Man in the Three-Body Problem: After facing the wall, I founded the Reception Society!

On October 18th, there was a hazy moon in the sky, foreshadowing the final unveiling of a series of strange events.

That was a turning point, and all the mysteries seemed to be converging silently and speeding towards a heart-pounding ending.

Oriel's heart was like the surface of a lake caressed by the cold autumn breeze, rippling with layers of delicate ripples, and each ripple carried his deep memories of the past few days.

These memories can be clearly reproduced in the mind without having to flip through those densely packed records, as if they were reappearing yesterday.

From that morning on, O'Neill's heart was gripped by two crucial discoveries.

The first one is about the gentle but mysterious Mrs. Ellen Aywerk in the town of Akali. She had an unfinished love letter with the late Uncle Sir Jack, and they agreed to meet again at a specific time in the land cursed by fate.

This secret agreement is like a flickering light in the night, which is both tempting and chilling.

The second is the figure lurking in the depths of the vast swamp, as if walking out of the darkness, whose trace can be found in the lonely stone house in the mountains.

This discovery was like a lighthouse that suddenly lit up in the fog. Although it was not enough to illuminate the entire fog, it was enough to make Oriel feel unprecedented urgency and determination.

He knew that he might be only one step away from uncovering the truth.

With this heavy sense of responsibility and mission, O'Leary decided to embark on the journey again.

Yesterday evening, he wanted to share this great discovery with the baronet, but missed the opportunity due to an unexpected card game.

In the dead of night, he tossed and turned in bed, feeling both fear of the unknown and desire for the truth.

Finally, when the first ray of morning light penetrated the clouds and spread across the earth, Oriel plucked up the courage and asked the baron to allow him to go to Akali alone.

At first, the baronet was full of enthusiasm and wanted to go with him, but after careful consideration, they both believed that if Oriel acted alone, he might be able to dig out more unknown secrets in a more flexible way.

So, with a hint of worry and full of enthusiasm, Oriel embarked on the journey to Akali.

The scenery of Akali appears particularly quiet and peaceful in the morning light, as if all the strange things have never happened here.

After O'Leary arrived, he quickly made arrangements and could not wait to embark on his journey to find Mrs. Ellen Aywerk.

Her residence is located in a corner of the town, in a perfect location, not conspicuous but still elegant and stylish.

Outside the door, pots of carefully trimmed flowers are blooming, as if silently telling the owner's taste and mood.

O'Lear knocked on the door lightly, and a maid with simple clothes and a kind face came in.

She ushered O'Leary into the house in an almost casual manner.

In the living room, sunlight filtered through the half-closed curtains and shone onto a Remington typewriter. The cold metallic luster seemed softened by the light.

At this moment, a lady suddenly stood up from her typewriter, with a warm smile on her face, and greeted O'Neill like an old friend who had not seen him for a long time.

However, when she saw the unfamiliar face of O'Leary, her smile froze instantly, replaced by a hint of doubt and vigilance.

She sat down slowly, her eyes flashing with curiosity and inquiry, and waited quietly for O'Neill to explain his purpose.

Mrs. Allen, when I first met her, her beauty was like the dawn, refreshing. Her eyes and hair were both deep brown, like the quietest pool in the forest, bottomless and full of endless stories. There were freckles on her cheeks, which not only did not diminish her color, but added a touch of just the right blush to her slightly wheat-colored skin, just like the pink that quietly bloomed between the yellowish rose petals at dusk, gentle and attractive. O'Leary stood in front of her, and couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration in his heart, as if he was in a carefully arranged painting.

However, as he looked deeper, Olier gradually noticed the subtle flaws hidden under that beauty. Her face seemed to contain some kind of indescribable roughness, the occasional stiffness in her eyes, and the looseness in the corners of her mouth, all like tiny cracks inadvertently left on a carefully carved work of art, which made people feel a little regretful while admiring her. But these subtle details did not attract Olier's attention at the time, and his heart was only occupied by Mrs. Allen's impeccable appearance.

"I have the honor," O'Neill began slowly, with a barely perceptible nervousness in his voice, "to know your father." As soon as he said this, he realized that his opening remarks seemed a little clumsy, and from Mrs. Allen's instant change of expression, he felt that he had spoken out of turn.

"There is no relationship between my father and me," she said with a hint of indifference and determination. "I have never owed him anything, and his friends naturally have nothing to do with me. If it were not for the help of the late Uncle Jack and several other kind people, I might have suffocated under the pressure of life. My father, he never really cared about me." Mrs. Allen's words were full of resentment and helplessness about the past, which made Oriel feel deeper sympathy for her.

"I came here this time," Olier continued with courage, "because of something related to the late Uncle Jack." This sentence was like a huge rock thrown into a calm lake, instantly stirring up waves in Mrs. Allen's heart. Her face instantly turned as pale as paper, and the freckles on her pale skin were particularly glaring, as if they were the mark of her inner pain and struggle.

"What can I tell you about him," she asked in a trembling voice? Her fingers unconsciously began to tap randomly on the typewriter's keyboard, as if looking for some comfort or escape.

"You know him, right?" O'Neill asked directly, trying to find the answer from her reaction.

Mrs. Allen took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. "Yes," she finally admitted, "I am very grateful to Uncle Jack for his help and care for me. Without him, I can't imagine what I would be like now. His kindness has allowed me to barely stand firm in this cruel world."

"So," O'Neill asked further, "have you ever corresponded with him?" This question was like a sharp knife, pointing directly to the secret in Mrs. Allen's heart.

She raised her head sharply, her brown eyes flashing with anger and vigilance. "What is your purpose in asking these questions?" she asked sharply, with unquestionable majesty in her voice.

