Chapter 2784: Strange Feast Nightmare (3)

Many times, this world is just a big fear of what comes.

Ding!

As soon as the elevator door opened on the 7th floor, Wei En didn't open his eyes, but rushed out of the elevator at the fastest speed. He recalled the layout of the 7th floor he had seen through Peter's eyes in his mind, first bypassing the porch, walking through a long corridor, and then turning right.

After pushing open a glass door, the front was suddenly bright and brilliant.

Wei En, who was used to the darkness, was dazzled for a moment. He stretched out his arm to block his eyes and looked toward the brilliant front, squinting.

A group of people looked at him with surprise.

Wei En slowly lowered his arm, only then seeing clearly that the huge restaurant was full of tables, each table was full of people, eight huge chandeliers were lit with brilliant lights, and well-dressed waiters stood on both sides waiting to serve.

And the one closest to Wei En was a man wearing a chef's uniform. Wei En saw his head completely melted and piled on his neck, but as the light flickered, what appeared was an elegant and charismatic old man with silver hair neatly combed back.

Wei En looked toward the center of the restaurant in a trance. Everyone was wearing bright and beautiful evening dresses, sitting on chairs, looking at the menu placed on the table, while in the door leading to the back kitchen on the other side, other chefs were busy.

"It seems our last guest has arrived." The head chef said, "I think you should still remember the seat you reserved, right?"

"Yes..." Wei En said, "I reserved... a seat by the window."

"Then go quickly."

Wei En walked slowly toward the last empty seat at the table by the window, as if that seat was prepared for him. He sat down and saw the person sitting opposite him had a face he was familiar with—Jeremiah Valeska.

He was wearing a plaid suit, his hair was combed very neatly, and he wore black glasses that made him look very honest. At this moment, he was staring intently at the menu in his hand, and his mouth seemed to be muttering something.

The movement of Wei En sitting down attracted his attention. He looked up at the man in front of him, but seeing his dazed gaze and unfocused pupils, he lowered his head again and continued to look at the menu.

Wei En, however, gradually put away that dazed expression, because the head chef's attention was already on others. He began to look at the people around him. There was no doubt that even if the hotel on this timeline wasn't polluted so severely, it was unlikely that so many intact people would sit together.

Some of them had hidden their true faces.

Wei En didn't think that the hallucination he had just seen was his own mistake, but the Cthulhu mythos system was like this. Before everything became abnormal, they were all normal. Although many things had long been foreshadowed, many people had lost the ability to judge whether it was normal, so they couldn't discover the terror lurking around them.

Wei En didn't intend to investigate this abnormality, because unfortunately, he had brought a more abnormal thing.

Wei En huddled in the chair, looking at the menu like all the diners, not listening to things outside the window. But after ten seconds or so, the lights in the restaurant began to flicker.

Bang!

A loud noise came from outside the restaurant door, as if something was hitting the door. All the diners raised their heads blankly. Wei En imitated their expressions, as if he didn't know at all what was hitting the door outside.

The head chef turned his head sharply toward outside the door. He seemed to have seen something, walked slowly toward the door, but stopped halfway and raised his hand to press down gently.

All the diners lowered their heads. Wei En felt that something was pressing his head down. That touch was wet and sticky, like a floating corpse that had been soaked in water for several days.

Wei En followed the trend and lowered his head, not letting them see was better.

But he still raised his eyes slightly to look at the head chef's side, confirming that the head chef wasn't looking at him and shouldn't be suspecting that he was the one who brought that thing. Wei En let out a sigh of relief.

In fact, he was really doing it on purpose, because knowing that there were two restraining forces in this hotel, one could infer that things that were usually locked up blocked the path of certain existences. As long as these things could be released and brought into another conspiracy, it was very likely to cause some trouble for the other party.

Sure enough, the waiters who were originally standing neatly by the window walked toward the door in a line. The sound of hitting the door continued. Wei En didn't hear any miserable screams, but one waiter disappeared outside the door.

Bustling whispers sounded.

This was more terrifying than any scream or wail. Wei En heard some sounds coming from outside the door and echoing in the room. He wanted to raise his hand

The best choice now would be to rupture his own eardrums, but unfortunately, the thing pressed against his head seemed to be waiting for an opportunity. If he reached out to grab a fork now, he would definitely be discovered.

Schiller's complexion began to turn as pale as the other diners, his expression became dazed, his pupils gradually dilated, and he began to echo those whispers with his mouth. However, his sanity was infinite, so as long as there was no physical conflict...

Bang!!!!!

