Asking for help

Inside the little chapel, Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Anderson sat side by side along one side of the dining hall's long table, cradling steaming cups of coffee in both hands.

Toby and Molly sat across from them, taking turns recounting the "epic" clash at the gym in loud voices, complete with exaggerated gestures.

"...Leon grabbed that barbell bar, and bam! George went flying, and blood splattered all over the floor!" Molly gestured animatedly, as though she had witnessed it herself.

The swelling on Toby's face had yet to subside. "Right! When I shoved him, that bastard knocked over the whole rack. Dumbbells rolled everywhere."

The old pastor, Essen Borg, sat at the head of the table, his hands folded on its edge, his silvery-white eyebrows slightly drawn together.

He occasionally interjected, his voice low and restrained. "Children, a little less bragging. Violence is nothing to be proud of."

Neither mother could muster a smile, either.

"Those street-gang scum are utterly vile. They specifically target teenage schoolchildren." The old pastor paused, his gaze losing focus as he spoke of memories he did not wish to revisit.

"They pick children from single-parent families, intercept them on the way somewhere, and beat them up for no reason. Afterward, they threaten them: 'Disobey us next time, and we'll kill your whole family.'

"Then they hand over a packet of something-'This will ease the pain. Give it a try.'

"Those children already lack someone to care for them. Even after a beating, they have no one to confide in. All they can do is go home and lick their wounds alone. Raising a child takes more than a decade, but destroying him takes just one taste of drugs."

The old pastor's voice grew quieter and quieter. "In all my years of relief work, I've seen far too many cases like this. Far, far too many.

"Some children become addicted at thirteen or fourteen, start running errands for gangs at fourteen or fifteen, and by sixteen... never wake up again.

"Some die in alleys, some are sent to prison, and some simply vanish off the face of the earth. Not one escapes the grip of gangs and addiction. Not one."

The dining hall fell utterly silent.

Lin Rui emerged from the kitchen carrying several steaming bowls of noodle soup. He was just about to announce that the noodles were ready when he noticed the deathly silence around the table.

Both mothers had gone deathly pale, frightened by the old pastor's account.

Mrs. Anderson instinctively reached out to wrap an arm around Molly's shoulders, her fingertips trembling slightly; Mrs. Jones's eyes reddened, but she bit down hard on her lip to keep her tears from falling.

Toby and Molly, however, remained entirely unruffled.

The two children were still making faces at each other, lowering their voices to imitate George's screams as he was sent flying, or covering their mouths to snicker, their shoulders shaking as though savoring some funny joke.

"Is there anything we can do?" Mrs. Anderson asked.

"Nothing at all. At most, keep your own children in line and keep them away from gangs. But those gangs will approach your children themselves to make money." The old pastor was helpless in the matter.

Lin Rui did not join the discussion. After handing out the noodle soup, he grabbed a pair of chopsticks himself, lifted some noodles, blew on them, and put them into his mouth.

Rampant drug abuse was a chronic disease, and the things the old pastor described were extremely common in the United States.

The wealthy lived in upscale neighborhoods, with professional security and private schools, and could provide their children with comprehensive protection, but even that could not stop the children from seeking out "sex, gambling, and drugs" themselves.

As for the poor living in low-end neighborhoods, that went without saying.

Mrs. Jones had made quite a bit of money through Lin Rui lately, but it was nowhere near enough to let her move out of The Bronx. Moreover, once her finances improved, she would lose the church's assistance, as though caught in an inextricable knot.

Mrs. Anderson was somewhat better off, but not enough to live in an upscale neighborhood, much less prevent Molly from running out to "court death" on her own.

"Leon, do you have any ideas?" The old pastor changed the subject and directed the question at Lin Rui.

"No particularly good ones." Lin Rui slurped his noodles and shook his head. "Street punks hold grudges, but they also fear the strong. Find their leader and kill him, and the matter is settled."

The old pastor and the two mothers did not know whether to laugh or cry at that, taking it as nothing more than a joke.

Lin Rui polished off his bowl of noodle soup in a few mouthfuls, the hot broth sliding down his throat. He took a tissue to wipe his mouth, stood up, and nodded to those at the table. "I have something to take care of. I need to go out."

The old pastor looked up at him, his silvery-white eyebrows lifting slightly, and said gently, "Come back early. It isn't safe at night."

Lin Rui grunted in acknowledgment, grabbed his coat, pushed open the little chapel's wooden door, and climbed into the old pastor's old Ford. He drove straight toward Manhattan-Broadway, the Gershwin Theatre.

