Chapter 239 Morning Light (Last Two Days Asking for a Monthly Pass)
Dead...... Although Lumian had a certain mental preparation, he still couldn't accept it.
When he left the clinic, Ruhr was obviously healed and freed from the doom of death, how could he die suddenly?
Lumian slowly stepped into room 307 and set his sights on the bed.
Ruhr was lying there, his skin surface festering with light yellow pus one after another, his face was sallow and pale, and there was no movement.
His eyes were wide open, and there was a little vomit on his lips.
After looking at the eyes that remained dazed, painful and unwilling for a few seconds, Lumian asked in a deep voice:
"When did he die?"
Michele's pale hair seemed to have lost its luster, and she slowly shook her head and said:
"I was so sleepy that I fell asleep, and when I woke up, he was already dead......"
"Did he go back to 302 before going to bed?" Lumian asked.
"No, he just went to the bathroom near 302, and I went to ...... too." Michele's voice was obviously very low, but it gave Lumian a very erratic feeling, as if a part of her soul was no longer in her body.
I have been to that bathroom, and a "strange disease" has recurred, and nothing happened...... Lumian frowned, planning to go to the bathroom to take a look.
If there is no problem there, then the possibility of Mrs. Michele being abnormal is quite high!
As Lumian left Room 307 and walked down the dimly lit aisle to the target bathroom, Michele was still kneeling in front of the bed, sobbing softly, ignoring what others were doing.
Because of the fixed cleaning lady, the washroom on the third floor is no longer as dirty as before.
Lumian glanced at it, and with the crimson moonlight shining through the window, he saw the toilet and sink, the rusty water pipes on the surface, and the mirror reflecting his profile.
He looked carefully for a while and found a white silk handkerchief hanging from the pipe in the corner.
Just by distinguishing it with the naked eye, Lumian believes that it does not belong to most of the current tenants of the Golden Rooster Hotel, because it is made of excellent materials, elegantly embroidered, and must be expensive.
Are there outsiders? Lumian's first reaction was to pick up the silk handkerchief and examine it in more detail, but then he thought of Mr. Ruhr's ulceration when he suddenly fell ill, and forcibly controlled himself.
In the blink of an eye, he left the bathroom, walked back to room 307, and asked Mrs. Michelle, who was still sobbing:
"Do you know whose handkerchief in the bathroom it is?"
Michele was dazed and sad, and answered purely by instinct:
"It's Ruhr's."
Mr. Ruhr's? Lumian was surprised, and he felt that it was indeed so.
He asked:
"Where did you come from?"
Mrs. Michel looked at the deadly Ruhr and said dreamily:
"I don't know which gentleman or lady threw the garbage I picked up tonight......
"It had a mouthful of phlegm and was not damaged, and Ruhr washed it and put it on his body, intending to sell it as a second-hand commodity rather than as a garbage recycling......
"After you said that there might be dirt in the pile of garbage, Ruhl took it out and hid it in the bathroom, and he didn't dare to go back to ...... 302."
Phlegm...... Lumian felt like he had found the source of the problem.
He exhaled slowly and said:
"Did Mr. Ruhl touch that handkerchief again? Have you touched it?"
"I don't know......" Mrs. Michelle shook her head slowly, "I haven't touched the bathroom he went to......"
Sure enough...... Lumian took out his gloves and put them on, went to the bathroom again, picked up the white handkerchiefs made of silk with "Fallen Mercury", put them in the white paper he carried with him, and folded them.
During the whole process, he was careful not to touch the handkerchief directly.
After doing this, Lumian wiped the blade of the "Fallen Mercury" with another piece of white paper, threw the paper ball into the toilet, and waited for it to soften due to soaking before flushing it away.
As soon as he walked out of the bathroom, he saw Mrs. Michelle standing quietly at the door of room 307, like a ghost wandering in the darkness.
Seeing Lumian approaching her, the gray-haired old lady showed a pleading expression:
"It's almost dawn, Mr. Ciel, can you help me carry Ruhr back to 302?"
Her voice was still like a dream.
Lumian was stunned for a moment, and was silent for five or six seconds before saying:
"Okay."
He immediately entered room 307, wrapped Mr. Ruhr in the sheets of his bed, and carried him behind him.
That is, a few steps away, Lumian put the body on the bed in room 302.
Mrs. Michelle, who squeezed out of the garbage heap, thanked her repeatedly, then shook to the wooden table like sleepwalking and opened the curtains.
It was close to six o'clock in the morning, and a touch of morning light lit up on the horizon, which diluted the crimson moonlight a lot.
Michele listened to the sound of vendors shouting from the other side of the hotel and stared deeply at Ruhr.
Lumian exited Room 302 and returned to the corridor where the light was still out of reach, standing silently with his back against the wall, without destroying the silent scene.
A few minutes passed, and Mrs. Michele suddenly moved.
She rummaged around the room for more bills and coins, then rushed out of the room and stumbled downstairs.
