died!
Although Lumian was mentally prepared to a certain extent, he still couldn't accept it.
When he left the clinic, Ruhl had clearly recovered and escaped the fate of death, so how could he die suddenly
Lumian slowly walked into room 307 and cast his eyes towards the bed.
Luer was lying there, his skin was covered with rotten wounds oozing pale yellow fluid, his face was sallow and pale, and he was motionless. His eyes were wide open and there was some vomit at the corner of his mouth.
After looking into those eyes that still contained confusion, pain, and unwillingness for a few seconds, Lumian asked in a deep voice: "When did he die?"
Michelle's gray hair seemed to have lost its luster. She shook her head slowly and said, "I was too sleepy and fell asleep. When I woke up, he was dead."
"Did he go back to 302 before going to bed?" Lumian asked.
"No, he just went to the bathroom near 302, and I went there too." Michelle's voice was very low, but it gave Lumian a very erratic feeling, as if part of her soul was no longer in her body.
They both went to the bathroom, one had a relapse of the "strange disease", the other was fine. Lumian frowned and decided to go to the bathroom to check. If there was nothing wrong there, then the possibility that Mrs. Michelle had an abnormality was quite high.
When Lumian left room 307 and walked along the dimly lit corridor towards the bathroom, Michelle was still kneeling in front of the bed, sobbing softly, and not paying attention to what others did. Because of the fixed cleaning lady, the bathroom on the third floor was no longer as dirty as before. Although there were inevitably stains and garbage after a day of use, it at least allowed civilized people to find a place to stay.
Lumian looked around, and with the help of the crimson moonlight shining in from the window, he saw the toilet and the sink, the rusty water pipes, and the mirror that reflected his own silhouette. He looked carefully for a while and found a white silk handkerchief draped over the pipe in a hidden corner.
Just by looking at it with the naked eye, Lumian believed that it did not belong to most of the current tenants of the Golden Rooster Inn, because its material was excellent and the embroidery was elegant, so it must be very expensive.
Is there an outsider? Lumian's first reaction was to pick up the silk handkerchief for a more detailed inspection, but he immediately thought of the scene of Mr. Rule's body festering when he suddenly fell ill, and forced himself to control himself.
As soon as he thought about it, he left the bathroom and walked back to room 307, asking Mrs. Michelle, who was still sobbing: "Do you know whose handkerchief is in the bathroom?"
Michelle was confused and sad, and answered instinctively: "It's from Ruhl."
Mr. Rule's? Lumian was surprised, but also expected it. He asked, "Where did it come from?"
Mrs. Michelle looked at the hideous dead face of Ruhl and muttered in a dreamy voice: "I wonder which gentleman or lady threw this thing out of the garbage I picked up tonight." It was wrapped in a spit and was not damaged. Ruhl washed it and put it on his body, intending to sell it as a second-hand item instead of recycling it as garbage.
"After you said there might be something dirty in the garbage, Ruel took it out and hid it in the bathroom. He didn't dare go back to 302."
Phlegm... Lumian felt that he had found the source of the problem.
He exhaled slowly and said, "Did Mr. Rule touch the handkerchief again? Did you touch it?"
"I don't know." Mrs. Michelle shook her head slowly. "He went to the bathroom by himself. I didn't touch it."
As expected... Lumian took out his gloves and put them on, then went to the bathroom again. He used "Corrupted Mercury" to pick up the white silk handkerchief, put it into the white paper he carried with him, and folded them up.
During the whole process, he was careful not to touch the handkerchief directly.
After doing this, Lumian wiped the blade of "Corrupted Mercury" with another piece of white paper, threw the paper ball into the toilet, and waited for it to soften before flushing it away. As soon as he walked out of the bathroom, he saw Mrs. Michel standing quietly at the door of Room 307, like a ghost wandering in the dark.
Seeing Lumian approaching him,
A white-haired old lady showed a pleading expression: "It's almost dawn, Mr. Charles, can you help me carry Ruhr back to 302?" Her voice was still like a dream.
Lumian was stunned for a moment, and was silent for five or six seconds before he said, "Okay."
He then entered room 307, wrapped Mr. Rule in the bed sheet, and carried him on his back. Just a few steps away, Lumian placed the body on the bed in room 302.
Mrs. Michel, who squeezed through the garbage, thanked him repeatedly, then sleepwalked to the wooden table and drew the curtains. It was almost six in the morning, and a ray of morning light appeared in the sky, dimming the crimson moonlight. Michel listened to the hawkers' cries from the other side of the hotel and stared at Ruhl deeply. Lumien left room 302 and returned to the corridor where the light could not reach. He leaned against the wall and stood silently. He did not destroy the quiet scene.
