Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 849: Chapter 93: Bestower of Dreams and Futures (8)

Although the video camera shook quite violently, the high resolution made it possible to discern what was happening in the video once you got used to the shaky footage.

“He’s standing up! This man is actually standing up! Oh my god, was he really shot? What did I just see? He’s flying! He’s flying!! Oh, god!!”

Of course, there was also the voice of the person filming the video.

Mr. Ofi frowned throughout, his decades-long worldview telling him that the video’s content was fake, and he was searching for flaws in it—until the end, when the masked Messenger of God suddenly soared into the sky and disappeared.

Mr. Ofi then pressed the stop button—if he was initially still pondering the flaws in the film, then upon seeing the Messenger of God launch into the sky, Mr. Ofi concluded that it was a hoax video.

It’s very likely that special effects and special editing were used. With such advanced film technology today, creating this level of video wouldn’t be too difficult.

Seeing that his superior was no longer interested, the secretary awkwardly took back his phone.

Mr. Ofi suddenly asked, “Have we found out the origin of this video?”

Originally, such attention-seeking things didn’t require Mr. Ofi to worry about… the national security department naturally wouldn’t bother with such trivial matters.

However, Mr. Ofi needed something to divert his attention, so he asked directly.

“Oh, it’s the son of a factory owner, one of the hostages from the theater hostage case.” The secretary replied seriously, “Didn’t you ask us to thoroughly investigate everyone from that day? This video was found in the process… Also, the man who was shot in the video is a wealthy businessman named Mr. Besong.”

Mr. Ofi frowned, keenly sensing something was amiss and quite odd, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, so he directly asked, “What do you think?”

The secretary sorted out his thoughts, “Resurrection, flying—those are typical science fiction tropes. This guy probably filmed such a video intending to upload it online for hype… However, if it was just for money, with Besong’s wealth, he wouldn’t need to do such things. Besong lacks neither fame nor fortune.”

“Yes, the odd thing is right here.” Mr. Ofi nodded; this was exactly where he felt something was off, and he suddenly looked at his secretary, “This matter isn’t so simple?”

The secretary nodded, “According to the information gathered by the investigators sent out. Since that day, Mr. Besong has been convening quite a few people to hold some mysterious ceremonies at his private villa. Recently, the number of participants has been gradually increasing, and they are all wealthy businessmen and the like.”

Saying this, the secretary showed Mr. Ofi another set of photos on the phone, “Sir, these were taken clandestinely by our people.”

In the photos, almost everyone was dressed in strange black robes, seemingly engaged in some sort of ritual, and among them was a man wearing a Carnival Mask, who appeared quite out of place.

“Is this… the ‘Messenger of God’ from the video?” Mr. Ofi frowned.

The secretary nodded, “Based on the physique, it should be the same person.”

Mr. Ofi remained silent for a moment before saying, “What do you think?”

The secretary said, “According to the current clues we have, I suspect this might be a burgeoning religious organization… Of course, for now, this organization hasn’t committed any illegal acts.”

Mr. Ofi said solemnly, “Since they are absorbing rich individuals, this religious organization might have suspicions of illegal profiteering. Hmm, inform the local police station, let them follow up.”

If this religious organization was merely a scam to deceive money, the national security department wouldn’t need to handle it—it’s just something they inadvertently discovered while investigating the hostage case, and it’s best to hand it over to a more familiar enforcement agency.

As the conversation was ongoing, the experts in the meeting room began to file out one by one.

Mr. Ofi observed these medical authorities, each with a dejected demeanor, fostering his worst suspicions, naturally making his expression quite unpleasant.

“Mr. Ofi, I’m very sorry, I fear we won’t be able to produce an effective treatment plan in the short term.” The attending doctor said helplessly, “This is indeed the first time we’ve encountered such a case, with no available reference materials.”

At this moment, Mr. Ofi waved it off, speaking in a low voice, “I don’t want to hear this, just tell me, what do you plan to do now?”

The experts exchanged glances, and ultimately, the attending doctor mustered up the courage to say, “I think we can maximize the maintenance of the patient’s life while waiting for various test results to potentially uncover some clues. Moreover, there are many outstanding neurological experts abroad whom we will try to contact… Rest assured, we will do our utmost to treat the patient.”

“Alright.” Mr. Ofi nodded, “At least I didn’t hear the worst… go ahead and do your work.”

After dismissing these experts, Mr. Ofi promptly fell silent, frowning as if making a difficult decision. Ultimately, he gritted his teeth, looking at his secretary, “Prepare an application for me to take a long vacation to the Presidential Palace.”

Upon making this decision, for some reason, Mr. Ofi suddenly felt like he had stopped—as if in an endless marathon race, he had suddenly come to a halt.

After this, Mr. Ofi intended to reside permanently in the hospital, but what he didn’t expect was that in the evening, several visitors came from the research institute.

The leading person was the director of the research institute whom he was familiar with, while the others were a few veteran national talents from the institute.

“Ofi, how is Ferenc’s condition?” The director asked concernedly about Dr. Ferenc’s situation.

“Not optimistic.” Mr. Ofi spoke frankly.

“This…” The director hesitated, glancing at the few esteemed scholars accompanying him, appearing as though wanting to say more but holding back.

Mr. Ofi frowned, “Why else have you come?”

