Long-term salvation

Rod let his thoughts fade away and pushed the door open.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was standing in front of the central staircase in the hall, seemingly having been waiting for a long time.

He looks almost identical to Danish actor Mads Mikkelsen, but he is not old at all. The handsome middle-aged man has an elegant and mysterious face. His light blue Windsor collar shirt is tied with a black vest and decorated with a dark red checkered tie, adding a bit of warmth.

Hannibal Lecter (United States of America, psychiatrist, director of the Cogitto Foundation)

【Origin: Hannibal series】

Description: A North American psychiatrist of Lithuanian descent. A former surgeon, currently a psychiatrist. Steady and extremely rational, with impeccable and elegant manners, he dislikes rudeness. Due to the afterlife events of his youth, he suffers from a severe mental illness (cannibalism), often drawing the scorn of the Foundation's other resident directors.

【Attitude: caution/distrust/expectation/desire】

This was the message that the All-Seeing Eye gave back to Rhodes.

Really eating people... Rhodes frowned and thought, and that "desire", could this guy want to taste himself?

"Welcome, Mr. Rhodes. Irons told me that you don't like places that are too restrictive, and I imagine the same is true during psychological evaluations." Dr. Hannibal shook hands with Rhodes in a friendly manner, a gentle smile on his face, and every gesture was elegant. "So I took the initiative to prepare a simple dinner for you... May I know the names of these two ladies?"

Rhode tilted his head and nodded slightly to them, and then the girls spoke:

"Marianne." / "Hayase Yuuka."

Hannibal noticed this, along with Rhodes's eye patch. After a brief pause, he twitched his nose, a strange smile spreading across his face, and raised his hand to guide Rhodes and the other two.

"You could use some men's perfume before you go out, but these are minor issues. Please, we have just enough time, let's start eating."

The dining area is in the restaurant, which has been carefully decorated.

The restaurant had a warm French style, and the slightly exaggerated decorations were now outdated. It was obvious that Hannibal was not the first owner of this house, or perhaps it was simply a location specially prepared by the Foundation. The thickest curtains were drawn aside, leaving only the gauze-like curtains, allowing the light from outside to shine in.

In the middle of the restaurant is a long table covered with a beige tablecloth, which is already filled with various porcelain bowls and plates. Four crystal glass sets for drinking wine, and knives, forks and spoons that shine brightly under the dim light are neatly placed next to the porcelain plates. The distance between each set of tableware is almost the same, with a neatness that is enough to satisfy people with obsessive-compulsive disorder.

In the middle of the long table were four exquisitely crafted silver candlesticks, each with a lit candle that gave off a subtle aroma. The candlesticks were arranged along the length of the table, but in the middle was a basket filled with red-berries of American holly.

"That's quite grand, Dr. Hannibal."

Rhode glanced around the table and saw nothing unusual. There was, however, a slightly larger black flip phone sitting in Hannibal's seat—a device not suited for this era, much like the M4 used by Gideon and his companions. Meanwhile, Foundation livestreaming equipment was prominently displayed in various corners of the room, flashing red lights indicating recording.

He then put on a helpless expression, pulled out a chair for the two girls, and sat down himself.

"If I had known that was the case, I might as well have rejected Mr. Irons' invitation directly."

"I thought you'd just 'foresee' it," Hannibal said casually. Then, with a smile, he asked, "You don't take off your blindfold when you eat?"

"This is my habit. You see, it's just like those pirates. They need to quickly adapt to the dark environment in the cabin to facilitate combat. I need it too."

"You don't need to fight here."

"The battle of the mind is equally important," Rhodes said calmly.

"..."

"Do you know why I'm so wary of you?" Rhodes' fingers slid across the cutlery in front of him, not looking at Hannibal's face. He could totally guess the latter's expression right now... he really should have taken a camera to take a picture. "You're not conducting a psychological evaluation on me just now because of Irons' request."

"Let me guess. You started when you saw my photo, my information, and the related reports. You thought about it, and pondered it. You felt confused, and then you felt delighted, and then—"

Rhodes raised his head, looked into those brown eyes, and smiled:

"You will try to analyze me, control me, or eat me."

"Tell me, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, how many people have you eaten?"

"One? Two? Or like a slice of bread every day without counting?"

Hannibal: "..."

