Chapter 61: The Disappearance of Professor Wayne

Chapter 61: The Disappearance of Professor Wayne

"Do you know the identity of that person in the shadows?" Sharon could tell that Hastur was hiding something.

"I have my suspicions. Miss Sharon, what do you know about the Aurora Society?"

"Madmen, a bunch of madmen, reckless madmen."

"…"

A fitting description, it seems Miss Sharon has had dealings with the Aurora Society as well.

Hastur Said with a bitter smile, "Yes, they are all madmen, and I might have already provoked them."

"As a noble, you would be safer in the city."

"Have you heard of Mr. A, Miss Sharon?"

Sharon nodded slightly, her expression growing serious. There weren't many extraordinary gatherings in Beckland, but she had heard of the one organized by Mr. A from other extraordinaries, and it had a decent reputation.

"I once attended an extraordinary gathering held by Mr. A…"

Hastur didn't hide anything, recounting his participation in that extraordinary gathering, especially mentioning Mr. A's inexplicable favor towards him.

Sharon listened quietly and then offered her judgment: "Perhaps you possess a trait that you yourself do not understand, visible only to those related to it."

Could that really be the case?

Hastur Sighed. He had considered this possibility before but found it somewhat unreliable. After all, aside from the Hall of Stars, he didn't think he had anything special.

Given the standards of the Hall of Stars, it was not something Mr. A could see through. At least it would take an Angel King, face to face, to possibly sense the existence of the Hall of Stars.

"If there is indeed something special about you that he values, then he won't harm you easily. You are still safe for now."

"Perhaps."

Being targeted by a mad character like Mr. A, Hastur didn't dare gamble that the other party would always handle matters calmly.

What if Mr. A suddenly went mad or got a whim to come after him?

Sharon thought for a moment but said nothing more. Her situation in Beckland wasn't too good either, and the scene quieted down for a while.

The wood in the campfire crackled until Maric's return broke the silence.

"Sharon, you're here too."

"What a great night."

"A thousand pounds per person, easy money for the nobility!"

Maric was very happy to share a thousand pounds with Hasta, represented by a check.

A thin piece of paper, yet it carried a significant weight.

Hastur carefully took the check, glanced at Sharon's expressionless face, and coughed lightly, "Miss Sharon, if it weren't for you holding the line tonight, Maric and I would have been in danger. Half of this thousand pounds is your reward."

Sharon's eyes lit up. She didn't speak but calmly nodded.

"…"

Maric looked astonished and after some thought, gritted his teeth and said, "I'm also willing to pay half the reward!"

"Hmm."

Sharon's eyes narrowed, and she calmly nodded again.

Hasta, who had been secretly observing Sharon's expressions, chuckled inwardly. He clearly noticed that Miss Sharon's breathing had quickened for a moment.

Without even asking, she was about to receive a substantial reward of a thousand pounds, and she hadn't even had to fight the other party, essentially getting a windfall.

This made Sharon look at Hastur With a bit more warmth.

She knew that Hastur did this partly out of genuine gratitude for her blocking Mr. A tonight and partly to give her a favor.

"If you need help, you can have Maric inform me."

Sharon thought for a moment and then made a commitment to act.

"Good, thank you, Miss Sharon."

"What happened?"

Maric watched the scene before him, feeling that something was off with these two.

…

A week later.

By the lake, a new wooden cabin had been built, not large, with two windows and a door, making it not at all oppressive inside.

In front of the cabin, two bamboo poles stood with a rod across them, from which hung a dozen fish.

Outside, Hastursat on a green stone, using earthworms as bait, patiently fishing in the watery lake.

Joining him as fellow fishermen were Maric and his zombie squad.

Although the zombies lacked intelligence, their unmatched patience made them excellent fishermen.

In the two fishing competitions held, Maric's zombie squad had come out on top.

Hastur leisurely enjoyed the beauty of nature, but he inwardly sighed that his barbarian role-play was lacking something.

During this time, he avoided using modern tools as much as possible, living here in a more primitive way, even building a small cabin on a whim.

But the digestion speed of the barbarian potion was not fast, even somewhat slow.

This made him realize that digesting the barbarian potion through such role-play was a difficult task.

He needed to find a new way to role-play.

He had also summarized the barbarian role-play rules again, feeling that his current situation was due to a lack of interaction with rules and order.

Living in the wilderness all the time, one could only become a wild man, not a barbarian.

A true barbarian shows disobedience, resistance, and rebellion in the face of established rules and order.

To successfully role-play as a barbarian, one needs the help of rules and order.

