Fors pulled herself together

The next afternoon.

Fors, wrapped in a long nightgown, curled up on the Sofa, her thoughts wandering aimlessly. A copy of today's Backlund Morning Post lay open on the Tea Table.

A Horror killer has appeared on a rainy night!

"It has been reported that Mr. Falk, the renowned author of the Kingdom and the King of Mystery Novels, was confirmed to have been murdered at his Mountain Estate last weekend."

The victims included his butler and servants, as well as other writers invited to the Literary Salon, the list of whom is as follows: Dylan, Lucas, Harvey—

The news was confirmed by their family and Publishing House.

The perpetrator is currently at large.

"Police stated that this is not only a significant loss to the literary world but also Provocation against the Kingdom's laws, and they will certainly bring the perpetrators to justice."

A short message was attached directly below the report.

"The victims will be buried in the Granada Cemetery this weekend. This is a formal announcement."

Fors covered her face with her hands and gently sniffed.

If it weren't for him, the list of victims would probably have included another "Fors"—although I did offer some insignificant help—

I'm still too weak—I don't even have the courage to avenge my friend.

During yesterday's meeting, Lorry had already told her the final outcome: Parliamentarian Begat had made a perfect Invisibility, and the Cultist Altair had vanished without a trace.

He also warned her not to investigate on her own, saying he would handle the real culprit.

"You're only Sequence 9, what gives you the right to boss me around?" Fors muttered almost inaudibly, slamming his fist on the Cushion.

Immediately, she sat up straight, radiating a strong fighting spirit.

"I want to Advancement in the Sequence, I want to become stronger, and I want to protect that idiot Hugh! I've already lost so many friends, I absolutely can't lose her too!"

"There's a party in a few days, maybe I can buy the Formula for 'The Trickmaster '! Hmm----with my current savings, buying it shouldn't be a problem."

But there's more material to come—I need to start a new book and make money!

"Now's the time, go Fors!"

The energetic female writer strode towards her room, prepared paper and pen at her desk, and began to brainstorm the beginning of her new book.

Fifteen minutes later, she irritably grabbed her Brown Curly Hair, crumpled the manuscript paper covered with crossed-out words into a ball, and aimed it precisely at the trash can in the corner.

She returned to the Living Room, curled up on the Sofa, and stared blankly at the Ceiling: "Writing novels is so hard—"

After an unknown amount of time, Fors heard the Door Opening.

She sat up abruptly from the Sofa, only to realize that it was already evening.

Ugh, damn it—I was supposed to start the new book, and I've wasted the afternoon again. Now I can only wait until tonight, no, I can only wait until tomorrow to write the beginning.

Fors felt annoyed and glanced at the travel-worn Hugh.

Hugh strode towards the Sofa area, about to speak, when his gaze was suddenly drawn to the Newspaper on the Tea Table. After a quick glance, he abruptly looked at Fors: "The King of Mystery Novels, Falk? Isn't that the person who invited you to the Salon last week? He's been murdered!"

Fors, are you alright?

"Do I look like something's wrong to you?" Fors forced a smile.

She then explained, "My carriage broke down halfway, and I couldn't keep my appointment on time. But later, at the request of the Police department, I couldn't disclose details of the case."

"I'm sorry, Hugh, I've made you worry these past few days----"

"Oh, I see—" Hugh muttered, quickly shook his head and said it was nothing, then suddenly seemed to remember something and said with a serious expression, "Fors, I have something to tell you very seriously."

"Your friend Lorry from yesterday, I'm pretty sure he's not as gentlemanly as he seems, but a bad guy who's good at pretending and acting."

I saw him in the East Borough today, guess what he was doing?

"What are you doing?" Fors asked, half curious and half cooperative.

Hugh's eyes flashed with disgust as he said in a deep voice, "He's stealing!"

"And their targets are the poor people who can't even get enough to eat!"

"He can treat you to a £20 meal in Lenburg, yet he still steals their money. That proves my judgment yesterday was correct."

"It wasn't me, it was us. You ate quite a bit yesterday too—" Fors muttered under his breath, "Maybe that's why he was able to treat us to a feast in Lenburg —cough, okay, Hugh, I was just kidding—are you sure you're not mistaken? I don't think he would do something like that."

Xiu snorted in exasperation, "I knew you wouldn't believe me. Come on, let's go to the East Borough now!"

"Ah? I'm not going." Fors shook her head repeatedly, "I still need to work on my new book—" But Hugh didn't wait for her to finish before ruthlessly exposing her Lie: "Come on! Ever since you finished writing ' Stormy Mountain Villa,' you've been saying you're working on a new book every day, but you haven't even written the beginning yet!"

"Come with me, today I'm going to show you his true colors!"

As he spoke, he prepared to go to Fors.

"I'm not going—" Fors tried to dodge, but was no match for the "Arbiter's" skills and was quickly lifted off the Sofa by Hugh.

"Okay, okay, I'll go, alright? Just let go of me." Fors looked resentful and glanced down at her best friend with annoyance.

Seriously, Hugh is getting more and more savage.

Evening, East Borough.

At the Crossroads of Golden Wutong Street, a boy of about ten years old was crying loudly, while his mother stood beside him with red eyes and an angry expression like a lioness.

"Smack!"

Ignoring the people around her, she slapped her son hard across the face. "That's our food money for a whole week!"

"You, you're so old already, how come you can't even hold a purse properly? Are we supposed to eat air next week?!"

The boy wiped away his tears and sobbed as he tried to explain, "I... I don't know... how... what happened? I was clearly... keeping it close to my chest, but just now someone bumped into me and it's gone—"

"Waaah, Mom, I'm so sorry----"

"What's the use of apologizing to me? Do you think money President and run back to us just because you say so? Do you think we'll have bread to eat next week?"

As she spoke, tears streamed down her face.

She pulled a worn-out Handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away her son's tears. As if all her strength had been drained, her lips moved slightly. "Don't cry. Let's go home first and think of a solution with your father."

"Come on, son, let's go home." With that, she took her son's hand. The two of them quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Not far away, Hugh turned to look at his expressionless friend beside him. "Do you believe me now?"

My friend just told me that while I was away looking for you at home, your friend "stole money from at least twenty people."

The languid look in Fors's light blue eyes was gone, replaced by a deep solemnity.

She pressed her lips tightly together, then suddenly took a deep breath. "No, I believe him. He must have his reasons. Let's wait and see before drawing conclusions."

Upon hearing this, Hugh froze, then grabbed a handful of his messy blond hair.

She was about to question Fors about whether she was also possessed and needed an exorcism when she saw her friend silently walking forward. She could only curse under her breath and hurry after her.