"This should be fine..."
Hibbert stood at an intersection on the edge of Bridge Borough and slipped a letter into a dilapidated mailbox.
As a nobleman who had grown up at the center of power, he knew exactly how mail was collected for Backlund's high society. Letters from ordinary commoners or street thugs could never make their way into a noble's mailbox so easily.
Thinking of the dozens of letters that had appeared at home over the past two days, he believed there were only two possibilities.
Either... the letters themselves carried some strange Beyonder power that could bypass physical barriers and human intervention and enter the mailbox directly.
Or... someone was pulling strings behind the scenes.
"Forget it. I'll just treat this as a mysticism experiment..." Hibbert reassured himself.
He had copied these letters merely to give himself some peace of mind and ease his fear. If sending them out really produced no special effects, that would actually be a good thing. It would mean the Hall Family had not been targeted by some terrible curse.
"This should be the edge of Bridge Borough... I can't believe I came this far on an impulse..."
Hibbert looked up, glanced around at the low, shabby houses and muddy streets, and gave a bitter chuckle.
When did I become so irrational, so easily swayed by my emotions?
To avoid being spotted by acquaintances or reporters while mailing the letters, he had deliberately hired an inconspicuous carriage and taken a long detour to another borough. He had never expected to end up almost on the other side of Backlund.
"Sigh... why are there so many of these pointless letters again?"
Just as Hibbert was about to turn and leave, a young man's voice came from the mailbox behind him.
He instinctively turned around