Lumian didn't follow, raised his right foot, stepped back on the wall, and leaned against the wall sleeping in the dark.
Time passed minute by minute, and Mrs. Michele came back with a large amount of things.
It had red wine in a bottle, a grilled cod, salted meat, patties, refried beans, hot sauce, and apples.
Mrs. Michelle didn't even look at Lumian, walked into room 302, sat down on the floor next to the bed, and placed the food next to the festering corpse.
She thought for a while, stood up again, and lit the calcium carbide lamp on the wooden table, filling the room with light.
Mrs. Michele fell to the ground again, picked up the patty, brought it to Ruhr's mouth, and said with a smile:
"Don't you really want to eat meatloaf lately? I'll buy it for you today."
After letting the corpse's lips shine with oil, Mrs. Michelle also took a bite of the meatloaf and said with her eyes closed:
"It's so delicious, how long has it been since we last eaten? It's been two weeks, right?"
After taking a few bites of the patty, Mrs. Michele held the bottle of red wine and took a sip.
She said vaguely:
"Old man, our vine has borne fruit and made red wine, we don't have to worry about what to do in the future!"
She chattered at Ruhr's corpse while drinking wine and eating various foods.
Lumian outside the door stood in the dark, with his back against the wall, quietly watching inside, not leaving or entering.
Soon, Mrs. Michelle's drunkenness became strong, and she, who had previously been a barmaid, sang loudly:
"Trier covered in gold,
"A ball that is open until dawn;
"Roast chicken that is fat and oily,
"Like a castle cake;
"The waiter in a bow tie shuttles between the guests,
"Stepping on cheerful dance steps.
"My beloved, in the midst of them,
"Among them.
"This is the city of joy, this is Trier eternally!"
At this point, Mrs. Michelle stood up, staggered to the wooden table, and put the pile of banknotes on her body in front of the calcium carbide lamp.
In an instant, all the cash was ignited and fell to the table, emitting a bright yellowish fire.
Mrs. Michele opened her arms and shouted:
"This is the city of joy, this is Trier eternally!"
She immediately took the rope from the sack, climbed onto the wooden table, tied the rope to the window frame, and tied a knot.
In the firelight, Mrs. Michele turned her body, facing Ruhr on the bed, put her neck into the knot, and then bent her legs.
The knot sank heavily, and Mrs. Michele's eyes bulged out a little.
The sky outside the window was a little brighter, a third of the hallway was dyed with a glimmer of light, Lumian leaned against the still dark wall, his hands in his pockets, his right foot back, and stared expressionlessly at Mrs. Michelle hanging from the window frame, watching her mouth gradually open, watching her expression become painful, watching her bent legs not let go until she died.
The corpse swayed gently in the morning light.
…………
6:35 a.m., 3 White Coat Street, Apartment 601.
Woken up by the knock on the door, Franka rubbed her linen-colored messy hair with a painful face:
"I only slept for three hours, three hours!"
"Please help me see if there is anything wrong with it." Lumian didn't seem to hear Franka's accusation, and took out the handkerchief wrapped in white paper, "Be careful, it may transmit diseases."
"Disease?" Franka woke up and returned to the room, putting on a pair of translucent pale yellow gloves made of rubber.
She carefully unpacked the outer paper, took out the silk handkerchief inside, and placed it on the coffee table with the glass as the main body.
After tapping his teeth a few times and observing it carefully for a while, Franka said with a solemn expression:
"Yes, there is a problem, there are many small but active spirits left on it, belonging to the same kind.
"I suspect it's a pathogen, spread through skin-to-skin contact or even blood exchange, and according to your description, it's not very contagious."
Lumian couldn't understand what pathogens were, but he could probably figure out what Franka was trying to say.
He was silent for a moment and said:
"Can you find out who the owner of this handkerchief is?"
"No problem, there is a powerful medium here, as long as he doesn't do anti-divination, or the level of anti-divination is not high enough, I can find out." As he spoke, a layer of black flames appeared on Franka's rubber gloves.
After "cleaning", she took off her gloves, took out a makeup mirror, pressed her left palm on top of the handkerchief, and gently stroked the mirror with her right hand.
She whispered a few spells, and her eyes deepened.
She began to repeat the divination sentences:
"The owner of this handkerchief.
"The owner of this handkerchief......"
After several times, the mirror glowed with water, and a figure was reflected in the darkness.
It was a thin young man with a pale complexion who didn't seem to be very healthy.
He had dark yellow curly hair, brown eyes with undisguised indifference, wore a black tuxedo, held a white silk handkerchief, coughed twice, and spat phlegm into the handkerchief.
Lumian tried hard to remember this person's appearance, and suddenly felt that he was a little familiar, as if he had seen him somewhere.
After a little recall, he remembered.
This is Huge. A member of Artois's campaign team, standing behind the red-haired woman at the time!
ps: Last two days to ask for a monthly pass
(End of this chapter)