The foundation directors who were watching the live broadcast: "..."

In the manor's wing, Irons smiled and drank a little brandy. He could fully imagine the surprised expressions on his old friends' faces.

"...Excellent attack! You've taken the initiative in this conversation, which truly surprises me." Hannibal wasn't angry. Instead, he clapped his hands with a smile on his face, graciously admitting his momentary defeat. "In that case, how about letting me get started on my work?"

"Oh, of course, doctor," Rhodes tried his best not to frown.

"But before that, please allow me to serve you your meal first. It would be rude to keep you two ladies waiting so impatiently." Hannibal's eyes swept over the halo above Yuka's head. As a director of the Cogito Foundation, he could naturally see it. "There's no rush for a clash between men. Otherwise, letting the food slowly cool in solitude would be as regrettable as a lyric poet dying in the endless wilderness."

After saying that, Hannibal walked to the kitchen and began to prepare to serve the dishes to Rhode and the other two. Taking advantage of this break, Rhode winked at Marian and Yuka, making their tense expressions relax a little, and then he comforted them:

"Okay, now I won't eat human flesh for sure."

"So that's what you were worried about before," Yuuka pursed her lips. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, adjusting her mindset as if realizing the dangers of the world for the first time. "You're right. We should be wary of this Doctor Hannibal."

"Commander," Marian responded more directly, "Do you need me to taste the food for you? Nikki's body can detect many foods..."

"No need. Well, Dr. Hannibal is back. You can look forward to it. His cooking skills are very good."

The second half of Rhodes's words was addressed to Hannibal, who seemed to appreciate it very much.

"Steamed sea bass in the Pomeranian style," Hannibal said as he placed the plates of fish on the table. "I steamed the best sea bass and then drizzled it with white wine sauce. Of course, there wasn't much sauce for the two ladies, so I specially prepared finely ground pepper and feta roasted red bell pepper sauce."

"That's so thoughtful, Dr. Hannibal." Rhodes smiled as he smelled the delicious aroma. "I want to thank you on behalf of both of them."

"Then there's the roasted Charolais sirloin with a celery and onion sauce. I hope you don't mind me using a bit more Bordier butter; I really like the taste of it. And of course, there's the Cornell consommé. I grind up chicken and fish, then mix them with eggs and flour to make meatballs. If you need salt, there's the little bottle with the sky-blue lid on the table. But I recommend not adding it, as the meat in the meatballs is already salted."

"And of course, there's this Francine salad. It's a French-style side dish that Director Charles Jean Plessis taught me. I used chopped Magellanic cockles, which are hard to catch this season. If it were August, we could go to the Digby Scallop Festival in Canada... Oh, and of course, Director Charles is French. He also taught me how to shred truffles and mix them with cherry tomatoes, and add apple cider vinegar to the salad dressing. It's delicious."

"Finally, the drinks are Spanish sherry with olives from La Hong Winery. If the two girls don't want any, there's also lemon sparkling water."

Hannibal smiled as he watched Rhode pick up his knife and fork. Marianne and Yuka also began to eat with some hesitation. He slowly sat down and began to savor his culinary creations, observing Rhode as he ate. After everyone had eaten for a while, he spoke:

"Can we proceed?"

"Although I've already said it once, I still need to respond to you seriously—of course, doctor, just don't use those psychology terms with me; I don't understand a thing," Rhodes said, slicing the beef with a knife. Looking at the beautiful muscle texture was a real treat! The rich sauce and the fat aroma that filled the mouth as the meat was chewed turned this enjoyment into tangible satisfaction. "However, for the sake of these delicious foods, I will forgive all your scolding and abuse of me."

"I wouldn't do that. It would be too rude."

Hannibal replied with a smile. He didn't eat too much of the food in front of him. Instead, he put down his knife and fork, looked at Rhodes who was slowly savoring the food, and said softly:

"I think the reason you can tell the agents, Irons, and me our names and know our 'natures' is because of your eyepatch, right? I noticed that you observed carefully when you entered the villa, saw me, came to the restaurant, and served the dishes. In other words, your eyepatch shows not only information about humans, but also inanimate objects?"

Rhodes paused for a moment, then took off the blindfold, handed it to Hannibal, and said with a smile:

"You can try it yourself, doctor."

