After the performance at the Red Maple Grand Theater ended, a figure quickly walked down the street. The nearby gas streetlights illuminated his young face.
The young man wore glasses, his flaxen hair softly resting on his forehead, and his slightly scholarly face still held a hint of immaturity that hadn't completely faded.
His formal attire looked cheap, but it was ironed into crisp lines, clearly well-maintained.
Suddenly, the young man seemed to sense something and looked back.
Around him and behind him, passersby came and went. Just then, a carriage drove by. The young man suddenly shivered, looking past the carriage to the other side of the street.
There.
Also under a streetlight, a man was pressing his hand to his abdomen, bowing slightly towards him.
The color immediately drained from the young man's face, and he frantically turned into a nearby alley. In the alley, a stray cat, startled, cried out and jumped onto a dusty window, watching the rushing figure with two eerie eyes.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The young man ran quickly through the alley, and just as he saw the exit approaching, a voice filled with filth and depravity suddenly echoed in his ears.
It was as if a demon was whispering beside him.
The young man's movements suddenly stiffened, and his legs stopped working. Before he could figure out what had happened, he felt a violent impact, and when he came to, he found himself slammed against a wall.
Then.
The young man saw a pair of blood-red eyes, and as his attacker smiled and stepped back, he got a clear look at him.
He looked about twenty-four or twenty-five, with grayish-white long hair draped over his shoulders and back, and a handsome face with a sickly pallor, as if he hadn't seen sunlight in years.
He wore a pure black suit, his trousers sharply creased, and his leather shoes shined brightly.
Finally, the young man saw blood on the attacker's hand.
Just then, he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. Looking down, he discovered a dagger plunged deeply into his body.
The nearby clothing was already stained red with seeping blood.
The young man instantly lost all his strength, slowly sliding down the wall, and with difficulty asked, "Why are you doing this?"
The gray-haired attacker flashed an eerie smile, leaned slightly, and performed a noble bow: "Because I dislike the 'Spectator', Mister Novelist."
The young man trembled slightly: "You, you are a Lawyer?"
"Yes and no."
The attacker straightened up, swept the long hair that had fallen over his forehead back behind him: "This city is quite nice, and I plan to stay here for a while, so I can't let anyone discover my identity."
"But you 'Spectator' always manage to notice things you shouldn't. For example, at the gathering just now, you already sensed that I'm not actually a Lawyer, didn't you?"
He squatted in front of the Novelist and said with a smile: "So whenever I go somewhere, the first thing I deal with are the nearby 'Spectator', so I can have a good time for a while."
The attacker took a wallet from the Novelist and shook it: "I'll take this. That way, when your body is found by the police, it should be treated as a common robbery and murder, right?"
"I know them too well. Those guys are like baboons; as long as they find a reasonable answer, they won't investigate further, nor will they submit the case to those annoying official people."
"Of course, I'll wait until your Characteristic precipitates before I leave. You see, this is called professionalism."
The Novelist's consciousness was already blurring, and he even saw fragments of his past life. Vaguely, he seemed to hear a shout from the alley entrance.
"Mister Foleys, is that you?"
"Please wait, I have something to say to you."
Footsteps came from the alley entrance, and more than one person. There were even bird calls.
The attacker frowned: "Damn it, of all times."
He glanced at the Novelist, kicked the dagger, making it plunge deeper. Then he quickly retreated into the darkness, disappearing in an instant.
The footsteps finally arrived nearby, and someone exclaimed, "Huh? It's not Mister Foleys, did I see wrong?"
"Sir, he seems to have been attacked."
"Caw-caw."
A sound echoed in the alley, and someone lit a match, illuminating Lex's face.
When the gathering ended, he had caught the scent of the 'Lawyer' and noticed a suspicious figure. He immediately followed, but he hadn't expected to encounter such a scene.
Lex stepped forward, squatted down in front of the young man whose face was completely drained of color, and reached out to feel his nose.
Suddenly, the young man lifted his head and seized Lex's hand.
Lex was about to jump, and Gru had already drawn his revolver, but then the young man pulled a coin from his pocket, placed it in Lex's hand, and with great effort, opened his mouth and uttered two words: "Help me."
His voice abruptly ceased, his head tilted, and his hands fell limply, already dead.
Lex looked at the coin in his palm, noticing some rust on it. When he held the coin, his spirituality stirred slightly, as if it were a mystical item.
He suddenly remembered the coin the Novelist had used for divination at the gathering, which made Lex look at the young man lying dead at the base of the wall, a thought surfacing in his mind.
Could he be the Novelist?
Was his attacker the Lawyer?
Why would the Lawyer attack a gathering member? No, that was probably not the Lawyer; his spirituality had changed.
Someone impersonated the Lawyer and attended the gathering? If so, it would explain why the Lawyer could possess the Pyromaniac formula.
"Sir, please leave this place quickly, I'll handle the rest." Gru reminded him from behind; the bodyguard could already tell that the Novelist was dead.
Lex nodded, glanced at the Novelist's body, then turned and left with his valet.
Violet Hotel.
Back in his room, Lex brought the parrot Grego into the bedroom. The latter flew into its cage and said, "The one who killed that little fellow was a terrifying thing."
Lex looked at him: "Did you sense anything?"
Grego flapped his wings: "No, I just had that feeling."
A feeling?
Speaking of which, the 'Monster's' spiritual perception seems quite high; this silly bird also sensed the special nature of the bronze mirror before.
"By the way, why do you always act like a Dragon? You don't have something wrong up here, do you?" Lex tapped his own head with his finger.
Grego looked at him, and at that moment, the parrot's eyes held a deep Light: "Because the Dragon is the most powerful non-human species I know."
"And because I hate my own weakness, stupidity, cowardice, and ignorance."
Lex looked in surprise at the parrot in the cage. He hadn't expected a bird to say such words.
It seems you are a bird with a story.