horror effect

Nicholas found that since the accidental fainting, Renee's body began to change.

It was the first time she came to work without an old-fashioned hair bun. When she walked into the medical center with her smooth and long black hair, not only Nicholas, but even the female nurses and patients on duty looked at her in surprise .

Then Renee slowly began to change the black outfit that seemed to have become a part of her. She changed into a cream coat and light brown leather boots, which made her look a lot younger.

While she's yet to rock red or sapphire blue like a posh chick, it's still a pleasant surprise for those who've grown accustomed to Renee's shady style for nearly a decade.

He couldn't help but stare at her long, slightly curly hair, the way she brushed it behind her ears with her fingertips, her warm smile—a smile that until then had always looked cold and thoughtful.

Renee's spirit also seems to be struggling out from under the dark confinement like a black coat that is gradually being taken off. Her life is beating steadily and surely. She no longer belongs to the past. Around her, time flows like a river. .

It seems that under the influence of Renee, Nicholas suddenly found that his tedious and unchanging life was embellished with different joys and bright colors, and his endless repetitive work seemed to have a little special meaning.

He is still very busy, spending a few hours a day with Constance Marmet, who has entered the last stage of his life, but he does not feel the loneliness and fear of being unattached to a dying person as before, He felt a quiet joy, as if he were not serving the dying, but sending them on another new and unknown journey.

It has been more than a week since Stephen called them to see a doctor for the female painter. She survived. Although her body was still failing, she did not intentionally want to end her life, as if being alive was just a matter of nature. It is as natural as the death that will inevitably follow one after another.

But what puzzled Nicholas was that the female artist's attitude towards Renee was always bad. Although she did not resist the treatment, she always looked at Renee with cold and angry mist.That was the only thing that bothered Nikolai.

That day, Nicholas found a dark envelope on his desk, as did Renee's.

When he opened it, he found Mikhail Bouilly's funeral invitation inside.He almost forgot about it.

He had attended quite a few funerals in the past two months, his own father's, that of Papa Collivan's, then that of Bouille two days later, and that of Constance Malmey, for sure, soon after.

Then he thought about the funeral of Sister Tofana in a few years' time.

By then, the oldest people in the town will all be dead, and the memories of their era will end with their departure.

Nicholas put the invitation letter in a drawer, and walked towards the painter's residence in the warm sunlight.He went up the stairs and entered Constance's bedroom. She was lying quietly, and Stephen was sitting on the chair by the bed reading the newspaper. Seeing Nicholas coming in, Stephen was about to leave.

After he was gone, Nicola checked Constance and gave him another shot of painkiller.Then Nicholas picked up the newspaper and continued reading from the point where he had just been interrupted, but after a while, the female artist made a gesture to indicate that he was going to sleep.So he left the room and went down to the kitchen to make coffee.

The coffee was bought by Julian from the Cedar Hill Inn. It is said to be Guatemalan coffee. Nicholas just thinks it is a little sour and smells like smoke, but it still makes him feel warm and comfortable.

After finishing his coffee and cleaning his cups, he went upstairs to see the sick.When he entered the room, the patient was awake. She stared at him, and after a while, she said, "Please call some people for me. I have something to say."

Nicholas was startled suddenly.He knew it was an instinct of dying patients who foresee their own impending death.Nikolay waited for her with his hands down.

She continued: "Please call these people for me - Renée Hostatova, Herbert Wernstein, Ana Bois, Julian Lemon, Stephen Breumontrose Special, Yenio Linnon and his son Valentin Linnon."

There are several people standing in the bedroom of Constance Marmey, which makes the originally not spacious bedroom even more crowded. Nicolas moved some chairs, but everyone seems to prefer to stand, only the pregnant Anna Bovail At the insistence of Dr. Renee Hostatova, she sat in a chair next to Malmet's bed.

Most of the people looked surprised and didn't know why they were suddenly called here; there were people like Julian and Stephen who had anticipated what was going to happen; and people like Herbert Wernstein. Although he looked calm on the surface, his tightly kneaded fingers revealed his anxious inner man.

Seeing that all the people she hoped to be present had gathered, the female painter smiled with satisfaction and said to them: "I invite you to come here because I will die soon. Before that, I want to announce my will, which has been written. Well, it will be kept by my lawyer. And you will all be the executors or beneficiaries of my will. You may be surprised, but I ask you not to interrupt me until I have published my will." She glanced at the crowd , and whispered, "You'll know."

Marme looked at Yenio Linnon and Valentine Linnon and said, "Monsieur Linnon, and Valentine - you will get all my books, both those I have purchased and my own Written. It will greatly enrich your rental bookstores, all I ask is that you take good care of these books and put them to good use."

Old Mr. Linnon's leg suddenly became stiff like an arthritis attack, and Valentine stretched out his hand to support him.

"Oh... Ms. Malmey. I..." Mr. Linnon said nervously.But the female painter raised her left hand to prevent him from continuing.

"Please accept it, Mr. Lin Nong." She said, "These books should be read non-stop, and it is most appropriate to put them in your place."

She looked at Anna Bouilly beside her again and said, "This house of mine, including everything in it except books, I will give you as a gift, Anna. I hope to build a small gallery and exhibit my works. works and other artists that I have collected. You have the ability, Ana."

The young pregnant woman was a little surprised, but she didn't refuse. She knew that the old man had the most resolute strength in her heart, so she nodded to accept.

Marme turned her head to look at Dr. Renee Hostatova, and the old man's eyes flickered, as if something flitted across the surface of his thoughts for a moment.

