Sesil was startled by Lohman's sudden action, and after a long pause, he opened his mouth to answer Lohman's question: "I will not die."
Hearing Cecil say this, Loman's sobs finally subsided a bit. He raised his hand to wipe away his tears and said, "Then promise me, brother, you'll take good care of yourself."
Sehir looked at Loman, who was crying his eyes out, sighed helplessly, nodded, and responded to Loman.
Lohman watched as Cecil changed his clothes before letting out a breath and standing up. He looked around warily, then squatted down, picked up a clod of mud from the ground, and was about to smear it on Cecil's face.
Sehir, not wanting things to go his way, quickly stepped back and asked, "What are you doing?"
Loman kept his head down, his voice still very low: "It's dangerous for my brother to be here looking like this."
Lohman's meaning was clear. Cecil looked at the mud in Lohman's hand, and after mentally preparing himself, he took it from Lohman's hand and gently smeared it on his face.
——
"What are you doing! Instead of working properly, you're slacking off here!"
Suddenly, a fat, greasy man burst into the tent, his stench instantly filling the room and causing Sesil to frown.
Lohman stepped forward, blocking Cecil's path, and said with a smile, "A new person has arrived, and I've been called over to take care of them."
Upon hearing the word "newcomer," the man's eyes lit up instantly. He stepped forward and shoved Loman aside, losing his footing and knocking Loman to the ground.
Sehir gripped the blanket tightly in his hands, staring wide-eyed at the person in front of him, the pungent smell emanating from him instantly assaulting his brain.
Clearly, when the man saw Cecil, his eyes immediately showed disappointment. He glanced at him and asked with a look of disdain.
"What's your name?"
Sehir deliberately lowered his voice, and with his high fever, it sounded like it had just melted on glass.
“My name is… Sehir.”
The man already looked at Cecil with disdain, and upon hearing the voice, his expression of disdain became even more pronounced.
"You're just sitting on the bed playing! Get back to work!"
“Okay,” Sehir replied.
The man seemed to have been hit where it hurt. He stepped forward and slammed his hand on the table beside the bed, glaring angrily at Loman, who had just gotten up from the floor. He roared, "Is this how you teach newbies?! No dinner tonight!"
Before Lohman could even open his mouth, the man turned and walked out. Only after the man left did Cecil feel much more at peace.
“Who is he?” Sehir got out of bed and rubbed his still throbbing temples.
Loman dusted himself off and sighed, “He’s the owner here, his name is Engel, he’s a pervert… a madman.”
Lohman lowered his head further and further as he spoke, until finally Sesil could no longer hear what Lohman was saying. Lohman took a step forward and stood in front of Sesil, speaking with a firm look in his eyes.
"Brother, I will definitely take you out of here!"
——
"Buzz...—"
The hum of the harbor echoed through the sky, and white smoke billowed straight into the clouds overhead. A person dressed in dark black stepped down from an inconspicuous spot on the side of the ship and disappeared into the crowd.
Isri pulled his hat down so low that people walking towards him could only see half of his face. He walked quickly, as if it wasn't his first time in this place. After turning a few corners, he unfortunately stopped right in front of the inn where Cecil had stayed before.
Islam frowned. The air here was so filthy it made him want to vomit. His belongings were now stuck in this place. Thinking about it, he tightened his grip on the suitcase he was carrying. After exhaling, he went inside the hotel.
“One room.” Isri placed the coins on the table and turned to observe the inn.
"Boss, bring us the best wine!" A group of people suddenly burst in from outside, three or four of them forming a circle around the person standing at the front.
The owner glanced at Islam, then at the person who had just entered, and then said to Islam with a forced smile, "I'm sorry, guest, this is your room. Please forgive me for not being able to help you with your luggage at the moment."
Isri was very polite, taking off his hat and smiling slightly: "It's alright, I can manage on my own."
The boss nodded and immediately smiled as he greeted the people who came in behind him. These people were obviously street thugs; if he wasn't careful, his shop might get smashed up.
"Hello, guest, what do you need?"
The leader, standing in front with a disdainful expression, spread out what he was holding and said in a flippant tone, "See what this is? Bring out the best stuff in the store!"
The boss stared at the item in his hand, then suddenly froze for a moment. Before he could react, the people behind him were getting impatient.
"What are you daydreaming about! Just do what the boss tells you to do! We can afford it!"
The shopkeeper blinked quickly, bowed, and flattered, "Okay, okay, I'll go get it right away."
Ishmael watched the whole farce from the side, but his captivating eyes were fixed on the hand of the person in front of him.
It was a deep red gemstone, crystal clear and pure; it was not something an ordinary person could produce.
Isri glanced at it and, finding it uninteresting, turned to go upstairs. But the next second, the man tossed the gem into the air as if showing off, giving Isri a full view of it.
Islam stood frozen on the stairs. He remembered the gem in the man's hand very clearly. It was a near-perfect gem, but several diamonds were set in the most inconspicuous place.
No one would have noticed it, but unfortunately, as it was tossed up, the overhead light reflected off it.
This gem is the one Cecil had!
Islam's breathing became slightly heavier as he slowly descended the stairs, found a corner to sit down, and his gaze fell unabashedly on the group of people who had already started drinking.
"Guest, what do you need?" A woman in a long dress walked up to Isri and asked somewhat shyly.
At this moment, Isri shifted his gaze, looked at the person standing in front of him, and gently curled the corners of his lips, looking incredibly charming.
"Thank you, but I don't need it for now."
