When William left the deepest part of the containment facility, Eden, its master once again tied on his apron and came to the sink to wash the dishes. He could have cleaned them with a single thought, yet he insisted on personally experiencing the process.
Different dishes were placed in different compartments, all neat and orderly. They were dried and sterilized, and all the tableware was kept at a constant warmth of 30°C.
He took off the apron and hung it on the rack beside the cabinet.
He wiped away the excess water from his palms with a disposable hand towel, then went to the full-length mirror to straighten his suit.
Ding-dong! The doorbell suddenly rang.
The timing was perfect. The goods he had "ordered" that afternoon had been delivered, and the courier had thoughtfully left them in the shoe-changing area by the door.
When he opened the package, he found a specially made burial shroud inside.
He carried it to the study.
Click!
By rearranging the books, he opened a hidden door concealed behind the bookshelf.
This was a private room William had never visited and was not permitted to enter—the absolutely secret and important Collection Room.
The storage cabinets were made from the finest heavenly wood and sealed with special glass. Everything stored inside, whether living or dead, would never change in nature over time.
One item was an eyeball as dazzling as a gemstone,
another was a sturdy and flawless section of a spine,
and another was a woman's hand as smooth and cold as jade.
These all came from special visitors or gods Hannibal had once killed. Parts of their bodies surpassed Hannibal's definition of "ingredients," while possessing immense aesthetic appeal. They had therefore been collected as treasures.
Of course, these treasures were not preserved indefinitely.