physical exhaustion.

"Cognitive strain...like reading a dense book, the massive information from the words overwhelms your brain, like a dam’s breach, sturdy barriers could collapse under tremendous waves, and your brain protects itself from the shock by fainting, to forget the immense data."

Lorenzo spoke coldly, although Eve understood this was directed at her; tonight had intertwined Eve more deeply with the world’s darkness, such things were indeed bizarre, like a mire dragging you deeper once involved.

Buscalo’s gaze was heavy as he picked up the needle to sew the wound, avoiding the tattoo’s lure, as if a poisonous snake enticing the plucking of forbidden fruit.

"What on earth are you two..."

Finally finished, Buscalo wiped sweat from his forehead, realizing Lorenzo wasn’t just a criminal, though an ordinary person, as a doctor he had noticed Lorenzo’s peculiar body features through the stitches, far beyond normal human capacity.

"Doctor, it’s better you don’t know too much."

Lorenzo spoke, picking up a paper, a list he’d penned upon arrival, but the penmanship distorted from pain.

"By the time you should be at work, as Director you can access these, I hope you deliver them shortly."

It was a list of medicines, looking at this list Buscalo questioned.

"Aren’t you afraid I’ll call the police upon departing?"

Lorenzo shook his head saying.

"You feel that unspeakable eeriness, don’t you? Resolving my matter won’t be the police’s task, but another group’s; as I understand, the way to deal with ’strangeness’ is to eliminate all connected to it. We’re on the same side now."

Simple yet effective threat, Buscalo glared at Lorenzo before storming out, leaving only him and Eve in the room.

"I remember he has a daughter, but it seems his wife took her away, life is truly harsh."

Casually speaking, looking at the family photo on a shelf, with Eve seated opposite him.

"Mr. Lorenzo Holmes, I think we can have a proper conversation now, right?"

"About what?"

The girl’s expression was complex as she looked at Lorenzo, contemplating long before speaking.

"About why you saved me, and...these..."

Eve extended her hand, removing the bandage to reveal wounds mostly healed, her eyes filled with fear and confusion.