“He struggled, he roared, he waved his fists at despair, shouting loudly.”
“But fate, like a nightmare's sprite, danced lightly by his pillow, laughing madly.”
“Oh, look, every struggle he made only pushed everything into the most desperate abyss.”
He had once again encountered cultists, but the experience was far better than his initial encounter at the Thorn Flower Club.
After all, this was a public establishment, frequented by socialites. Even if there was ill intent, it wouldn't be displayed openly, so Lynch's worries didn't materialize.
Led by the handsome middle-aged man, the two ascended to the theater's top floor. In the luxurious manager's office, the middle-aged man looked down at the stage below, reciting the same lines being performed there.
His performance was expressive and deeply immersive, with the mockery and sarcasm on his face perfectly executed, as if he truly faced an ant struggling against fate.
“Perish, miserable soul. All your efforts will ultimately become the most desperate echo in the Dreamlands.”
“The nightmare's arrival, is tonight the fourth act?”
Watching the handsome manager's impassioned monologue under the bright gas lamps, Lynch looked bewildered, maintaining an awkward yet polite smile, his eyes conveying a clear 'what is he doing?' signal. In contrast, Miss Valente offered a reserved smile and gently applauded:
“This is Master Miro's most classic play, and it's quite challenging to perform its essence. Unfortunately, I don't care for this particular production. From its scenes to its dialogue, it exudes nothing but madness and despair. Watching it completely fills one's heart with darkness and pain, which I truly cannot appreciate. Nevertheless, it is my greatest fortune today to have witnessed your command of the lines.”
“Chaos, madness, and despair—these are the truest aspects of the world, and the favored themes of our Lord. It was precisely through this play that Miro was guided into the City of Night three times, to personally offer his faith and reverence to the King in Yellow. This was his greatest fortune.”
“Did that fortune also include publicly slitting his own throat during his final curtain call?”
“Of course. He has entered the City of Night, to be with the King in Yellow, sharing in an eternal performance. That is the greatest fortune, one that you vulgar people will never comprehend.”
In that moment, Lynch felt as if he were seeing the artists of his previous life who had almost succumbed to obsession. It was hard to say if he felt admiration, pity, or fear, or perhaps all three; in any case, keeping his distance seemed the wisest course.
Fortunately, the middle-aged man soon bowed deeply with a hand to his chest, like an actor's curtain call. When he looked up again, his previous ecstasy and madness had instantly faded, replaced by his former refined yet gloomy, ghost-like demeanor.
“West, owner of the Black Cat Theater, and an apostle of the King in Yellow. Beyond the theater's usual business, we generally aren't open to the public; we only serve friends from certain secret societies, providing rather private information about high society and the mysterious world. Since you come with Countess Hathaway's introduction, we naturally won't refuse your request.”
“Is your information network well-informed?”
Lynch generally understood the situation here. It was somewhat similar to the Luiste Cafe he had visited before, except that establishment dealt in street-level gossip, while this one specialized in high-end and mysterious intelligence. At this point, Lynch was less cautious than when he entered; businesses that openly trade generally don't harm their customers, so he asked with ease:
“How do you compare to the Shadow Alliance?”
“We certainly can't compare to them; they are professionals, while we are merely a group of poets and actors.” West smiled grimly, pouring deep red wine for the two of them. “For example, we only know that you, Detective, were specifically named by the Shadow Alliance, and that they deliberately lured the followers of the Ancient Flicker to list you as a sacrifice. But why they did this, we have no way of knowing. If you know, perhaps you could sell us the reason?”
Lynch pursed his lips, using his wine glass to obscure his eyes. When he moved it away, his expression had returned to normal, and he calmly stated, “If I learn the reason in the future, I will certainly do so. However, rather than the reason for that matter, I am more interested in the Flaming Red Lips.”
