Eldritch Horror Theatre

No wonder they said that heavenly secrets must not be revealed. The strategy of His Excellency the Harbinger—to observe the form without seeking a deeper understanding—possessed great wisdom.

At that moment, Fu Qian instinctively traced the logic behind a certain phrase, and in doing so, he seemed to marvel once again at the sheer diversity of humanity.

He was naturally aware of Madam Tracy’s chronic illness; theoretically, he understood it even better than she did.

As for her lover, it went without saying—he was almost certain it was the man whose clothes he had stolen.

After all, Mrs. Tracy might be quite charming, but right now in the Sanitarium, there couldn’t be many residents with an unconscious woman in their room.

It sounded as though after chatting with him, Mrs. Tracy ultimately couldn’t bear to be alone and had gone over to visit her lover.

However, the scene waiting for her was rather peculiar. Her lover wasn’t there; instead, another woman lay there, fast asleep.

Faced with such a sight, she neither screamed for help nor even tried to wake Madam Dark Room.

Instead, she simply lay down on the adjacent bed and quietly observed this woman who had appeared out of nowhere.

Perhaps she was even imagining the relationship between this woman and her lover?And letting her thoughts run wild, Mrs. Tracy had felt a primal impulse, confirming that her desires hadn’t entirely dried up.

In short, it carried a robust sense of perversion, as if he were witnessing the surging currents of human nature.

But that wasn’t the main point. The crux was that this sentence written by the Harbinger had once again been preserved, proving it had gained the approval of the True Word Notebook.

Combined with the previous entries, it felt as though this originally mysterious and solemn Transcendent Tier artifact was being turned into a Rhapsody on the Magic Mountain, vividly chronicling local customs.

Most importantly, these local customs all involved figures he had personally encountered.

Yes, the Harbinger’s work read like prose, but from what he had seen so far, it followed a remarkably strict principle: it only recorded people Fu Qian had met.

The man hadn’t simply charged in blindly, nor was he acting on impulse. He was strictly following his own methodology.

For instance, while proving his prophetic abilities, he was simultaneously using this medium to attempt an alternative dialogue with the intruder.

”Tracy’s problem is far more serious than it appears. The troubles she suffered previously were, in a sense, actually helping her.”

Unfortunately, it seemed someone was unwilling to let the Harbinger steal the show.

Before Fu Qian could evaluate the thought, Servis—who had been sitting back watching the events unfold—stepped in and commented on what the Harbinger had written.

...

So he really was well aware of the Recorder Old Man?

Fu Qian had never ignored the Attending Physician’s presence. After all, it had always been a trio act.

And the point Servis just made undoubtedly carried a wealth of information.

Mrs. Tracy was a case he took considerable interest in; that much was already known.

As for the Recorder Old Man, Servis knew exactly what was going on, just as expected.

For many years, he had tolerated his former landlord’s refusal to leave; the stolen food alone likely amounted to quite a lot.

Beyond that, he was fully aware of the shadow the old man had cast over Mrs. Tracy.

In his view, living in fear of the things she perceived wasn’t actually a bad thing for Mrs. Tracy; otherwise, her condition would have deteriorated even further.

Given his consistent respect for professionals, Fu Qian didn’t question this claim too much.

He could only conclude that beneath the calm facade of the Sanitarium, a dance of demons was indeed secretly at play.

As for Servis’s sudden interjection, Fu Qian didn’t interpret it as him worrying about the intruder being won over by the Harbinger and thus offering information as a gesture of goodwill.

It was a nakedly transactional relationship to begin with. Now that their earlier conspiracy had been directly overheard by the Harbinger, there was no longer any need to maintain even a veneer of politeness.

His interjection was less about worry and more a display of power.

He was directly demonstrating his control as the person in charge of the Sanitarium, leaving it up to the intruder to judge for himself.

Under such treacherous circumstances, it was indeed a solid response.

No matter how many cunning tricks you play or how perfectly you micromanage, I remain as steady as a Sea-Calming Divine Needle, speaking only with absolute weight.

”Having some kind of anchor is indeed better, regardless of what type it is.”

Expressing both appreciation and agreement, Fu Qian acknowledged that the Attending Physician made a fair point.

But that was all. He hadn’t forgotten that this was His Excellency the Harbinger’s performance. He quickly quieted down and watched closely, looking forward to the next strokes of the pen.

Servis did the same, giving a slight nod and mirroring the gesture.

In short, the atmosphere was incredibly bizarre. Without knowing the true relationship among the three of them, a passing glance might suggest an academic seminar was taking place.

As the center of attention, the Harbinger was undoubtedly under the greatest pressure.

[Three days into his deep slumber, Mosson finally awoke from his dream.]

Fortunately, he displayed a decent ability to handle stress; his pen tip didn’t tremble in the slightest as he wrote the fifth sentence.

...

Interesting. The Attending Physician hadn’t mentioned the Old Man’s name.

The room was quiet, yet Fu Qian seemed to catch the scent of burning tension in the air.

Mosson was the Recorder Old Man’s true name, which the man had specifically told him upon their parting.

Considering everything the Harbinger had written so far primarily featured people Fu Qian had encountered, referring to that exact person here shouldn’t be a mistake.

But there was a small problem here. As a theoretically highly secretive character, how did the Harbinger learn his name?

Had he also watched the entire exchange between Fu Qian and Mrs. Tracy?

According to Servis’s description, that shouldn’t have been the case.

But if he hadn’t been watching, knowing this name seemed difficult to explain—had he seen it in a prophecy?

A certain answer naturally surfaced, making it hard to ignore.

This was indeed premeditated. After a string of minor skirmishes, the Harbinger had used the devil in the details to viciously deliver a checkmate.

He had even put two people in check simultaneously.

Perhaps Fu Qian didn’t face the impact as directly as Servis did, but for him, there was one more devil in the details—why three days?

Since he left Mrs. Tracy’s side, the only time the Well of Time had theoretically acted up was previously with Buyiren, which had skipped time forward by roughly two days.

Even if Old Man Mosson had gone straight to sleep after greeting him, what was the deal with this extra day?

Simple—they had fallen into the Well again.

The True Word Notebook was indeed not a Sea-Calming Divine Needle either. Amidst their casual talk and laughter, Judgment Day had unexpectedly drawn at least one day closer.

”Please.”

However, it was still best to look on the bright side; the impact of this crisis wasn’t widespread.

At the very least, the other two in the office didn’t seem anxious about it.

So much so that after writing with such a flourish, the Harbinger flipped the pen and offered it up, signaling for Fu Qian to write a couple of lines as well.