Chapter Thirty-Four: Extraordinary Creatures

After calming herself, Lily folded the second letter neatly together with the first and slipped them both back into the envelope. She began to consider what to do next. She had already dismissed the idea of sharing the contents of the letter with the others, for as soon as that thought arose, a strong intuition warned her once more that it would bring unwelcome consequences to everyone—signaling that what was written likely touched upon that other world.

But how was she supposed to explain Miss Shiqin’s sudden departure?

The neatly stacked bedding in her room, arranged as precisely as blocks of tofu, all but announced to everyone that Liu Shiqin had left the orphanage of her own accord.

“…Let’s just take things one step at a time,” Lily muttered unconsciously in the language of Xiaguo.

She let out a helpless sigh; she really had to watch herself, or she’d slip into speaking Xiaguoese again. As a bona fide citizen of the British Empire, it was rather difficult to explain.

After a moment’s thought, she tucked Liu Shiqin’s letter into her favorite novel, “Oliver Twist,” and then slid the book beneath her pillow. That should suffice to keep the letter from prying eyes—unless she herself chose to retrieve it.

Gurgle…

Her stomach suddenly growled.

Looking down, Lily realized she hadn’t eaten yet today. She’d gone to bring Liu Shiqin some hardtack and water, but hadn’t had a chance to eat herself. Then on her way to find Aiden, she’d run into the Natasha twins and received the letter—and had been preoccupied with it ever since.

“There’s probably nothing left in the dining hall… I’ll just have some hardtack too.”

“Hm… I’ll have the beef-flavored one, then.” Decision made, Lily left her room and headed down to the kitchen on the second floor to look for the hardtack.

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Atop Big Ben, Liu Shiqin stood in utter confusion. The strange cloak draped over her shoulders still glimmered faintly—a sign she had just used her guest’s ability and sensed the inexplicable will of the place she wished to visit, and had gained its approval. Yet… why had she ended up inside the most famous landmark in Dunlun City?

The British government’s peculiar attitude toward the Sisyphus Orphanage in Dunlun, the altered “Treatise on the Two-Point-Four Mists,” the mysterious power that could interfere with a guest’s ability to visit…

Combining this with the scant information she had gathered at St. Lance Orphanage, Liu Shiqin strongly suspected the root of the problem truly lay within Dunlun’s Sisyphus.

But what set this place apart from the other Sisyphus facilities?

By the dim moonlight, Liu Shiqin surveyed her surroundings. She could see for about a hundred meters—not because vision faded beyond that, but because the thick fog rendered all shapes and buildings hazy and indistinct. This was markedly different from the twenty-four-meter visual limit imposed on the orphans at the home, though Liu Shiqin was unaware of this.

Suddenly, something caught her eye. Instinctively, she didn’t turn her head to look, but instead arched backward, letting herself drop into the stairwell she had just climbed. With a flex of her waist, she flipped in midair and landed lightly on her feet.

She hadn’t yet looked up when the light around her dimmed abruptly. Liu Shiqin froze, holding her breath.

“Why are there supernatural creatures inside Dunlun’s Sisyphus?!” she thought, fear nearly overwhelming her.

“How on earth has Miss Lily’s orphanage managed to survive until now? They’ve never even hosted a single guest, and have almost no knowledge of the ‘Path’…”

She simply couldn’t make sense of it.

A harsh, piercing call sounded above her, the kind only a bird might make—but this was much louder, far more unbearable. Liu Shiqin nearly lost her balance. Her head rang, and her temples throbbed with pain.

When the cry finally ceased, and her headache eased a little, Liu Shiqin gingerly looked up—only to lock eyes with a terrifying, monocular gaze: no whites, the pupil nearly filling the entire socket.

Suddenly, that eye vanished from the narrow stairwell of Big Ben. In its wake came a violent gale that swept through the passage.

Fortunately, she had immediately grabbed the handrail. Though her body was nearly swept away, she managed to hold on and prevent herself from being tossed down the stairs or injured.

As the wind howled, Liu Shiqin realized the subspecies of the nightjar had finally left. She breathed a sigh of relief.

This wasn’t her first encounter with such a creature, but typically, these supernatural beings only appeared in the “Fallen Mist Ravine.” She had never heard of one appearing in a Sisyphus facility.

“What on earth is going on here?” Liu Shiqin was beginning to regret leaving St. Lance Orphanage so abruptly. It was strange enough to suddenly find herself in Dunlun, but she hadn’t been alert to the dangers of this place at first. Now she was not only in peril but had lost access to food and water…

Pressing her lips together, Liu Shiqin turned and hurried down the stairs, deciding to search for supplies first. As for her guest’s ability, she resolved not to use it for now—she couldn’t control where she would end up, and dreaded the thought of materializing right into the jaws of some supernatural beast.

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The next morning, the residents of the orphanage naturally discovered Liu Shiqin’s unexplained departure. A sense of loss echoed in their hearts, as if some precious prize had slipped through their fingers. Miss Liu Shiqin had clearly known much, and yet they had learned so little from her. How could they not feel a pang of regret?

Lily stood in the room where Liu Shiqin had stayed, but did not offer any explanation. She wasn’t sure what parts of the letter’s contents could safely be shared and what could not. She feared that if she said too much, the consequences would be beyond what she could bear.

Dunn stood a short distance away, observing Lily’s pensiveness. Instinct told him she knew more than she let on, but since Lily chose not to speak now, he assumed she had her reasons. For the moment, he suppressed his urge to question her.

Not until everyone had dispersed, leaving only Lily, Dunn, and Aiden in the room, did Dunn glance at the doorway, confirm they were alone, and then quietly ask:

“Lily, you do know something, don’t you?”

“Ah… er…” Lily, who had been about to leave, froze at his question.

Why was he so perceptive?

Lily felt a headache brewing. If only Dunn could direct his sharp insight elsewhere and chat idly instead, she could tolerate that.

Aiden was surprised by Dunn’s question, but when he saw Lily’s reaction, he realized Dunn had guessed correctly.

“Sigh…” Lily exhaled, then spoke.

“Because of that intuition I described to you before—the one that warns me telling you certain things could have serious consequences—I chose not to reveal the truth. It’s true, I did know about Miss Liu Shiqin’s departure…”

“Hmm… Maybe you could give us an example, or, well, try describing it in the abstract—without touching on anything you’re not allowed to say,” Dunn suggested, keen to get to the bottom of things and now offering Lily ways to share what she could.