horror effect

They sat at the desk, facing the mysterious scrap of paper.

"It's not Latin," Stephen said. "Of course, the letters are Latin, but the writing is not Latin. In fact, it's Greek."

"Ah!" Julian suddenly realized, "It turns out to be Greek written in the Latin alphabet. So, what does this mean?"

"Kalos in Greek is actually bonus in Latin, beauté in French and beauty in English."

"nice!"

"Yes! Beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty."

"But what does that term mean for our investigation?"

"Oh. Of course it makes sense." Stephen said thoughtfully.

"...You seem to know something."

"Remember my nightmare at night? In that dream, you and those monsters wanted to kill me. You chased and said a word. I thought it was very strange at the time, but now I understand, everything is very simple The word repeated in the dream is - bonus."

At noon, Irina Theolos was cooking in the kitchen, pouring lamb cubes into a pan with onions and garlic, topped with lemon juice and tomato sauce.

Nicholas sat and helped her peel potatoes.Irena stirred the pieces of meat in the pot with a long-handled wooden spoon, but kept her eyes on the street outside the window.

This morning, Theolos, who had gone to the city, called to say he would be back at noon, but he didn't say a word about what Elena cared about: getting a loan from the bank.The logging factory has owed a lot of debts and hasn't paid her wages for several months. The workers had a quarrel with her yesterday. They searched all the places where they could borrow money, but because of the bad reputation of the factory, no one was willing to lend.

If they can't borrow money this time, they're bankrupt.Elena had a premonition that Theolos would suffer another defeat, and she was very irritable. The wooden spoon in her hand hit the pot from time to time, making a dull sound.

Nicholas knew that the family's finances were in trouble, so he didn't dare to say anything, but just peeled the potatoes with a dull head.But he was also very worried in his heart. If the factory closed down and there was not much money left in the family, what would he do with the money for his education and medical qualifications?Although he now has a nursing job in a medical institution, the salary is still too little.

Lunch was served on the table amidst the anxiety of the two.But none of them had appetite. "Why don't you eat it?" Elena asked Nicholas, "Don't you like mutton stew the most?" "Well... yes..." He muttered something incomprehensible, and began to eat slowly.

However, he found that Elena, who persuaded him to eat, didn't touch the food in front of him at all.

After a long time, the food was cold, and Theolos came back.And from the first moment she saw him, Elena knew it was all over.

Theolos took off his coat with a gloomy face, and sat down heavily on the sofa.

"...It's not enough, is it?" Elena asked.

"...No one wants to borrow."

"Your old friend in town..."

"I went to see him. He said that in a situation like mine, I should just file for bankruptcy."

"How about selling the factory?"

"I don't think anyone will buy it... I'll try advertising it later. Hey..." He sighed, stood up tiredly and walked towards the dining table.Elena looked at him with pity and resentment.

Why does fate always make things difficult for her?

Her girlhood ended miserably and prematurely due to poverty and war. She thought she could live a stable life with Theoros. Although she didn't like him, at least she didn't have to worry about being homeless or starving to death.But now, it seemed that everything was going to happen again, and she would become a pauper again.She hated this kind of life—mediocre, monotonous, dull, lifeless, with nothing but money to eat every day; she hated this place—small, closed, crowded with people who were as dull as broken marionettes.

"Why don't you ask Monsieur Bois? He's the banker and your friend. I hear he's coming back to town..."

Before she could finish speaking, Theoros' eyes suddenly turned fierce and pushed back the rest of her words.He frowned into a ball, and said viciously: "Who is friends with him?! How could I be friends with that kind of person!!"

Irena didn't dare to say anything, and silently handed the plate containing the stewed mutton and buttered potatoes to Theolos.

Unlike the gloomy lunch at the Theolos's, the lunch at the Brymontrosts was full of joy.

A family of three is sitting at the dining table, eating ravioli made by Mrs. Brumontrost, who is full of exploration spirit.Originally, Mr. Brumontrost and Stephen had no hope for this lunch, because the dumplings made a few times before were either boiled into porridge, or the skin was as hard and tough as rubber, but Mrs. Brumontrost went to Paris. Mrs. Ning returned from field studies at home and finally made it successfully.

Stephen was busy stuffing food into his mouth, and Mr. Brewmont Rose began to speak, "Stephen, what are you doing with Mr. Raymond recently? You spend more time at the Cedar Hill Inn than at home. You are still studying Byzantine culture?"

"No, we are now starting to study the history of this town. You know, Julian is writing a report on the town and needs historical materials. I am helping him."

Mr. Brumontrose shrugged. "What's the history of this small place? Let me tell you, it was a deserted valley at first, and then a monastery was built, and now only the church remains, and the village has developed around the monastery, and it has always been like this, and then there was a war, and then The war is over."

"The history you mentioned basically applies to most towns in Europe."

"Look!" Mr. Brumontrose winked at his wife happily.

"Okay, Dad. I need your help with something."

"Huh?" Mr. Brewmont Rose stared at his son from the top of his glasses for a long time.He knew very well that his son would often do strange things, especially when begging him.He had to be careful. "What are you going to do?"

"It's like this: I know you have a good relationship with the police chief Dushkevich, you go and talk to him, let Julian and I go to the file room of the police station, of course we will not read those confidential documents, We’re just looking at old archives that are defunct, and we’re doing that to enrich the story.”

"This one……"

Seeing his father's displeasure, Stephen mobilized his mother, "If this cooperation is successful and the report is excellent, I may be recommended by Julian to join a newspaper in London. Please help!"

