Mermaid Reef

John came back to his senses, and walked quickly to the window to look around. The streets and alleys were empty, and there was no sign of Jason.

"Snapped."

The window was closed, and the detective's sigh could still be heard vaguely.

——It’s like a ship owner who suddenly received a large order before the ship set sail and wanted to make a deal but worried about the risks.

Jason stood in the shadow of the house, hiding himself under the shade of the eaves.

In fact, he could just disappear from where he was, but now Jason doesn't want to use any power.

Jason listened carefully to the movement in the house, his hearing was far beyond human.

He heard the chair being pulled, footsteps away from the window, and the rustling of John flipping through the newspaper, finding a notebook and copying useful information.

Jason left this blind corner and walked along the narrow streets to another road with more traffic.

The women with the baskets laughed softly. They may be the wives of commercial staff, or they may be maids hired by middle-class families. Now is the happiest time of their day. They exchange their lives by going to the market to buy food. Gossip and gossip.

No one saw Jason, saw a gentleman dressed out of place here pass by them.

Suddenly, a door on the side of the street opened, and the laundryman came out pushing a heavy wooden wheeled trolley, which contained washed and dried clothes.

"This bag of clothes was sent to Mr. Motta's house on the 24th, and these five bags are in the apartment on the next street..."

Laundrymen in faded sarongs lined up waiting for the day's errands.

A thin girl tried to squeeze in several times, but was pushed aside by tall and strong women.

She looked only in her teens, her hair and face were yellow, and her fingers were covered with chilblains.

"Hey?"

The girl turned her head in surprise, looking at the man in a thick fleece coat and holding a sapphire cane.

Jason noticed her gaze, and his expression changed slightly when he turned his head.

The girls' clothes are all patched, but the stitching is even and clever, and it looks like a pattern on a skirt.

She had a surprised and fearful expression on her thin and yellow face, she was obviously curious about Jason who appeared in this alley, her body trembled slightly, she didn't know whether it was the cold or the temperatureless body of Jason. look.

Jason saw a gray-white butterfly land on the girl's forehead, and dark purple threads intertwined in the girl's body.

Humans don't see these things, and neither do girls themselves.

This is pollution.

From some mysterious tentacle of power.

The girl has been polluted, and her body has mutated.

Jason: "..."

"Eileen, what are you doing?"

The girl's companions found her staring blankly at the street and hurriedly urged her.

"You didn't see that over there..."

"What happened over there?"

The girl named Irene finally realized that the people around her couldn't see Jason. She was as frightened as a rabbit, and quickly ran to the corner of the street, not daring to show her head.

"Irene, are you uncomfortable? I told you a long time ago, don't hang out with those weirdos. It's dangerous to believe in a pagan religion that can protect you. Those guys just want to scam money, or kidnap young girls like you, Sold to some nasty place..."

"I saw them drawing butterflies on the wall."

"It is said that if you are favored by the gods, you will transform...Listen, it is all crazy. God bless, these heretics should be burned to death."

Jason listened carefully to the discussions.

He didn't look for the hiding Irene, nor tried to trace the mysterious body through the power tentacles, and walked out of this street directly.

***

A gray butterfly perches on the girl's shoulder.

Its wings sprinkled translucent powder scales, all of which were submerged into the girl's body.

***

This is the mystery hidden in the thick fog of the city of London?

Jason thought as he walked.

From the perspective of strength, the other party seems to be a new god.

She hasn't transformed into a complete sanity yet, doesn't know how to cover up, and doesn't know how to detect the breath of the same kind.

But it has believers, and there are people who are seriously developing faith.

The evil gods don't need faith at all, whether it's a newborn mystery or an ancient god.

So the real answer is that someone discovered the existence of the gray butterfly, and borrowed the mysterious power of the gray butterfly through rituals or some mysterious runes.

For believers, miracles are real.

The price is being polluted by evil gods.

but……

This pollution is a bit bizarre.

Jason stroked the sapphire at the top of the cane with his right thumb, curious.

"No, I can't get close to others of the same kind." Jason said to himself.

The power of the old master was unimaginable, and Jensen didn't know the scope of the ancient god's ability, so he could only run and try his best to hide himself.

Several times, Jason felt that Gemil was not far away from him.

As a prey, if you can't see the hunter, it is the most dangerous time.Because you don't know whether the opponent is hiding and preparing to ambush, or has given up hunting.

***

At four in the afternoon the sun loses its power.

The mist is like a ghost that has gone and returned, flickering and gathering on the street from all directions, ready to start a new all-night carnival.

In a certain corner of the city, a newspaper boy ran to the bakery with an empty cloth bag on his back.

