Chapter 44: I

When night fell, a few solitary crows croaked hoarsely, soaring past the grim silhouette of Margaret Nursing Home.

Roger sat in a car parked by the roadside, staring at the enclosed building nearby, converted from a brick-and-stone warehouse.

Unlike its seemingly peaceful daytime appearance, this building, under the cover of night, had completely shed its Camouflage, radiating a suffocating oppression and heaviness.

It crouched deep among the spruce and red cedars, its rows of industrial-style arched windows transformed into murky eyes, flickering with faint yet piercing eerie glows.

Thick, twisted vines crawled and coiled across the brick walls, like rusted shackles or necrotic veins, tightly binding the monster to the earth.

And the once symbol of purity and simplicity—the yellow Margaret daisies—now revealed their monstrous true faces in Roger's eyes: no longer innocent wildflowers, but grinning visages full of malice and cunning.

"Hmm…" Jose made uneasy noises from the back seat.

Juan kept soothing his companion with his hands.

"Be quiet, Jose, don't make a sound."

As he spoke, he slipped a sausage into the pitbull's mouth.

Jose licked the sausage and swallowed it whole.

"He's out." Roger suddenly spoke.

Juan immediately turned his gaze to the window and saw a man in a black knit sweater and striped shirt step out through the front entrance of the nursing home.

"Looks pretty weak." Juan squinted.

Roger sneered: "But the innocent he's killed are no fewer."

"Fortunately, his hairstyle hasn't changed since the last time I saw him."

No sooner had he finished than Blake headed toward the parking lot.

"Keep an eye on the gate."

Roger got out of the car and followed Blake into the parking lot.

The man had just reached a Mercedes and was about to get in.

"Hey, Blake!"

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out; Blake immediately turned his head.

"Wei Er Xun?"

He looked puzzled, for he remembered Wei Er Xun wasn't scheduled to work today—why was he suddenly appearing in the parking lot? Was he here to cause trouble?

But the next second, when he saw the man's face, he froze in shock.

"You, how…?"

Blake's eyes widened, and a sudden, inexplicable fear took root in his chest.

"Looks a lot like you, doesn't it?"

"Right, who are you!"

The man before him wore a mask, but his skin tone, face shape, eyes, and eyebrows were unmistakably his own!

No, there were slight differences.

But before Blake could examine them closely, the man's mask stretched taut with a smile as he said: "Zhu Di sends her regards."

Instantly, Blake's pupils dilated!

"Bang!"

Roger punched him in the abdomen, then punched him in the head.

"Ugh!" Blake struggled, trying to scream for help—but Roger had prepared in advance, smothering his mouth and nose with a towel soaked in ether.

"Cough! Cough! Cough!" Unlike in movies, when Blake inhaled the ether, he thrashed his limbs while wracked by violent coughing.

Fortunately, Roger's strength far surpassed his own, pinning him down firmly.

After more than ten seconds, Blake lost consciousness and collapsed.

The underground parking lot had no surveillance, and few cars were around, so no one saw any of this.

Roger shoved him into the car, then pulled a bottle of mineral water laced with sleeping pills from his pocket and poured it into Blake's mouth, to prevent him from waking up suddenly.

Once everything was done, he stripped Blake down from head to toe and put on his clothes.

"Perfect. Now I am Blake."

He stared into the rearview mirror, wearing the gentle smile Blake used to wear when delivering meals.

Thanks to Blake's relatively sharp facial features, which resembled Roger's own.

And thanks to the knowledge granted by the Camouflage skill, he used foundation to alter his skin tone, trimmed his eyebrows and hairstyle, and transformed himself into Blake's likeness.

He had originally been unsure, fearing someone might spot the deception.

Unexpectedly, even Blake himself would have thought it was perfect.

It seemed the skill's effect was far stronger than he'd imagined.

But the only problem was, he was taller than Blake, and under overly bright lighting, flaws on his face might still be noticed.

So Roger swapped his shoes for flat canvas sneakers, readjusted his mask, and stepped out of the Mercedes.

When he emerged from the parking lot, he gestured toward the car far away where Juan was waiting.

Juan saw the gesture and immediately drove the car into the parking lot.

Seeing the plan proceed smoothly, Roger exhaled a quiet sigh of relief, then walked toward the gate and pressed the buzzer.

"Buzz!"

"This is Margaret Nursing Home. Oh, Doctor Blake, you're back already?"

A white woman's voice came from the intercom—clearly, she was the gatekeeper.

"I left something inside," Roger replied in a thick southern accent.

The white woman didn't suspect a thing and smiled: "Alright, I'll open the door for you right away."

No sooner had she finished than the iron gate clicked open.

Blake pushed open the door and stared at the main entrance of the building, hidden in shadow.

It was a lavish double door of vintage brown wood, yet at night it glowed as dark red as blood.

"Mr. Blake," said a white woman in nurse's scrubs, stepping out as the door opened: "Why are you suddenly wearing a mask?"

"Hmm, my throat's a bit sore," Roger mumbled.

Since he didn't know Blake's usual mannerisms or speech habits, he stuck to short phrases.

"Oh! I get it—must be that new guy who gave you the cold," the white woman chattered, walking beside Roger.

"If you need medicine, I've got some on hand—want a pill?"

Roger had assumed she'd follow him only a few steps, but she kept trailing him closely.

"Is there something you want?" Roger asked.

The white woman stopped, embarrassed: "You noticed? Dr. Blake."

Seeing Roger say nothing, she glanced around and whispered: "It's like this—my son has kidney problems. If Mrs. Griffin doesn't need it, could you help match him a donor before tomorrow's surgery?"

Roger frowned: "That's not up to me."

"But you're the supervisor, and Mrs. Griffin adores you. Aside from those reserved by the VIPs, if you ask, any other organ can be yours!" the woman pleaded eagerly: "If you help me with this, I'll give you twenty thousand dollars extra!"

Shit!

A gatekeeper white nurse could afford kidney transplant costs—and offer twenty thousand dollars as a bribe.

How much money had these bastards made from the high-end deals!

Roger seethed inside but kept his expression calm.

He feigned hesitation for a moment: "How much money do you have right now?"

"I have three thousand dollars! Do you need it? I'll get it right now!"

"Hmm, you know where to put it," Roger said meaningfully.

"Of course! I'll go right away!"

The white woman was thrilled: "Dr. Blake, I'll be forever grateful to you."

Saying this, she stepped backward and vanished from the man's sight.

"Surgery tomorrow morning?"

Good news—Zoe hasn't been dismantled yet.

Bad news—her organs have already been reserved by different people.

Roger stared down the dimly lit corridor and walked slowly into the shadows.