"I'll go with you. ”

When Otos returned to the Marquis's Mansion, Mr. Marquis Manoa had not yet left the Mansion in a carriage for the appointment, and they had taken a picture in the hall on the fourth floor. Sochis couldn't help but be a little shocked to see that Otos had returned so early, but out of the bad habit of interfering too much with other people's privacy, he didn't ask why, and watched his back fade away. Of course, Otos is a tendon who will hide good things and bad things, and naturally he will not tell the Marquis the cause and effect of this trip in a proper manner, but he still decided that he would go to the appointment with Mr. Marquis Mannoa later, and he should fulfill his promise.

After hearing this, the Marquis of Sochim slowly got up, leaned forward slightly, stretched out his slender index finger in his right hand, and closed his mouth one by one, wanting to say something like "You have finally woken up", but he stopped talking, and withdrew the index finger that he felt offended. Calmly sitting back on the wooden chair, Sochis nodded calmly and smiled at Otos, "Okay." Leave on time at half past five, you can get ready!"

Otos looked at the mechanical watch on his wrist that was repaired as before, nodded, and calmly walked into his spacious room, during which he did not speak, Sochis looked at his tall back, stunned:

What is this guy doing?

......

In the room where the Marquis of Sochis had personally instructed his subordinates to clean up for himself, Otos dragged his heavy and thick body and slumped down on the wooden chair, and with great difficulty straightening his waist with his arms, he reached out and grabbed a stack of brand-new letterheads on the round mahogany table in front of him, took out a stable sheet and placed it in front of him, and randomly found an old quill with a yellowed tip and a black shell from the pen stack.

Otos tried to lift the pen, but after thinking about it, he didn't put it down for a long time: the ink was dripping, his body twitched, and the pain in his heart spread from the tip of his hand, and he didn't have time to clean up the ink residue left on the round ground mahogany table, and like a rag wiping a stained wooden table, he wiped his old wrinkled face and lowered his head and sighed. It's like an old farmer who has been working hard for a year, and when the harvest is harvested, the crops are plagued by insects, and the hard work of the year is gone.

"It's embarrassing to be alive!"

Otos wanted to smoke, and the desire that seeped out of his bones even broke through that face for a time, breaking out of pure desire, and rendering the surroundings, filled with a very oppressive but indelible stench. Money, greed, fame, and profit swept him through the black, stinking mist. He wanted to smoke a few cigarettes, or if he could, dozens of cigarettes... But when he reached for his purse, he found that there was no smoke on him... Just a few shakes of the silver plate and copper plate that can shake the "jingle sound". In a way, he was now entertained in the mansion of one of the most famous young marquis in the city of Mesaveki—as if he were penniless.

Just before returning to the main city of Mesaviki, when he was in Bondsas, he and one of his former friends were now fighting in a tavern like a guy who "killed his father and killed him". That guy is called Van Schelle Mondolos, he is about twenty-five years old this year, he should have just turned twenty-four, and Otos is easy to confuse things like birthdays, so he simply doesn't remember them, and he knows the general idea, anyway, Van Schelle is now "twenty years old, not thirty years old" The kind of person who is full of enthusiasm and does nothing. He can be regarded as one of the victims who suffered from the erosion of the war that year. For this orphan who has been helpless since he was a child, Otos, who was still an auxiliary soldier at the bottom of the Federal Defense Army, unexpectedly devoted himself to Van Schelle and took good care of him. Probably down to the fact that he found his shadow in the young Van Scher. But something akin to the institutionalization of military life, and perhaps the extreme atmosphere of the Pope, is often the case when Van Scher's disobedience to control makes him angry, and then the fists and kicks are often combined.

And after Otos returned to the guest room, he also knew that even if he almost had a fight with the guests at his place of work just now, Van Schelle Mondolos did not have the slightest shame about his so-called "transgression committed by the following", and even raised his head casually and drank a cup of cold rum, only then did he look at the tavern guests he needed to entertain without blushing and heartbeat, raised his hand and slammed the old log table, and scolded some people similar to "Otos Sayavich is an unreasonable, Incorrigible, heinous, unforgivable bastard...", the group of dignified people who had just come here to spend their leisure time did not understand why, the hot and piercing old wine stuck in their throats as if it was clogged by something, and they couldn't swallow it or spit it out: it was very uncomfortable.

