Chapter 18: CH 18

London was once again shrouded in clouds.

By the time evening rolled around, the hazy drizzle had finally stopped.

The borough of Westminster was brightly lit.

The West End of London was a theatrical hub as famous as Broadway in New York. There were more than forty theaters which performed 《The Phantom of the Opera》, 《Les Miserables》, 《Matilda》 and other classic musicals daily.

It was precisely because of this world-class stage that Londoners had retained the tradition of going to the theater.

Today, for example, numerous drama lovers arrived on time to attend a stage play at His Majesty’s Theatre in London.

The play had been advertised in London for a long time. The billboard at the entrance of the theater was updated with a new poster early on.

—A king clad in ragged yellow opened his arms as he hung suspended in the air. His face was hidden beneath the hood of his yellow robe, producing an image of strange and sacred beauty.

The play was titled 《The King in Yellow》. Tonight was the London premiere.

A man in a traditional British three-piece suit got out of a limousine and handed his black umbrella to the attendant at the side. He pulled open one of the rear doors and with a gentlemanly gesture took the slender hand which emerged.

British-style suits were demanding when it came to a man’s figure. They weren’t as loose as American suits and lacked the forgiving shoulder pads of Italian suits. If a man with a beer belly, sloping shoulders, or other bodily defects wore a British suit, their shortcomings would be magnified.

Although Westin had reached middle age, he still maintained a good figure aside from the baldness that was common in Britain.

On the other side, the young lady slowly straightened her gloves. Under her black-veiled hat her eyes were hidden, revealing only her  charming, fire-red lips.

She was undoubtedly a beauty. In her presence a man would stare at no one else.

“I wonder if I might escort you inside the temple of art, lovely Miss Ada.”

“Of course, with pleasure.”

She tossed a teasing glance and lightly put her hand on his arm.

The two entered together and took their seats in a private box on the second floor.

It was almost time for the show to begin. Attendees arrived one after another and found their seats. Seen from the second floor, the house was packed.

The view from the private box was very wide. Westin casually glanced around and saw a group of people in black robes and pale yellow masks filing behind the stage.

In the twenty-first century it was rare to see someone wear such a heavy black robe.

And there was strange writing on those robes. Because of the distance, Westin couldn’t clearly make it out.

Even so, when his eyes brushed across the unknown words, he felt dizzy in an instant, like he’d been struck with a hammer.

Westin hissed, pressed his forehead and hastily averted his eyes.

“Who are those people? It’s not a terrorist organization, is it?”

After he was finally able to suppress the feeling of nausea, he looked up and found that the strange group had disappeared.

Westin was a little flustered.  Recently, there’d been some trouble with Middle Eastern cells in Europe. The world wasn’t at peace.

“It’s probably the cast.”

Ada unfolded the lace feather fan in her hand and smiled.

“Maybe,” Westin muttered.

When the flirting in the private room was beginning to heat up, the lights suddenly dimmed.

The heavy curtain was pulled back on both sides, and lights went out one after another.

A strange and mysterious symbol was projected on the backdrop of the stage, accompanied by a melodious Tuvan dirge.

The actors were already at their places.

Queen Cassilda’s character was standing on the stage wearing a crown.

The chorus began. The ethereal singing echoed under the dome of the theater, and the audience closed their eyes and listened as if mesmerized.

“I don’t know how much of our precious evening this play will take, babe.” 

Westin however withdrew his gaze without interest and stretched out his hand to the side.

Although he wore a British suit, he wasn’t a proper Englishman, but a wealthy businessman from the United States.

As an outgoing American, Westin wasn’t too interested in anything as elegant as opera.

The relationship between Britain and the United States was curious. The predecessor of the United States was the place where Britain had exiled war criminals. After the decline of Britain and the rise of the United States, the two countries loathed each other.

But in the end, the two countries still shared the same lineage. Although Americans might say they disliked the British, in fact, when they got married, they still preferred British blood.

Meanwhile the British truly despised Americans.

Another spotlight shone down and the chorus stood stage right in their black robes.

For a moment, Westin seemed to see a person with no facial features in the chorus, like their face was a blank sheet of paper. It was at this moment that some kind of unspeakable fear hit him. He immediately began to tremble.

“That didn’t take long.” Just then Ada giggled. Her fingers were long and rough, but her eyes didn’t reflect a single glimmer of light. “Art is always aspirational. Wait until it’s over, and the rest of the night will be yours.

“But not until we see the second act.”

She suddenly put away the folding fan, and her smile looked eerie in the dim light.

What no one saw was the symbol on the handle of the fan.

Just like the one projected on the stage.

—

“Is there an underground sect gathering in London?”

In the professors’ lounge of Miskatonic University, someone saw the notice that was just posted on the message board.

