The black sun hangs high

Chapter 9 Uninvited Guest

Hughes doesn't care what others say about him.

To be honest, aside from the unpleasant title of "the illegitimate son of the Ernst family," he has already been burdened with many other strange and unusual titles.

Most of these titles appeared after his submissions were published, and each one was more outrageous and uglier than the last.

From the initial "Midnight Dawn" to the upgraded "Five Fingers Lover," and now to the latest "Master of Pleasure"...

There are already countless terrible nicknames like these.

The saying goes, "Many mosquitoes make you stop itching." After getting a lot of strange nicknames, Hugh naturally became desensitized.

Hughes felt no respect or goodwill from Mr. Morel's scrutinizing gaze; his eyes, hidden behind his glasses, were filled with vigilance, contempt, and hostility.

Hugh knew that this guy wouldn't have a good opinion of him, but that didn't matter, and he didn't care.

He was simply curious about the identity of this "Mr. Morel".

As far as he knew, the surname "Morel" was not common; at least in the city of Seren, it appeared very rarely.

"Morel... that must be a surname among the noble circles of the Kingdom of Delan, right? Hmm, what would a royal relative from the upper class do at a completely second-rate newspaper to find an equally second-rate editor? What important matters could they possibly discuss?"

A series of questions flashed through Hugh's mind. He politely dealt with the chattering female clerk sitting across from him, but his mind was racing with thoughts.

"Judging from the two conversations I overheard earlier, it seems that Mr. Morel wants the Peace Daily to publish some rather unusual 'news' in the near future. It sounds like this news is related to the Water and Delan people living in Seren."

"During the conversation, Editor-in-Chief Philip seemed to mention that the other side wanted to instigate a conflict... Could it be a conflict between the Waters and the Delans?"

As Hugh thought this, his brows furrowed involuntarily.

When he looked at these issues, he used a different perspective than the ordinary residents of Seren. Based on his status as a "half-noble of Water" and his own cognitive habits that were detached from this world, Hugh quickly realized the possibilities that might extend from these words.

He knew that conflicts between one ethnic group and another were not so easily resolved.

Sometimes, time is not the true cure for disputes and conflicts.

In a relatively peaceful environment, the people of Seren could indeed gradually integrate into a unified whole. However, for nearly three hundred years, two enormous shadows have been exerting their terrible influence on Seren at all times.

To travelers who come from far and wide, the two major districts divided by the central axis are indeed a spectacle, but this also reveals the hidden dangers within Seren – the divide between the Votel and Delan people has never been completely eliminated, and any decree from either country will cause new turmoil here.

Young people like Putlin are not uncommon.

The closer you get to the bottom, the more likely you are to be harmed by the aftershocks of the battle between the giant beasts.

As he was pondering, Editor-in-Chief Philip's heavy figure reappeared in Hugh's field of vision. A nauseating smile was squeezed out on his somewhat greasy face. Hugh stood up, nodded his thanks to the female clerk sitting opposite him, and then left her and the glass with the red lipstick mark on it behind.

The two of them entered the office one after the other.

Editor-in-Chief Philip's office was as unsettling as ever. Although it looked tidy, the placement of many items and decorations was awkward, especially the bookshelf facing the office door, which was filled with a large number of brand-new, untouched books, as if it were deliberately displaying his collection.

On that huge table were several ornaments and small sculptures of different styles. Some of them were iron ornaments from the Kingdom of Walter, while others had a distinct Delan style—they were full of vibrant colors and smooth edges, making them easy to identify.

"Sorry... well, the newspaper office has been very busy these days, you know, the holidays are coming soon."

“Of course I know, Mr. Philip.”

Hughes smiled and placed the paper bag containing the manuscript on the table: "This time of year is indeed very important for the newspaper."

Philip nodded haphazardly, picked up his water glass, and gulped down a mouthful into that huge mouth. Then he reached for Hugh's paper bag. Although his fingers were short and thick, they were exceptionally nimble. In a few quick movements, he took out the manuscript inside and began to read it at an extremely fast pace.

Hugh closely observed Philip's actions and everything around him, but before he could finish looking around, Editor Philip had already put down the manuscripts. Then he opened a drawer to the side, pulled out a receipt from a pile of paper documents and letters, and picked up a pen to write quickly on it.

At the same time, he said, "Okay, okay, I've already read it... It's as wonderful as ever, Mr. Ernst. I'll accept the manuscript for now. As usual, give the receipt to Ms. Kiri, and she will pay you the royalties."

"That bastard didn't even look at the manuscript."

Hughes chuckled and cursed inwardly.

This was also a very unusual phenomenon. He knew very well that although the editor-in-chief, Philip, had extremely limited literary skills, he was always exceptionally harsh on those who submitted manuscripts. Even if there was nothing wrong, he would always find fault with the manuscripts. If he could use this to reduce the payment for manuscripts, he would be even more excited!
"It seems this guy is really in some tricky trouble... to the point that he's too preoccupied with other things."

Soon, Editor-in-Chief Philip finished writing the form in his hand. Just as Hugh was about to reach for it, he found that Philip's fingers were still pressing on the form. Hugh looked up and saw Philip looking at him with shining eyes.

"What's wrong, Editor-in-Chief Philip? Is there a problem with my manuscript?"

"No, no, no, you've misunderstood, Mr. Ernst."

Philip laughed again, glanced at Hugh's slightly worn coat, and said, "Mr. Ernst, you wouldn't mind earning some extra royalties, would you?"

