Mermaid Reef

A dark purple light shot up into the sky.

Jason stood on an open terrace, overlooking the city of London filled with thick fog.

Behind him, candle crystal chandeliers reflect the magnificent ball hall.

Men in tuxedos and women in sumptuous ball gowns twirled gracefully in a waltz played by a small orchestra, long dresses laden with lace and ruffles floating lightly on a polished, bright brown floor. slide.

The candles on the wall lamps were all lit, and the brightness here was even more amazing than during the day.

During the day, it is impossible to see the silver thread and pearl pattern embroidered on the skirt, and the texture of the dress woven by hundreds of fine wool mixed with lapis lazuli powder. It looks more moving than ever.

The smiles and the light in the eyes of the young girl and the handsome youth are even more strongly rendered, as if they have stepped out of an oil painting, everyone is shining.

——The ball is more than just dancing, it is a dream in itself, which is fascinating.

Now, the warm light overflowing from the dreamland shone on Jason's face, dispelling the inexplicable chill on his body, and there seemed to be a little bit of gold shimmering in those light blue eyes.

He stood in the gap between light and shadow, in front of him was a dark and cold city.

He saw a flash of evil power far away.

"Life is being devoured, it's the gray butterfly hunting." Jason said to himself.

This is an unknown aristocratic mansion, and Jason just took a fancy to the terrace here.

He didn't want to get close to the mysterious existence lurking in the city, and wanted to know the movements of "it", so he could only find a lookout.

Jason suddenly remembered that the detective lived in that direction, not far from the crime scene he sensed.

However, the connection between the gold coin and the gemstone was not interrupted, and it was not the detective who was killed.

Jason recalled the "pollution" he saw at the laundress's place today, and his expression was weird for a moment.

Well, Jason believed that John would not be the target of Gray Butterfly, because the detective didn't seem like a bad character.

"gentlemen."

Suddenly, a respectful voice sounded beside him.

A servant walked up to Jason with a tray of wine in his hand.

Jason: "..."

The terrace was large, with blue taffeta drapes hanging all around to keep out the cold wind.

Those who attended the ball would wander to the terrace to breathe, and occasionally a man who didn't want to go to the smoking room would come out to smoke a cigar, or have a conversation private enough under the cover of the table and the hanging curtain, because except for the direction leading to the ball hall , the other three sides are suspended terraces, which can prevent people from being overheard.

It was his duty for the servant to deliver wine to the guests who were alone.

He looked at this strange guest without any trace (this is very common, there will be a large number of new faces in London every social season), guessing his identity and the amount of property.

"Give me a glass of whiskey and don't bother me again." Jason dropped half a safrin on the tray.

The servant's eyes lit up, and he quickly put away the gold coins.

The generous gentleman must have been a wealthy foreigner, who usually had no distinguished titles and was not popular in social circles, but was generous.

A glass of whiskey was brought promptly.

Jason took the wine glass, lifted the curtain and walked to the other side of the terrace.

The servant touched the gold coins in his pocket, smiled and suddenly his expression went blank.He shook his head, looked at his tray, then looked at the empty corner ahead, and continued to deliver wine to the guests. As for the extra money on his body, it seemed to be the errand fee he got for passing on a message to some customer.

Jason stared at the clear liquid in the glass and took a sip.

The evil god's sense of taste is different from that of humans.

This full-bodied whiskey was just a novelty to Jason.

It's not delicious, but it's not bad either.

Whiskey, however, is a potent human odorant.

Jason tilted the wine glass slightly, and the wine flowed out slowly as if controlled by an invisible hand, and then sprayed evenly on Jason's collar, cuffs and neck.

The upper can also come a little.

——If you want to hide perfectly in a human city, you have to learn to use odorants.

And Sea God, who has been sleeping for many years, doesn't understand humans at all, and may not even understand the language humans use now. Jason believes that his greatest advantage is understanding humans.

Jason nodded in satisfaction, found a table to put down his empty wine glass, and was about to leave.

"... have you heard of the tragedy at Mrs. Dutt's garden?"

A few conversations drifted to his ears, Jason paused, and looked sideways at the two men who were smoking cigars beside the hanging curtain.

Mrs. Dutt's garden should be a hunting ground for gray butterflies.

"Tragedy? Another unlucky guy was killed by robbers there?"