The occult world had its own circle of contacts. To keep out prying eyes, the Spire Council had even developed an app with advanced encryption methods. It was convenient to use, just like a normal social networking app.

Information was frequently posted on this app, for example if an unknown creature appeared in a city and there was an urgent need for investigators around the world to take care of it. After completing the task, they were paid directly on the platform, which created a bit of a mercenary market.

Just now, a professor noticed a red dot representing “London” when he was swiping through the news.

“London has always had underground sects. Could it be the Illuminati?”

“The Illuminati is just a creation of those dirty politicians. It has nothing to do with our community,” someone immediately retorted.

The Illuminati was a mysterious organization that originated in Britain and eventually flourished in the United States. The internal membership of this organization included dignitaries of numerous countries. They were powerful enough to print the symbol of their organization, the Eye of God, on U.S. banknotes.

“There are unidentified cults operating in London, but because their numbers are sparse and they almost never hold summoning ceremonies, we have little information.”

The professor specializing in history interjected, “What rank is the posting? It just so happens that I don’t have any classes for a few days.”

Several other professors also jumped at the chance.

Aside from a few elders, all professors of Miskatonic University were also part-time investigators. Similarly, MU’s investigators and advisors were likely to be professors as well.

Aside from their official salary, if investigators wanted to make a bit of extra money, they could either join an official national organization like the Dragon Group or do some private work.

Because there were so few eligible people, this kind of private work, even when it wasn’t very dangerous, paid fairly well. As for the more senior investigators, they could make a lot of money by forming a casual team and occasionally handling events with a high risk level outside their official jurisdiction.

“The message said there were no casualties… just a suspicion.”

“Oh, that’s no good.”

The history professor spread his hands. “Grade E, that means it will probably be chosen for the students’ investigation practice course this year.”

By default, E-rated tasks were reserved for new MU students.

MU had an unbroken tradition over the years, which was its investigation practice course.

Long ago, when MU’s faculty wasn’t as strong, this was almost the only way to train new investigators. So even now, the tradition hadn’t changed.

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The investigation practice course was held in the middle of the semester. The school assigned tasks and the advisors managed them. Generally, an E- or D-level task would be selected, and the advisor would lead the students to complete it, which could also be regarded as a way of exposing these greenhouse flowers to the daily life of investigators.

As a rule, before graduation, students were expected to complete four tasks with the help of a mentor, of which three were allowed direct assistance and one must be completed independently.

Compared to the other graduation tasks with very loose requirements, the investigation practice course was the factor which controlled the graduation rate.

Of course, it not only controlled the graduation rate, but also the mortality rate.

Zong Yan was sitting at his desk in the classroom. A paper was neatly laid out in front of him with the words “Death Waiver” at the top.

The death waiver was quite user friendly. It said that if a student was accidentally killed in an investigation practice course, MU would hold a grand funeral for him in the school auditorium. All students and professors would be invited to attend, clap hands, and sing hymns together, and the chancellor or vice chancellor would be invited to summon an alchemical catalyzed flame to give the deceased a non-polluting cremation ceremony, guaranteeing the satisfaction of their family.

Zong Yan: …

It might be a bit frightening to think about, but in recent years the occult world had paid more and more attention to cultivating new talents, which was why the mortality rate had decreased over time. There hadn’t been a coffin in the auditorium for a few years.

He lifted his pen and signed his full name.

Some students in the classroom were still reading the agreement. Bored, the black-haired boy turned his eyes to the window.

Outside the sky was sunny, spreading sunlight over the neat and tidy green grass. It was a cheerful sight.

A month had passed since Zong Yan arrived at MU.

Just as his summer vacation was about to end, MU’s investigation practice class had come along.

When the school year started, Zong Yan would be a third year high school student. By tradition, senior three students usually started school a few days early.

Zong Yan had already spoken to his mentor Van Helsing. If there weren’t any sudden changes, his investigation practice course would be held nearby in London.

Since the incident last month, Zong Yan’s days at MU had returned to normal.

A month ago, he used the persona card called “Azathoth incarnation”, and fell into a mysterious and mystical realm. But at the same time, he was unexpectedly released from mind control and uncovered the spy hidden in the school.

That’s right, the mole had the exact same advisor as him and was his senior brother—Senior Tawil.

After discovering this, Zong Yan didn’t hesitate. He ran straight to the vice chancellor’s office to snitch.

The vice chancellor trusted him completely and gave his personal seal directly to Zong Yan. So Zong Yan rushed over to the Academic Affairs Department.

The person in charge of the Academic Affairs Department saw the private seal in his hand and handed over the school roster without saying a word. The roster was infused with the power of Nodens, the Lord of the Abyss. If someone put a “reject” notice on it, the Dreamlands would ban the target forever.

