"Your lunch is ready,"
"Here's your newspaper."
In the manor, a nanny dressed in black with a white apron brought the food to Benjamin.
"Hmm, put it here. Close the door."
Benjamin waved for the nanny to leave.
After finishing his steak and drinking a cup of coffee, Benjamin gleaned some information about the world from the newspaper.
He put down his coffee and went to the jewel-encrusted, piano-lacquered table, picking up paper and pen.
Using Chinese characters interspersed with symbols only he could decipher,
he began writing his plan:
"First, we need to determine:
What story has the plot reached?
Where is Kirsty 's new house, and how far is it from here?
Has her uncle Frank obtained the Lemarchand's Box yet?
Secondly,
How can we gain benefits from this world and resolve the crisis outside?
After all, back in reality, he's still missing two kidneys, and a scalpel hangs over his chest.
The first main mission is to open the Lemarchand's Box.
However, this item is only given to certain chosen individuals by the Hellish Intermediary. Only those tempted by the box and mastering a specific gesture can open it.
In movies and comics, ordinary people who obtain the box cannot open it; they simply collect it.
Staying with the chosen person to open the box might be considered assisting in opening it.
But after opening the box, what awaits the opener is not heaven.
Instead, it opens a portal to hell.
" The Cenobites will be instantly summoned and tear the person who opens the box to pieces with hellish instruments of torture.
You think it's just about being torn apart?
No!
Their souls will be dragged into Hell, enduring countless tortures from the Cenobites and the torments of Hell.
Until their souls are twisted and numb, losing all value, they will be thrown into the rocky pits at the edge of Hell, slowly becoming blood-stained bricks embedded in the walls of Hell.
As for the second mission, it's actually related to the first.
To enter Hell, you must first open the Hellish passage with the box.
If I can't even get past test of the Cenobites, let alone whether I can survive and get out after entering Hell.
Furthermore, the third mission, killing the Cenobites, is utter nonsense.
In Benjamin's eyes, it's a Hellish joke.
Even more outrageous than the news of someone winning the lottery three times in a row in his previous life.
The Cenobites' clothes are made from the flesh and skin of Leviathan, the Lord of Hell, and are impervious to mortal weapons.
Their bodies are also modified from Leviathan's blood, possessing extraordinary strength.
Even the weakest Cenobite is not someone an ordinary person can handle.
Benjamin unconsciously tapped the table with four fingers of his right hand.
"Think about it, think about it carefully."
After pondering for a while, he wrote a string of words on a piece of paper, then crumpled it up, tore it into pieces, and flushed it down the drain.
"Sade, call the butler over."
Benjamin called towards the door, then leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes to rest.
"Mr. Dean, what can I do for you?"
The butler, Markle, was dressed in a well-tailored suit, his hair neatly combed, though the wrinkles on his face betrayed his age.
"Uncle Markle, you've been with our family for over 30 years. If I'm not mistaken, you're retiring in two years?" Benjamin asked.
"Yes, sir."
Markle stood with his arms crossed, nodding slightly.
"Uncle Markle, I have a few very important matters to attend to these past two days. If you handle them well, I'll allow you to retire two years early with pay, and I'll accept your recommendation for a new butler."
"Can I trust you?"
Benjamin stared intently at the butler, asking seriously.
"Of course, Young Master Dean. I've watched you grow up. Just tell me what you need."
Markle, seeing Benjamin's expression, also became serious and answered cautiously.
"Uncle Markle, don't worry, it's nothing difficult. It's just that these things are very important and must be done well."
The butler, seeing his young master so serious, had already prepared himself for what he considered a very difficult task.
"Please give your orders."
Benjamin raised his index finger:
"First, immediately invite the local police chief to visit. Tell him I want to donate one million pounds to improve security."
Then he raised his second finger:
"Second, find me 20 detectives and have them come to see me in batches."
"Third, contact the media, newspapers, and online trolls to promote me personally.
Two days later, I will exhibit an artwork. I will present it as the youngest outstanding artist."
Benjamin finished recounting three matters in one breath, picked up his coffee, and took a small sip.
The bitter, strong original flavor of the coffee made his mind even clearer.
"Sir, are there any other requests?" the butler asked.
"These are the three for today. There will be others tomorrow. These matters must be handled as quickly as possible, prioritizing them above all other tasks, without any delays."
Hearing the three requests, Markle visibly relaxed, radiating confidence. He felt these matters were easily manageable.
"Yes, sir, I'll go arrange them."
"Hmm."
Having received the reply, the butler, Markle, took two steps back, turned, and walked towards the door, dialing a series of phone numbers as he went.
Benjamin picked up his coffee, walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and looked at the European-style sculptures and fountains in the manor, the golden leaves swaying gently.
"There's no going back!"
Benjamin sighed, turned back to the sofa, and closed his eyes to rest. He needed to stay alert and await the arrival of his guests. Benjamin wasn't worried about the plan failing, because no one would refuse money, especially free money.
And indeed, things went as Benjamin predicted. Inside the Phil Police Station:
"Sir, regarding your child's disappearance, are there any details you've overlooked? Think carefully. A person can't just vanish from a hospital into thin air. How about this…"
Inspector Boris, sporting a thick beard, was talking to a middle-aged man dressed as a lawyer when his phone rang, interrupting him.
"What! £1 million, donated to the police station?"
Inspector Boris's voice rose excitedly, drawing all eyes to him, their eyes filled with eager anticipation.
"Mr. Markle, today isn't April Fool's Day. Are you serious?"
"Alright, alright, I'll be off right now."
After hanging up, Boris quickly stood up, and someone beside him deftly handed him a hat.
"My child…"
The middle-aged man, his face full of anxiety, wanted to say something more.
"Go find him!"
"God bless your child."
Boris casually pointed to the young police officer who had handed him the hat, then hurriedly went out.
Less than an hour later, the butler led Boris to Benjamin.