The Gentleman at the End
Chapter 739 - 737: The Truth

Chapter 739: Chapter 737: The Truth

Grep picked up the metal spoon from the ground and unexpectedly discovered that the end of the spoon appeared to have been sharpened, exceptionally pointed, it could completely be used as a cutting tool.

At the same time, a prompt sound arose by his ear.

"Congratulations, you have obtained a hidden reward, ’Peeping Tom’s Spoon’. This spoon, formed from evil thoughts, is capable of transforming between consciousness and physical form."

"Evil thoughts... Are they another concept fabricated by William in the performance scene?"

Grep looked at the spoon in his hand, fiddling with it for half a moment, but he failed to achieve the so-called transformation.

When he tried to understand ’evil thoughts’, recalling some terrible past events and wanting to kill someone, the spoon in his hand immediately disassembled into dim particles and was absorbed into his wrist.

He could even feel a spoon that was both illusory and real embedded in his arm.

"Hmm? Isn’t this real illusion a bit too realistic? I must ask William for clarification after the performance ends."

After Grep more or less figured out how to control the spoon, he immediately laid down at the only entrance of the attic and shouted for a while, but there was no response.

He decisively took out his revolver and aimed it at the position of the hidden compartment’s lock.

Bang!

The bullet shot out, destroying the external locking mechanism.

Just as Grep was ready to leave the attic, a buzzing noise came, accompanied by a strong sensation of dizziness.

With a sudden widening of the "Third Eye", he discovered that the dark attic’s floorboards had begun to omit an odorless, colorless gas at some point.

"While I still have consciousness, I must escape this villa quickly... If I can jump out from the master bedroom’s window, land on the main street, I can call a taxi driver to pick me up and leave, this is the only escape route."

The taxi driver’s phone number was already dialed.

Grep rolled out from the attic’s secret passage, crashing heavily onto the master bedroom floor, trying to support his weakened body and move towards the window.

This ordinary human body was truly unable to withstand such a sleep-inducing gas, and when he staggered to the window, he found it was already locked. To escape, he could only forcibly break through.

However, seeing the taxi clearly waiting on the street below through the window, Grep’s confidence was immediately reignited.

First, he took out his pistol to shoot a small hole through the window glass, clenched his teeth, and summoned the last bit of strength.

As he was about to leap, the system prompt sounded once again.

"Power check in progress..."

Grep had already jumped but the effects of the drug were acting throughout his body, he lacked the follow-through! His body only tilted slightly forward; he didn’t manage to jump at all.

After breaking the glass, he hadn’t flown out as anticipated but instead toppled half out the window.

Falling almost vertically down the side of the wall, he landed in the villa’s courtyard.

Crack!

"Check failed, although you had resolute willpower and used all of your strength, the drug molecules in your blood inhibited the muscles’ movements. You fell straight out, crashing into the courtyard.

Your face was full of glass shards, and your right leg broken, your head like a mushy mess, foul and odorous!"

The severe pain from his face and leg allowed Grep to remain conscious, crawling towards the mansion’s gate relying on his last instincts.

The taxi driver had the passenger door wide open, brain matter oozing from his face, waving frantically at Grep, looking extremely anxious.

Just as he was about to crawl to the gate,

Grep suddenly realized that a figure was casting a shadow over his body, someone standing behind him, holding a baseball bat in hand.

"No..."

"Agility check in progress... Critical failure! Your current state has reduced your agility value to zero, the failure rate is 100%, you only feel a strong vibration on the back of your head, your brain shutting down."

Grep tried desperately to reach for the taxi, clang! A clear sound came from the back of his head, his pupils dilating instantly.

...

As a white light infused the eyelids, allowing the pupils underneath to slowly focus, Grep gradually woke up.

He was already lying on the surgery table, his hands and feet securely fastened, the effects of the anesthetic had not fully worn off, his vision still somewhat unstable.

However, with the Third Eye open, Grep quickly took in the situation before him.

