Detective Agency of the Bizarre
Chapter 565 - 565 Eighty-Four

565: Eighty-Four.

Richard’s Relic 565: Eighty-Four.

Richard’s Relic The figures represented by white chalk had many forms, some holding hands with children, others encircled by the colorful blotches of food-related graffiti.

Such childlike graffiti covered the walls everywhere, except for the spots too high for the children to reach.

It was less a marking of territory by the species known as human younglings, and more a display of their innate optimism.

Walking into the sewer for several meters, a second figure emerged.

It was a little boy in loose, dirty clothes and a newsboy cap, resembling a young scout.

He was Little Jimmy, the same boy from Richard’s letter who licked rocks by the seaside.

“He’s a friend of Brother Richard; he’s come to bring us food,” the little girl went forward to inform him.

Little Jimmy was delighted, yet regretful that he had to stay guard and couldn’t accompany the gentleman to their “camp.”

The camp, previously a rest area in the sewer dominated by the children, was usually used to store tools and for maintenance workers to take breaks.

This area also happened to have the densest graffiti, with lots of miscellaneous wood stacked around.

Clearly, the children who settled here knew how to survive.

Light and voices seeped through the cracks of the iron door on the wall.

Lu Li didn’t feel good; he remembered the last time he encountered the same door, which had brought upon him a horrible curse, and the current scene was similar—both times Richard had sent him, both times below Elm Street in the sewers.

The difference was, this time it was no trap.

The little girl struggled to push open the heavy iron door, revealing the inside.

Five children were seated on dirty, damp bedding sprawled on the ground, their clothes so soiled their original colors were indiscernible and obviously too large and ill-fitting, except for their five pairs of big eyes as bright and clear as flames.

In the center of the cramped rest area, a small fire was burning, a pot of water bubbling over it, driving away the chill from the seaside.

The place might have been only 10 square meters, but it was enough to give seven children a sense of safety without feeling cramped.

“Brother Richard’s friend is here to bring us food!” the little girl cheerily shouted to her companions.

The children cheered, climbing to their feet and crowding around Lu Li, giving thanks and…

currying favor in their own way.

It’s cruel to say, but that is indeed why these homeless children are still alive today.

“Don’t crowd, don’t dirty the gentleman’s clothes,” the little girl helplessly spread her arms to stop her companions, lest the reckless siblings make Lu Li angry.

After finally calming her siblings to return to their places, a girl who seemed to be the “leader” of the camp stepped forward.

She wore a pair of glasses much too large for her face, so that they hung from her nose when she didn’t hold them up.

Appearing to be about eight or nine years old and the eldest of the bunch, she mimicked an adult tone, saying, “Sir, we are very grateful for your help.”

Lu Li didn’t speak, contemplating how much food the seven children could eat.

The appetite of small children is limited, but 40 cans of food, even just enough to keep them fed, would last no more than two weeks.

More threatening to this group of children hiding in the abandoned sewer was the strange phenomenon attacking Belfast.

“This place isn’t very safe,” Lu Li spoke up.

A little boy about five or six years old, picking at his toes with a whistle through his missing front teeth, said, “We don’t have anywhere to go.”

Lu Li remained silent, while the little girl “leader” returned to the camp, pulling out a wide-brimmed hat from beneath her blankets and handing it to Lu Li: “This is what Brother Richard left behind last time.

I’ve mended it; please hand it over to him for me.”

The top of the hat had an evident lighter-colored patch.

Recalling a bold idea he’d had before, Lu Li took the relic from Richard, and after a moment’s thought, said, “I have an unoccupied house on Elm Street; you can live there.”

Lu Li couldn’t ignore these homeless children.

If the forest consciousness above Elm Forest wasn’t too much for the children to handle, placing them close to a shelter might have been safer.

“I don’t want to leave home.”

Then, the youngest boy, still picking at his toes, mumbled again.

Unlike him, the older “leader” and the little girl who had led Lu Li inside brightened their eyes a bit.

More than the vague concept of “home,” they craved a safe and warm dwelling, and an adult to care for them.

“It’s getting dark,” the leader hesitated, “and we need to discuss something…”

She didn’t want to venture out in the dark, nor did she want to entrust her and her siblings’ safety to this man who had come here for the first time.

For some reason, however, his presence comforted and reassured her.

…

The wealthy district.

From the windows, warm hearths and oil lamps cast a soft glow.

The streets, barely visible to pedestrians, swirled with fog.

A family of three gathered at the dinner table, where tonight’s meal was chicken soup with mashed potatoes and chicken meat—the crisis had only posed a slight inconvenience to this affluent household.

The mother lovingly hoisted her nearly eight-year-old son onto his chair, tucked in his napkin, and placed a spoon before him.

“I want a vegetable salad,” the little boy pouted upon seeing that today’s main dish was still mashed potatoes.

“Vegetables are too expensive…” the mother said helplessly.

“I’ll buy some tomorrow; we haven’t had any in almost a week,” the father said.

The mother was about to respond when he shook his head gently, silencing her, and she could only smile wistfully.

Thud—Thud Thud—

Just then, a slow knocking came from the living room.

The couple exchanged glances, instinctively stopping what they were doing and turning toward the door, while the little boy scooped up a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

A few seconds later, the second round of knocking sounded.

Thud—Thud Thud—

“I’ll go see who it is,” the husband said in a hushed voice, and his uneasy wife grabbed his arm, “I’ll come with you.”

Arm in arm with her husband, she walked to the living room; the cold, dreary mist revealed behind the curtains made them feel uneasy.

Without making a sound, the man approached the door and peered through the peephole.

A tall, dark silhouette stood at the door, wearing a top hat, with its face obscured in shadows.

Thud—Thud Thud—

At that moment, the third knock sounded.

“Who is it?” the wife’s trembling voice asked.

“I don’t recognize him,” the husband muttered.

“Could it be… let’s call the police… go and get the Exorcist over here.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the husband nodded, picked up the umbrella behind the door, and said, “You call the police; I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“Ok, be careful,” his wife whispered, heading upstairs.

She had just stepped on the stair when suddenly the sound of an umbrella hitting the floor came from behind.

The wife glanced back reflexively, only to see her terrified husband collapsed on the floor, while on the door itself, a man’s silhouette with a top hat was slowly protruding.

A scream tore through the night sky and then stopped abruptly.