Chapter 202

Chapter 202: The Gathering (2)

They called it a gathering, but that wasn’t what it really was. According to the note Liam hastily passed me, the drinks handed out at the entrance contained sleeping drugs. The true purpose of today’s meeting was to collect sacrifices—everyone gathered here had fallen into someone’s trap.

But would everyone here become a sacrifice? Probably not. London’s elite had gathered here all at once. If they all disappeared simultaneously, it would draw unwanted attention.

The logical conclusion was that the targets weren’t the elites themselves, but rather the companions they’d each brought along. These people hadn’t been invited out of goodwill. Among their companions, one, most, or in the worst case, all would be sacrificed.

While the younger attendees chatted excitedly, I noticed the older ones exchanging meaningful glances without saying a word. Of course. These people, consumed by their desire to extend their own lives, couldn’t care less about others’.

The thought made me terribly nauseated, even though I hadn’t touched the drinks.

Saint-Germain shrugged and said, “We’re quite the odd pair, aren’t we? Two investors.”

“Indeed,” I replied. My voice came out rough and husky. Even if someone listened carefully, they wouldn’t be able to tell it was a woman’s voice. The drugs I’d taken had done their job. While I might look a bit young, I was perfectly disguised as a man in his late twenties.

I crumpled the note and pushed it into my mouth to avoid any risk of discovery. Eating fountain pen ink wasn’t exactly pleasant, but what choice did I have? If they discovered we’d caught onto their plan, there was no telling what would happen to Saint-Germain and me.

Just as I was about to speak to Saint-Germain again, I heard a series of thuds—heads hitting tables. People at the surrounding tables had started falling asleep one by one. I realized the “effects” were beginning to take hold.

In the distance, a young man in a black suit walked down the center aisle. With each step he took, a fishy stench washed over us like a wave. Fighting back the urge to retch wasn’t easy.

When the unexpected situation unfolded, those still awake became briefly agitated. But soon enough, their heads started drooping too.

“Play along,” Saint-Germain whispered, then dropped his head onto the table with theatrical slowness. Anyone watching would think he’d passed out.

‘This old man’s acting…’

No choice. I closed my eyes, determined not to open them no matter what, and let my head thud against the table.

About ten minutes passed. I sensed people slowly approaching us.

They took Saint-Germain first, and about five minutes later, it was my turn. My body was lifted. Multiple people had grabbed my arms and legs and started moving me.

* * *

They were taking me somewhere.

The surface I lay on was very cold, with a stainless steel-like texture. It felt like being transported on some kind of trolley. …They weren’t really taking me to some kind of food storage, were they?

I carefully opened my eyes a crack, but all I could see were white ceiling lights passing by at regular intervals, like entering an operating room. This might even be an illegal organ trafficking operation. Not a cult at all!

Just as fear started creeping in, the movement stopped.

A door slammed shut. It was very dark inside. Then a familiar voice spoke.

“You can get up now.”

It was Saint-Germain.

“…What? You were next to me?”

I opened my eyes and sat up. Then I was absolutely horrified.

What I’d been lying on wasn’t an operating table, but a morgue slab! Whether they thought it didn’t matter since we’d be dead soon or what, this was truly an atrocity with no regard for human rights.

Blonde Liam stood next to me, grinning. It seemed he was the one who had diverted me here.

“Jane, that acting just now was quite impressive.”

“Forget it. I have no talent for acting.”

Saint-Germain had changed clothes in the meantime. He wore the same outfit as Liam. It appeared to be the uniform worn by the staff here—a plain black suit with an H embroidered on the blue silk tie. The sleeves and pants were a bit short on Saint-Germain’s tall frame, but not unwearably so.

“Where did those clothes come from?”

When I asked cautiously, Saint-Germain grinned.

“Found some walking coat hangers, so I helped myself.”

He pointed his thumb somewhere. I followed his gesture and discovered two unconscious people, bound and gagged. It seemed Saint-Germain had taken advantage of the situation while being transported and knocked out the staff.

What an incredible man. I love how efficiently he handles things. While he’d been the most terrifying person when we were enemies, having him as an ally was truly reassuring. I’m glad we’re friends now. I should try to get even closer to him.

Saint-Germain checked his wristwatch, rolling up his sleeve.

“Eight thirty. Fireworks are scheduled for nine, so let’s look around a bit and get out of here.”

No matter how I thought about it, the “fireworks” Saint-Germain mentioned probably wouldn’t be purely beautiful. I wondered if this was really okay. Somehow it felt like we were breaking every possible law today. I worried we might even end up getting deported.

Liam slowly spoke up.

“First off, we’re underground. Everyone who fell asleep was brought here. There’s an altar-like structure inside—it seems they steal years of life from the companions listed on the invitations by using them as sacrifices.”

While we pretended to sleep, Liam had apparently finished investigating the mansion.

It was fortunate that the two of them had safely extracted me while I was being transported as a “sacrifice.” Of course, I’d been prepared to cause a scene and wake up if things got dicey… but that would have exposed our infiltration, and it would have been tough to escape with Liam, now an ordinary person, while dealing with so many cultists.

“Information?”

“There were some ledgers, but they were anonymous. Not enough to find the rat hiding in our company. Not much to go on.”

“For the Watchers of Huntington, they really are excellent at hiding things.”

When I grumbled, Liam’s eyes crinkled in a smile.

“I couldn’t find that man you saw. Either he’s hiding, or he didn’t appear in the open throughout the ceremony. However, there was a proxy—we should look into him more.”

I recalled the young man in the black suit I’d seen before pretending to faint. The one who’d given off that bizarre fishy stench that could only be described as a foul odor. There was a very high chance he was the proxy.

“What about the others who were moved there? Will they die right away?”

I asked.

Whether it was an altar or whatever, from observing their behavior, Liam should have been able to figure out their purpose. Even if he couldn’t use magic anymore, his experience and knowledge hadn’t disappeared.

The quick-witted Liam seemed to understand what I was asking.

If murders were happening here, we’d have to stop the situation by any means necessary. But if the cultists were discreetly taking portions of the young people’s lifespans without leaving traces, meaning no immediate deaths, there was no need to take unnecessary risks.

Liam shook his head.

“These meetings aren’t a one-time thing. They’ve been gradually siphoning off bits of lifespan. When the victims wake up, they just feel a bit tired—they don’t notice what’s happened to them.”

“How much lifespan do they take?”

“A few months at most.”

That was reassuring. No one would die here today.

Now we needed to focus on escaping this place without leaving a trail.