Chapter 187: Clark’s Conjecture
After a not-so-delicious dinner, the four of them each returned to their rooms to rest. They did not decide to sleep in the same room. Not to mention whether they could rest while mutually surveilling each other in such an environment, the murderer who could silently kill Bluebeard the Count must also be meticulous. Sleeping in the same room might even make it easier for the murderer to strike, and the danger level was really too high.
After returning to his room, Clark sorted through the information on the four people who originally lived in this castle once again.
Bluebeard the Count, already dead, was the master of this count’s castle. He was gluttonous and fond of good food, deeply immersed in lust, but unexpectedly enthusiastic. He had hosted a stranger like himself and almost did not inspect his identity at all. Was it that he had no vigilance, had some other agenda, or was he really that kind and hospitable?
Butler Valente looked like he had the temperament of a butler from a noble family in a movie or TV drama. He carried a hint of arrogance toward everyone except Bluebeard the Count, had somewhat of a poker face, initially showed some shock at Bluebeard the Count’s death, but quickly adopted the calm and competent attitude of a qualified butler and came up with a method of response.
However, his method of response inevitably raised suspicions. In this isolated castle snowbound by a blizzard, with no telling when the snow would stop, and the murderer among the few people in the castle, it was suspicious that he forbade any investigation under such lurking danger. Unless he was the murderer himself, or… investigating the count’s room might be disadvantageous to him?
Cook Hera was skilled at hiding and disguising her emotions, an acting type. He was no psychologist, and it was hard to see through her true heart from her outward appearance. Perhaps the reaction she showed upon seeing the count’s death scene was also disguised. Like Butler Valente, she had entered Bluebeard the Count’s room before his death.
Maid Mireille, from her performance, seemed like a very ordinary normal girl. She was the first to discover Bluebeard the Count’s death scene. During last night’s dinner, although she endured Bluebeard the Count’s frivolous attitude, it was clearly not as natural and deeply concealed as Hera’s. But this perfectly fit her identity as a newcomer maid. She was very likely the one who wrote him the letter and passed the note.
Thinking of Maid Mireille, Clark could not help but picture the little maid’s cute smile and the various scenes of her dependence on him, feeling an indescribable sense of heartbeat and trust. Of course, he was very sure this heartbeat was not love. He had been in love before and knew the taste of love, so he found this inexplicable feeling of heartbeat hard to describe.
After this analysis, although Clark could not figure out who the murderer was or who had performed the demon-subduing technique on the corpse, he had some conjecture about who might be on his side.
Clark felt a bit hot. He realized he was sweating—it was cold sweat.
He drank a glass of cooled plain water and returned to the bedside to continue pondering.
Now stepping back from Bluebeard the Count’s murder case, Clark developed doubts about this castle and this world, and even a kind of “questioning” toward himself.
Was he really Clark? The anomaly race folklore culture researcher employed by the Anomaly Biological Foundation, the largest investigator organization in the New York region of Earth, who accepted an invitation from the Mysterious Group in the Shenzhou Region to help research and analyze the newly discovered anomaly race in Shenzhou in recent years, but suddenly lost consciousness on the way, possibly died, and somehow crossed over to this world.
Was it really like that?
Clark felt like he was living in a dream. He was now in a dream that was hard to wake from, but he also felt that the world of that folklore culture researcher was the real nightmare, because that world was even more mad, more dangerous, full of crises…
The more Clark thought, the more chaotic it became. His brows furrowed tightly, his heart in pain.
What made him start doubting all this was precisely the book named 《Transformation》 on the desk in Bluebeard the Count’s room.
That book was a suspense novel, written by a bestselling writer from Sakura Island in the Shenzhou Region. The book was equally popular, telling the story of the protagonist who, after an accident, had part of his brain replaced with that of a certain murderer, causing changes in his temperament and behavior style, leading to a series of suspense events.
Clark had read the beginning of that book, and it was the same one he had read.
But this was not normal, because the story in that book was set in the twenty-first century on Earth. From the level of civilization in this world, it was at most the seventeenth or eighteenth century. How could a story with that background appear?
This was very abnormal!
Therefore, Clark began to doubt this world, even this castle, the people here, and all the things happening.
He strongly suspected that during the period when he lost consciousness on his way to the Shenzhou Region, he must have encountered some anomaly event and was likely still in it now. Everything he had experienced was not real. There was a group of people controlling all this, using him for something, or simply wanting to watch him make a fool of himself!
Who exactly were they, and what did they want to do?
Clark held his head, knocking on his head, trying to recall forgotten memories, even fragments would do.
Realizing that in the place he was, there were countless invisible hands manipulating him, anyone would feel heart palpitations and panic, and Clark was no exception.
Unfortunately, Clark felt like he was almost scratching his head bald, but still could not recall any important memory. He could only force himself to calm down and temporarily stop thinking so much.
He took out the pocket watch placed in his pocket, looked at the slowly moving clock hands of the pocket watch, and murmured: “Could this broken pocket watch be a hint for me?”
Looking at the direction the hands pointed, Clark took a deep breath, then closed the pocket watch cover, properly put it back in his pocket, got up, put on his shoes and clothes.
No matter whether the others could peacefully sleep tonight or what they were doing at this moment, he could not wait any longer. He wanted to figure all this out.
Before figuring out the truth of this world, first, he perhaps needed to follow the intentions of those “people” who brought him here, clarify the cause of Bluebeard the Count’s death, and find the person who wrote him the letter.
When going out today, Clark did not bring any lighting tools, relying entirely on his pair of eyes adapted to night vision, acting like nearsighted eyes with limited vision.
Clark did not immediately return to Bluebeard the Count’s death scene, but went to Kander’s Room.
The person who took the Shadow Stone Sculpture of Peering into All Things must have entered after he had been to Kander’s Room, taken the stone sculpture, and then used Bluebeard the Count’s corpse to complete a demon-subduing technique. Perhaps there were some clues left in Kander’s Room.
Second update slightly late
