Bailonz Street 13-Chapter 199: Side Story

Chapter 199. The Mark (4)

While Ian was away, I held Liam for a brief interrogation.

“Hey. Be honest.”

Liam’s expression was frozen in one way:

‘…Hey?’

He stared at me as if he’d never imagined his wife would call him ‘hey’ in his two hundred years of life.

“…Is he really not Owen?”

Liam hesitated to answer. More precisely, he didn’t seem sure himself…

“…Probably just genetics making him look similar.”

“No, how could genetics make everything from his features to his behavior and habits all exactly like Owen?”

“It’s… possible. Maybe.”

It didn’t seem possible.

While I couldn’t shake my suspicious gaze, the Owen-lookalike returned. Ian handed pajama pants to his godfather in one hand and a hot water bottle to me in the other, then gestured.

“Let’s not stand in the entryway, come inside.”

Liam watched me head to the living room before going to the bathroom. He was clearly going to change his pants.

“Would you like tea?”

“Straight, please.”

“Thought so.”

A teacup was placed before me.

Ian, seated closest to the fireplace, studied me intently before speaking.

“Your hands are shaking, but it’s not from cold. You must have experienced something shocking recently?”

Were my hands shaking? I hadn’t noticed. Looking down briefly, I saw the tea in my cup rippling as if from an earthquake. Finding the situation too serious for words, I muttered:

“This young man’s quite perceptive…”

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“Judging by the scratch on uncle’s forehead – accident? Attack? Both. But you don’t seem like someone who’d tremble over just that… It’s related to uncle’s wet pants, isn’t it?”

It felt like there were two Liams. Like I was dealing with Liam wearing Owen’s shell. That keen eye probably came from his godfather’s teaching. While he likely had natural talent, you could tell he’d undergone repeated training since childhood.

While I avoided answering, Liam emerged in changed clothes, hung his jacket and vest aside, and sat next to me. Just wearing a shirt and cotton pants made the atmosphere more relaxed.

“I’ll explain now.”

I deliberately turned my gaze to the burning logs, trying not to think about what I’d seen. I might recall it briefly when absolutely necessary, but it was already a shocking sight once. No good would come from remembering it often.

Liam explained about the cult murders in the coastal village, the young man who sought revenge, and how we decided to track the cult group called ‘The Brothers of Huntington’ after finding suspicious marks in the photo. Ian listened intently, sunk into his chair.

“Seems like they used consciousness-controlling spells.”

“Yes. Or just behavior control. Either way, it happened in an instant. I think when their group risks exposure, they make related people commit suicide.”

“And when one dies, it immediately reports back to their headquarters?”

“The attacks started as soon as we returned to London, so yeah. 90% probability.”

“That’s how you got hurt on the forehead.”

Liam grinned. He rubbed the waterproof bandage with his finger while gripping my trembling hand.

“How did your pants get wet?”

Ian asked. Liam cleared his throat and crossed his legs. His other arm rested loosely on the chair’s elbow.

“As you know, I have six safehouses. If one was attacked, I thought information about the others might have leaked too.”

“Mr. Thomas?”

“Or executives. So we went to check on Mr. Thomas first. But unwelcome visitors had already been there. He was drowning on dry land. That spell was something I hadn’t seen in ages, and the only solution is for the victim to break free themselves.”

Ian nodded as if understanding. Many spells came up in their conversation, but I couldn’t understand any of them. The truth that once dwelled in me had long since vanished. This was both fortunate and unfortunate for me. If I’d known I’d get tangled in cases like this again!

“What scared Aunt so much?”

The words burst out of me reflexively.

“A face.”

“…A face?”

“A white face, with holes for eyes, like it was holding skin. It didn’t feel alive at all, I saw it in the photo. …Bell sounds. I heard bell sounds too. Then when I opened the emergency exit door, there…”

I couldn’t stop the words pouring out.

Ian muttered “oh dear” softly, checked my eyes, then sighed. Liam sighed along with him. It seemed I’d had a mild seizure.

Though I’d developed some immunity from encountering many beings, even I had never faced that… kind before. Monster? You couldn’t call it a monster. But it was something that committed acts too horrific to be human.

“Mild shock. Don’t worry, you haven’t reached madness yet. What do you like?”

I pondered Ian’s question for a moment.

Things I like.

“Liam Moore. …Violin. Mom’s cooking.”

When Liam’s name jumped out first, Ian’s expression turned slightly like he’d bitten into a bug. Liam’s ears turned bright red. Sorry, but I really do like you.

Ian cleared his throat and answered.

“Exposure to things you like is the fastest way to recover from psychological shock. Well, we can’t bring your mother here, so… wait. I have LP records.”

Now he was naturally calling me aunt, seemingly comfortable with me.

While Ian bustled about, Liam quietly waited by my side for me to stabilize. I organized my thoughts while taking deep breaths. Bach’s ‘Violin Partita No. 3’ began playing from the gramophone in the corner of the living room.

The trembling subsided after leaning against Liam for a while. Things you like really do help. I was gradually finding relief in the fact that this place was very comfortable and nothing here would hurt me.

Once I found stability, proper words flowed out.

“…When I saw the photo I had hallucinations, and the thing from those hallucinations was on that floor when Mr. Thomas was attacked. I wasn’t seeing things wrong. It was waiting for me… like it was waiting for me to come out, like it wanted to show off its traces. And when I chased it, the corners were dead ends and I couldn’t find where it disappeared to. When I opened the emergency exit just in case, the building manager was dead there.”

Liam added explanation.

“It probably attacked poor Mr. Thomas and waited for us nearby. We’d thrown off pursuers several times along the way.”

Ian put two spoonfuls of sugar in his tea, stirred it, and drank it straight without cooling it. Despite the visible steam, he showed no sign of feeling the heat.

“With one caretaker attacked, I thought you might be in danger too.”

“To dig up the addresses of the remaining two places?”

“Could be. Mr. Thomas suffered similarly after we were attacked. Looks like there’s a rat in the company.”

His voice was surprisingly gentle pronouncing ‘rat.’ Though his tone was calm, Liam didn’t bother hiding his anger at the brazen cult threatening his people one by one. He joked that he almost missed being able to use magic.

“Aunt doesn’t know any spells?”

I nodded at Ian’s question.

“Never learned. I was someone who was accidentally affected later in life.”

“Hmm. You probably had some natural disposition. Anyway, not much good in knowing them. You’re already shocked, and using spells might make you lose your reason. For now, you should focus on resting and finding stability.”

I nodded. Liam made an “ah” sound, and when I turned to see if something was wrong, he spoke in a playful voice.

“I’m too worried about leaving you alone here, nephew. It doesn’t feel right, and they’ll surely come after you if they’re determined.”

Ian’s face went pale. He muttered.

“You can’t mean…”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“No!”

“Just a few days, until this is resolved. Just a few days. Think of it as a hotel vacation and come with us.”

Ian wailed but seemed unable to find a way to stop Liam. Sure enough, before long he was dragged out with us by Liam, grumbling complaints the whole way. His manner of expressing dissatisfaction was just like Owen. I giggled and ruffled Ian’s short bob cut.

“Ah, Aunt!”

He’s really just a kid.

People started whenever they heard a grown young man calling a young Asian woman ‘aunt,’ but I found the situation somewhat amusing. Whether he resembled Owen or was Owen reborn, it was funny how three people who should never have been connected all shared the Osmond name. And he was even a Cassfire!

Laughing, I mentally addressed Owen in his grave.

‘Owen, could you have imagined this?’

Though I couldn’t hear the answer, I could guess it:

‘That’s a nightmare I don’t want to imagine!’