"No." The speaker looked around, then motioned his companion to come closer, and then whispered, "I heard that he died on a girl's bed, that...that thing is gone."

He babbled the word, it was not in the vocabulary of the upper classes, he had to use vulgar slang.

"what?"

The listener was choked by the cigar and coughed repeatedly.

Even if people die in London every day, and you can hear new conversations every once in a while, this kind of strange news is beyond the imagination of ordinary people.

"Who did it? The girl?"

"They say the girl is the devil, and Scotland Yard has sealed off the house and called the vicar."

"I have also been to Mrs. Dutt's garden. I don't remember such a terrible... I mean, such a powerful woman? What weapon did she use, scissors?"

"I don't know. The information was kept too tight. The dead guy is the nephew of the justice."

"I've heard about that bastard, I'm not surprised at all, he must have done something bastard, otherwise why did this happen to him alone? Hey, this sounds really terrible, God!"

"You are right. It is impossible for a decent man to encounter such a thing."

The two men came to an agreement, then relaxed, as if to shake off the shadow of creepiness, for they were decent people.

Hearing this, Jason suddenly felt a shocked gaze fall on him.

——Some people are wondering why the two people on the terrace pretended to be having a secret conversation, but they couldn't see a person who was standing not far away and eavesdropping openly.

Jason raised his head and met that gaze.

It was a familiar face, half the city of London had seen him in the newspapers—Lynd Brandon, the protagonist of the estate dispute.

What a coincidence!

Jason showed a warm smile.

He walked into the ball hall, and the hazy yellow light immediately rendered his body. Under this light, everyone's shortcomings and advantages will be magnified.

But Jensen has no flaws.

That elegant double-breasted long dress, handsome appearance, elegant and calm demeanor.

He walked past the dancing crowd, and all those who stood in front of him would avoid unconsciously. Those gorgeous skirts and tuxedoes would never touch his clothes, and the ladies were decorated with jewels and flowers. The high bun and skin exuding a charming fragrance passed by just a step away from Jason.

He is like a phantom in a mirror, or a demon incarnate from hell.

Linde Brandon sat on a chair in the rest area and watched Jason walk in front of him. Linde had already realized the abnormality of this man. Linde seemed to be soaked in a river full of ice, There were bouts of chills.

Who is this guy?

Why didn't everyone at the dance seem to see him?

Is this a hallucination?

Linde watched as the man took out a letter, and stuffed the letter into his dress coat with that cold smile that made his hair stand on end.

Linde panted heavily, his eyes darkened.

"Mr. Brandon? What's the matter with you, Mr. Brandon?"

Under the exclamation and support of the people around him, Linde suddenly came back to his senses, but he didn't see that weird phantom again.

"I'm probably too tired, I need a whiskey..."

Linde's voice stopped abruptly. He remembered that the phantom smelled of whiskey. He subconsciously touched his pocket and pinched a letter.

He hurried into the smoking room, took out the letter, and found his own handwriting on it.

A letter written two years ago.

To Reverend Conor.

***

Jason was back on the foggy streets of London.

He knew what a shock that letter would bring to Lynd Brandon.

Jensen got it from John the day the Zephyr sank, along with a photo of Reverend Conor.

However, the photo was later returned to the detective. Jason intended to use it as a customs clearance document, but it failed. Now it may have been turned into ashes, or it may still be detained by Sea God.

This Linde's handwritten letter was kept by Jason for two years.

The invisible "connection line" on Linde from Brandon's real heir will further deepen the influence after this letter returns to Linde Brandon.

Starting tonight, Linde will see the child who died unfortunately in his dreams, tormented by fear and pain.

Anyway, it's just a nightmare, and no one can die.

Jason walked aimlessly like this for an unknown how long.

The dense fog gave him a friendly feeling, like a ghost ship sailing on the sea, no one knows what they will encounter.

"Sir, here is your number plate."

A hand was stretched out in front of Jason.

Jason: "..."

He raised his head and found that there seemed to be a group of people standing indistinctly in front of him, and everyone was waiting quietly.

On the streets of London late at night, this scene is really weird.

"What is this?" Jason realized that he still didn't understand humans well enough, he didn't understand.

The young man who issued the sign asked in surprise: "Sir, aren't you here to buy Sir Doyle's new collection of detective stories?" (Note)

Jason paused with his fingers, then silently took the sign.

