Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 9 The Price

In the dim light, he saw that his dark coat was torn in many places, covered with mud and bush debris, and his left sleeve was ripped, revealing a wound that had stopped bleeding, but the surrounding area was bruised and swollen.

He staggered to the filing cabinet, pulled open the bottom drawer, and took out a small tin box, which was his emergency medical kit.

Upon opening the box, one finds iodine solution for disinfection, gauze, bandages, and some painkillers.

Green skillfully used his right hand in conjunction with his teeth to painstakingly disinfect and bandage the wound on his left arm, and then swallowed two painkillers.

Treating a bruise in the lower back is more difficult. He could only do a quick check to confirm that there was no obvious bone misalignment, and then he tightly wrapped a bandage around it to fix it in the hope of relieving some of the pain.

After doing all this, he collapsed onto the old sofa, almost completely exhausted, panting heavily.

Only then did the chaotic thoughts resurface in my mind.

William's distorted figure, the screams of countless consciousnesses within him, and the incomprehensible horror of his final collapse...

Even now, he still feels lingering fear.

Green tried to sort things out, but every time he tried to recall the details, the overwhelming horror of William's breakdown, beyond sight and sound, made his scalp tingle and his mind freeze.

That's not something that can be analyzed logically; it's simply a pollution and shock to the soul.

In the end, he gave up.

As an ordinary person, the strongest thought at this moment is not to seek the truth, but to escape. To get away from all of this, to forget all of this.

Suddenly, he thought of the Crimson Cult. Could they be using this as a lead to find him?

William's ritual was interrupted because of him; he was the one who caused William's "collapse." Although he acted in self-preservation, the cultists clearly didn't see it that way.

In their eyes, he was probably no different from pigs or sheep, just material for their promotion. From any perspective, he was already a thorn in the side of the Crimson Order.

The fact that the police had no record of William's disappearance suggests that this cult possesses methods to manipulate public perception. They operate in the shadows, and their influence may be deeply entrenched.

The white cat could find itself, and so could those people. The agency is probably not safe either.

"No, we can't stay here."

The moment the thought arose, it became crystal clear. He had to act immediately.

Green struggled to his feet, his gaze sweeping across the office.

The furnishings here are simple, mostly items left behind by the original owner or ordinary items he added after transmigrating. In the face of the current crisis, they all seem insignificant.

He staggered to the bookshelf against the wall, moved aside several heavy legal books that served as mere window dressing, and revealed an inconspicuous hidden compartment on the wall behind them.

This was the place where the original owner, Grimm Morris, used to store important items, and he continued to use it after taking over.

The hidden compartment was small, and inside lay an old leather wallet.

Green took it out and opened it.

Inside were neatly stacked banknotes and coins: 4 gold pounds, 55 soles, and 7 pence. This was all the wealth the original owner had accumulated through frugality and careful management over the past three months.

Without time for reflection, he carefully tucked his wallet into the inside pocket of his coat, close to his chest.

He quickly examined the "Messenger of Silence" and then tucked it back into his belt. He also picked up the journal he had brought from William's attic; it was meant to be placed beside the ritual, as it might contain the answers he sought, and he couldn't leave it behind.

After doing all this, he took a deep breath, suppressed the pain in his body, gently opened the door, and once again disappeared into the cold night of Oberhafen.

His immediate priority was to find a temporary hiding place. What he needed most right now was rest, a soft bed, and a bathroom where he could take a shower.

A relatively safe environment is needed to clear one's mind and plan the next step.

Hotel.

This is the most direct choice.

Cheap hotels that don't require identification and are located on the outskirts of the city or in mixed neighborhoods are one of the best options for hiding your tracks.

He pulled his hat down low, buried half his face in his coat collar, and, enduring the pain in his left side, walked as inconspicuously as possible toward the eastern part of the city that he remembered.

I took each step carefully, constantly using the shadows of the buildings and the corners to observe behind me and make sure there were no tails.

As for the white cat... Green thought to himself as he struggled forward.

If it can accurately locate his office, then finding a hotel for him to stay temporarily should not be difficult if it wants to.

"I wonder if it escaped..."

The white cat's promise of a "guide," the information about the mysterious world it spoke of, and its speculations about the deeper reasons behind the "Crimson Order" and the William incident—all of these are what he needs now.

Green gritted his teeth, enduring the pain, and carefully made his way through the streets and alleys.