"Uh... of course."

Hugh hesitated for a moment, but then nodded.

Philip then said, “Here’s the thing, I want you to write a few articles for the newspaper under the name of an ‘insider’ in the Ernst family. We’ll provide you with the topics, and all you have to do is use your writing to…package these topics a little.”

...At around 10:30 in the morning, Hugh, carrying his "fresh" royalties, once again boarded the crowded, canned magic van.

This time, the reward he received was far greater than before.

In addition to the usual thirty silver coins, Hugh also kept five common gold coins from the Kingdom of Delan in his pocket.

Five universal gold coins may not sound like much, but they are enough for Hugh to renovate Ernst's old house and then hire a competent butler and two servants for himself.

In the past, these "windfalls" would have been spent by Hugh in many other areas, but in the current situation, they are destined to be consumed by Hugh in that unknown dream world and his attempt to escape the city of Seren.

The morning's gains did not cheer Hugh. On the contrary, the strange behavior of the Peace Newspaper and its editor-in-chief, Philip, made Hugh even more certain of the seriousness of the situation that was about to unfold.

“Some people, or some forces, have secretly smuggled something into the city… Last night’s explosion was very likely caused by this. The Legal Committee may already know about it, but they probably won’t easily take a stand on this matter, and may even be involved with the forces involved.”

"The upper-class nobles of the Kingdom of Delan seem to want to stir up some public opinion frenzy in the city of Seren in the near future, and they hope to use this to ignite the long-standing conflict between the Delan people and the Wotel people in the city."

An argument broke out inside the carriage at this moment.

It sounds like a Waterman knocking something off a Deland resident in a crowded train car.

Similar situations are common and occur several times a day. The Water people are tough and warlike, so they regard the Delan people, who love colorful things and are passionate about art, as cowards, while the latter often describe the former as barbaric.

An example like Hugh is undoubtedly an anomaly in the Kingdom of Walter.

The car stopped shortly afterward, and the argument inside continued even after Hugh left the car and walked onto the street.

Hugh walked briskly toward his residence. As usual, he opened the door, stepped into the dimly lit foyer, filled a jug with water, and then headed upstairs to his bedroom.

However, just as he reached the middle of the stairs, the sunlight streaming in from the window revealed something unusual in the foyer.

At the same time, Hugh discovered that the magic power within his body was as if it had been affected by something, and it was operating at an astonishing speed. Along with it, the metal disc inscribed with magic in his mental world also began to spin.

"Someone's coming in!"

The thought leaped into Hugh's mind.

By the light streaming into the room, Hughes noticed something unusual in the foyer—on the old, faded wooden floor, there was a series of strange, indescribable marks. They stretched in from the front door, circled the foyer twice, then climbed up the wall and disappeared near the railing of the second-floor corridor.

This was clearly not caused by humans.

Instead, it looks like the tracks left by a snail or some other creature.

Hugh instinctively held his breath. Although he didn't understand magic and spells yet, he couldn't ignore this intuition from the spiritual world. So he slowly bent down, placed the kettle on the stairs, and then picked up a heavy wooden stick that had been taken from the broken railing and was placed on the side of the stairs.

He slowly walked upwards, his free left hand moving slightly, ready to unleash magic.

Hughes walked silently down the corridor he knew so well, and there he saw the eerie trail continue its course, following the corridor forward, past two abandoned guest rooms, then past a small room used for storing miscellaneous items, and finally…

They disappeared at the door of Hugh's bedroom.

"Fuck."

Hugh cursed inwardly, then bent down and gently touched the mark on the ground.

A slippery sensation traveled from his fingertips. Hugh felt as if he had touched some kind of cold, sticky liquid. However, when he raised his hand and rubbed his fingers slightly, the disgusting stickiness disappeared, as if he had only touched traces of water.

"Perhaps I should back out... It would be more reliable to report this kind of thing to the Legislative Affairs Commission or the police station."

Hugh made a quick judgment and then decisively retreated downstairs.

To avoid making a sound, he moved very, very slowly.

However, things didn't go as planned. A gust of wind blew in from the direction of the bedroom, and then Hugh smelled a pungent, unpleasant odor.

He recognized the smell; it was exactly the same as the smell he had caught last night on that blocked street!
The next moment, Hugh heard a sound.

A series of rapid, loud crawling sounds, as if countless feet were pounding on the walls and the ground!
Hughes no longer cared whether the sound matched the strange noises he had heard last night. He immediately abandoned the idea of ​​retreating silently, turned around and ran downstairs for two steps. Then he grabbed the railing next to him, flipped over and jumped down, landing heavily on the floor of the foyer.

At the same time, the thing that made the noise chased after them to the second-floor stairwell.

Under the sunlight, Hugh saw something indescribable.

It was an amorphous, semi-transparent, viscous substance that had completely blocked the entrance to the second-floor staircase. It stood there, with countless indistinguishable debris floating and twisting within it, while its shape slowly changed in Hugh's view.

In just a few breaths, it had already taken on a rough human shape. However, the distorted human-shaped outline was still filled with colorless viscous substance and many oddly shaped objects that seemed to have come from nowhere. Judging from the way it moved, these things were likely unintentionally "swallowed" into its body as it moved forward.

The air in the foyer was almost still. Hugh gripped the broken wooden stick he used as a weapon, his memories churning. Finally, in an inconspicuous corner of his mind, he found a terrifying name.

"This is... a shapeshifter?"

(End of this chapter)