282 That Is How Big a Pigeon Is! (1/2)

Robin, clad in a red ceremonial robe, walked into the dark basement. His eyes were cold under his hood. Thick blood bubbled inside the pool. Naberius walked out of the pool without any clothes on. His skin continuously withered away and grew back. After shedding the aged appearance, he recovered his youth. He was no longer injured.

He stepped onto the stone and walked forward. Darkness wrapped around him like a black robe. ”I really waited for so long.” He smiled at the Robin. ”Were you busy with something?”

”None of your business.” The Robin glanced at him. ”Didn’t I say to not message me unless necessary?”

”Frankly, I don’t want to see your face either.” Naberius sighed helplessly. ”But I couldn’t help it. There’s a problem with the decoding of the Elizabeth Tower.”

The Robin furrowed his brows. ”The enchantment was created by the Purple Branch and has a core inheritance. Does Ingmar not even have the ability for reverse decoding?”

”It’s not the ability.” Naberius shrugged and pointed at his head. ”It’s here.”

With that, he pulled open the secret door and guided the Robin. There was another door at the end of the tunnel. A frail old woman was sitting in a chair before the door and sleeping under the dim light. Seeing their arrival, she moved aside without speaking.

”Did he take the medicine?” Naberius asked.

The old woman nodded and pointed at the foul-smelling kettle in the corner. ”He just had it and calmed down after a bit.”

Naberius nodded in satisfaction. He motioned for the Robin to be quiet and opened the door. The room behind it was covered in colored paper. Some were filled with orderly music notes. Others were scribbled with messy brainstorming. Still, others had the alchemy process written on them.

Even more pages were covered in strange and undecipherable doodles. They looked like pictures of various horrible deaths. One could vaguely make out a one-armed man pierced by thousands of arrows, a white doll with a big head that was ripped apart by horses, a blonde man hacked into pieces… A man with graying hair knelt amongst the papers, fervently scribbling on a piece of white paper with a crayon. The frail sickly body and wild eyes were terrifying.

Naberius stood beside him. Bending over, he called softly, ”Ingmar, Ingmar.” The man known as Ingmar continued to draw with his head down. Naberius reached out and took the paper away. ”What are you drawing? Why don’t you show Uncle? Come, be good kids and show Uncle!” Using all his strength, he yanked the paper from Ingmar. Without it, Ingmar stopped moving. He sat on the ground dumbly and muttered something to himself.

The Robin took the paper and furrowed his brows at the scribbled sketch for a long time before looking up. ”Is this…a pigeon?”

Hearing the word ‘pigeon,’ Naberius’ expression changed. However, the Robin had already said the word and it could not be taken back. On the ground, Ingmar began twitching and screamed as if seized by psychosis, scrambling around on the ground.

Finally, he had nowhere to go except curling in the corner. He tried to cover himself with the ripped pieces of paper. With terrified yet blank eyes, he chanted, ”Pigeon, pigeon, pigeon…” Suddenly he began cackling and looked up at Naberius. ”Why is the pigeon so big? Such a big pigeon…it flew!”

No one reacted to him. He tossed the shreds into the air and cheered happily, ”It flew! It flew! The pigeon flew! But why is it so big?”

”…” The Robin glanced at Naberius and waited for an explanation.

”Can’t help it. This is the aftershock from breakdown of his sound of heart.” Naberius sighed. ”His blood pressure shot up and his brain was already messed up when he was treated. He couldn’t be saved even if he was turned into a dark musician. I never thought that the first follower who trained in the name of God in these sixty years is a retard…ha.”

They left the room and closed the door.

”You can’t mention anything about deciphering ancient texts before him now. You can’t talk about the Voynich Manuscript either. If you’re lucky, he’ll be lucid the entire day. If you’re not lucky…then it’s hard to say.” Naberius sighed. ”He can’t do anything in this state.”

”We don’t have time for him to go crazy like this,” the Robin stated coldly. ”Inject opiates, raise the amount, and use the prescription for the dried petals agent. Inject it until he’s lucid.”

”What if he dies?”

The Robin glanced at him. ”Does it matter if he’s alive or not if we get the result?”

”Fine, hand this over to me. No dark musician is more knowledgeable about drugs than me.” Naberius nodded and changed the topic. ”However, Holmes is a bit more difficult. I’m worried that he might be planning something. He hasn’t appeared in a while.”

”Just do what you need to do,” the Robin said lightly. ”Don’t take your work lightly. It’s easy for God to punish you for sixty more years.”

”Don’t say those scary things. I’m already scared.” Naberius sighed in disappointment. ”I had wanted to hear some encouraging words from you. But what if I can’t do it?”

”I have plans.” The Robin turned around and left, disappeared into the darkness.