Chapter 401
"York..." The gravekeeper's voice trembled slightly again.
"York... nice name. I'll send a £50 check to your family as a reward for your help," Charles said, turning around and waving his hand without looking back.
"Oh my... Miss, I haven't really helped you much; it's just what I should do. This amount is too much..." York shrugged, a bit taken aback.
Fifty pounds—his weekly wage was only ten shillings. That sum was nearly equivalent to two years' salary for him. Even the Duke had never given him such a generous tip.
"You haven't helped yet," Charles paused, slowly turning back to face York. "I need you to keep this secret for the next 22 hours..."
Squeak, squeak, squeak—
With the sound of a little gray mouse, countless gray mice swarmed in from all directions of the cemetery. Four or five of them scurried right into his mouth, silencing him completely.
A horde of mice began to gather around Charles's nameless grave, quickly digging through the topsoil to reveal a luxurious wooden coffin inside. They then started gnawing at the wood, devouring the top layer of planks and flowers entirely.
Under Charles's control, the gravekeeper's skeletal remains were arranged by the mice into terrifying, blood-red words in front of his grave.
**I have come for you**
**—The Keybearer**
Those who enjoy revelry must love playing hide and seek, right?
You are in Ansu City, in a place where you can give Edward and Isabella hints or commands at any moment.
You relish watching others struggle and suffer, but what do you think when the target is yourself?
Do you feel excitement? Or... fear?
Well, you only have 22 hours anyway, so let her start this game of hide and seek. This time, both Charles and the other party are at the same starting line, with no information about each other's locations.
Charles slowly raised his hand, and a raven landed on his arm in the rainy night, shaking off the raindrops from its feathers and tilting its head to look at him.
Every bird, ant, insect, and beast in the city, every flower and tree, could be my eyes.
Oh, wait, not the flowers and trees.
...
Morning in Ansu City, St. Lawrence District, Stuart Art Exchange Center.
This is a beautifully crafted building. Though not large, its exterior is adorned with large marble reliefs, marked with various signatures and artworks from different sculptors, creating a chaotic yet harmonious beauty.
Through the clean glass windows, one can see the interior of the exchange center, showcasing works from various masters, some of which are renowned masterpieces that have survived for centuries—products of Ansu's most prosperous artistic period.
Directly opposite the entrance, a massive, solemn image of a holy elephant serves as the backdrop for nearly an entire wall.
—This depicts the Faceless Goddess of the Church of the Savior alongside the Eye of Order and several other divine figures coexisting harmoniously in the realm of fantasy. It is a grand collaborative work by artists shortly after the Holy War, praying for peace.
From this collected painting, one can tell that the owner of this exchange center is someone who doesn't want to offend any side.
A golden-haired girl with a single ponytail and slightly curled hair, holding a newspaper, hurriedly walked into the exchange.
Two beautiful receptionists stood up as soon as they saw her, bowing their heads and saying, "Good morning, Miss Isabella."
"Good morning."
Isabella didn't respond with her usual smile; she merely replied hastily and headed straight for the stairs, quickly making her way to an office on the second floor.
She opened the office door and looked at the man inside.
"Father." After closing the door, Isabella quickly approached the man, but soon, she noticed an identical newspaper on his desk.
**Terrifying Night: The Mysterious Dismemberment Case at the Duke's Family Cemetery**
Besides the headline, there was an illustration depicting words formed from corpses.
Just looking at the illustration, without reading the content, sent chills down her spine.
"What's wrong?" Edward looked at Isabella, his expression calm, unlike her apparent panic.
"This, this graveyard." Isabella pointed directly at the direction of the nameless tombstone in the illustration. "This is where I went yesterday, Charles's grave... The report didn't mention whose grave it was, only referred to the nameless tombstone. There's only one nameless tombstone in that cemetery!"
"Oh?" Edward paused slightly, pondering for a moment.
He had some information about this girl named Charles, but not much.
He only knew that she was originally a commoner from Boleyn City, who, by chance, met Aivina and Lucy, and with their help, rose to become a senior consultant at the Dedton Group.
Besides luck, another explanation could be that the girl possessed some mysterious power that made her valued.
"Well... this matter might be a bit dangerous... You were at the funeral yesterday, right? Go visit Miss Aivina and ask her what to do," Edward suggested. "You were just an innocent bystander; you can use this connection to get closer to that Lady Russell."
"I know, Father, but..." Isabella seemed to have some reservations in her eyes. After hesitating for a moment, she nodded. "I'll go visit Miss Aivina right away..."
Once his daughter left, Edward picked up the newspaper again, pondering for a moment before standing up and heading toward another office.
Knock, knock, knock—
He tapped on the door and then opened it.
This was a spacious private studio. A young artist with braided hair was holding a palette, painting an oil canvas in front of him, depicting a slightly youthful woman sitting by the window.
"Pickman, did you paint this?" Edward approached Pickman, pointing at the illustration and asking, "It has a chilling artistic quality... very much like your work."
Pickman glanced at the painting, his brow furrowing slightly. "Uh... I haven't submitted anything to the newspaper, you know that, Mr. Edward."
"Isn't it yours...?" Edward scratched his white hair at the temples, casually setting down the newspaper. "Pickman, if you have any thoughts about your salary, feel free to let me know. Your talent deserves more, and your art will eventually be appreciated by many."
"Hosting a personal exhibition for me has already benefited me greatly, boss," Pickman said, smiling after finishing the last stroke. "I'm not painting for money."
"Alright... you continue; I won't disturb you." Edward gently patted Pickman's shoulder. "If you have any difficulties in life, just let me know."
With that, Edward left the room. Only then did Pickman suddenly stand up, grabbing the newspaper Edward had left behind, his face filled with shock as he read the contents.
Members of his chaotic team were being captured by the Royal Symphony, and he didn't know when it would be his turn. Meanwhile, the captain had been unable to contact the Keybearer for a long time. Pickman was considering whether he should find an opportunity to run away.
If he fled now, went abroad, and went into hiding, no one would ever find him...
But now, the bloody signature of the "Keybearer" drawn on the newspaper suppressed his urge to escape once more.
He couldn't run... the Keybearer would know...
They know everything... and they're no longer as cautious as before...
But why... does the Keybearer use my technique to paint this picture? Is there a need for my skills in this matter?
"Mr. Pickman, is it over?"
A weak voice came from the front. Pickman looked at the model in front of him and nodded. "Of course, miss. You can go to the front desk to collect your pay for today... I hope to see you again tomorrow."
"Thank you, Master Pickman." The young woman smiled, her dimples making her slightly shy smile particularly sweet.
As she walked toward the door, she seemed to want to sneak a glance at Pickman's painting for the day but instead caught sight of the newspaper in his hand.
**I have come for you**
**—The Keybearer**
Her pupils constricted slightly, and her heart skipped a beat.
No way?
The Keybearer?
What does this have to do with you?
Isn't this the mess you got yourself into?
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