Lord of the Mysteries

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Zhou Mingrui reeled back in fear at the sight that greeted him. It was as though the person in the dressing mirror was not himself, but a dessicated corpse.

How could a person with such grievous wounds be still alive!?

He turned his head in disbelief again and checked the other side. Even though he was a distance away and the lighting was poor, he could still see the penetrating wound and dark red blood stains.

“This…”

Zhou Mingrui drew a deep breath as he tried hard to calm himself.

He reached out to press his left chest and sensed his racing heart that exuded immense vitality.

He then touched his exposed skin. Beneath the slight coldness was flowing warmth.

When he squatted down and after verifying that his knees could bend, Zhou Mingrui stood up again and calmed down.

“What’s happening?” he muttered with a frown. He planned to inspect his head injury seriously once more.

He took two steps forward and suddenly paused. The moonlight of the sanguine moon was relatively dark, so it was insufficient for his ‘serious inspection.’

A memory fragment triggered as Zhou Mingrui turned his head to look at the grayish-white pipes and the metallic-gridded lamp on the wall right beside the study desk.

This was the most common gas lamp of the times. Its flame was stable and its illumination capabilities were excellent.

With Klein Moretti’s family situation, even a kerosene lamp was a dream, much less a gas lamp. Using candles was most apt for their standing and stature. However, back when he burned the midnight oil four years ago to be admitted into Khoy University, his elder brother, Benson, felt that it was an important matter which their family’s future depended upon. Therefore, he insisted on creating conducive studying conditions for Klein even if it meant taking on debt.

Of course, Benson, who was literate and had worked for several years, was not a rash person who did not think of the consequences. He had quite some tricks up his sleeve. He reasoned with the landlord to ‘raise the apartment’s standards by installing gas pipes to improve the likelihood of rentals in the future.’ The landlord was convinced and provided the money to complete the basic modifications. Then, using the convenience of working at an import and export company, he purchased a brand new gas lamp which was nearly at cost price. In the end, all he needed was to use his savings and did not need to borrow money.

After the memory fragment flashed past his mind, Zhou Mingrui came to the desk where he turned the pipe’s valve and began twisting the gas lamp’s switch.

With a sputtering sound, a spark sounded from friction. Light did not descend upon Zhou Mingrui as he had expected.

He twisted the switch a few more times, but all the gas lamp did was sputter and remain dark.

“Hmm…” Retracting his hand and pressing on his left temple, Zhou Mingrui sought for the reason by rummaging through his memory fragments.

toward the door. He arrived at the machine installation which was similarly inset into the wall and had

was a gas

bearings, Zhou Mingrui took out a coin from his trousers’

of the coin was engraved with a portrait of a crown-wearing man, and there was a

had other denominations such as the five pence, a halfpence and a quarterpence. Despite the three types, the denominations were

after King George III ascended to the

Clink! Clang!

the penny fell to the bottom of the meter, the sound of grinding gears

returning to the burly wood desk. He

some sputtering, there was

occupied the internals of the wall lamp before penetrating the transparent glass, blanketing the room

quickly receded as the crimson retreated out the window. Zhou Mingrui felt at ease for a baffling reason as he quickly came in front

seriously inspected his temple and did not miss a

out of the grotesque wound. It appeared like it had received the best hemostasis and bandaging. As for the slowly squirming grayish-white brain and the discernible growth of flesh and blood around the wound, it meant that the wound might take thirty to forty minutes, or maybe

brings?” Zhou Mingrui curled up the right

a long sigh. Regardless, he was

open a drawer and took out a tiny piece of soap. He took one of the old and tattered towels hanging by the side of the cupboard and opened the door. He then walked to the public bathroom which was shared by the tenants

keep looking like a crime scene. It’s fine scaring myself, but if I were to scare my sister, Melissa, when she gets up

Silhouettes were barely accentuated by the crimson moonlight from the window at the end of the corridor.

Mingrui lightened his footsteps as he walked

him to see everything clearly. Zhou Mingrui stood in front of a

of water, he suddenly recalled his landlord,

the rent, this short and thin gentleman who wore a top hat, a vest, and a black suit, always inspected the bathroom actively to take note of any

Franky would ignore all of his gentlemanly traits by flailing his walking stick and striking the bathroom’s door, shouting things like ‘Darn thief,’ ‘Wastage is a shameless matter,’ ‘I’ll remember you,’ ‘If I see this

thoughts, Zhou Mingrui used a moist towel to clean the blood stains from his face again and

mirror in the bathroom and verifying that all that was left were a hideous wound and a pale face did Zhou Mingrui relax. Then, he took off his linen shirt

he knitted his brows

Apart from his body, his room likely still

minutes later, he briskly returned to his apartment with a moist towel. He first wiped the blood handprint on the desk and then, using the gas lamp’s illumination, sought

quite a substantial amount of blood had splattered onto the floor beneath the desk. And there was a yellow bullet to the left

temple?” After mixing and matching the clues from

his guess. Instead, he seriously wiped away the blood stains and cleaned up the ‘scene.’ Following that, he took the bullet and returned to the

of five rounds and a cartridge shell all had

Zhou Mingrui looked at the empty cartridge shell in front of him and stuffed the rounds

his gaze to the left and it landed on the notebook’s words:

the gun