Without hesitation or reserve, Hannibal took the blindfold and put it on. But nothing happened. It was just a blindfold, covering Hannibal's vision.

"Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Rhodes," Hannibal said with a smile, and then he continued, "Then, this question has two branches. First, this is indeed just a blindfold, and you do have the ability to discern everything. Second, this blindfold... can only be used by specific people. Is it a creation from the other world? A gift from an unknown benevolent being? These two girls also--"

"Doctor, I'm suddenly curious about what you do in the foundation," Rhodes suddenly interrupted Hannibal and did not answer these questions.

"I will answer your questions, but not now. Based on the footage you filmed of the Silent Hill incident, the reports from the Atlas personnel, and Irons' description of this state of knowing the future yet not knowing it," Hannibal's eyes shone brightly in the candlelight, and demonic shadows twisted on the wall. "I think you've been having some trouble with your memory lately. Oh, I'm not saying you have a mental illness, but a deeper cognitive problem. I can sense your... worry."

"You have different memories? Furthermore, are you sure your real name is ROD?"

Are you 'you'?

You told Irons that you only solved the first of the three philosophical questions, but did you really solve it?

Rhodes did not answer Hannibal immediately. He just slowly stuffed the last piece of beef into his mouth, drank the last sip of wine in the glass, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and looked back at Dr. Hannibal Lecter who was looking at him:

"I don't care about that, Doctor."

"……what?"

"You might be wondering if I, with my fragmented memories, would be shaken and afraid, or if I'm some kind of android or clone, something that only appears in science fiction novels or movies. I might be, but I don't care, and I won't be shaken by such insignificant things. Worry? Annoyance? Perhaps, but my fragmented memories don't cause me any more trouble than deciding what to eat tonight."

Rod was saying this to Hannibal, to Irons, and to all the Cogito Foundation directors:

"I made a deal with the unknown benevolent being you mentioned. I received a mission—to save human civilization—and I tremble with excitement whenever I think about doing something to save humanity.

Correct the distortion and open up the future!

Oh my god, is there anything more noble in this world?!

I will make sure I complete this mission, no matter what means. Whether it's Marianne, Yuka, or whoever appears in the future, they are all my helpers in saving human civilization, and that help doesn't have to include you... To be honest, I'm tired of these endless temptations.

Especially you, cannibal Dr. Hannibal. I sincerely hope that your merits in the affairs of the other world outweigh your sins, otherwise I will find you and execute you at any time."

Rhodes looked at Hannibal expressionlessly and continued:

"I am the savior of mankind, the one who will eventually wield the power of steel. Trustees of the Cogito Foundation, remember this and do not become an obstacle to me, or I will crush you."

The atmosphere in the entire restaurant froze for a moment. Hannibal closed his eyes, slowly regulating his breathing, and weighed the pros and cons in his mind. As a doctor of psychology, he had no doubt about the man's resolve. Rhodes would kill him in the future, or even right now—resistance? Just look at Rhodes's fighting prowess in the video!

After a moment, Hannibal let out a barely perceptible sigh, opened his eyes, and said:

"Please allow me to answer your question now. My most important job within the Foundation is to carry out the Foundation's 'necessary evil', obtaining intelligence about the otherworld through various means, such as breaking down the psychological defenses of relevant personnel and using mental pressure. At the same time, I will also psychologically test candidates for Foundation board positions. If they waver or fail to perceive my psychological cues, they will not be promoted, and may even be expelled after their memories are wiped."

This was his attitude and support towards Rhodes.

"Sounds like an important job. I'll keep it in mind."

Rhodes said indifferently that being supported by an ogre would not make people feel good, and he began to doubt the other directors of the foundation.

However, just as he was about to say something else, the system prompt suddenly appeared:

[Side Quest: Twelve Trials: Void Alien World]

Mission Description: Go to Salem, Massachusetts, resolve the otherworldly incident, complete the transaction, and obtain the Silver Key.

Silver Key? Trade? What the hell is this?

Rhode didn't get any more information from the system prompts. He leaned back in his chair with a slightly bored look, waved his hand, and said:

"That's all for today. I'm going to Salem, Massachusetts, to complete a mission in the otherworld. Yes, it's for an unknown benevolent being."

“Massachusetts?”

