Detective Agency of the Bizarre
Chapter 664 - 664 183

664: 183.

End 664: 183.

End The waves lapped against the dark rocks as the tide slowly receded on the beach.

A pale light rose from the boundary between the land and the deep sea, dispersing the gloom and fog that had enveloped the earth all night.

As time passed, the mist withdrew like a living thing, slowly retracting the tendrils it had sent into the land back into the deep sea.

An ancient ruin on the cliff became visible, and although the years had eroded it, only marble pillars stood intact.

Nonetheless, the site maintained a remarkable completeness—the massive statues within the great hall were still unscathed, seemingly guarding the ruins always.

Knock, knock, knock—

A slow, suppressed knock sounded.

Michael Tesla awoke from a light sleep.

The dead silence of the underground was unsettling, such that a slight noise could awaken Tesla.

He slowly climbed out of his single bed, donned a coat to fend off the cold of the underground, and walked to the door to remove the bolt.

“What is it?” he asked the two figures holding oil lamps outside the door, they were shelter personnel.

It was now 6:10 AM, just the time when it was getting light on the surface.

“Mr.

Michael Tesla.” The man at the front spoke politely, “Your application to observe the outside world, submitted three days ago, has been fortuitously selected, and we are here to escort you to the observatory.”

“Is that so…” Tesla nodded, feeling less excited than he had imagined.

In fact, the unease of being away from the surface and the concern for his wife had indeed made Tesla anxious when he first entered the shelter.

This obsession continued until he sent a letter to Lu Li, and his heart gradually calmed, or rather, he became accustomed to life in the shelter.

“Wait while I get dressed.”

Tesla covered the wooden door, and after a rustling sound of dressing, he appeared at the door dressed in the shelter workers’ attire.

Although the main structure of the shelter had been completed, some unplanned construction was still needed.

Like the ever-useful storage spaces and more aesthetically pleasing buildings—they would be living here for a long time, perhaps never truly stepping out of the shelter even in old age, so the initial simple wooden cottages would not satisfy their psychological needs.

The shelter’s committee allowed this action, even considering the mental health of the shelter’s residents as equally important as their physical health.

Tesla stepped out from his own personal wooden hut and followed the shelter personnel, leaving the silent, dark cluster of wooden huts underground.

They passed through several doors that blended into the rock, through a narrow, long tunnel, and then walked up a winding staircase for a few minutes, finally reaching a shallow stone cave just a dozen meters below the surface.

Perhaps it was psychological, but Tesla’s oppressive emotions had certainly improved, and even the air didn’t feel as heavy as in the shelter underground.

A brand-new metal pipe hung from the ceiling of the cave; one of the shelter personnel walked to the edge, turned the gear, and then motioned for Tesla to use the periscope.

Tesla approached the periscope and saw through the blurry lens a narrow, dim view: a corner of a massive statue, the imposing columns of the ruins, and a faintly bright swath of clouds.

A scene once too familiar and overlooked, now a privilege only enjoyed by the lucky and the obsessed.

After a few seconds, Tesla stepped away from the periscope and told the nearby shelter personnel, “It’s dawn.”

They lowered the periscope again, sealed the entrance with Deep Sea Stone, and returned with Tesla to the shelter.

They split up in the village of wooden huts.

The shelter personnel went to the underground mound to ring the morning bell and then lit several faint but wide-reaching glowing orbs that illuminated every corner of the shelter.

Soon, the once silent cluster of wooden huts became lively.

Hundreds of shelter residents emerged from their huts, some dressed as if attending a gala in tailcoats and evening gowns, others in plain work attire.

At breakfast time, they gathered at the “open-air” eatery to the left front of the hut cluster for breakfast—a few long tables assembled on an empty plot of land.

It was just simple oatmeal and black bread, and residents headed to work were also given two eggs.

Tesla nodded to a few familiar residents, grabbed a wooden bowl and bread, and sat down at the edge.

Among the sounds of chewing and eating porridge, besides conversation, there were also some daily complaints mixed in.

“Why must I suffer like this?

I miss waking up to the service of servants and the red wine from Wildu—”

Some nobles in misfitting formal attire loudly complained.

The other residents ate silently, as they were accustomed to hearing it every day and paid no mind.

However, this time, finally, a mocking retort sounded.

“Shut your mouth,” said a young girl in a wheelchair who had just arrived in the dining room, mocking the complaining young noble, “Complaining won’t make it taste any better, nor will it bring foie gras and caviar.”

The young noble, seeing the girl who spoke, muttered something under his breath and finally quieted down.

“Lulu, push me to Mr.

Tesla,” the girl said to another young girl behind her, who wore thick round glasses and a butler’s outfit.

“Good morning, Baron Joseph, Miss Lulu,” Tesla greeted them.

“Good morning, Mr.

Tesla,” Allen replied, asking about something that concerned her, “Has Lu Li written back to you?”

“The letter couldn’t reach here,” Tesla replied as he stirred his oatmeal porridge.

“I forgot.”

After a few more words of conversation, a shelter staff member came over with a stack of newspapers and distributed them to the residents.

The papers crudely detailed the events of the past day.

There were no secrets for the residents of the refuge, as everything happening outside made its way to their ears—albeit sanitized.

The residents receiving the newspapers cried out in shock, and the previously harmonious dining hall was suddenly enveloped in gloom.

“What does it say?” Allen asked Lulu, who had just received a newspaper.

“Arlen Kingdom suffered a bizarre invasion, the Ancient Gods trapped between eternal slumber and death awoke, dragging them into death, but the Ancient Gods were also annihilated by beings from beyond the deep space,” Tesla answered gravely for her.

Lulu had already unfolded the newspaper in front of Allen, and in addition to what Tesla mentioned, there were also praises for the sacrifices made and the Ancient Gods.

[We must remember that name.]

[And theirs.]

…

The ashes quietly dispersed, revealing the ruins of Royal City.

Also revealed were a line of survivors and a centipede-like creature on the main street in front of the city gate.

Whoosh—

The ethereal Anna looked up and saw a torn piece of paper fluttering in the wind, falling into the outstretched palm of Lu Li.

[It’s called Prada; it exists between the cracks of reality and illusion.

It only appears in your imagination when you are reading this passage.]

[Are you already starting to imagine its docile and friendly appearance?

But if you stop imagining, Prada disappears.]

[Your attention is like a thread, connecting Prada with this real world.]

[“Please don’t forget me…,” Prada said helplessly.]