"Doctor, thank you for your help in the past few days. I am not in so much pain, but you can't prevent death from coming." She smiled bitterly, "I think you must really want to know why I am always not good to you, you Will know. But listen to me first. I still have a deposit in the bank from years of painting. I understand that you plan to use your recent inheritance to start a foundation and I will give my savings to the fund It will take care of it. And the only thing I ask is that you continue to maintain my house in the way it is now."

The female doctor raised her eyebrows. "Sorry, I think the money should be left to your relatives..."

"I have no relatives." Marme looked at her.

"Since you don't like me, why did you leave the money to me? Didn't you think I would deliberately damage your reputation?" Renee said coldly, which made the others stare at her in confusion.

"You wouldn't do that." Marme smiled mysteriously.

Her smile made Renee feel that the old man had been brewing something, that she was just the kind of person who would treat horror and disaster as a change from a monotonous life.Renee shivered and decided to keep silent for now.

Now Marme was speaking to Herbert Wernstein.

"Sir, I have nothing left for you, neither do Julian and Stephen, but I don't think they will blame me, because it is more important to them to know every link of the development of events than money."

Having said that, Julian and Stephen nodded in agreement.

"And to you, Mr. Warnstein, I know you have your own questions to ask me for answers. I will answer your questions, and I will answer all of your questions. But first, I would like to ask Julian Ray Monsieur tells what he knows about the past—I choose him because he's a foreigner."

Julian looked hesitantly at the old man on the hospital bed.

"I don't have the strength to tell such a long story, Mr. Raymond." She sighed, leaning back on the folded cushions, looking really tired.Julian took two steps forward, nodded to the crowd, and began to tell the story he had been working on for the past few months.

After the story was told, there was silence in the room.

Julian thought that Nicholas, Anna, and Renee, the three whose families were killed by the white lion, would burst out suddenly and pour all their grief and anger on the female painter, but they were all calm.

Although Nicholas was wiping his eyes with his palms and biting his nails vigorously, Anna just stared at her big beautiful eyes, obviously feeling inconceivable about this bizarre story.

What puzzled Julian was Renee, her lips, which had been tense just now, were now loosened, and a tranced and warm smile appeared on her usual indifferent expression.

Constance Marmey spoke again, but she was even more tired now than before, as if the thing that had supported her to announce her will just now had slipped out of her body.

"Okay. That's my story, and the White Lion's. Maybe some of you think I've done something wrong and want me to pay. But I'm old and have suffered and died too much to know that I What I did will eventually fall on me like a stone thrown overhead; I also know that there is a bright and free world waiting for me, and Bernus will wait for me. Even if you all hate me , that's all right. I love him, God only knows how deep my love and pain are."

She paused, the air rushing through her throat, making a hoarse sound, as if with each breath she was exploding coarse sand from the inside of her chest.

In more than half an hour, she had aged rapidly, her hands had turned into tangled ropes, and her skin seemed to have been coated with wax.

She closed her eyes and rested for a moment, giving time for the people in the room to look at each other and talk in low tones.

Then she opened her eyes and stared at Herbert Wernstein.

"Sir, I haven't given you anything yet..." Herbert shook his head.

Malme continued, "I really don't give you anything. You're not like them, and I'll give you the best I can." She smiled.But when Herbert heard this, his face suddenly turned pale.He muttered under his breath, "No, no, I don't want to..."

The smile disappeared from Marme's face, she turned her head to look at the trees outside the window, and said coldly, "I ask you to be honest with these people - as I have just confessed - the name of your grandfather."

Herbert Wernstein stepped back abruptly, staring at the female painter on the bed with his light blue eyes as if looking at some monster.And the latter demanded in her unchanging hoarse tone, "Please speak up."

Julian, who was looking at the two people, suddenly spoke and interrupted them, "I'm sorry, Ms. Malmey, if Mr. Wohnstein is unwilling to speak out, I think he can..."

"He has to say it," Marme insisted.

Herbert gave a long sigh, looked at Julian, then at the others, and gave a wry smile. "My maternal grandfather is the Albert G in the story just now."

"I already guessed it. But..." Julian's words were interrupted by Marme, she said to Herbert, "You know all about how he deceived Bernus, and you also know exactly what he did matter, but you destroyed almost all the information about your grandfather for your own reputation."

"No!" Herbert stepped forward and stood in front of Marme, trembling all over.

"I did this just because I didn't want everything to go on like this. You know I never agreed to your plan from the beginning to the end. And..." His face turned paler, "And I love Bernous."

Malmay sneered, "Like your grandfather, 'I love him'! But all he did was cheat, cheat! You're just like him!"

"No! Constance Marmey, I love Bernus Molatov, it has nothing to do with my grandfather. Besides, I still have their personal letters, which say things you may not know at all. Will believe it. Do you want to see it? Or do you not want to see it?"

Marme closed her eyes, then opened them again.

"I really don't want to read it, and I don't believe what's written on paper—how do you know the letters are telling the truth? I'm dying anyway, he loves Bernous or he cheats Bernard Nustul I can't bear it. So, to you, Albert's grandson, I give you the last gift of my life. I know that you long for punishment, for falling into him like those who were tortured by Bernus. the palm of your hand, because you love him, but—”

She looked at Herbert and smiled the biggest smile a dying man could make, "I forgive you, Herbert Wernstein. I forgive you for everything, whether it's because of the blood in your body I forgive whatever you do of your own volition. You will not be punished, absolutely not."

She held out her hand to Herbert who clenched her fist tightly, "Don't you thank me?"

Herbert stood there stiffly, and slowly, slowly stretched out his right hand to touch the fingertips of the female artist.

He felt her trying to bring his hand to his eyes, to her mouth, and kissed it.Herbert only felt his body trembling, and the touch from the back of his hand was as cold as ice, and spread along the nerves to his whole body.

Then he stood up and staggered back into the shadows of the corner.