The young man is an employee of the bookstore, and he is responsible for maintaining order.

There were two long queues at the entrance of the bookstore, among which the well-dressed gentlemen were arranged to the east, and on the other side were servants, ordinary businessmen, and London citizens with little savings.

There is no doubt that the second line is longer.

It didn't take long for Jason to find that there was an extra person behind him. The other party couldn't see him, but subconsciously vacated a seat.

As time went by, the two lines continued to grow longer. Jason's side was fine, and the crowd on the west side was about to clear the street.

Soon it was five o'clock in the morning, and a black carriage drove into the street, and the workers who moved the goods sent the books that smelled of ink into the store as quickly as possible.

Then the line shortened at breakneck speed, and people whispered excitedly.

Jason walked into the store, and it was the young man who issued the number plate who collected the money.

In order to prevent this young man from being regarded as a lunatic talking to the air by other shop assistants, Jason quickly handed over the money, ready to take the book and leave.

The bookstore is dimly lit.

At this time, a clerk was carrying a dozen or so books tied with cowhide ropes, and went to the queue on the west side of the bookstore complaining: "Why would someone come to buy other books in the middle of the night, and so many more? I almost knocked over the lantern... A total of 56 shillings and 8p."

A gypsy astrologer wrapped himself tightly in a cloak came out of the darkness, and he dropped three gold coins: "There's no need to look for it."

Jason raised his head like an electric shock, he will not forget this tone!

Gemil!

Jason was about to run subconsciously. At the same time, the astrologer on the opposite side also sensed the flow of power and quickly raised his head.

The lights in the bookstore flickered for a while, like a strong wind blowing through the woods, and people were in a trance.

In the thick fog outside the bookstore, Jason looked warily at the gypsy who stopped him.

Jason: "..."

What's with this strong tobacco smell?Poseidon threw three packs of cigarettes into the fire, and then got into the fire to smoke for an hour?

Gemil: "..."

This human-made odorant seems to be called whiskey?Jensen poured it directly on the clothes?

Jason, Gemil: "..."

No wonder he didn't find that the other party was nearby!

Geez, human odorants!

Jason's eyes fell on the bundle of books in the other's hand.

The top book can clearly see the title, Sense and Sensibility.

Also visible is the spine of the second book, Pride and Prejudice.

Jason's mind froze, doubts engulfing him like a flood.

--------------------

The author has something to say:

Note: "The New Detective Case of Sherlock Holmes" was published in 1927, which is a summary of twelve short stories

Sherlock Holmes was very popular during the serialization period. At that time, readers were all over the world, regardless of class or occupation.

There are already tuition-free schools in London, and there are also some libraries with annual membership fees, which range from ten to twenty shillings a year for unlimited reading, and magazines serializing Sherlock Holmes cost about one shilling. It can be read by the whole family, and it can be sold at second-hand prices, so Sherlock Holmes has much more readers than we imagined

Because of the death of Sherlock Holmes, Londoners carried the coffin and wore mourning clothes to the streets to protest. Many middle-class people wore mourning objects, and some people ran to the author Conan Doyle’s house to cry, from gentlemen and ladies in social circles to ordinary families Housewives and maids are scolding the author Conan Doyle for not being a man (including the author Conan Doyle's own mother...) Readers around the world wrote letters and sent telegrams to Britain to protest

The main reason is that Sherlock Holmes died without warning, and the character of Moriarty appeared suddenly, which means that the author Conan Doyle did not want to continue writing Sherlock Holmes, so he created a tool called Professor Moriarty (Professor I was wrong), the reader is emotionally difficult to take...

So that was the atmosphere in the society at that time, the protagonist accidentally caught up with the unexpected experience project of queuing up to buy books overnight

Jason: Come here, just buy it

----

When Jason is seen, it is usually the problem of that person, such as the newsboy driver in the previous article and the valet in this chapter

Gemil is different. In order to buy books, he took the initiative to be seen → the bookstore clerk got in touch with mystery → the clerk could see Jason

So the bookstore clerk will see Jason, it's not the clerk's problem, the root is Gemil, oh no, the root is John's book list

As for why Gemil wanted to "buy" books, firstly, he didn't care about money, and secondly, he was too lazy to look for it, so it would save trouble for the clerk to throw the book list.Although Poseidon can't figure out why human beings are so eager to learn, they start queuing up in the middle of the night to buy a book