He hoped to catch up with the discount time of the baker, so that he could buy softer expired wheat flour bread with the money spent on cheap bread.

The newsboy's reddened fingers were in his pockets, and he brushed the smooth surface of the coins.

Business was not so good today, and after returning the unsold papers, there were only fivepence left.

The newsboy had already smelled the scent wafting from the bakery, a trace of anticipation naturally appeared on his face, and then he froze in place like petrified.

Not only the newsboys, but the whole street stopped moving.

The quarreling people stared at each other angrily, with no change in their expressions or eyeballs; the horse pulling the stagecoach had no change in the arc of its mane, and its hooves even stopped in mid-air.

A strange man in a black cloak suddenly appeared in front of the newsboy.

The cloak was huge, and he looked like a gypsy astrologer, one of those mysterious guys whose hair is well hidden.

"……It's you."

The pronunciation is strange and the articulation is vague.

It sounds beautiful, but it doesn't sound like it's speaking English.

Or it can be said that this mysterious gypsy has turned English into a strange and unknown language by virtue of his strength.

If you listen carefully to this voice, your consciousness will gradually get lost——

The gypsy held out a hand from his cloak, and in the palm lay three pennies.

"This is the change you gave to a man. Who did you get the coin from?"

The tone of the gypsy's speech was very serious, as if he had rarely been exposed to these professions, and everything and everyone were new to him.Even the circulation of coins was spoken of by him as solemnly as if a court sentence had been pronounced.

He also has a weird shadow effect that makes his face invisible from any angle.

Although there are palms sticking out of the cloak, it is impossible to distinguish the skin color.

Because the palm that stretched out at first was just a round black object with no fingers at all, and then the gypsy seemed to remember something, and slowly changed into a standard human palm shape.

——The whole body is black, there is no distinction between nails and fingers, just like wearing a black tulle glove.

When the three pennies on the glove approached the newsboy, there was a very faint light.

"So it was you, he... took two newspapers from you?"

The gypsy talked to himself.

The newsboy was like a stone sculpture, unresponsive.

The gypsy tossed the coin casually, and the coin disappeared, leaving two extra newspapers in his hand.

"Daily Telegraph" and "The Times", the black-and-white photos under the headlines attracted the attention of the gypsy, who read the newspapers carefully, as if studying a profound subject.

The gypsy took a few steps and disappeared from the spot.

Everything returned to normal, and no one noticed that time had stopped.

The brass bells of the stagecoach continued to ring, and the newsboy ran to the bakery with the coins in his pocket.

***

The fog was getting thicker, and after the gas lamps were turned on, the air in the city was even worse, with a layer of black ash visible to the naked eye.

But this is the busiest time. The carriages driving on the street transport those decent gentlemen and ladies to clubs and magnificent balls.

"faster."

Someone urged the coachman loudly.

"Sorry, sir. It's too foggy today for the horses to go fast. It's going to be dangerous."

The driver of the rented carriage replied carefully that he had just finished repairing the rear wheel at noon today, so he didn't dare to run too fast.

"Where are you going?" The passenger poked his head out, looking at the building immersed in the fog, trying to identify the location here.

The driver gave the name of a street, and the passenger said sullenly, "Forget it, instead of going to the bridge club, I don't want to delay half an hour on the road. I will turn at the next street and go to Mrs. Dutt's garden."

The coachman was in a daze. Why did he feel that there seemed to be a crime in Mrs. Dutt's garden?

Strange, he hasn't been there today!

The coachman decided not to mention it. He was busy repairing the wheels today, and after the repairs, he rushed to make money in the evening. He didn't have time to stop by the square to chat with his colleagues, so he didn't know what new things happened in London today.

The carriage soon arrived at the famous garden in London. Surprisingly, several carriages blocked the intersection.

"What's the matter?" the passenger asked angrily.

"There seems to be something wrong, sir."

Mrs. Dutt's garden only declines visitors on certain days, and today is obviously not a day for rest.

Those who came on a whim were directly stopped outside the house.

"What's going on? Where's Mrs. Dutt? I want to hear her explain!" A man with a mustache said angrily.

Opposite him was a patrolman, explaining something.

A gypsy wearing a large black cloak slowly stepped out of the mist.

He still had the newspaper in his hand, but had flipped from the front page news to the horse races on the sports page.

He suddenly raised his head, and the whole street fell into dead silence, as if Medusa's gaze had just passed over everyone here.

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The author has something to say:

Gemil: buried in learning

Unlock Avatar [-], Blackie (not)

Cough, it is the master of shadows.

Skill time stop, trace tracking