The ringtone suddenly rang, drawing Hannibal's attention to the flip phone on the table. He opened it and answered it... About half a minute later, Hannibal hung up the phone and looked at Rhodes:

"One of the foundation's directors, Mr. Randolph Carter, wishes to accompany you."

Chapter 18: Randolph Carter Has a Headache (1/2)

Randolph Carter, one of the directors of the Cogito Foundation, is the one who deals with the events of the other world the most among all the directors. He has even successfully recovered many artifacts from the other world without any damage... If anything unexpected happens to Ains, the position of vice chairman of the foundation will be chosen between him and another director, Soichiro Sawai.

At that time, the Cogito Foundation will also take the helm of Atlas.

The successive foundation directors who had experienced a series of events such as World War II, McCarthyism, and the Cold War were extremely persistent in continuing the experience of studying the other world and fighting against the other world. To this day, there is a clear set of rules for promotion, replacement, and substitution within the board of directors.

Of course, after the savior's sudden appearance, these old problems became irrelevant, but the new problem was that the savior now had a very bad impression of the Cogito Foundation, especially the directors.

Whenever Carter thought of this, he felt a headache:

The tough Irons, the cunning Hannibal... He and the other directors had absolute faith in the abilities and resolve of their colleagues, with whom he had worked for years. Once the foundation's chairman was officially appointed, many details would naturally be revealed to the savior, who, however, acted as if he had seen their past and future! The foundation's directors had been thinking in the wrong direction from the start, all of them making varying degrees of miscalculation.

"We made a mistake, Randolph."

"Foolish mistakes must be corrected and broken relationships must be mended."

"He's seeking our approval, and we naturally need to seek his."

"Weakness and ignorance are not obstacles to survival, arrogance is."

"In just a few days, we have been infected by the First Sin. We cannot allow this sin to continue to poison everything in the Foundation!"

Randolph Carter was given the task at a critical moment. His hometown, Arkham, is in Massachusetts, not far from Salem. He could participate in the "mission" of the savior and restore the image of the foundation at the same time.

With the assistance of Atlas, Carter took an urgently dispatched private plane to General Edward Lawrence Logan International Airport. After finding a hotel to rest for a few hours, he set off by car to meet up with Rhodes and his companions who had just arrived.

He was lucky that the private plane landed at the airport before the snow started falling.

At this moment, a new round of cold wave is about to sweep across North America. Intermittent snow showers will continue until noon. Even though the cold wind no longer blows through the tall buildings and no longer makes a shrill howl, the homeless people in the city still need to curl up and circle around the fire to prevent themselves from freezing to death in the street corners.

In the warm car, Randolph Carter withdrew his gaze from the window. He was just a writer, though few people paid much attention to his works. He was also an antiquarian and an investigator of the otherworld, the kind of person whose luck might run out at any moment. The generous treatment provided by the Foundation and Atlas Corporation hadn't made him a millionaire, nor had it made him a sought-after best-selling author. He simply had enough food and clothing, which, of course, was much better than many people in the world.

The jeep left the city and passed through the small towns around it along the road. At this time, the scene was completely different from the city. Residents came out of their homes, shoveling snow from their doors and roofs, and children ran on the streets, showing off the Christmas gifts they received.

It's a heartwarming scene, but that's not what Randolph Carter was looking for. He longed to escape his mundane reality and even wrote a story about it:

"A man, seeking to reclaim his lost innocence, journeys to his childhood home, where he finds a mysterious silver key. This allows him to return to his childhood and regain the ability to travel through time and space. Ultimately, the man disappears into his new adventure, leaving only the wonder and speculation of the mortal world."

Although not many people knew about it, like his own books, Carter was very satisfied with the story and even included the article in the memoir he was writing.

In fact, Carter did have a silver key embellished with mysterious Arabic patterns, which he now wore around his neck and rarely saw. However, it seemed to have no magical powers and had no connection to the other world. It was just one of a large number of miscellaneous antiques handed down by Carter's ancestor, Sir Randolph Carter.

"How much time do we have left to reach the agreed destination?" Carter came out of his trance and fiddled with the silver key necklace around his neck, which was a little uncomfortable because of the thick sweater. "Any messages from anyone else?"

"No, Mr. Carter," said the driver, an Atlas security officer.

"okay, thank you."