"What the hell was in that letter that guy gave me? Nervous!" Otos, clutching at his few strands of hair, annoyed, pulled out a stack of yellowed, flat envelopes from his pocket, and held them above his head to examine them in the sunlight that filtered through the curtains. Then I flipped through the envelope and opened the hard shell, revealing only a thin sheet of old gray-yellow paper covered in scribbled handwriting, which was strange, with no signature, no address, and not even the necessary postmark to send it. Obviously, the original owner of the letter didn't want the letter to be sent, or in other words, he wanted to stay as a memorial, and then he didn't know what happened along the way, maybe it was deliberate (Otos himself didn't know the specifics, but that's pretty much it). After changing hands several times, it was given to Van Schelle, the bartender who settled in the town of Bondsas, and Van Schelle gave it to him, all of which was too much for Otos... It's too weird.

Ottos sat as upright as he could, coughing a few times to cheer himself up. He lightly placed the letter on the mahogany table, and then read it slowly and intently. He tried not to glance at the ten lines, he didn't know what was hidden in it, and of course, he also wanted to know why Van Schelle Mondolos, who was usually a stubborn person, gave him this strange "nameless letter". He wanted to unravel them, so he read them out in a whisper:

"Hello, dear Mr. Chiran Hollyffindor!"

How much is Chiran Hollyfin?Otos frowned: if he remembered correctly, this was the current mayor of the famous city of Mesaviki. He continued to look down:

"I heard that you are about to be elected mayor, but I don't know if it's true or not. Of course, I would have liked you to be elected, because the old gentlemen of the 'Wise Men' were very optimistic about you, and your outstanding talents have already proved to everyone that you are undoubtedly the next mayor... Oh yes. My beloved Lord Marquis of Manoa has been doing well lately, and I beg you to say hello to him for me, for this matter is not for me alone, and it would be great if he could join us, and I won't say much more about the rest of the extra shhhh ”

The "Marquis of Manoa" he was talking about should be Mr. Sochis's deceased father, Mancheda Manoa. Otos put away the letter and put it in order, he swallowed, his lips chapped. In this short letter, Otos sees two obvious suspicions. After all, he was followed by a sentence of "I am not the one who can dominate alone", and the other sentence is "if he can join us", it is obvious that the owner of this mansion - the Marquis of Mannoa did not want to be involved, and there may be some bloody deeds hidden in it, and the final payment is really puzzling, what is "for the kingdom"? Could it be for Nix? Otos shook his head: How is that possible? If that's the case, why was it so secretive and didn't send it in the end?

Thinking of this, Otos was stunned: Why does that guy Van Schell have such a top-secret letter? He quickly got up, and an ominous aura came from all over his body, which gradually spread, enveloping Otos. Otos's bloodshot eyes suddenly flickered a few hideous blood-colored shadows, vague. He waved his hand wildly, like a blind man blinded by the Creator, impotently slapping at the invisible black mist that was engulfing him. He hurriedly got up to clean up the mess on the table, his throat seemed to be stuck by something hard, and he kept retching like a wail, and this simple trip to Bondsas Town made him feel like he was bound by shackles. What had happened to Van Schelle's tenacious child in seventeen years? Otos wanted to dig deeper into his mind, only to find that there was no way out, and everywhere was fragmented and hopelessly broken.

"Where the am I here?"

Otos's head swelled and ached, and he felt as if he had been snuck behind his back by a strong fellow, and he was slapping it with a solid, thick iron baseball bat, and suddenly the world was spinning.

He slowly opened his blood-red eyes, and all that appeared in front of him were constantly flowing blood, but there were no blood-stained corpses of any animals or people, and there was something strange hidden in the quiet. There was a sound in the air, mixed with a faint roar, and he could hear it, and it carried the grievance in it, and the grievance born from the heart carried through the soul.

"Redemption?"

It seems to be a huge altar of blood. Otos thought to himself, he took a small step in the blood-stained pool with all his strength to the front of what could be ahead, a tentative small step, he did not step on the air, and then he was repelled by the sudden "flood beast" a few steps, and in the darkness of the blood, he staggered back, coughing up all blood.

Otos could only see a glimmer of light cast in the distance above his head, and beyond that, it was pitch black. He felt that he was standing naked in a huge pool of blood, like a newborn baby, letting the blood flow by. He didn't know what to do, or "what to do now." As if he had lost his soul and his mind, he looked at his withered hands like old dead tree trunks, bloody, but fortunately there were still some signs of movement—but he really didn't know if he was still alive or not. Wrapped in the fragile skin that had long been decadent, in the depths of his sometimes hot and sometimes cold heart, there was always an old voice that was slightly weak and moaning, constantly echoing and lingering:

"It's... Is this hell?"

......

"Is this the hell my heart desires?"

"That's what it looks like..."