A violent tremor interrupted all the whispers. The entire restaurant shook violently, and Schiller immediately felt sticky liquid flowing down from his nose; blood dripped onto the dining table in front of him.

But the thing pressing on his head was no longer using as much force, so Schiller had the leisure to reach out and grab a napkin to wipe his nose. Many of the diners nearby also seemed to have just awakened from a long dream.

But soon, the waiters walked back in rows, standing in their corresponding positions in an orderly fashion. It seemed the trouble had been resolved. Although Schiller could no longer feel the thing on top of his head, under the gaze of many eyes, he still did not act rashly.

Taking this opportunity, he turned his attention to Jeremiah opposite him.

The reason he was certain this was Jeremiah was that the temperaments of these two brothers were completely different.

The story of the Valeska brothers in "Cat Getan" is very interesting. To summarize, Jeremiah is a born bad seed, possessing all the traits of narcissistic personality disorder and antisocial personality, yet he pushed all the bad things he did onto his younger brother.

Jeremiah had a perfect disguise and was always a "good guy" in everyone's eyes—studying and going to college in an orderly manner, smart, steady, and full of gentlemanly demeanor.

But Jerome, who was framed, had been a "bad kid" in everyone's eyes since childhood. He was considered a troublemaker and constantly suffered exclusion and abuse, leading to his mental state becoming increasingly poor, eventually dropping out of school, and becoming a complete madman.

All of the above is the story from the original work.

And ever since little Bruce obtained the power of the Evil God, everything changed. One of these two brothers became an insurance investigator. Schiller suspected it was Jeremiah because Jeremiah was more like the Joker he knew, constantly chasing little Bruce and almost rushing into his home.

But given Jeremiah's academic background and personality, he shouldn't be applying to an insurance company. Instead, it was Jerome, with his low education and poor mental state, who was likely to end up doing this job.

After all, the two of them looked exactly the same. Without either of them being disfigured, it was difficult to tell who was who. The Joker is cunning, and Schiller could not be 100% sure that the person sitting in front of him was definitely Jeremiah.

The reason he needed to figure out who was who was that the two brothers had different personalities. Jerome was pure madness, while Jeremiah disguised himself well. Their goals were also different: one seemed to purely want to destroy Cat Getan, while the other wanted to rule it.

More importantly, their relationship with Batman was different, which was also why Schiller felt Jeremiah was more like the Joker. In the original work, Jeremiah was always circling around Bruce; conversely, Jerome was more independent.

Jeremiah had a deeper connection with little Bruce, so if the person in front of him was Jeremiah, Schiller would have the confidence to guess that little Bruce was also hiding at this point in time. If it were Jerome, there would be insufficient evidence.

Just as Schiller was pondering, the head chef clapped his hands forcefully.

Clap!

All the diners slowly raised their heads and turned to look in that direction. The head chef stood in the center and said.

"Thank you all for coming. Next, I and all the chefs of the Wayne Hotel will present a perfect feast for you. I will introduce the dishes and stories of all the ingredients. I hope everyone spends a perfect day here."

Very well, it seems this day is destined not to be perfect, Schiller thought to himself. I want to see what other tricks you can pull.

The waiters walked toward the kitchen like a flowing stream. Soon, they each came back out carrying a black tray, stood beside every dining table, and placed one dish after another in front of the diners.

The process was standard, and the movements were elegant. If one ignored the fact that a human head was placed on the plate, it would certainly be a good start to a perfect day.

Schiller looked down at the thing on the plate. Calling it just a human head wasn't quite accurate; it should be a head with skin completely rotted, the brain half-rotted, and the eyeballs all fallen out.

But Schiller still vaguely judged from the bone structure that this person was himself, and not Nyarlathotep, but Schiller Rodriguez.

The rotted lips moved.

"I ate them, swallowed them into my belly, turned them into my nourishment, and became the flowers nurtured by their souls.

They are getting fewer and fewer, they are getting fewer and fewer, I feel hunger, death is attacking me, the flowers are gradually withering.

I ate myself, first my spleen, sliding into my stomach, thorns grew on the petals, hardwood turned into soft roots.

They are getting more and more, they are getting more and more, I have never felt so satisfied, I am about to become a big tree.

Now, it's your turn, it's your turn."

Schiller looked left and right; all the heads on the table were chanting the same poem. After the voice fell, someone picked up the cutlery.

The restaurant door was pushed open.

An identical man walked in. Under the guidance of the head chef, he sat back in his original position, with the head of the previous "him" placed in front of him.

The slight sound of knives and forks clashing echoed in the restaurant. A feast worthy of the name had begun.