Secret: Those years when I was a foreign aid for the Aurora Club

31

——In the end, I successfully reached a deal with the human and let him go. To be precise, it was compensation. He had to do something for me. I feel like I was the victim from the beginning to the end: Mr. Nightmare got into my dream, I entertained him thoughtfully, I was just here to help my ally Shenjing, and I didn’t intend to cause any trouble. He dropped my things. Of course, this is not important. What is important is why he didn't restrain his curiosity and insisted on taking a look while cleaning up?

He saw something he shouldn't have seen and will be punished. In addition to exposing me, it was also because Russell had made an agreement with me when she was awake. I could not spread the contents of the diary, especially the parts involving secrecy and the starry sky.

I also need to help him pay attention to monitoring people who can understand his diary and spread it without understanding the dangers in it, causing panic and chaos, unless authorized by Russell himself.

This is my deal with Him.

He hopes that the humans and mid- and low-sequence Extraordinaries in this world can live safely without knowing anything. At least the real fellow villagers from the old days will not laugh and suddenly lose control, go crazy, die, and explode into pieces of flesh while reading His diary.

Of course, I can teach His diary to others to a certain extent, but I cannot spread it a second time, nor can I teach anyone Chinese. That gray notebook was a hundred years ago, and it was the same material I used to teach Richard. Why is it still in my conscious world? Do I really care? Or is it the work of "someone" or "something" again? This is not good and needs to be hammered down.

Frankly speaking, I regret my behavior in cultivating Him. My purpose is just to let Him gather the remnants of the Temperance sect for my use, take away the anchor of the Bound God, and fight against the Rose School of Thought under the control of the Mother Tree. I want an obedient subordinate, just like their name: puppet. But He always has his own ideas, such as leading my sect to do charity. The reverse influence of long-term believers on gods has given me a lot of messy anchors that I don’t know what their meaning is.

Moreover, a charitable foundation was established nearly two hundred years ago and received a large amount of funding from Russell, who was already the consul at that time.

Which devil is doing charity? It's me, that's okay.

32

I remember that when He was still more like Him, He was always persistent in teaching me Chinese, and he was so fussy about my accent, which I felt was tasteless.

"You still long to hear your mother tongue." I said.

"Of course." He asked me, "Don't you hope so?"

"I think it's okay." I answered truthfully, "The Kingdom of Loen is very similar to my hometown in the seventeenth century. Even the pollution fog that never dissipates after the industrial revolution is becoming more and more similar, just like at home. You The alienation is probably because the world as a whole is Western-style. If this was an ancient Eastern country, you would definitely have a sense of belonging."

Russell curled his lips: "What you said makes sense, but your translation accent in Chinese is so bad that I just want to laugh."

"Your spoken English is also very bad. I heard that your country has an English professional level exam. I guess you failed." I tit for tat, hurting each other, "The writers and inventors whose works you have magically changed must be lined up." If I want to beat you, I can line up from Trier all the way to Backlund."

"Damn, stop talking about this." Russell waved his hand quickly, "Matilda is pregnant, I'm going to have a third child! Congratulate me!"

33

But, but—I know, someone is influencing me.

If I am not wearing the skin of a devil, if I am the real body, not this clone that is as weak as one of my hands, if I come with a real person, that quill and its current holder are writing about me At the first word of ", it will explode to pieces and die completely." But without so many what-ifs, I can only endure the humiliation and bear the burden now.

——After all, the Angels of the Abyss have always been unpopular with others. Because I like to run around and do whatever I want, without the restraint of mythical creatures, and I always ruin the games between gods. I still walk on the ground as carelessly as I did in the Fourth Age, never shying away from human eyes, and never caring that my arrival symbolizes disaster and bloodshed.

Mr. Nightmare also had traces of being distorted. He happened to come into my dream and dropped my notebook. I don’t know what the writer wants to do, what’s the point of arranging a Sequence 7 through my hands, but he thinks he can take advantage of me by giving me a blood sacrifice. The last person who was so stupid and naive was Russell, so I warned him.

Now Russell is probably scolding me every day in the mausoleum.

Although His inventions and creations are spread all over the world, people use the light bulbs and various props he developed, watch His operas and novels, and both nobles and commoners play the games He created, but those who believe in Him are divided into cults . His only anchors were my charity, which received the grant, and a few higher-ups in my denomination—who thought I had a good relationship with Him, indeed. The children of the charity thank Lord Russell in their weekly prayers, saying His name and mine. These tiny, world-wide anchors are His last resort.

The Black Emperor's puny, self-deceiving conscience saves Him.