Zong Yan took a pen to the roster and scratched out Tawil’s name—

“Just cross out the name… Hmm… If the student happens to be in the Dreamlands right now, he’ll be kicked out by the repulsion.” The head of the Academic Affairs Department said euphemistically, “Right now they’re either sleeping or taking a bath. Either way, it’s a relief.”

It was indeed a relief.

Zong Yan, who’d been a sacrificial goat for weeks and had treated the other party like a confidant, deeply agreed.

He hadn’t expected that Tawil, who looked like a human, wasn’t human at all!

As soon as he remembered that he’d been under the other person’s mental suggestion before, he felt an uncontrollable surge of anger.

He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing in disguise, but because of the mental trauma, his San value, which had never increased before, had suddenly soared from 40 points to 60 points.

But the experience was so terrible that Zong Yan vowed never to do it again in his lifetime.

He’d mentally locked the Lord of the Universe’s incarnation card in the cold palace.

“Students who’ve filled in the form can turn it in. Next, you should contact your advisor for the follow-up practice class.”

Zong Yan was the first to hand in the death waiver. After nodding to the classmates beside him, he turned back and walked to Van Helsing’s astrological observatory.

Yes, the veteran investigator “demon hunter” Van Helsing was also a part-time professor at the school. Unexpectedly, he didn’t intend to teach his students how to kill vampires, but had started a metaphysical side business.

“Caw, caw—”

He was halfway down the tree-lined path when a black bird swooped down from the sky.

People all around looked over.

“Hey, hey, what the hell? You’re fat again!!”

Zong Yan was almost crushed by this force that suddenly fell from the sky. All he could do was hastily extend his other hand to catch the fat bird.

It was indeed the messenger bird attached to the Night Watchman persona card.

Zong Yan had clearly released Night Watchman mode, but the harbinger bird didn’t disappear back into the persona card. It remained out in the world.

Zong Yan hadn’t found any way to use this guy. All he could do was hold his nose and accept the fact he had a new pet.

Harry Potter had Hedwig, Zong Yan had a death bird. It wasn’t too bad if you rounded up, and it didn’t cost anything.

As soon as the dead bird heard Zong Yan call him fat again, he flew up into the air. Two wings kept fanning towards the black-haired boy to express his anger as a bird.

Zong Yan wasn’t swayed. As a student proficient in various languages of the Dreamlands, the last time he couldn’t resist using the Night Watchman card to patrol campus, he’d heard a lot of ghosts chattering about this bird.

“Lately it seems like one of the students is keeping a bird. And that bird’s quite arrogant, too. It ran over to the nightgaunts’ territory to snatch food from the tiger’s mouth. It’s a surprisingly powerful fighter. It fought nightgaunts with no disadvantage at all. What a scene… Tsk tsk, the ghouls were squatting next to each other in a circle watching the show.”

Zong Yan: …

This harbinger bird was pretty good. Just like its owner, it had mastered the skill of persecuting nightgaunts.

The bird must be tired of playing around so he’d come back to visit.

Zong Yan wasn’t able to drive it away, so he let it squat lazily on his shoulder as he continued to the astrological observatory.

The students nearby looked at the bizarre mask on the bird’s beak and lamented that the school chief’s fashion sense was beyond ordinary people.

Zong Yan ran to the observatory and began to climb the spiral staircase.

The astrological observatory was very tall, with numerous mysterious instruments on top and a giant alchemical telescope.

Every time he came here, he had to climb hundreds of stairs. Zong Yan just regarded it as exercise.

“Huff, huff, Mr. Van Helsing, good afternoon.” After climbing to the top in one go, Zong Yan squeezed through the door to the roof and stood there gasping for breath. “Mr. Van Helsing?”

A gray-haired man in a white robe stood at the other end of the astrological platform. There was a broad smile on his face, but his words were creepy. “Perhaps… you should call me by a different name, hmm?”

What was that saying? What should come will always come.

Sometimes it wasn’t a matter of not retaliating. Sometimes it was simply that the timing wasn’t right.

Zong Yan’s eyes were as round as saucers. He was too frightened to breathe.

He took a few steps back only to be pushed forward again by an invisible force.

On the roof of the astrological observatory where the nameplate was posted, Van Helsing’s name had disappeared, replaced by—

Tawil at-U’mr.

""

Zong Yan: …

He didn’t know if he was brave enough to complain that the other party hadn’t even changed his name. He was just glad the mental suggestions that were apparently aimed at the entire school hadn’t affected him again.

Maybe if he didn’t have a splitting headache like last time, he’d consider coming more often.

—

The author has something to say: 

Bubbles: Feeling surprised? Caught off-guard?

Zong Yan: … Gah!!

From a senior to an advisor, my life is over!!

YaYa got an artist to draw Azathoth, Bubbles, Nyarla, and Shub’s human forms. Interested cuties can go to Ya’s Weibo [妄鸦Alter] to have a look

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