A few minutes passed, and Mrs. Michelle suddenly moved.
She found more bills and coins from around the room, then rushed out of the room and downstairs.
Lumian did not follow. He raised his right foot, stepped back on the wall, and leaned his body against the wall that was sleeping in the darkness.
Time passed by minute by minute, and Mrs. Michelle came back with a lot of things.
There was red wine in a bottle, a grilled fish, bacon, meatloaf, hummus, hot sauce, and apples.
Without even looking at Lumian, Mrs. Michel walked into room 302, sat down on the floor beside the bed, and placed the food next to the festering corpse.
She thought for a moment, stood up again, and lit the calcium carbide lamp on the wooden table, filling the room with light. Mrs. Michel sat down again, picked up the meat pie, put it to Ruhl's mouth, and said with a smile: "Don't you want to eat meat pie recently? I'll buy it for you today."
After the corpse's lips were stained with oil, Mrs. Michelle also took a bite of the meat pie and said with her eyes closed, "It's delicious. How long have we not eaten it? Two weeks?"
After taking a few bites of the meat pie, Mrs. Michelle grabbed the bottle of red wine and took a sip. She said, "Old man, our grape vines have borne fruit and have been made into red wine. We don't have to worry about what to do in the future."
While she was talking to Ruhl's body, she was drinking wine and eating various foods.
Lumian stood outside the door in the darkness, with his back against the wall, staring quietly inside, neither leaving nor going in.
Soon, Mrs. Michelle, who had been a barmaid, was getting drunk and she was singing: "Trier covered with gold;" a party that lasted till dawn;
"A roast chicken dripping with fat;" like a castle cake;
“Waiters in bow ties shuttled among the guests;” dancing happily;
“Among them, O my beloved, are ye;”Among them;
"This is the city of joy, this is eternal Trier."
At this point in the song, Mrs. Michel stood up, staggered to the wooden table, and held the pile of banknotes in front of the calcium carbide lamp.
In an instant, all the cash was set on fire.
It fell onto the table, emitting a bright yellowish light.
Mrs. Michel opened her arms and cried out: "This is the city of joy, this is eternal Trier."
She then took the rope used to tie the sacks, climbed onto the wooden table, tied the rope to the window frame, and tied a knot.
In the firelight, Mrs. Michel turned around, facing Rule on the bed, put her neck into the knot, and bent her legs.
The knot weighed down, and Mrs. Michelle's eyes bulged a little.
The sky outside the window was getting brighter, and one-third of the corridor was covered with dim light. Lumien leaned against the wall, which was still shrouded in darkness, with his hands in his pockets and his right foot propped up. He stared at Mrs. Michelle hanging on the window frame without any expression, watching her mouth gradually open and her expression change.
I felt so painful, watching her legs bent up until she died.
The body swayed gently in the morning light.
6:35 in the morning, in Apartment 601, 3 White Coat Street.
Franca was woken up by the knock on the door and rubbed her flaxen hair in pain: "I only slept for three hours, three hours."
"Help me check what's in here. Is there anything wrong?" Lumian took out the handkerchief wrapped in white paper as if he hadn't heard Franca's accusation. "Be careful, it may transmit disease." "Disease?" Franca suddenly woke up, returned to the room, and put on a pair of semi-transparent pale yellow rubber gloves.
She carefully opened the outer layer of paper, took out the silk handkerchief inside, and placed it on the glass coffee table.
After tapping the teeth a few times and observing carefully for a while, Franka said solemnly: "There is a problem. There are many tiny but active spirits remaining on it, belonging to the same type.
"I suspect it's a pathogen that's transmitted through skin contact or even blood exchange. According to your description, it's not highly contagious."
Lumian didn't understand what pathogens meant, but he could roughly understand what Franka meant.
He was silent for a moment and then said, "Can you find out who the owner of this handkerchief is?"
"No problem, there is a powerful medium here. As long as he doesn't do counter-divination, or his level of counter-divination is not high enough, I can find him." As she spoke, a layer of black flame emerged from Franka's rubber gloves.
After finishing the "cleaning", she took off her gloves, took out a makeup mirror, placed her left palm on top of the handkerchief, and gently stroked the mirror with her right hand.
She whispered a few spells, and her eyes became deep.
She began to repeat the divination phrase: "The owner of this handkerchief, the owner of this handkerchief."
After several times, the mirror began to gleam with light, and a figure was reflected in the darkness. It was a young man with a thin body, pale face, and seemed to be unhealthy.