476 The Straw Men (2/2)

Liv took a deep breath, turned around, and looked at her eldest daughter, Freja, who was wiping her hands and casting her gaze towards the vocabulary notebook in the opposite room.

”It's almost New Year's. Most of our clients have left Backlund and have gone on vacation elsewhere. We can't go on like this. We have to find new work.”

As she spoke, she walked towards the door.

”During this period, the rich will host banquets one after another. They definitely won't have enough servants and might hire temporary kitchen cleaners. I plan on inquiring. Freja, you stay at home and pick up Daisy when the time comes. We need income, but so do the thieves, bandits, and human traffickers of those prostitutes to welcome the new year.”

In the East Borough, every woman, who didn't work in the factories, had to be skilled or aggressive enough in order to survive.

Freja answered briskly, ”Alright.”

Her mind was already on the desk and vocabulary notebook next door.

Liv had just opened the door when she stumbled and fell to the floor.

Cough! Cough! Cough! She broke into a violent coughing fit as her face flushed red, with every joint in her body experiencing an unbearable ache.

Freja ran over in panic and squatted beside her.Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please clickfor visiting.

”Mother, what's wrong with you? Mother, what's wrong with you?”

”It's nothing. Cough, I'm fine.” Liv began to find it harder to breathe.

”No, you're sick—sick! I'll take you to the hospital immediately!” Freja tried to help her mother up.

”It's too expensive, too… expensive. Cough—Let's go to a charity hospital. A charity hospital, I can wait. It's n-not a big problem.” Liv gasped a response.

Freja burst into tears and her vision blurred rapidly.

But at that moment, she felt her lungs burn, and her body went limp as she fell to the ground with Liv.

”What's the matter with you, Freja? Cough! You're sick too?” Liv shouted anxiously. ”There's money, cough—in the closet, cough—in the hole in the wall. You have to be quick. Go to the hospital! Get a good—a good doctor!”

Freja tried to say something, but not a sound came out from her mouth. Her eyes slanted up to the door beside her.

It was their bedroom, their bunk beds. On top of it was her favorite table and her vocabulary notebook.

Her body suddenly began to twitch.

Liv's coughing stopped.

Within the public elementary school at the edge of East Borough, the fog still wasn't thick yet, but many students had already started to cough.

The experienced teacher on duty immediately ordered, ”Quick, to the cathedral. We need to head for the cathedral next door!”

Daisy stood up in a panic and ran with the crowd to the cathedral next to the school.

Suddenly, her heart palpitated as she felt the horror of losing something important.

… Mother… Freja. Daisy turned her head sharply, wanting to rush home against the crowd.

However, she was stopped. She was caught by her teachers and forcibly dragged towards the cathedral.

Daisy struggled and screamed at the top of her lungs, ”Mother! Freja!

”Mother! Freja!”

…

In East Borough, the dock area, and the factory district, the old or those with latent ailments collapsed in the fog in succession like felled trees, while those who came into contact with them felt as if they had been infected by the plague. They died quickly, and even the able-bodied adults and children also felt slightly unwell.

In their eyes, the light yellow and iron-black fog was like the descent of Death.

On the Tuesday of the last week in 1349, Backlund was shrouded in haze.

…

In the corner of the hall, Klein pressed himself against the stone wall so that he wouldn't be discovered by Mr. A.

Soon, he heard muffled groans and could smell the scent of flesh and blood.

”Give up your lives for the Lord,” Mr. A's voice suddenly sounded.

Thud. Thud. The sound of figures collapsing entered Klein's ears, and a strong spirituality fluctuation appeared and constantly reverberated.

Mr. A sacrificed his four attendants? Just as this thought appeared in Klein's mind, illusory layers of weeping sounds could be heard. Some of them were calling out for their mothers, others coughing violently, and some moaning in pain.

As half of an expert at mysticism, Klein seemed to see a series of disgruntled and transparent figures entering the ritual one after another, followed by the years of numbness, despair, pain, and resentment from the dock area, factory district, and East Borough.

Has it officially begun? Klein closed his eyes and leaned his back against the wall, his right hand clenching and relaxing.

For him, the best thing to do at this moment was to slip out of the hall and flee into the distance while Mr. A was concentrating on the ritual.

His right hand loosened and tightened before relaxing many times in a row.

Seven or eight seconds later, Klein opened his eyes, the corners of his mouth curling upwards in an exaggerated manner.

He reached out his hand to grab the revolver, turned around abruptly, and dashed out.

Dressed in his black double-breasted frock coat, he raised his right hand and aimed at the altar.