O'Leary shrugged lightly, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness and determination. "I just want to avoid an unnecessary scandal," he explained. "Here, we can be honest with each other and work together to find solutions to the problem. Once these things get out, I'm afraid it will be hard to deal with."

Mrs. Allen sat there quietly, the air around her seemed to freeze because of her silence, her face was still as pale as snow, but her eyes flashed with an indescribable determination and unyielding. Finally, she took a deep breath, the look of desperation and challenge gradually gathered in her eyes, she slowly raised her head and looked directly into O'Leary's eyes.

"Okay, let me answer it," her voice was soft but full of unquestionable power, "What's your question?"

Seeing this, although O'Neill had many questions in his mind, he had to adjust his mood and continue to ask in a more gentle manner. He gently sorted out his thoughts and tried to make his tone sound less aggressive: "Have you ever communicated with Uncle Jack, the late philanthropist, through letters?"

Mrs. Allen nodded slightly, with a complex emotion in her eyes. "I did write to him once or twice, mainly to express my gratitude for his generous and selfless help. Those letters, although short, were full of my gratitude and respect."

O'Leary nodded to show his understanding, then he changed the subject and continued to ask: "So, do you still remember the specific date when you sent the letter?"

Mrs. Allen shook her head slightly, a trace of helplessness on her face. "I'm sorry, I don't remember. Those days were full of challenges and difficulties for me, and the passage of time seemed to become a blur."

Olier did not give up. He continued to ask in depth: "So, have you ever had face-to-face communication with Uncle Jack?"

Mrs. Allen fell into reminiscence. After a moment, she slowly said, "We did meet, but not often. Usually we had the chance to meet when he occasionally visited Akali. He was a very low-key person. He always did good things quietly and never showed off."

O'Leary frowned and asked a key question: "But if you rarely see him and rarely write to him, how did he know about your predicament and help you so accurately?"

A trace of relief flashed across Mrs. Allen's face, and she answered without hesitation: "There are actually several gentlemen behind this. One of them is Mr. Scotch, who is Uncle Jack's best friend and neighbor. He is very kind-hearted. It was through Mr. Scotch that Uncle Jack learned about my situation and decided to lend a helping hand."

Olier was familiar with Mr. Scotch's name, and he knew that he was also a well-respected philanthropist. Therefore, Mrs. Allen's words sounded quite reasonable. However, he did not let down his guard, but continued to ask: "So, have you ever written to Uncle Jack, asking him to meet with you to discuss in detail?"

This question seemed to have touched Mrs. Allen's sensitive nerves. Her face instantly turned red, and her anger was evident: "Sir, this is really an unacceptable question! I have never had such an idea!"

Seeing this, O'Leary quickly apologized: "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I have to make sure my investigation is comprehensive and detailed. I have to ask this question."

Mrs. Allen took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, and then nodded: "In that case, I will answer you. I have never written such a letter, and I have never had such an idea."

However, when Olier asked further questions, especially when he mentioned the letter on the day Uncle Jack died, Mrs. Allen's face changed again. Her face quickly lost its color and became ashen, and her eyes, which were once full of strength, also lost their luster.

"Your memory must be playing tricks on you," said Olier, deciding on a gentler approach. "In fact, I can even recite a passage from your letter. It goes like this: 'You are a gentleman. I beg you to burn this letter and be at the gate at ten o'clock.'"

Mrs. Allen's body trembled slightly, as if she could no longer bear such a blow. But even so, she still tried her best to maintain her dignity and calmness: "Is there no real gentleman in this world? Even a private letter can be seen by outsiders!" Her voice was full of anger and despair.

O'Leary quickly explained, "You misunderstood. Uncle Jack did burn the letter. But sometimes, even a burned letter will leave some traces. It was through these traces that I found the clues to this letter."

Mrs. Allen's eyes flashed with pain and struggle, but she finally chose to be honest: "Yes, I wrote that letter. Why should I deny it? I have no reason to be ashamed of it. I just hope he can listen to my predicament in person. I believe that if we can communicate face to face, he will definitely understand my needs better and give me more help."

O'Leary nodded to show his understanding, and continued to ask: "Then why did you choose to meet at such a specific time?"

Mrs. Allen answered truthfully, "Because I learned that he would leave Akali the next day to go to the city to handle some business, and he might be away for a long time. And for some reason I couldn't get there earlier, so I could only choose to meet at that time."

O'Leary nodded and continued to ask: "But why did you choose to meet in the garden instead of visiting his house directly?"

Mrs. Allen's eyes flashed with helplessness: "Just think about it, if a single woman goes to a bachelor's house alone at that time, how many unnecessary misunderstandings and speculations will it cause? So, I think it would be more appropriate to meet in the garden."

Olier nodded to show his understanding. But he still had doubts in his heart: "So, did you finally go to the agreed place?"

Mrs. Allen shook her head firmly. "I didn't go. I swear on everything that is sacred in my life that I really didn't go. Because something happened before that made it impossible for me to keep the appointment."

Olier frowned, obviously skeptical of Mrs. Allen's answer: "So, what is it that prevented you from keeping the appointment?"

Mrs. Allen was silent for a while, as if she was recalling the painful experience. Finally, she slowly said, "That is a secret that I cannot tell you. It is like a huge rock pressing on my heart, making it difficult for me to breathe. But please believe me, I really have not been to the agreed place."

Olier looked into Mrs. Allen's eyes, which were full of sincerity and pain, and his heart was shaken. But he knew that as a detective, he had to remain calm and objective. So he continued to ask: "So, what happened after the agreed time?"

Mrs. Allen fell silent again. She seemed unwilling to talk about the painful past.