“Viscount Edmond, there is indeed such a person in Salter, but he is currently mingling with those dwarves on the Old Continent and has no intention of coming to Middle Earth. Princess Chloe's identity is not an issue, and the Flaming Red Lips was indeed brought by her from the Kingdom of Salter, though it wasn't from the royal treasury. Instead, she seized it from a tribe of heteromorphs on the New Continent a few months ago. The Count of Lorand, who oversees Rhine City's overseas trade, has a complex relationship with the Kingdom of Salter on the New Continent. Mayor Howard Hoffman has had numerous interactions with Princess Chloe and the Count of Lorand, with unclear intentions, and furthermore...”
The answers came swiftly, and much of the information was what Lynch and Miss Valente had already deduced, indicating West's high credibility. Thus, both listened intently.
However, just then, West suddenly stopped. He poured himself a glass of red wine, took a small sip, closed his eyes, and quietly savored it.
Seriously, is there a chapter break dog here too? Can't you just be a normal person? Don't you worry your King in Yellow will drag you into the City of Night to personally teach you a lesson if you pull this stunt during a performance?
Lynch cursed inwardly, gritting his teeth as he pressed, “What next? Is that all?”
“We are also in business, Detective, Miss Valente.”
West raised his glass to them, his upturned lips revealing two gleaming white teeth that looked exceptionally eerie and sinister, illuminated by the deep red wine.
So, even in this era, they have trials and paywalls. I think I used a similar trick on this lady beside me half a month ago. Although she eventually reneged on the payment, has karma caught up to me so quickly?
Lynch turned to look at the noble lady beside him. She was covering her mouth with her folding fan, her large eyes sparkling with hidden amusement as she secretly glanced at him.
Tsk, she must have remembered the situation back then. It seems I shouldn't be too shameless in the future.
I suppose I'm going to be bled dry today, but there should be more important information to come. I can't skimp on intelligence expenses.
Lynch sighed deeply, feeling the Lande pounds in his pocket. With a heartfelt farewell to his money, he asked, “So, what is the price?”
“No need to be nervous, Detective. Money is generally not used here. Money... it's too vulgar; we disdain to consider it.”
I don't disdain it, truly.
“To be frank, the other information you seek is indeed very secret and important. Some of it is merely our speculation, so we cannot guarantee absolute accuracy.” The handsome middle-aged man smiled. “The custom here is that if you wish to obtain information, you must exchange it for information that interests us.”
Lynch and Miss Valente exchanged a look, somewhat surprised, yet upon reflection, not entirely unexpected. In fact, they found this arrangement quite reasonable.
“Do I possess any information that would interest you?”
“Not before, but recently, yes.” West pointed towards the door. “Those Innsmouth fishmen—vulgar, mad, and foul-smelling—have suddenly flooded into Rhine in the past few days, making the air here nauseating. I need to know the reason and purpose of their invasion, as well as their hiding places. It would be even better if they could be made to disappear completely. If you help me uncover their intentions, I will share all the information I have about the Flaming Red Lips with you. We each get what we need.”
Hiss... those heteromorphs are quite strong; I'll have to be careful.
But how am I supposed to know what they're doing? I only know they're probably not after me this time, but who knows which poor soul provoked these creatures.
“Where should I start? Do you have any suggestions?”
“That is your concern.”
Lynch frowned and pondered for a moment: “When do you need it?”
“The sooner, the better. I don't want to wait another day; I wish I could make them disappear today.”
Lynch slowly lit his pipe, narrowing his eyes as he fell into thought.
The news reported that some people had seen these things around the docks at night. Perhaps he could try his luck there later.
It's settled then.
“I'll go tonight. But we'll need basic information on the Innsmouth residents. Surely that doesn't require an exchange, does it?”
West raised his glass, chuckling softly: “Thank you very much. I wish you both a triumphant return in advance. As for the fishmen's information...”
With that, he leaned forward, lowered his voice, and began to reveal this forbidden knowledge.
Rate on N.U.
