Chereads / Number 13, Chiswick Street. / Chapter 29 - Chapter 29: Telling You, the Secret

Chapter 29 - Chapter 29: Telling You, the Secret

Orpheus glanced at Ron, then at the copper coin in his hand.

So, the money the old woman spent all day looking for, was stolen by you?

And almost losing my life along with Puer last night, is also because of your meddling?

But from another perspective, it does make sense that the family business's "young boss" would be confronted when his employee steals from others on the job.

However, here's the problem:

Was that old woman truly a Bewitching Demon?

If she was, then why is she lying in the morgue, unclaimed and reduced to a mere corpse?

If she wasn't, does it mean that her transformation into a demon was caused by this copper coin? In other words, this coin can mass-produce Bewitching Demons?

But looking at Ron now, in his "foolish" state, it's hard to reconcile him with the old woman who used tricks and possessed a corpse last night.

Is it because Ron hasn't had enough contact with the coin yet? Or was the old woman not an ordinary person to begin with, leading to different changes when the two encountered the coin?

One thing is certain: this copper coin is definitely suspicious.

Orpheus remembered Puer mentioning something called a "Holy Relic." Ordinary people need to undergo a process of "Purification" to become servants of the gods, and purification requires the aura of a holy relic.

So, a "Holy Relic" is just a general term. It's not necessarily a "divine object," as Puer put it. Demons and priests are essentially the same at their core?

"My money... My money..." Ron was still drooling, mumbling under his breath.

"Ron, what's wrong?" Paul seemed to notice Ron's odd behavior.

Orpheus raised his hand, intending to return the coin to Ron to help him return to normal.

Ron is a family servant and won't run away. Besides, they were almost home. Once they got there, Orpheus could call on Dies, and let Ron hold onto the coin for just a little longer.

But as Orpheus prepared to hand over the coin, a strong sense of reluctance suddenly welled up inside him.

The feeling was hard to describe...

It was like finding a penny on the side of the road and handing it over to a police officer would be easy. But finding a gold brick? Even if you ended up turning it in, you'd have to fight through some inner struggle first.

No matter how noble a person is, as long as they're human, they will experience greed.

Orpheus took a deep breath, steeled himself, and handed the coin back to Ron.

Ron immediately smiled, his expression returning to normal, kissing the coin. Meanwhile, Orpheus felt a pang of emptiness and loss inside.

I only held the coin for a little while, and it's already had this much influence on me?

The power of this coin is truly astonishing.

After all, it's just copper; it's not even valuable!

The hearse finally arrived at the front door. The last group of mourners was leaving, as today's vigil had come to an end.

"Whose funeral is this?" Orpheus asked Paul.

"Today is old Darcy's," Paul replied.

"Old Darcy?" Orpheus paused, then asked, "Who paid for old Darcy's funeral?"

Old Darcy had a family and friends, but clearly, even as a cremator, his family wouldn't have spared the expense of holding a funeral at the Immorales family's establishment.

The last person to promise old Darcy a grand funeral was Mrs. Hughes, who, according to the police, was now on the run.

"Mrs. Hughes' assets were confiscated, and her crematorium is set to be auctioned off. The rest of her assets will go toward compensating the victims," Paul explained.

Uncle Mason, who had just turned off the car, chimed in, "We're considering buying out the Hughes Crematorium."

"The price?" Orpheus asked.

"Not sure yet. In a couple of days, I'll take the official in charge of the auction out for dinner to find out what kind of bribe they're after. These days, who really bothers with bidding the legitimate way?"

Paul and Ron lifted Orpheus out of the comfortable coffin and placed him on a stretcher.

"Orpheus?"

A familiar voice called out—it was Piaget.

Today, Piaget was dressed in formal mourning attire, clearly attending old Darcy's funeral.

"Old Darcy once helped collect Linda's ashes for me, so I came to pay my respects. And since I knew you'd be discharged this afternoon, I waited a little longer," Piaget said with his usual gentle smile and soft tone.

"One, two, three!"

Paul and Ron lifted the stretcher from the hearse. Ron fumbled, and the copper coin he was holding slipped from his grasp, rolling onto the ground.

Ron immediately tried to release his grip to retrieve the coin.

Luckily, Uncle Mason quickly reached out and steadied the stretcher; otherwise, Orpheus might have tipped over at the front door, risking tearing his wound and being sent back to the hospital before even stepping inside the house.

Piaget bent down and picked up the copper coin.

"My coin, my coin..." Ron muttered as he approached Piaget.

Piaget handed the coin back to Ron. What surprised Orpheus was that Piaget showed no change in expression, still wearing his gentle smile as he returned the coin.

But when Orpheus had held it earlier, he had clearly felt a sense of loss.

So, is it because Piaget is too wealthy? Does it make no difference to him whether he finds a penny or a gold brick on the street?

"My coin, my coin." Ron cradled the coin as if it were a baby.

After setting the stretcher down, Uncle Mason gave Ron a swift kick, knocking him to the ground. Even so, Ron clung tightly to the coin.

"Were you crazy just now, Ron?" Mason yelled.

Ron only smiled foolishly in response.

Mason bit his lip but said nothing more. With a grim expression, he and Paul pushed Orpheus inside the house.

Piaget took off his hat and bid farewell to Orpheus:

"I'll come to visit in a few days. You rest well."

"Alright, Piaget."

The stretcher was pushed into the living room. It would have been easy to wheel it into the basement, down the ramp.

Luckily, Paul and Ron didn't succumb to their professional habits this time.

Orpheus' stretcher was carried to the third floor and placed in his room.

Lunt, Mina, and Chris had school today. Since old Darcy's funeral wasn't high profile, they didn't need to take the day off.

Once Orpheus was settled in bed, Aunt Mary brought in some snacks and water.

"My dear Orpheus, you've been through so much. Now that you're home, just rest up. Let me know if you want anything to eat," she said.

Because of Mrs. Hughes' situation, Aunt Mary genuinely felt guilty toward Orpheus.

"Auntie, is Grandpa home?"

"Yes, he's in his study." Aunt Mary smiled as she spoke, knowing how much Dies valued his grandson. But, being the elder, Dies wouldn't personally greet him at the door. "I'll go fetch him."

Before long, Dies appeared at the door.

Without any delay, Orpheus spoke, not even offering any pleasantries:

"Grandpa, Ron has a copper coin he stole from the old woman's corpse in the hospital morgue. Last night, that Bewitching Demon was looking for it. I held the coin for a moment, and I could feel its pull. The coin is still with Ron!"

"Hiss... Whew..."

Orpheus quickly told the story without pause, not wanting to waste time or risk Ron leaving after his shift, which could lead to unnecessary complications.

Dies didn't waste any time either, turning to leave the room immediately.

About two minutes later, Ron entered Orpheus' room, with Dies following behind and shutting the door.

"Master, is there something you need from me?" Ron was confused. If it were a work-related issue, wouldn't it have been discussed in the study? "I made a mistake earlier and I feel terrible about it. I won't let it happen again."

Ron assumed it was because he had mishandled Orpheus earlier.

"Ron, give me that coin."

"A coin?"

Ron took out the copper coin from his pocket but kept it clutched in his hand.

"Give it to me," Dies said.

Dies had an imposing authority.

Ron took a deep breath and slowly opened his palm, finally releasing the coin.

Dies took it.

Ron stared at the coin as it left his hand, and his eyes began to glaze over again:

"My money... my money... my money..."