Chapter 43

Chapter 43 “Good Morning Mr. Duncan”

After placing the book back in its place, Duncan examined the other furnishings in this room. Aside from the two notebooks in the desk drawer, there’s nothing else of value – a sign that the small bedroom must’ve been used infrequently.

Then through the content of the notebooks, which were full of subjects about steam mechanisms and engineering principles, plus the occasional complaints of teachers and classmates, it’s easy to judge the owner was a young maiden that still attended school.

Duncan eventually returned to the master bedroom after restoring everything in the other room to its original state. He needed more time to comb through his memories, which he did by sitting at the edge of the bed.

After a while, he got up again and went to the cabinet nearby. By following the reflexes in his muscles to open the cabinet door and one of the drawers, he fiddled around and found what he wanted: several bottles of spirits quietly hidden in the depths of the drawers, plus half a box of analgesic and nerve-relieving tablets, which were left behind by the cultist named “Ron” in the world.

The previous guy had a serious illness that had worsened to the point of no return, so poor-quality spirits and painkillers were the only things that could ease the pain at that time. However, pain remedies obviously did not help to prolong a sick patient’s life.

So, the man, who had lost all hope in his life, turned to the Sun Sect after the preacher told him about how the healing power of the Sun God could solve all ills of the world – including one’s ailing body. That’s how Ron converted to becoming a cultist.

And to a certain extent, the cultists did keep their promise.

By performing a gruesome and strange ritual, the cultists were able to transfer the vitality of the innocent into another body of its believers. Duncan did not know the principle behind such a ritual, nor did he know if it really cured the incurable disease. Still, according to the remnants of the fragmented memory, the cultist named “Ron” did get better after the ceremony. It’s the main reason the original owner of this body donated a large part of his family wealth to the cause – he got a taste of the forbidden fruit.

But Duncan didn’t care about what had happened between the dead cultists.

Reaching deeper into the drawer, he smoothly groped around into the dark compartment and soon found a revolver and a box of bullets in good condition.

“Nina,” he said after this name stormed out of his tongue, “were you staying at school yesterday?”

“I’ve been living in the school all these days,” replied the girl under the stairs, “I thought you would be out for at least a week like before. So, I packed up my things and went to burrow with my classmates.... Mrs. White, who managed the dormitory, agreed to my request. I only came home today because I noticed I left a book behind.... Are you okay Uncle? I feel like you’re acting weird today...”

“I’m fine, just a little groggy from sleeping.”

Duncan naturally responded and then strode down the stair to the first floor. A ridiculous theory was brewing in his mind, and now he needed to confirm it.

He and Nina crossed paths, allowing both to make eye contact. However, it wasn’t until Duncan was at the bottom of the staircase did the girl call out, “Uncle Duncan, are you going out later? You...... will you stay home for a few more days?”

“...... depends on the situation,” Duncan kept his back to her due to being uncertain what would happen, “I’m just going to check on the front door. If nothing happens, I’ll be staying home for a few days.”

“Ah okay, then I’ll go buy groceries. There aren’t many ingredients at home...” The girl said quickly and briskly ran upstairs with the youthful air befitting that age.

Duncan had already come up to the shop’s entrance then. Inhaling a soft breath, he pushed open the door and looked up at the signboard overhead. It’s still the old and dirty thing, but the words have changed like it’s always been like this: Duncan’s Antique Shop.

Duncan frowned and slowly came to the nearby dirty glass window to peer at the reflection. It was indeed a strange face, not of the majestic and gloomy ghost captain, but of a tired-looking middle-aged man with a beard and deep eye sockets. This was Ron’s face, the cultist who had already been swallowed up by death in the sewers.

Eventually, the noise of the city life had cut him off from the inspection. It’s livening up around him. First, the crisp sound of door bells ringing by doors opening around the streets were rampant, followed by the bicycle chimes and passers-by talking on the streets.

“Good morning, Mr. Duncan. Have you read today’s newspaper? The Deep Sea Church seems to have destroyed a big cult den!” Eventually, someone passing by the front of the antique shop even greeted him.