As the screen dimmed, Feng Si remained quietly seated on the old, worn-out sofa.
In the background, the haughty and authoritative voice of a knight reverberated in his ears.
"Commoner, do you not know to bow before the esteemed Duke's knight?"
And then, the eerie whispers of Delta-Kevin from the black market, each laugh leaving a trail of nameless souls in its wake.
"Esteemed sir, my name is Delta-Kevin. If you don't mind, you may address me as the Old Steward. Now, dear guest, what do you offer as your wager?"
Then, the suppressed madness of Hunter Delta-Qius echoed through his thoughts.
"Haha, how much is your life worth? How should I pry it open?"
And the lazy voice of Miss Funa floated to his mind.
"Sir, Miss Funa's shop has already closed."
Finally, Feng Si's pupils contracted as he felt a sharp, searing pain pierce through his heart.
In the darkened basement, had it not been for the slight rise and fall of his chest, one might have believed he had slipped into eternal slumber. He maintained this stillness until the light of day broke, undisturbed.
"Ugh... it truly hurts."
The voice in the darkness shattered the tranquility, and the basement seemed to stir with life once more.
Feng Si gingerly lifted his head and stood.
Approaching the projector, he retrieved the severed finger, which had split cleanly in two on the tray of the No. 0 projector.
The machine whirred as it began to rewind.
Click—
Feng Si placed the severed finger into his pocket, draping a dark cloth over the projector before making his way upstairs.
The old wooden steps creaked with each movement, the absence of a handrail a silent testament to past violence.
As the sun rose, its rays pierced through, casting a beautiful square pattern on the floor. Where the sunlight touched, it flickered, now bright, now dim.
Opening the heavy doors, Feng Si stepped outside, his mission clear—to find the next severed finger.
Passing by Delta-Siros's tavern, he noticed the "Closed" sign had been hung at the entrance.
[The weather is pleasant today.]
Looking up at the long-missed sun, Feng Si couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia.
Dressed in a high-collared overcoat, he walked for what seemed an eternity until he spotted a car.
The old pickup was packed full of people.
After paying his fare, Feng Si took the seat at the very back, a dangerous choice, but if the vehicle were to crash, he'd be the first to escape.
No one knew what tomorrow—or an accident—would bring.
The car bumped and swayed down the uneven asphalt road. After what seemed like an eternity, Feng Si finally arrived at his destination.
His hands were red from the prolonged grip, but the steepness of the road left him no choice.
Straightening his coat, which had wrinkled from the long journey, he walked toward the museum.
This was the Museum of Sinners, established by the state of Troxesia, and housed all those who had once threatened its power.
The state was named after the great Duke of Troxesia, who had ruled for over a millennium.
Five centuries ago, the land was divided by various dukes and earls.
Now, the state was governed by a member of the Troxesia family.
The museum served as a monument to the enemies that had fallen before the might of the Troxesia family—a reminder to anyone daring to challenge their reign.
Upon entering, Feng Si was struck by the simplicity of the place. It was anything but luxurious; the artifacts were hastily locked inside glass cases.
Only two guards were present, still drinking, paying him little mind as he entered.
He walked to his destination, where a severed finger lay.
A wooden plaque beside it read:
—Sinner Delta-Qius, who attempted to stir unrest within the territory of Count Malobick, was suppressed and executed by the Duke's knights 500 years ago, leaving this severed finger as a warning.
Tap—tap—
"Hey, sir, you can't touch those sinner's items."
Feng Si took a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"Thank you for the warning, guard. I am new here and unaware of the rules."
Seeing his gesture, the guards paid him no further attention and continued to drink.
"Ha, look at this wimp. I just called out to him, and he immediately raised his hands."
"In this cursed place for so long, this is the first time I've seen something like this. Josen, let's head to that new bar tonight. I heard they got some fine wine."
"Sounds good, Lianzhi. I'm itching to go."
"Let's kick him out then."
Exchanging glances and grinning, the two guards approached.
"Hey, you there! Come out! The museum's closing!"
Feng Si walked out calmly and, as he did, closed the door behind him.
"Guard, I've locked the door."
The guards chuckled, locking the door and then leaving, giving Feng Si a glance before shaking their heads.
[Cowards.]
Feng Si smiled inwardly.
[Fools.]
Night fell.
Once again, Feng Si returned to the museum.
Approaching the door, he crouched and carefully retrieved the severed finger. He wrapped it in cloth and pulled out a wire.
After a series of careful, skillful movements...
The door creaked open.
Feng Si slid through the narrow gap and walked straight to the glass case holding Delta-Qius's severed finger.
The sound echoed throughout the empty museum. Feng Si smiled lightly, lifting the glass door with ease.
Earlier that afternoon, he had already unlocked the lock. To cover the sound, he had tapped the glass while subtly masking his actions, making sure the guards wouldn't be suspicious.
He closed the door, ensuring the severed finger was secure inside, and locked it once more—his actions practiced and efficient.
Stepping out, he erased any trace of his visit, then secured the door and locked it again. Wearing his black overcoat, now concealing the finger, he blended into the night.
Black was the perfect camouflage.
Passing by the noisy bar, Feng Si could hear the two idiots drunkenly chatting.
[Looks like they won't be on duty tomorrow.]
He picked up a newspaper that had been blown to his feet by the wind.
Under the bar's dim lights, he read the headline—an odd collection of rumors and strange happenings, the newspaper dated last week.
—"Werewolf sightings in Bixi Forest. Despite offering a large reward, the Count has yet to capture one."
"What werewolves? Such sensational reporting..."
Stuffing the paper into his pocket, Feng Si pulled his hood low and disappeared into the shadows.
His footsteps gradually faded into the darkness, returning silence to the night.