"Hello, Sheriff Boris, welcome! Please have a seat."
Benjamin smiled and greeted him, noticing the slight sweat on the man's forehead.
Looks like this guy likes money.
"Hello, Mr. Dean. I came straight over after receiving the call. I didn't have time to change into my suit, I'm so sorry."
Boris sat on the sofa, his bearded face beaming expectantly at Benjamin.
Like a cuddly polar bear waiting to be fed.
"It's alright, Sheriff Boris, I actually feel more at ease this way."
Boris hesitated, then said, "Well..."
"Oh, it's like this, on my way home today, I was ambushed by a group of black thugs.
My car's trunk was even smashed. Realizing the strain on our security, I decided to donate some money to the police station to improve it."
As he spoke, Benjamin took one of the five written checks from the table and pushed it towards Boris.
"Mr. Dean, are you alright? These stowaway chimpanzees are like tumbleweeds on a highway."
"A few disappear every day, but more always roll in; it's impossible to clean them all up."
"Don't worry, when we get back, I will increase patrols in your area to ensure these damned scum don't show their faces again."
Boris held the check. He knew that a few black men were nothing compared to the amount on the check; there were definitely other demands.
"Inspector Boris, these are minor matters. I invited you here today mainly to ask for your help in locating a few people. Here are their names: £100,000 per person, and if there's any news today, I'll add another £100,000 per person."
Benjamin handed over a prepared slip of paper.
The slip of paper listed four names: Kirsty Cotton, Larry Cotton (father), Frank Cotton (uncle), and Marcus Emmes (a priest at a church).
Benjamin couldn't recall Kirsty's stepmother Julie's last name, but knowing her father's name was enough to confirm that this was the Kirsty he was looking for.
Marcus didn't appear in the first book, but in the comics, he's a member of Kirsty's "Interveners" organization, and also part of Benjamin's plan.
If Marcus exists, it confirms that this isn't just the world of the first book, but a vast world that blends the movies and comics.
"Mr. Dean, may I ask why you're investigating these people?"
Boris took the note and glanced at it. This was a very simple matter for him, but as a sheriff, he still asked out of professional habit.
"Don't worry, since I invited you, it's certainly not for anything illegal or criminal."
Boris nodded, glancing reluctantly at the four remaining checks on the table:
"Alright, I'll get back to you by tonight at the latest. I'll head back now."
After seeing Boris out, the butler returned to Benjamin: "Sir, the detective you requested has been contacted. Investigating just a few people doesn't need to cost this much; even one percent would be enough."
"Of course I know, but it's very important; it's worth the expense."
Benjamin certainly understood this, but only by quickly locating these people and confirming the plot could the remaining two tasks proceed.
Seeing Benjamin's attitude, Markel understood that the remaining matter concerning packaging and promoting Benjamin had to be handled with utmost care.
By evening, Benjamin had received a reply from the sheriff.
Kirsty and her parents were currently in neighboring Brooklyn.
Frank had taken a morning flight from Hatton Airport to Morocco in Africa two days ago.
More importantly, Father Marcus was found; he truly existed.
He worked at the Glass Church, 600 kilometers from the manor. There were many people named Marcus, but only one was a priest.
It seemed the first part of the story hadn't even begun yet, but it was coming soon. When Frank returned to the Eagle Country, the story would officially start. Everything needed to be done quickly.
Benjamin mentally recited the names of all the immortals he could remember, hoping everything would go smoothly. He had finally been given a second chance at life; he was determined to live it to the fullest and couldn't let it end like this.
After declining dinner invitations from several women that evening—Mary, Manny, Laura…—Benjamin finally got a good night's rest.
Three days later.
In the Glass Church, Benjamin was talking with Father Marcus.
Looking at this brown-haired, bearded, and impeccably dressed priest, who could have imagined that in the years to come, he would become a drunken man devoid of faith?
"Father Marcus, I've arrived. As agreed, the exhibition is being held today at the church entrance."
Benjamin held up his wrist and checked the time.
"Mr. Dean, I've seen your work. I hope it can serve as a warning to the world. I don't know if what I'm doing is right or wrong."
Marcus began to pray devoutly to the image of Jesus on the wall, ignoring the noise outside the church.
'Marcus, if you knew what happened to you afterward, you would thank me. Perhaps you should pray to me, not Jesus.'
Benjamin scoffed at Marcus's behavior, silently muttering to himself, before turning and walking towards the door.
"Mr. Dean, I heard you received divine inspiration in a dream, which led you to create this rare work?"
"Sir, could you explain the inspiration behind this piece?"
"As a young artist, what are your plans for the future?"
...
On the platform set up next to the church, a group of reporters surrounded Benjamin, bombarding him with questions.
A glass box covered with a red cloth was brought out and placed on the display stand. Amidst the expectant gazes of the crowd, the box was opened.
Inside was a crystal-clear sphere, within which flowed a red liquid, like ceaselessly flowing lava.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 'Crystal Ball of Blazing Flames,' created based on my dream of hell."
"The ceaseless flow of flames within represents the true cruelty of hell, the endless, relentless burning."
"The reason I'm releasing this work near the church today is to use the flames of hell to dissuade people from being misled and falling into its inferno."
Benjamin stood on a high platform covered with a red carpet, speaking eloquently.
In reality, this crystal ball was merely an ordinary handicraft he had ordered overnight at a high price; it had no artistic value whatsoever.
The so-called press conference and the instantaneous advertising campaign throughout the surrounding city were simply a matter of money.
Everything was for the purpose of conveying the meaning represented by this "Crystal Ball of Blazing Flames."
As the press conference ended, it was already evening. The reporters had returned to their newspapers with their respective gift envelopes, and the onlookers gradually dispersed.
Only the staff remained, waiting to clean up the mess.
"Mr. Dean, do you think we should wrap this up? There's no one left."
A foreman in a blue uniform approached Benjamin and asked softly.
"Wait a little longer, just a little longer."
Benjamin sat on the display stand, feeling a little irritable in his heart.
'There's no reason he wouldn't come.'
Although arrangements could be made later, wasting too much time would make things much more rushed once Frank returned from India and Morocco, and the plot began.
Slap, a dirty, sweaty hand slammed onto the red-clothed display table in front of him.
The fingernails were full of black grime.
But Benjamin didn't care. His gaze narrowed, focusing on the crystal ball in the dirty hand.
It's here!
Inside the crystal-clear ball was a withered pine tree.
White snowflakes fell from the top, drifting inside the crystal ball. Benjamin could even hear the howling of the snow.
The snowflakes seemed to possess a peculiar allure,
Benjamin felt as if he were being sucked in; in this early autumn warmth, he felt a bone-chilling cold.
"Where did this homeless man come from? Get off!"
A nearby staff member shouted, about to pull out a stool to smash him.
"Wait a minute."
Benjamin raised his hand to stop him, carefully examining the hooded homeless man before him.
"This is truly a special crystal ball. How much? I want it."
Benjamin said.
"It belongs to you. Hell has no sulfurous fires, only the bitter winter."
The homeless man tossed out these words and quickly turned and left.
Benjamin picked up the crystal ball, not daring to examine it too closely,carefully placed it in a box, wrapped it up, and waved for the staff to begin clearing the room.
He had gotten what he was waiting for; there was no need to linger.