Chapter 330: Fan Daike

Ning Zhe placed his hand on his chest, warmth filling his palm, heavy and solid.

Thump-thump, thump-thump—the hurried heartbeat and pulse transmitted through fabric and flesh to his palm, located on the right side of his chest. He lowered his hand, and the answer settled in his heart: “My heart is now on the right side of my thorax.”

What’s going on?

Before Ning Zhe could ponder further, a loud bang—sudden transformation.

The tightly closed door suddenly swung open, a dark shadow abruptly appearing within Lei Te’s previously empty perception range, like a sudden star blazing in boundless night—blatant, instantly seizing all his attention.

Ning Zhe instinctively turned his head. A tall, thin man, like a dried reed, stood directly at the doorway. His deathly pale skin, exposed through tattered clothing, was speckled with cadaverous spots, radiating a suffocating stench of decay, tinged with chill, as if he had crawled out of a refrigerator.

“Gambler.” Ning Zhe’s gaze swept over the corpse, then quickly scanned the corridor behind it. The hallway lamp outside was lit; the waxed floor reflected pure white light.

The corridor was illuminated, yet until the Gambler opened the door, Lei Te had sensed no shadow at all. Only when the door opened did the Gambler and his shadow appear simultaneously before Ning Zhe’s eyes and within Lei Te’s perception.

This manner of appearance was exactly like… Ning Zhe tilted his head slightly, his peripheral vision falling on Sally Sally’s corpse slumped beside the poker table.

A faint odor of decay drifted into his nostrils as the Gambler stepped inside, bringing a chilling breeze. Ning Zhe instinctively stepped back, his lower spine striking the edge of the poker table, sending a sharp sting.

“Hss.”

Feng Yushu’s body was tender and delicate, more sensitive to pain than a young girl’s. Ning Zhe, gripping his waist with his right hand, winced slightly—but in that fleeting moment of distraction, his vision went suddenly empty. He blinked: nothing stood before him, only an open door.

The Gambler was gone.

“Hm?” Ning Zhe froze. His eyes saw no ghost. Lei Te sensed no shadow. The faint stench of decay vanished. Before him lay only emptiness, the door still open, no longer restored to its state before the Gambler had pushed it open.

The Gambler had vanished from his sight as suddenly as he had appeared.

Simultaneously with the Gambler’s shadow disappearing, two new shadows appeared.

“Outside.” Ning Zhe stepped out of the room in three strides, leaning out the doorway to peer down the corridor. Two white people—a man and a woman—were cautiously moving along the wall beneath the corridor’s light. They were the owners of the two newly appeared shadows.

The man wore a loose Italian-style suit, his thick chestnut curls messy and artistic. The woman wore a khaki equestrian outfit, tall and slender, her black short hair clean and sharp. Both looked tense, as if wary of something.

“Who!”

The alert woman raised both hands, aiming her gun at the head protruding from the open door: “Who’s there!”

Ning Zhe promptly wore an expression of fear, raising both hands above his head as he stepped out from the doorway.

“A woman?” The white man beside her frowned: “Why is she a Chinese woman…?”

—In Europe, anyone with a yellow-skinned face was automatically assumed to be Chinese.

The tall woman did not lower her guard because the figure before her was female. Her gun remained aimed at Ning Zhe’s face. “Who are you? Why are you here? The Milicato family’s auction never invites Chinese. How did you get in?!”

Ning Zhe did not answer. Fear subtly crept across his face as he silently observed the two. He didn’t recognize the man, but the woman with the gun—he remembered her. More precisely, he had met her not long ago, at Vanessa Castle, under the dominion of the “Chessboard,” as Officer Banuto.

“This woman… she’s the maid who used to follow Prumelia… Mei Lin? How is she here? Where’s her mistress?” Ning Zhe was puzzled.

“Uh… Madam, what are you doing here?” The curly-haired man frowned again.

Ning Zhe still said nothing. He merely glanced sidelong at his wristwatch. Ten seconds had passed. The two before him had not vanished—but behind him, in the room, the corpses of Sally Sally and the others had disappeared again.

His peripheral vision swept the empty room. Ning Zhe’s red lips parted slightly, two glistening tears falling. He whispered, pleading: “Please… don’t shoot. I beg you…”

Tears were more potent than bullets, especially a woman’s tears—and even more so when they came from a beautiful woman. The curly-haired man’s demeanor visibly softened. He turned to Mei Lin: “This lady seems terrified. We need to calm her down before we can question her, don’t we?”

Mei Lin glanced at him, nodded, and lowered her gun—but her index finger remained on the trigger.

Ning Zhe’s tense expression eased slightly. His eyes shimmered like water as he cast a grateful look toward the curly-haired man.

“Don’t be afraid, madam. Mei Lin is just nervous. This place is dangerous.” The curly-haired man smiled gently. “I am Fan Daike, Fan Daike Astalti. What is your name? What are you doing here?”

Mei Lin’s expression remained stern; she clearly had no fondness for this weeping Chinese woman. Ning Zhe wiped the tiny pearls from his eyes with the back of his hand and stammered: “I… I came to find my husband.”

“My private detective said he saw his car parked at the opera house’s lot—but the theater was closed today. No performance. Why would he come here? I came to ask him, but when I arrived, this… this happened…”

As she spoke, her voice cracked, her whole demeanor radiating profound suffering.

Fan Daike and Mei Lin exchanged a glance, both visibly disappointed.

A Chinese woman had suddenly appeared in the Saint Gellia Opera House, a venue that never admitted foreigners. They had thought they’d found a crucial lead—only to discover a wealthy woman chasing her husband’s infidelity.

“This lady’s husband likely came for the Milicato family’s ‘Gift’ auction,” Fan Daike said. “She’s merely an unfortunate victim caught in this strange event. Mei Lin, you’re overreacting.”

Mei Lin opened her mouth to reply—but before a sound emerged, her soft pink lips widened into a terrified O.

Fan Daike’s face changed. He spun around sharply. A tall, emaciated corpse, clad in tattered rags, its skin deathly pale and speckled with cadaverous spots, was slowly shuffling out of the room.

(End of chapter)