He intended to enter Nightmare Space at midnight and find the "witch," Sophia.

The old pastor was a good, kindhearted man, but unfortunately, it was difficult to trigger quests with him, and he did not take the initiative to teach any substantive skills.

Now the neighborhood gang's threat was like a thorn, leaving Lin Rui uneasy until it was dealt with.

Lin Rui needed stronger means, and Sophia-that coldly beautiful, tsundere, inexplicably clingy witch-was currently the only person who could give him a "cheat."

The car drove onto Broadway, where neon signs flowed across the windshield in rivers of multicolored light.

After entering the Gershwin Theatre and delivering the late-night food, Lin Rui waited for midnight to arrive, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. His consciousness seemed to plunge into an abyss.

When he opened his eyes again, he was at the tower.

The medieval-style gray stone tower stood in the boundless night, the chilly moonlight falling evenly over every stone like a thin layer of frost.

Tonight, a small, haphazard garden had appeared outside the tower-bare soil, with a few unknown wildflowers blooming sparsely here and there, purple and white, their petals trembling slightly beneath the moon.

Sophia was not standing on the terrace atop the tower as usual. The door at its base, however, stood silently open. Without giving it much thought, Lin Rui strolled inside.

A spiral staircase wound upward, its stone steps icy cold and ringing with hollow echoes beneath his feet. He climbed floor after floor, his footsteps growing faster and faster.

But before long, he noticed something was wrong.

With every step he climbed, another appeared out of thin air ahead of him.

The staircase seemed to have come alive, stretching on infinitely, without end.

The walls were bare, without windows or decorations. Only moonlight filtered down from above, casting long shadows.

"What's going on?" Lin Rui stopped and looked around. He called "Sophia" several times, his voice reverberating through the tower, but received only his own echoes in return.

What the hell... he cursed inwardly. This tower is the symbol of her soul, the seat of her consciousness. There's no way the tower could be here without her.

He turned to go back down-but the moment he turned, an indignant, cold snort came from behind him, carrying unmistakable displeasure, like a long-neglected cat bristling.

"Boy, where do you think you're going?"

The scene before him abruptly changed.

The staircase vanished, replaced by the familiar sitting room: high-backed chairs, a fireplace, and arched windows hung with dark red curtains.

Sophia sat in a tall chair by the window, her arms folded across her chest, her face frosty, her lips jutting out far enough to hang an oil bottle from.

Moonlight spilled in from behind her, gilding her long, silvery-white hair with a cold sheen and setting off the almost otherworldly beauty of her face. Yet she was puffed up with anger, like a young girl who had been dumped.

"Why were you messing with me?" Lin Rui frowned, somewhat annoyed himself. "I called you several times. Why didn't you show yourself?"

"You're the one who's been messing with me! Playing with my feelings!" Sophia sprang to her feet, her voice rising with a measure of hurt and anger.

"At first, you came every single day, but after half a month, you started slacking off. I wait for you every night, but you've only shown up twice in the past week.

"Only twice!"

She glared at him, her eyes spelling out just one word: scumbag.

Lin Rui had no answer. Inwardly, he thought, I'm just an ordinary guy who puts making money and his career first. How did I end up in a romance even in my dreams?

He drew a deep breath and decided to handle the important business first. "Sophia, I've run into trouble. I'd like your help."

"No."

Lin Rui ignored her and continued, "A mother came to see me the day before yesterday. Because I'd used the Suggestion Technique to straighten out a school bully who neither studied nor had any useful skills, she hoped I could help put her daughter, who'd gone astray, back on the right path too.

"But that girl... Molly, is clinging to me now. It's quite a nuisance.

"I'd like to give her a suggestion so she'll go back to her mother. Also, are there any other spells I can learn? I need more ways to protect myself. A neighborhood gang has set its sights on me."

Sophia turned her back to him and stared out the window at the tower's garden and the pale moon. After a long silence, she finally spoke sullenly. "I said no, and I mean no."

Lin Rui cautiously approached, crouched halfway down, and gently took her icy hand.

Sophia pouted and made a token attempt to pull free, but did not actually shake him off. Her fingertips curled slightly, as though she were hesitating, or sulking.

"Sophia..." Lin Rui adopted a humble attitude, as though coaxing a little girl. "As a demon hunter, I have many duties I must shoulder. But I promise I'll come at least three times a week from now on."