After the bishop returned, he looked at the umbrella Cobblepot was using as a cane, sighed, and quietly said, "He really is generous."
Jerome's twin brother noticed something was different. He tested the waters, asking, "That professor left?"
Schiller nodded, put away the extinguished white candle, packed the items back into the box, and carried it to the door. He looked both ways before turning back to Cobblepot and saying,
"I need to emphasize a few things. First, I'm not a psychology expert, so if you reunite with your old friend later and cry your eyes out, there's nothing I can do to comfort you."
"Second, using magical items to resurrect or recreate someone always comes at a price. Don't think they'll obediently stand there and chat with you. The hallucinations in these rooms have only ever had one purpose: to kill you."
"Third, since he gave you that umbrella, I won't take it back. I can only remind you that this thing is powerful, but dangerous. Don't point the canopy at people unless they're your enemy."
"Lastly, you two stay close behind me. Don't look around or touch anything. We'll make a straight run to 1905, and no matter what we encounter on the way, don't stop."
Cobblepot and Jerome's twin brother exchanged a glance. They had both clearly seen what Schiller was capable of, so neither objected to having him lead the team. More importantly, even if they did object, they couldn't argue with him. One psychological dissection lesson had been more than enough.
Schiller abruptly shoved open the door and sprinted toward the elevator. Cobblepot and Jerome's twin brother followed close behind. Though Cobblepot limped, he was not slow. That leg hurt, but it was far stronger than before.
The moment they stepped into the darkness of