The city of Oberhafen was far from peaceful at night. The grumbling of drunkards, the barking of stray dogs, and the suspicious noises coming from some dark corners made his already tense nerves even more alert.

After two hours of arduous trekking, Green felt as if he had walked all night. He also had to constantly observe his surroundings for any unusual situations. Being careful and not being exposed became his top priority.

When he finally dragged his almost numb body into the narrow street called "Blackwater Alley" in the east of the city, he almost collapsed to the ground.

The alley is lined with old buildings, their walls peeling away to reveal the dark bricks underneath.

The air was thick with a complex stench of cheap tobacco, damp mold, and some kind of rotting food. But compared to some of the more wretched areas he had passed through, this place at least seemed... relatively 'normal'.

Green's gaze swept over several hotels with simple signs, finally settling on a hotel in the middle of the alley that looked fairly clean.

【Three Crows Hotel】

The signboard was a bit faded, the wooden door panels had no obvious stains, and the window glass was fairly clean, but what Green was most concerned about was a welcome sign at the entrance that read "Restroom Available".

It is here.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, as if something had entered his brain, and strange murmurs came to his ears.

Green looked around but found nothing unusual.

Are you too tired?

He took a deep breath, adjusted his breathing, and tried to make himself look like a weary traveler looking for a place to stay, before pushing open the wooden door.

The door hinge made a soft click.

The small front hall was dimly lit by only a kerosene lamp.

Behind the wooden counter was a slightly overweight, thinning middle-aged man, leaning back in an old armchair with his head tilted to the side, mouth open, emitting rhythmic snoring.

The tin ashtray on the counter was piled high with cigarette butts.

Green stood there for a few seconds, and when the boss didn't react, he coughed lightly.

The snoring paused for a moment, but the boss still didn't react. Instead, he turned his head to another side and continued to sleep.

Left with no other choice, Green stepped forward and banged heavily on the counter twice.

The boss suddenly jolted awake, opened his eyes, and it took him a while to see the young man in front of him clearly.

"Uh... a hotel?" He yawned and wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Yes, a single room, for three days."

The shopkeeper squinted and sized up Green. Only after confirming that the other party could afford to pay did he slowly stand up.

"Pay first." The boss didn't ask any more questions. "A single room costs 2 sous and 5 pence per day, and 7 sous and 3 pence for three days, not including meals. Hot water is extra, one pot and a half pence."

This price is considered slightly above average for the eastern part of the city, but it's reasonable considering the inn's relatively clean appearance. Green didn't haggle; he simply counted out 15 soula from his wallet in his inner pocket and placed it on the counter.

The shopkeeper collected the money, then took out a register and a pencil from under the counter.

"name?"

Green paused for a second, then said, "John Smith."

He gave a very common pseudonym.

The boss wasn't surprised at all, and didn't even look up. He just scribbled a few lines on the register, then took a brass key with a wooden tag attached from the drawer and handed it to Green.

"Second floor, the innermost room, 204. The washroom is at the end of the corridor. There's no hot water after 10 PM. If you need it, you'll have to pay an extra half penny."

The boss finished speaking quickly and waited for the other party's response.

"Thank you, but I don't need it for now." Green took the keys and said calmly. Then he turned and walked towards the stairs.

The corridor was dimly lit, the carpet was old, and it smelled faintly of disinfectant. He walked to the very end and opened the door to room 204.

The room was small, with only a narrow bed, a faded wardrobe, and a crooked wooden chair, but judging from the curtains and sheets, it was relatively clean overall, which was quite remarkable.

He locked the door behind him, bolted it, and then moved a chair over to block the door, creating a simple warning device.

Just as he sat down on the bed, the murmurs in his ear reappeared, louder and longer than before.

That wasn't a human voice.

Silence...will eventually engulf...

[...lies...are all truth...]

Look...at that spiral...

The sounds grew louder and more frequent.

Green felt his thoughts being pulled apart, the boundaries of his memory beginning to blur, and an impulse to give up thinking and merge into that murmur arose spontaneously.

He clenched his teeth, his nails digging deep into his palms, desperately using the pain to anchor his fading consciousness. Cold sweat instantly soaked his back.

"Damn it..." he squeezed out the word through gritted teeth.

After an unknown amount of time, the maddening babbling gradually receded like the tide, leaving only a buzzing echo and a deep-seated weariness.

He collapsed onto the bed, drenched in cold sweat, gasping for breath, feeling as if he had just fought a life-or-death battle.