The woman blushed slightly at the cold, icy voice. She lowered her head shyly, not daring to look at Isri, gave a soft "hmm," and turned to leave the table.
Islam leaned back in his chair, his narrow eyes like drawn bowstrings, ready to be released.
Closer, closer, what I want is right in front of me. That poor soul is trembling somewhere. Will he beg me to let him go because of my arrival?
Impossible, he won't let it go.
If you can't get God, then pull God down from the altar!
My dearest Cecil, I've come to take you back.
Chapter Seventy-Six
Isri let out a soft breath, closed his eyes, and his breathing gradually became heavier. All he could hear were the shouts of the group of people, each with a lewd smile on their face.
"Brother! You have some amazing skills! I must learn from you from now on!"
"Hey! How can you talk like that! If you follow the eldest brother, wouldn't you be living a life of luxury every day?"
The man seemed to realize he had said something inappropriate, so he quickly stood up, took a few big gulps of wine, and said with a forced smile, "It's my fault. I've never been to school and I don't know how to speak properly!"
The group was in high spirits, and no one cared what anyone was saying; they were all just drinking in silence.
It wasn't until one or two in the morning, when almost all the hotel guests were asleep, that the group downstairs, having drunk their fill, collapsed onto the floor and lay motionless.
The boss could only sigh helplessly as he looked at the group of people. Just as he was about to clean up their mess, the man who was recognized as the leader staggered up to him, emitting a nauseating smell of alcohol.
"Give me the most expensive room!"
As he spoke, the man leaned over the counter in front of him and pretended to vomit. The owner couldn't bear to watch any longer, so he quickly pulled a key from behind him and threw it in front of the man.
Thank you!
The boss was also quite surprised; it seemed the man had really drunk himself silly, as he was actually thanking him.
Isri tilted his head, slowly lowered his leg, and followed the man upstairs.
Unfortunately, that person's room was right next to Isri's. Isri smiled slightly and took out his key to open his own room.
The strong scent of soap still lingered inside. Isri unconsciously frowned slightly and raised his hand to touch the tip of his nose with his fingertips.
The room wasn't very soundproof. Even though Isri was unpacking the things from the box, he could still hear the sounds of people rummaging through drawers next door, even through one wall.
Isri hung his coat on the hanger, his pure white shirt neatly tucked into his trousers, the straight-leg suit trousers making his legs appear even longer.
Isri stood beside the box, reached into a hidden compartment, and emerged with a gleaming silver dagger in his hand.
Thorn patterns entwine the hilt of the knife, perfectly complementing the person holding the dagger, as if they were made in heaven.
Isri sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the sounds from next door, constantly fiddling with the small and exquisite dagger in his hand.
A few minutes later, the activity next door finally stopped, and the snoring relentlessly came through the wall.
The room was dark. Isri kept his head down, his gaze fixed on the tip of the dagger. The bright silver light reflected off his amber eyes, making him look like a grim reaper from hell.
Islam got up, pushed open the window in front of him, and a cool breeze blew in with a whoosh. The hair on his forehead was blown behind his ears by the wind. Islam got up, held onto the windowsill, and flipped himself over.
The wind blew in through the collar, making the shirt billow. Isri slightly parted his lips and put the knife hilt in his mouth, biting it.
Islam moved quickly, and in a few swift movements, he climbed onto the windowsill next door. The window was frosted, and he could only see a blurry view inside.
The man lay on the bed like a lump of mud, motionless, snoring continuously.
Islam turned sideways, took the knife out of his mouth, and bent down to insert the tip of the knife into the crack in the window.
With no clouds or fog obscuring the sky, the moonlight shone as brightly as day, making the extra dark shadow on the window quite obvious.
The person lying in bed was half-asleep and about to turn over when they were suddenly startled by a dark shadow on the window. They shuddered on the bed and instantly sobered up.
Before the person inside could even utter a sound, Isri had already unlocked the window with the tip of his knife. The person on the bed tried to sit up, but the next second, Isri pressed the tip of his knife against their neck and forced them back onto the bed.
The man swallowed hard, looking at Isri with panicked eyes, and stammered, "Let's talk this out. You don't look like a poor person. What do you want?"
The man was shivering with cold, and his clothes were terribly thin. With the cold wind blowing in from outside, he felt like he was about to ascend to heaven.
Isri raised his chin slightly, the blade still pointed, and asked in a chilling tone, "Where did you get that gem?"
Hearing Isri's words, the man's eyes unconsciously glanced at the drawer next to him. Isri followed his gaze, switched the knife to his other hand, and opened the drawer with the other hand to take out the gem.
Seeing Isri's sudden relaxation, the man seemed somewhat lucky and was about to get up to fight back when Isri suddenly turned around, raised the dagger in his hand, and plunged it directly into the bed board next to the man's ear.
The man froze on the spot, his smug smile instantly turning into terror, followed by a plea for mercy.
"I...I...just wanted to get up and take a look. I didn't mean anything else."
“Answer my question.” Isri pulled the dagger from the bed frame, his tone growing even colder.
The man looked at the still-glowing red gemstone, paused, and finally, thinking of his own life, opened his mouth and said, "Someone gave it to me."
Islam frowned slightly and pressed the dagger down a little further, and a bloody line quickly appeared on the delicate skin of his neck.
Seeing Isri's expression, the person on the bed was so anxious that tears were about to flow. He stood there, speechless, unable to utter a single sentence for a long time.
"I...I said...it's true...someone gave it to me." The man tried to reach out and grab Isri's wrist, but was intimidated by the look in his eyes and stopped himself.