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   Chapter 67 No.67

Humanity By EJBowman Characters: 5491

Updated: 2017-12-27 19:03


He heard Knave let out a small, short gasp as if she had just taken a hard punch to the chest. He figured 'Nat' had come to her rescue as he heard a concerned male voice mumbling to her.

"Whata happened?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. She had to keep her voice quiet so that it did not crack.

"Wǒmen went to Mama's jiā. Tā wasn'ta there… It looked like tā bù been there forever. But there was a nǚ there and, uh, tā killed Marky."

Erik heard Knave sniff. She was doing her best to hold herself together even though she was shocked and saddened simultaneously.

"So Mama hé Marky are both dead?" she asked between sobs.

"Wǒ don'ta know what'sa happened to Mama, but Marky i–"

"I'ma sorry, Erik. Wǒ just have to…" she was so distraught she could not even finish the sentence.

"No, děngdài!" Erik yelled desperately, but she had already hung up.

He leaned his head against the phone box for a moment as he tried to come to terms with everything. Unfortunately, the downtowner behind him in the line had grown restless and shoved him out of the way. Erik staggered as he tried to keep his balance on the uneven lobby surface.

You're lucky that I'm still trying to be a good person, Erik thought with a spiteful look in the downtowner's direction while he clutched his short sword.

He kept his composure and instead strolled over to the lobby desk. There was a glass window laced with sharp wires that separated him from the so-called receptionist. She was smoking a red cigarette while polishing a previously bloodied knife – Erik knew to take that as a bad sign.

"Wǒ wanna get a room for, uh, two nights

rd. No madwoman was there… and there was no furniture either in the three-by-two metre room. The only significant thing in it was a dark stain on the wall. The lighting made it difficult to tell whether or not it was blood, and Erik didn't really want to know the answer.

For safety reasons, Erik removed his right dress shoe, courtesy of Lord Jordanis as part of his servant uniform, and wedged the toe of it under the door. He did not care if it got scuffed seeing as his shirt and vest were already covered in blood. All he cared about was making sure it would be difficult for anyone else to creep into his room while he was sleeping. It would not halt anyone desperate to get in, but the casual opportunist may change their mind if they struggled to discretely slide the door open.

Erik slumped down in the corner and opened the black bag again in search of food. He was surprised when he heard a crinkling sound and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Reading the front, his heart skipped a beat when he realised it was a note addressed to Mark – no doubt it was from Lord Jordanis.

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