Chapter 200

Chapter 200. The Mark (5)

A few days after taking refuge at the hotel, we went to visit Mr. Thomas in the hospital. Liam’s phone buzzed. He excused himself to take the call.

“Yes, Mr. Germain.”

Ah, Plurititas.

They’re chatting more intimately than I expected. They’ve gotten too close while I was away, it’s almost disappointing. Of course, if I said that out loud, those two might want to kill each other, so I’ll refrain.

Ian, sitting on the hospital room sofa, listened to the conversation and frowned slightly.

“…Saint-Germain?”

What’s that about? First time I’ve heard it. I tilted my head.

“No, his name is Pierre Germain.”

Ian and I had become so close that we not only spoke casually but could even complain about Liam together. Though it still felt strange having someone with Owen’s exact face calling me “Aunt,” thinking of him as just someone who looked similar made it easier. Right, just think of it as having a grown nephew, or a son. Parenthood right after marriage. Life’s got quite the difficulty curve, doesn’t it?

Ian shook his head at my response.

“He’s that person.”

“Who exactly is Saint-Germain?”

“…Aunt, you don’t know?”

I might not. I was never interested in occult, superstition, supernatural or mythological stories. Even my games were mainly horror ones. Zombies, monsters, that sort of thing.

Ian, apparently deciding I was hopeless, explained directly. To very briefly summarize his explanation:

An alchemist who appeared across several centuries. So many imposters that no one knows if he was real or fake.

“I think the rumors about that old man must have gotten twisted somehow.”

“But they say he lived for centuries.”

“That’s actually true though.”

…Oh right. Damn.

It really is. Though slightly younger than Lucita, Plurititas also seems to belong to the particularly long-lived group.

Remembering his strange smile, I had to shake off the chills running down my spine.

As Ian and I chatted amicably, Liam finished his call and looked at us both. His eyes sparkled. And usually when he had that expression…

“There’s a cult gathering.”

I knew it.

The nightmare from Old Paradise in Lambeth started creeping back up to the surface of my memory. I’d thrown it down there for good reason. Having my hair pulled by lunatics wasn’t exactly a pleasant memory.

I cleared my throat while absently touching my hair.

“…Did they find out where?”

“Near Westminster, apparently. They said they’ll send a car, so let’s wait at Mr. Germain’s place until evening.”

Ah…. Old Paradise…! Why do all cult gatherings happen in the evening?

I was overwhelmed by memories that kept surfacing and an ominous feeling that we’d experience something similar. I don’t want to cry, but this London keeps bringing tears to my eyes.

Ian urged us on while putting on a thick padded jacket and pulling up his hood.

“Let’s go. To Saint-Germain’s house.”

* * *

The driver dropped us off in an upscale residential area. Among the houses stacked like blocks, one stark white building stood out distinctively. Two stories, three at most.

“…Just the old man’s style…”

I muttered unconsciously.

Yes, this was exactly the kind of place that unique old man would like. White, clean. Plants growing inside the wall.

The door flew open before we three could knock. Seeing the face that greeted us, I almost screamed right there on the street.

With what I considered remarkable self-control, I covered my mouth and stumbled back a couple steps. Liam supported me as I noticeably swayed.

“…Jo-“

“I know, Jane. Let’s go inside first and I’ll explain.”

“…Why is Jonathan here?”

Really, I can’t understand why this guy is showing his face here. Even dressed like the ‘butler’ from before.

Liam may have made a contract, but Jonathan was an ordinary person. Just a regular person from the 1870s. So why, just why was he standing before me in the 21st century?

Apparently deciding this wouldn’t do, Liam scooped me up and strode into the house. Ian sighed and closed the door behind me.

Jonathan, or… Jonathan… naturally secured the door and led us to the study. …Does he not recognize me?

As always spending quality time with his prized possessions in the study, Pierre Germain greeted us with a welcoming smile.

“Isn’t it nice to see people after so long?”

Though Germain opened like that, I wasn’t happy at all.

“I nearly had a heart attack. Please explain what all this is about.”

At my demand, Germain shrugged. His steel-blue eyes briefly rested on Jonathan before moving away.

“Should we start with Jonathan?”

Liam nodded beside me.

Pierre Germain rose from the desk where he’d been sitting. Behind him, I could see a cylinder. Another brain must be preserved inside it.

“Your brother, he met with an incident before turning forty.”

My blood ran cold. It truly felt like hearing news of a family tragedy. I moved my lips silently for a moment before managing to ask.

“…Did he die?”

“No. He was conscious, but worse than dead. There was a fire.”

“…Arson?”

Germain slowly nodded.

Liam’s large, warm hand firmly gripped my shoulder, supporting me. Maybe that’s why I didn’t feel like collapsing yet. I was just worried about what happened to Jonathan after the incident.

“It was Jonathan’s request.”

As the story continued, I started to understand why that cylinder was out. Learning things like this drives people mad.

I briefly pressed my throbbing forehead, then looked at Jonathan waiting a few steps away from Germain.

Germain’s technology must have advanced considerably in the meantime – it was detailed enough to mistake for a real person if you weren’t told. But our Jonathan would have deduced from this conversation that I was once his sister. This Jonathan showing no reaction couldn’t be the real one.

Then…

“…You preserved his brain.”

“Yes. Only death awaited Jonathan’s real body. I can make bodies anytime anyway. He woke up occasionally but asked to be awakened when his ‘sister’ came.”

Good Lord, I groaned, burying my face in my hands. Then muttered again. Good Lord!

Fine, creatures like Pierre Germain living long lives, whatever. Liam Moore? Impossible naturally but forced his lifespan to stop, fine, whatever with that too. But now preserving a brain and crossing over a hundred years?

And beside me, Ian who looks exactly like Owen asks “Aunt, are you okay?” so I could only shout:

“Nothing is okay, you lunatics!”

Pierre Germain flinched and put both hands on the cylinder. As if covering imaginary ears.

“Why don’t you just brush its teeth and decorate the cylinder with pretty stickers while you’re at it?”

“I did wash his face though.”

“I’m going crazy! Oh God!”

Germain grinned at me. His elongated eyes narrowed, his white eyelashes glinting in the electric light. Looking at him maintaining unwrinkled skin despite his age, I sighed.

“So are you going to wake him?”

“He’s already awake. Been listening to everything about you.”

A day that couldn’t get worse was getting worse. In real time, no less.

Pierre Germain said he’d go do some ‘work’ for a moment, then gestured to the butler. Butler Jonathan quietly picked up the cylinder and followed Germain.

…Is this really a dream?

Unable to process it, I slapped my cheek hard, and with a ‘smack!’ a stinging sensation spread across my face. Seeing me self-harm, Ian opened his mouth with a shocked expression.

“Aunt, what are you doing to my mental health right now.”

“Your aunt is about to go mad, Ian!”

William ‘I’m Going Crazy’ Osmond looked at me with drooping eyes. Seeing that he understood how shocking this situation was for me, he must have also shared knowledge of Jonathan’s ‘condition’ with Germain. Those rascals! These infuriating folks!

Unable to contain my anger, I pounded Liam’s shoulder with my fist, and he offered his shoulder without any resistance. It’s ridiculous how humbly he’s volunteering as a punching bag.

That’s when it happened. The door in the direction Germain had gone burst open, and Jonathan in butler clothes ran in.

“Sister!”

Good Lord, oh God.

This is truly insane.

“Jonathan Osmond.”

Four Osmonds!