Translator: Lonelytree
Under the night sky, the dogs got louder and so did the men’s curses and shouts. Gu Jun only had enough time to eat 2 fried omelettes. He did not even get to finish his bread and obtain more information about Arkham or Innsmouth before the interruption came. He was angry. He asked, “Mr. Joyce, do you have any guns?”
“What?” Mr. Joyce was stunned. He did not expect the man to opt for a firefight but now was not the time to act rash. “They have the numbers advantage, plus kid, if you really injure someone, this will be brought to court and then you’ll never leave this town ever.”
“Then can we call the police?” Even though Gu Jun knew that probably won’t help much.
“I do not have a phone!” Mr. Joyce was agitated. “And even if the police came, do you think they will help an outsider like yourself? Don’t be naïve, they will only help those brutes come up with a lawful excuse to murder you. Quick, come with me. You can hide in the basement for now.”
“Do they know about the existence of this basement?” Gu Jun frowned. He carried his backpack and followed the old man deeper into the house.
“I will not let them search this place!” Mr. Joyce promised urgently as he pulled the trap door leading to the basement open.
“No…” Gu Jun shook his head. If he went down there, he’d be trapped. “I think it’s better if I hide outside in the jungle.”
“They have dogs with them!” The old man pointed out but he knew that the man was not going to be persuaded otherwise. “So be it. Hurry up to the second floor and find a place to hide. Just be still.”
That sounded like a better idea. Gu Jun hurried up the wooden steps. He turned around before he reached the top. He whispered to Mr. Joyce who was turning to the door. “The kitchen! There are two plates.” The old man got the hint. He hurried to the dining table to clear away the plates. By then, the men had reached the front door.
“Joyce, hand us the heathen!””There is no hiding for either one of you!”
The old man cleared away the table before he walked over to the door. He yelled at the top of his lungs, “Who the hell is making all that noise?”
On the other hand, Gu Jun knelt down on the second floor. The place was dim but of course, he was not dumb enough to switch on the lights. The second floor was sparse and rustic. There was a living room and 3 other rooms. He paced lightly around to find a place to hide while paying focus to the argument outside. Mr. Joyce claimed that he was the only one at home. The mob wanted to search the house but the old man denied them entry. He warned that if any of them dared to illegally trespass into his house, he’d shoot them down.
As Gu Jun went down the corridor, his eyes caught the pictures hanging on the wall. It should be Mr. Joyce’s family portrait. Mr. Joyce looked so much younger in them. Beside him was a pretty woman and a dashing young man. They were once a happy family. These paintings were all oil paintings. Gu Jun wondered if they were painted by Mr. Joyce’s family or he bought them from someone else. Suddenly, Gu Jun’s vision blurred. The headache returned and so did the strange sensation…”The transmigration… is about to initiate again…”
The headache was even more intense than last time. Perhaps it was due to his unwillingness to leave. His emotions clashed together and his muscles cramped. ‘No, I don’t want to leave.’ Gu Jun tried to resist. He still had many mysteries to solve. Plus he did not understand how this transmigration ability worked. It was like he was being shoved into a vehicle without being told his destination. What if he was transported back to the wasteland? Or somewhere 100 times more hazardous than this place… Furthermore, he still had not accomplished his promise to the friendly Mr. Joyce. He still had not visited Arkham or Innsmouth, there was no telling whether he’d be able to come back here or not…
The argument outside the house grew louder. Mr. Joyce was unable to chase the mob away. They were dead set on the belief that the heathen was inside Joyce’s house. A man cursed, “Joyce, the legend must be true. You have committed some kind of dark transaction with the people from Innsmouth. You sold them your son and wife to gain favor from the demon!”
“How dare you?!” Mr. Joyce exploded in anger. His voice shook. “You son of a bitch, how dare you…”
“Old man, I’m sorry but this is for the safety of our town!”
Then came the sound of fighting, the old man and his dogs screaming. But soon the fighting died down. The old man could be heard screaming that he would murder them all. Obviously he was overpowered. With a bang, the front door was kicked down and the mob rushed in. “You guys go down there, we’ll go upstairs!”
‘Fuck… Why must it happen at a time like this…’ Gu Jun felt the control of his body fading. Every inch of his body went into spasm.
Tap, tap, tap. Footsteps creaked on the wooden steps. The sound of the men rushed up into the second floor. The curses arrived soon after. “Heathen, come out!””You won’t be able to hide from us. This is not Innsmouth, no one will provide sanctuary for you!”
Gu Jun’s head was splitting. It was the same back at the wasteland. ‘Everywhere I go, there is chaos and death…’ Suddenly he spotted the split cross. It appeared in one of the oil paintings. It glowed weakly. Right at that moment, his body leaned weakly forward. His hands brushed against the painting. The moment the men walked out from the stairs, Gu Jun was sucked into the oil painting. The painting fell to the ground and the frame cracked. The light faded away.
“He’s here! He’s here!””Old man, you lied to us!”
The men hurried towards the sound. They searched all three rooms on the second floor, then the first floor and the basement. They even ransacked the small farm but they found no Easterner. There was nothing out of place. The men looked at each other. Their hunting dogs wouldn’t get the scent wrong…
Mr. Joyce was equally confused. ‘Where is the young man? Could he have jumped down from the second floor window into the forest? But the hunting dogs would have picked up on his trail.’
As confused as he was, the old man puffed up his chest with indignation. “I’ve already told you, I am not harbouring anyone here! You bunch of ingrates, trampled into my house, beat up my dogs and slandered my family’s name! You bunch of bastards!”
The mob scratched their heads and shied away from Mr. Joyce with shame. They could only vent their anger on the hunting dogs. Why would the dogs lead them to poor Mr. Joyce’s place?