Professor Larry Miller

If Wilbur hadn't been so weak and out of bullets, Hope wouldn't have already considered fleeing. He was barely holding out against Wilbur, no longer hoping to capture him, just trying to buy some time.

Wilbur squinted. "This is the second time you've suddenly appeared—I bet this isn't the first time you've learned to do this—damn, Hope, damn it."

He suddenly made a move as if to rush forward, seemingly wanting to start a fight with Hope again.

Looking at the strange organs on Wilbur's body, Hope gripped the dagger tightly.

Out of a physical aversion, he subconsciously took a step back.

But this very step caused Hope to suddenly lose her balance—

Hope fell backward, the soft grass behind him preventing him from getting hurt, but the sudden change still left Hope somewhat dazed.

The peculiarity of the seventh order—turning the possible into the inevitable—is indeed something that can happen.

Hope rolled on the spot, almost rolling under the car in her haste, but there was no sound of Wilbur rushing up behind her.

He scrambled to his feet, using the wheel as a crutch, and saw Wilbur fiddling with an old revolver.

Compared to the gun Dr. Morgan gave to Hope, Wilbur's gun was too old, with dirt on the barrel and a dull surface.

Wilbur opened the wheel and shrugged regretfully. "This was left to me by my grandfather. I originally intended to use it to send you off, but unfortunately it's broken."

With a gentle flick of his arm, the old revolver fell into the grass.

His actions and expression were as if he had casually tossed away a piece of trash.

He wasted an attacking opportunity, but seemed not to regret it— Wilbur's regret at this point was more because the things left by his grandfather had been damaged.

Hope belatedly sensed a hint of contempt in Wilbur's actions.

His younger brother didn't seem to see him as an obstacle at all.

This confidence stems from the unique nature of that seventh rank.

The pink, elongated growths that had been growing from Wilbur's gums became somewhat thicker.

Just as Hope had guessed, Wilbur's mutation was indeed due to his frequent use of special abilities.

Moreover, it seems that Wilbur no longer cares.

He was no longer afraid that the mutations would continue to increase.

Hope jumped into the car and retrieved his curtains.

At that moment, Wilbur's special ability took effect again, and Hope accidentally tripped over the seat and fell awkwardly into the carriage.

He grabbed the corner of the curtain before he fell, tearing it open along with the curtain.

The curtains were scattered around Hope, and even though they weren't fully open, their sheer size still covered most of Hope body.

Only a section of her lower leg was visible.

Wilbur's questioning hum came from outside the car. He remained unhurried, as if being hostile to Hope was unimportant. Hope guessed the source of his nonchalance, which wasn't just due to contempt:

The King of Kings had long ago decreed this fate: Wilbur and Hope would never die by each other's hand.

Wilbur probably thought that even if he killed Hope, it would only allow Hope to return to Dunwich resurrected.

And Hope —it won't take long to get back here from Dunwich.

Therefore, in Wilbur's view, it was all a waste of effort.

But Hope was afraid that Wilbur would actually kill her.

After all, it's not certain who will be overthrown in the end—it could be either Number One or three others.

Taking advantage of Wilbur's leisure time, Hope finally tucked her calves inside the curtains as well.

Uncertainty is triggered.

A moment later, the curtains covering Hope suddenly collapsed due to lack of support, leaving only a huge piece of cotton cloth instead of the human figure that was wrapped around her.

"Ha!"

Wilbur outside the car suddenly chuckled. He climbed into the car, picked up the cotton cloth, and examined it carefully. After finding nothing unusual about the cloth, he vaguely guessed the limitations Hope faced in teleportation.

The tentacles on its abdomen drooped because it had failed to catch any prey.

Wilbur, however, shook his head indifferently. He bent down to pick up the dagger he had left behind, got out of the car again, and headed towards the building.

It seems— Wilbur wasn't lying—this is indeed his destination.

Hope, huddled up under the car, thought.

A mere instant was certainly not enough time for him to return to the library.

Fortunately, while he was falling, he took the opportunity to observe the underside of the car and memorize its appearance, making it a potential target location for Uncertainty.

That building—I can't tell what it's for.

But this should still be on the campus of Miskatonic University — Wilbur isn't in a hurry to escape from the campus; instead, he's deliberately stopping here—

A possibility popped into Hope's mind, which made him feel somewhat irritated.

Could it be that there's a spy within Miskatonic University?

Just as Hope was hesitating whether to leave immediately to report to Professor Armitage.

Someone knocked on the car door.

Car door?

Hope looked back.

There was someone squatting behind him.

The man had long, blond hair, wore narrow-rimmed glasses, and looked at Hope with a serious expression.

"Hello, I'm Larry Miller," he said.

Hope recognized the voice as that of a long-haired man.

"Hello, I'm Hope Love," Hope replied.

Larry Miller nodded. "Great. Is your car broken? But parking isn't allowed here. I can call a tow truck for you."

He added, "And even if your car is broken, that doesn't explain why you were in the middle of the lawn. I'll also tell the officers that you might need to answer some questions."

No, this isn't my car.

Hope glanced back to the other side; Wilbur didn't seem to have gone far.

He looked at Larry and thought to himself, "What the hell? You saw such a huge lump of Wilbur and you weren't scared? Shouldn't you have run away in terror? Why are you coming over and asking if someone needs a tow truck?"

Larry Miller----Larry----Miller?

"Sir, what is your relationship with Carl Miller?" Hope asked.

The other person seemed annoyed by the question, "It doesn't matter, I don't know him."

real?

But this reaction only fueled suspicion.

Hope changed the subject. "So—do you know Wilbur Whateley?"

The other person frowned deeply. "Yes, I know him, but if you think this will save you from seeing the police, you're mistaken."

"No, no," Hope shook his head. "I had no such intention. If I have broken the law, you may have the officers arrest me. But sir, may I ask one last question?"

Seeing Hope's good attitude, Larry Miller finally relaxed his expression a little. "Go ahead and ask."

"It's nothing serious, I just wanted to ask."

Hope pointed behind her. "Do you want to go to that building?"

Larry Miller nodded. "Yes, my office is over there."

"Is it because you suddenly wanted to come here?"

"No, I was originally going to come back once, but I came back earlier for some reason."