Only in the Beckland city center, in crowded places, in noble circles, the stricter the rules and order, the faster the barbarian potion would be digested.

He had to go back.

Hastur Sighed, casually flicking his rod, and a carp weighing about two pounds was pulled up, struggling nonstop.

"Your catch isn't as good as mine today."

Maric laughed, patting the fish basket woven from bamboo strips beside him, already filled with seven or eight big fish.

"Occasionally, I need to let you win once. Otherwise, always beating you is too boring and gives me no sense of achievement."

"Tsk, tsk, such big talk for someone with little skill."

"You can't even beat your own zombies, and you have the nerve to mock me?"

As they spoke, a group of zombies turned their heads in unison, staring at Maric as if agreeing with Hasta's words, leaving Maric feeling embarrassed.

"Just the two of us, limited to one hour, let's see who can catch more fish."

Maric said, emptying the fish from his basket back into the lake.

They had caught too many fish recently, and both he and Hastur Couldn't possibly eat them all.

"Come on, let me show you the prowess of a fishing master."

Faced with such a challenge, Hastur Had no reason to refuse.

Just as their wager was about to start, Butler Neil hurriedly came through the forest path.

Maric flicked his fishing rod, knowing today's bet was off.

"What's happened? Another invitation from Count Richard?" Hastur slowly reeled in his fishing line and rod.

These days, Count Richard had been trying to invite his neighbor to his estate. After being declined, he had repeatedly offered to visit.

Hastur Wasn't ready to let the generous count know his identity, and who knew if the count's so-called master was still meeting him in dreams.

"There are two letters, one from Lord Greck, and one from Professor Folan of Beckland University, both urgent."

"Let me see."

Hastur Took the two letters from Butler Neil, placing one on his thigh and opening the other.

Lord Greck's letter wasn't about anything serious, just asking what he had been busy with and why he hadn't returned yet.

He also informed him that his weekly salary at Bavat Bank had increased from ten to fifteen pounds.

Hastur had recently received a windfall of five hundred pounds, so he was somewhat immune to this pay raise.

He put away Lord Greck's letter and then opened Professor Folan's.

The letter was lengthy, but the main message was singular.

Professor Wayne had gone missing after heading to the Sunrise Charity House, with no news for three days, and his help was needed.

Hasta's expression turned grave. He stood up and instructed Butler Neil to prepare the carriage; he needed to return immediately.

"Is it a big deal?" Maric looked curious.

"Yes, quite a big one. Interested in joining me on a trip to the Sunrise Charity House in the dock area?"

Hastur Extended the invitation. With Maric by his side, resolving the charity house's issues would be much easier and safer.

If it weren't for the urgency, he would have liked to give Professor Wayne a piece of his mind.

Perfectly fine, yet he insisted on going to that charity house. He had told him before that it wasn't a good place, and Deputy Dean Bard was not a good man.

Now, he had truly disappeared.

"Alright, I'm free anyway, but I need to arrange things with my guys first."

Maric nodded in agreement, watching Hastur leave.

After spending time together, their friendship had grown stronger, and Maric wouldn't refuse to help where he could.

Soon, Hastur Was alone in the carriage.

He had informed Maric of the destination, and Maric would make his own way there, agreeing to meet at a tavern in the dock area.

As for Professor Folan, he was already waiting at the charity house.

"I didn't expect to have to visit the charity house again."

Hastur Had always been wary of the Sunrise Charity House. During his last visit, he sensed something odd about the place.

But back then, as a Sequence 9 Lawyer, he didn't have much ability to protect himself and didn't dare to investigate too deeply.

This time, with Maric accompanying him and as a Sequence 8 himself, he should be able to resolve all the charity house's issues.

Hastur slowly closed his eyes,

With Maric accompanying him, and as a Sequence 8 himself, Hastur Believed they could thoroughly resolve all the issues at the charity house.

Hastur slowly closed his eyes, pondering the various oddities of the charity house that had come to light.

According to the information he had received, Dean Darn, who had fled into the secret passageways, was found dead, clutching a chest of gold coins.

The police concluded that Dean Darn had died of fright, but Hastur was skeptical of this explanation.

He suspected that Dean Darn had been silenced, much like old Jeff, whose death was due to knowing too many secrets.

The most likely person behind all this, Hastur thought, was Deputy Dean Bard.

Then there was Dean Darn's dream about planting gold coins to grow a golden tree, which might hold a deeper meaning.

If planting gold coins could indeed sprout a golden tree, what would be the result of planting children? The mere thought was chilling.

(End of Chapter 61)