The master of the house and his lady were also in this room,

William, playing the role of the master, was in a white lab coat and wearing rubber gloves, holding a sharp surgical knife in his hand.

The lady wearing a face mask was sitting beside a small table next to the surgery table, an empty plate and silverware placed on top.

"Impressive, Detective," William said condescendingly as he watched me stir. "You came around so quickly! You really are unfortunate, though... if you’d awoken just a little later, you might have been spared some suffering."

"I truly regret that I can’t continue to administer the anesthesia, but that would affect the quality of your organs and blood."

"Here, my wife and I must apologize to you. We deceived you! However, it was your own choice to come here, so you could say it’s your destiny."

"My Lady was diagnosed with a terminal illness and should have died six months ago."

But I refused to accept it. I began reading a vast number of biological and medical books, trying to find a way... and I did find one that was truly effective but slightly cruel."

"That method is ’cannibalism’."

"We humans have always been a selfish species, constantly consuming various foods to slow down the rate of entropy in our bodies."

"Illness can increase the rate of entropy, bringing us closer to death. To reverse this, one must consume higher quality, purer food."

"Therefore, we will be performing an ’energy transfer’ on you while you’re still conscious,

"It might be very painful, and you might pass out several times during the process, but I urge you to endure."

"We plan to complete this process over the course of four days, during which you’ll be locked in the attic. I have faith in your resilience. Hang in there, Detective."

"After you die, try not to harbor any evil thoughts or become a ’Peeping Tom,’ watching over us from the shadows. That would make us feel terribly guilty," William said with an utterly deranged expression, fingers calculatingly tightened around the surgical knife, preparing to begin slicing flesh from my thigh.

"Mr. Ferenc Eaton."

"Oh? Do you have something else to say, Detective?"

"You look just like a friend of mine," I said as the bandage on Grep’s wrist was suddenly cut by some sharp instrument. With a swift movement, he swung his right arm, thrusting a spoon with lightning speed.

The edge of the spoon plunged precisely into William’s eye socket, and with a twist of Grep’s wrist,

Pop! The eye was gouged out, nerves and all.

By a twist of fate, the eyeball landed perfectly in the Lady’s dinner plate,

"Ah!"

William, clutching his bleeding eye, let out a scream and immediately grabbed the skull saw from the surgical tray, swinging it towards me.

Third Eye, open!

"Agility check... success! Your Third Eye has disoriented your opponent’s vision."

The trajectory of the skull saw shifted, striking the metal operating table and sending sparks flying.

Grep seized the opportunity to sever the bandage on his other wrist, using the core strength from his torso to sit up swiftly and stabbing the spoon forcefully into William’s windpipe.

With a ferocious yank of his right arm,

Whoosh!

Organs, the carotid artery, and the vocal cords were all severed,

along with a mass of fragments that were wrenched out, splashing onto the floor.

William clutched at his slashed throat, falling heavily to the ground. He harbored no hatred towards Grep. Instead, in his final moments, he crawled toward his wife.

In the end, he lay beside the chair where his wife sat, his pupils dilating in the throes of death.

Grep gasped for air, with adrenaline clearing his mind completely.

Sitting on the operating table, he kept a vigilant eye on the Lady;

but she posed no threat. After consuming the grapes on the dinner plate, she slowly laid down, removed her mask to reveal a stitched-up wide mouth, and began to gnaw directly on the warm corpse.

Watching this scene, Grep felt his stomach churn, another thread of fear extracted from his body.

He cut away the bindings on his ankles, and dragging his severed foot, he slowly crawled out of the basement,

The chauffeur still waiting outside. He climbed into the car, taking deep gulps of whiskey... and as the engine roared to life, he finally left the patron’s estate behind.

Perhaps due to the residual anesthesia or the excessive drinking, Grep eventually fell asleep in the back seat.

When he next awoke, he found himself in a room decorated in a medieval style,

and there was William, sitting smilingly by the bed,

"You’re up!"

Grep sat up like he was having a reflex reaction, grabbing the lamp from the bedside and smashing it right towards him.