As soon as she heard that her son had a desire to work, Mrs. Brumontrost immediately cheered up and urged her husband, "Just go and talk to Dushkevich. It's no big deal to treat it as a useless file."

"...Okay. I'll give it a try." Mr. Brymontrose agreed.

Three days later, Stephen and Julian entered the old archive room under the introduction of Police Chief Dushkevich, and an elderly policeman accompanied them.They can look through the archives and record what they are interested in in their notebooks, but they are not allowed to take the archives or take photos.There are as many as two large cardboard boxes in the archives, but this is not difficult for Stephen and Julian. They don't need to check the contents of each archive, just looking for a word in it.

After searching for three hours, they found a very simple record in a pile of old and yellowed files:

Berkes Moratov (1921-1944)

And below where the content of the archives should be written, there is only one line - the archives have been lost in the war.

"There's only so much!" Julian was disappointed.

Stephen was not reconciled, and searched the files of some other people with the surname Molatov, and found that these people should be the elders of Berkes Molatov, and their files were also missing. "Do you think this is what we're looking for?" he asked.

"It should be. After all, there are very few people with this name. Besides, we followed the clues provided by 'him' to find it."

After coming out of the police station, Julian was looking at the short records in the notebook all the way.He closed his notebook and said, "Let's go to church."

"Oh? What did you think of again?"

"See if it's on the church donation roll or baptismal roll."

"But this person is not necessarily born locally." Stephen expressed doubts.

"Yes. I've thought of that too, but let's see first."

In the church, Priest Georgi readily agreed to their request and led them into the room where the register was kept.Because it was almost noon, the priest wanted to go home for dinner, so he handed them the room key, told them to lock the door after checking, and handed the key to Klodkov, the handyman who had been living in the church.

Both the baptismal and donation rolls have a long history, with the earliest records dating from the seventeenth century.Of course, they don't have to read all of them, they search from the back to the front, and quickly find the corresponding era.In the 1921 records of the baptismal roll, they found the name of Berkes Molatov.

Going forward, you can find another member of the Molatov family, whose name is Andrei, and this should be the father of Berges; but going down, no one with the surname Molatov can be found.There are two possibilities for this. One is that the Moratov family was already the last generation when they arrived in Bergers, and the second is that Bergers had children but changed their names. Considering that Bergers only lived to be 23 years old, The first case is more likely.

On the roster of donations, they found something to watch.The surname Molatov appears in several places in the register. Although the time is different, it can be seen that the Moratov family has always supported religious causes. Moreover, the amount of each donation recorded is very large. It was deduced that the Moratov family must be quite wealthy.

But why did this family suddenly decline in the generation of Bogus?

How did Burgess die so early?

Is there a connection between the family's past and the white lion?

Many questions remain unanswered.

After they came out of the room, they went to the room on the side of the church, intending to hand over the key to the handyman Klodkov, but strangely, they searched around but saw no one.The two searched again, and finally Stephen found him in the alcove next to the transept.Klodkov wore an old robe and a thick beard that almost covered his face, making it difficult to tell his age.He sat on the alcove floor with his legs spread forward, his back against the wall, his head bowed.When they first found him, Stephen and Julian thought he was dead, but then they smelled a strong smell of alcohol. "Wow!" Stephen yelled, "you actually stole a drink in the church!"

Klodkov was startled when he heard the cry, but he relaxed after seeing the person clearly. "Don't scare me, boy! I'm not easy to mess with!"

"Hmph. I'll tell Priest Georgi that you've been secretly drunk in his absence."

Klodkov didn't care. He held the vodka bottle in his hand and said carelessly, "You don't respect the old man too much, kid."

"Are you very old?" Julian put in.

It was hard to tell his actual age from the bearded face of the handyman.

"I'm 57 years old!!" Klodkov said triumphantly, and then shook his fist at Stephen. "You brat who doesn't respect the elderly! Waiting for you to reach my age, you're the one to look at!!"

Stephen took a step back.

On the one hand, he threatened Klodkov because it was inappropriate to be drunk in the church, and on the other hand, it was also for the health of the old man himself, but the other party completely threw his kindness into the Mediterranean Sea.Stephen wanted to leave as soon as possible, so he urged Julian to hand over the key to him, but Julian seemed to suddenly become interested in this handyman who loves strong drinks. After handing over the key to him, he knelt down in front of him and said: "I'm a reporter. I just came to this place recently, and I'm very interested in the stories that happened here. At your age, you must be familiar with the history of this town."

"What does it have to do with me?" Klodkov didn't even look at him, and drank by himself.

"I'd be very obliged if you could tell me about those things. I'll buy you a drink as a token of my thanks. I'm a Scot, and I was brought up by the cask."

This time Klodkov's slack eyes looked brighter.

"Whiskey! Good, good! Aberlour, Glenn Doubt are very fine wines! But," he grinned, "I'd rather drink vodka, really, to set you on fire, This is wine! Papa Collivan actually likes wine! Wine? Isn’t that just water?!”

"So you agreed?" Julian asked.

"Yes! But since you offer to buy me a drink, I'm not going to be rude. I hope to get a bottle of Port Ellen or Tamna Farling."

Julian and Stephen raised their eyebrows at the same time.A tall order, Julian thought, but not impossible for him. "I promise you," he said.

It could be seen that Julian was serious, and the handyman came to his spirits. "you promise?"

"Swear on honor."

"Hush——" Klodkov smiled and shook his fingers in front of Julian, "This is in a church, so be careful when you swear." He stood up. "Let's go to my room in the back, and say here—" He glanced at the nave, "—it always feels weird. Come, you two, follow me."