He is awake and I know it. I am glad that He is awake, because in this way, this great consul, His Majesty the Emperor, who made a deal with the devil, can listen to the prayers of children and the weak in the lightless tomb, and stay awake day after day. In the gap between madness and madness, he was struggling to death, thinking over and over again of the sins he had committed and the ocean of blood he had created with his own hands.

...how pleasing to the eye.

34

Dunn pinched the bridge of his nose and yawned slightly, feeling that he seemed a little lack of energy today.

But this is normal. I was busy investigating witch-related cases with Klein Moretti all day yesterday, and even followed him to the morgue to channel Mrs. Sharon. But Mrs. Sharon's spirit had disappeared without a trace, and it was still too late. In the afternoon, I was busy writing reports to the church and assisting the police in handling the scene of the incident to prevent copycat crimes. In the early morning, I kept going to the lunatic asylum to visit Hood Eugen. At night, I also patrolled Tingen's dreams as usual and digested the nightmare potion. The whole day was so fulfilling that even a sleepless person would understandably feel tired.

In order to refresh and confirm, Dunn silently recalled the food he had seen in his dream last night: pan-fried lamb chops with lemon juice, milk tea with enough milk to make it very sweet, steak with black pepper sauce, and fish and chips, all of which were expensive. Highland black tea, smoked salmon sandwich, milk sponge cake, biscuits...

Thinking of this, he habitually checked himself and found that although his body was tired, his spirit was actually as good as ever! The potion of "Nightmare" seemed to have been completely integrated into his body, and he felt that his control of power had reached the best state ever!

My potion is completely mastered! The efforts during this period were not in vain. Klein's method was indeed effective... A hint of surprise appeared in his deep eyes, and a certain figure flashed through his mind and he calmed down again. But the always steady Nighthawk captain couldn't hide his joy. He stood up from his chair and walked back and forth in the office several times.

"Tuk-tuk-tuk!" Someone knocked on the door of the office, and Cornley poked his head out of the door, "Captain! Old Neil brought Mrs. Salister's snacks, including your favorite pies and sorbets. Mrs. Salister made it specially for you, come out and eat! You were late last time!"

Dunn was delighted. Although he maintained the captain's reserve and composure, his pace involuntarily accelerated by half a minute.

Kornley happily opened the door to get out of the way, leading his captain to the bustling lounge. When going downstairs, Dunn accidentally glanced out the window and happened to see a gentleman passing by the Nighthawks' small building. The two met each other's eyes by chance, and Dunn subconsciously nodded to the other person, who also pressed the brim of his hat in greeting very kindly.

The figures of Cornley and Dunn soon disappeared from the window.

Edward let go of the brim of his hat, looked at the small building with the sign "Blackthorn Security Company", and said to himself: "Is this here?"

"This turned out to be the stronghold of the Nighthawks, and the hero who destroyed the God's plan was here?" He said with a hint of appreciation, "This is right, this is good. When disaster strikes, there must be someone who makes a desperate struggle. The most perfect thing is to hold hope and fall into despair inch by inch. I really want to make this city my own more and more."

He listened carefully and heard the nightmare say in a calm and joyful voice: "I have mastered the "Nightmare" potion. This month, our Nighthawk team may submit a second special application. "Then there was a cacophony of cheers, boos, slaps on the shoulders and hugs, vague blessings that seemed to have something in their mouths, and the repeated mention of a name - "Daly".

Followed by "lady", human female, his love interest?

Looking back on last night, all he showed was a sense of justice and an outstanding spirit of self-sacrifice. Edward thought with interest, but those sounds were too complicated. Human voices were always messy and lacked enough value, so he only listened to them for two seconds and no longer cared.

"Okay, Nightmare can help me monitor the movements of the Nighthawks, and I can know about any emergencies as soon as possible. The matter is basically completed. Next, do you want to pay a visit to that daring human?"

In a certain house with a red chimney and a garden, he was flipping through his notebook and adding a new sentence: "...It is understandable that Dunn saw the Angel of the Abyss in his dream, which unfortunately made him feel unhappy. He was criticized for this. Quite covert control and hints, which is in line with Ince Zangwill's expectations." The ex-Archbishop of the Night, who was secretly pleased and slightly relieved, sneezed unexpectedly and felt a chill.

TBC

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*thanks for your support! Don’t aim too high, focus on the plot. If you can complete the book, it will be considered a success.jpg

*With the help of effective anchors and external gods, Russell did not sleep all the time like in the original work, but was half awake and half asleep, but half of the time he was awake he was crazy. Carving a tombstone for Edward Vaughan in his grave was one of his few and most sane acts.

It is now September 5th, and there are still 4 days until God descends.