The director gritted his teeth, speaking earnestly, “What I’m about to say might upset you. But… but we really need Ferenc. I don’t know what has happened to him, but one thing is certain! What he left us can lead our aerospace technology to an unprecedented breakthrough… it even made me see the possibility of surpassing major powers!”

“Yeah! It’s simply incredible!” An elderly scientist accompanying them exclaimed excitedly, “Ferenc has possibly overcome difficulties that might take an entire generation of effort! He is our nation’s greatest genius!”

“So, what do you mean?” Mr. Ofi suddenly felt disgusted. It was precisely this spirit of sacrificing for science that had once brought him the pain of losing his family, “Are you planning to drag my father back? To take a patient lying on a hospital bed, unable to ensure survival, to such a high-intensity workplace? For your so-called major breakthroughs?”

“That’s not what we mean!”

The director quickly calmed Mr. Ofi’s slightly agitated emotions, speaking earnestly, “We are equally concerned about Ferenc’s health; it’s not any easier for us than it is for you. Ofi, please understand, we really need him… So, once Ferenc is able to recover, I hope you won’t stop him from coming back. We need him!”

The director, along with several elderly men around him, pleaded earnestly with Mr. Ofi.

“Don’t bother me!”

Mr. Ofi directly drove the director and the others away, then slammed the hospital room door shut.

Not long after, the sound of footsteps was heard from outside, the footsteps of the director and the others leaving.

Mr. Ofi took a deep breath, then walked to the glass window, looking at Dr. Ferenc in the intensive care unit, covered with various instrument connectors.

He reached out toward the glass window, trying to touch the father he couldn’t actually reach, and smiled bitterly, saying, “I know, they need you, every word they said was true. That kind of shining gaze… both you and Madam Maggie have had it, I know…”

Mr. Ofi closed his eyes and murmured, “I know.”

…

…

“Dinner time, Harry.”

Boston knocked on the door and then pushed the meal box through a small window at the bottom of the door — this was a specially made room, typically used to hold those disobedient people. Of course, at certain times, it was also used to imprison ‘hostages’.

Naturally, ever since meeting Boss Arno, Boston and his crew hadn’t engaged in the kidnapping and extortion business — too little profit for the time invested.

“When can I go out? Weren’t you supposed to swap me today?” Harry’s voice echoed nervously from inside the room.

Boston just sneered a couple of times, not even bothering to reply, then closed the window at the bottom of the door. He had just turned around when he heard the sound of things being thrown inside, Boston smiled coldly and paid no attention.

“Watch here, I’m going out for a bit.”

Boston walked up to a guy who was high on drugs, kicked him lightly, frowning, “Lay off a bit!”

This dude made an OK gesture but shook his head in a daze. Boston frowned and simply ignored him, leaving the place, but not before locking it from the outside — even hanging a chain on the door.

When Boss Arno was here, the management was very strict, requiring everything to be handled with extreme caution — but sometimes Boston felt that it was overly timid — although timid as they were, since following Boss Arno, their gang had indeed gotten wealthier day by day.

Then came the question — with more and more money, yet no way to spend it, no way to enjoy oneself — how was that different from a salted fish without getting mixed in?

So after dropping the person off, naturally, Boston planned to go out and have a good time.

“Hey? Boss Arno? Oh… nothing, just reporting about Harry… nothing, he’s just not in a good mood… rest assured, I’m always watching him, definitely won’t leave. Rest assured!”

While calling Boss Arno, Boston quietly descended the stairs.

In the darkness, a figure emerged once Boston left, slowly ascending the stairs he had come down, finally arriving at the residential gate hanging with chains.

This sneaky guy had a deep brown hood, which upon lifting revealed a head full of bandages. His eyes were bloodshot with fearsome horror, he was… 403.

403 pressed his ear against the door, listened for quite a while, then took out a set of tools for unlocking. His skills weren’t advanced, it took him some time to unlock the chains and padlock on the door.

403 gently opened the door, hearing the sound of music from inside — the drugged guy was lying on the sofa with a bizarre smile on his face, resembling a drunkard, completely incoherent.

403 quietly walked up to the guy, glanced at some pills left unfinished on the table, grabbed them, and shoved them directly into the guy’s mouth.

The drugged dude got even more high, unable to grasp anything, further losing touch with his surroundings, falling into a world of spiritual hallucinations.

403 turned off the chaotic music inside the room, then came to the door of the room where Harry was imprisoned, knocking a few times with slight force.

After this, 403 directly slipped an envelope through the small window at the bottom of the door into the room.

At this moment, Harry inside the room heard the commotion, immediately standing up from the corner where he had been watching the scattered mess — he naturally noticed the music had stopped suddenly.

“Who?” Harry instinctively sensed something was happening outside.

Seeing the envelope pushed through under the door, he quickly asked a question, “Who? Who’s out there?”

But Harry received no response. Frowning, he picked up the envelope on the floor, which contained several photographs.

One showed a woman dining with a man in a restaurant, the woman even playfully offering a strawberry with a fork to the man, both of them laughing and smiling.

One portrayed the woman and the man walking slowly through a shady path.

And another showed the man holding two ice creams, walking toward the woman.

The woman was Caroline.

The man… was not Harry.

“Who! Who’s out there! What does this mean!!! Who!! Who’s out there!!” Harry suddenly seemed to be triggered by some string.

He suddenly crouched to the floor, looked through the small window at the bottom of the door toward the outside, yet only managed to catch sight of a pair of feet walking away — shutting the door outside.

“Who are you—!!!!”