Bizarre Detective Agency

   Chapter 1071 Nine. Postscript to "The Sunken Land"

   Afterword

For the long time before Wiener Freeze went underground, I ran a hostel in Old William Street with more staff than guests most of the time - it was left to me by my mother, even though she was two years old. She disappeared more than ten years ago, and only the crown is buried in the cemetery of Wensel Street Church, but her family's care has made this dilapidated hostel often visited by generous aristocrats. At the same time, I'm a writer who has published several novels - which stemmed from my father's expectation that he, who disappeared with my mother, would be buried in the burial mound next to my mother's cemetery.

  I have no expectations for the future. Going to the hostel to catch lazy waiters and writing in the attic are the only things I do every day. I'm not a pessimist, but in this miserable world where there is no hope, no sunshine, no seagulls **** on the bay window, what is there to smile?

The only good news is that the world won't go any worse, like there won't be any worse food than carrion--I comforted myself until the utter darkness covered the sky and spread from the north, on the streets. When the people of the apocalypse were screaming and running, I knew that the world could really be a worse place... Worse food than carrion could be rotting human flesh.

I should be thankful, because I came to the hostel a little earlier that day because the waiter Pete broke the decorative vase. When the darkness enveloped, I quickly hid in the refuge area not far from here, and because my mother's family was placed in the shelter inner ring of the district. As gregarious creatures, our sense of security comes from our companions around, and here, from my inner ring near the core - the hungry jackals always eat the outermost lambs first.

Although I lost my mother's hostel, my father's skills allowed me to rely on the new stories I weave every day in exchange for food and luxuries that didn't make me malnourished, such as sawdust-laced coffee beans, Tobacco mixed with wood chips or drugs mixed with wood chips - I guess the wood chips are going to go up in price here because of the shortage.

   I thought the rest of my life would end in this underground life like a living dead person. But after a few months, I gradually started to have the same dream one after another. At first it was just a chaotic fragment like the froth on a hot coffee, and the thread of the story gradually emerged over time, and finally became the story of an exorcist in a late night city.

Since this is the beginning, I can't restrain the thought of wanting to see it with my own eyes. The urge is so strong that it tortures me day and night, even the old Eugene who lives in the same room quickly sees my abnormality, maybe Before long, he will report me to the patrol officer. Of course, I can also take the initiative to find them and tell the truth, but I would never dare to do that - auditory hallucinations have tormented me for a long time, bringing that strange and terrifying inspiration, surrendering to the patrol officers will only be thrown away by them as infected persons Out of the refuge area, they don't care about my authorship.

   But that seems to come from blood, and the call from the depths of the soul is still deepening day and night. Finally, one night, I quietly said goodbye to old Eugene, who feared me but did nothing, and left the sanctuary with the sympathetic gaze of the guards, and I knew the meaning of those gazes—going out meant never coming back. Here it is. I don't know if I did something wrong, but when I returned to the dark surface, I felt a long-lost happiness, as if returning to a free childhood.

And, some mysterious power protects me from disappearing in the vast darkness, which allows me to row across the channel and reach the barren land only by relying on the abandoned wooden boat tied to the shoal, which is unimaginable for anyone - me too, I dared to do so. And then I crossed the plains where the Walking Dead wandered, was entertained at the Feast of the Nameless, and walked with the migrating ghouls. Finally came to the first town of this trip, Cotton Town.

   And here I was told the horrific, horrifying, insanely horrific truth from the local population - that the late night city was lost at the beginning of the Dark Ages, and it was nothing like my dreams! But the rumours of the Zhenmin coming from the old sewers convinced me that the city of Midnight was no more - otherwise they wouldn't have allowed these rumours to spread freely in the human town.

  In the early morning, under the foolish eyes of the townspeople, I left the town and went to Midnight City, dozens of miles away, and stopped in front of the **** farmland that appeared in every dream. The scarecrow stood in the knee-high wheat field, so I couldn't get close, but dared to look at the dark night city dormant in the dark, with five black towers and the world tree that spread the darkness. At this time, the long-lost sleepiness hit me, and I just lay down on the wilderness and fell asleep. Then, a dream of unprecedented clarity came to mind

   That is the story of the exorcist Lu Li in Midnight City.

  When the great story ended with the exorcist leaving Midnight City, I also woke up from the dream and ran back to Cotton Town like a madman. Just because I don't want to be on my way before nightfall, and let this wonderful story be buried in the ghostly land that no one knows about. I was also worried that I would forget anything, but it turned out that the worry was superfluous, my memory has never been so clear, not even when I was eighteen, and the story just couldn’t be written in full because of the length. I even remember Lu Li's sensible and calm words every time, every fold on his windbreaker, and I'm also convinced that this is what happened.

   Back in the hotel room, I quickly wrote the story of the exorcist, and at the same time, I was thinking about the meaning of the late night city: If Your Excellency Lu Li fell into the illusion woven by the dead souls of the late night city since he received the invitation, what would they want? Is it what they say is being redeemed by Lu Li, or is it redeeming Lu Li? Or do you want to impart knowledge to Lu Li? Why did they let Lu Li leave with the stone seal?

Then I shuddered like epilepsy as I realized I had discovered the truth: the vision was false, but in reality, the **** wheat field was there, the lord was there, Claire who became the head maid was there, the viscount's deputy Dean Claire was there, and all those who disappeared with Midnight City were there - those souls who hoped that Lu Li would not allow their bodies and souls to be strangely desecrated.

   And the real murderer who derailed the story of the late night city was the parchment of the swamp that only Lord Lu Li knew. Its efforts to plunder the souls of the dead turned into Lu Li's trust in it, subtly affecting the exorcist. But its conspiracy finally failed to restore Lu Li's memory - because memory carries the soul, this is the truth that the weird parchment will never know.

As I write this, I feel that my days are running out... I am glad that in the last moments of my life, I am no longer idle, no longer in a daze, and the dawn of hope is therefore shining on my sinful body: perhaps you will ask , does hope really exist?

   I believe it will exist. In Old Belfast, the place of light today.

   - Clarence Wilkin, in the 4th month of the Dark Ages.

   (end of this chapter)