Chapter 77 -77-Layers of Mystery

Chapter 77: Chapter77-Layers of Mystery

John looked in the direction the woman had disappeared.

Then glanced at the door in front of him.

"This just keeps getting more interesting."

He reached out and pushed it open.

Creak—

The heavy wooden door slowly swung inward.

The room looked far more like a private study than John had expected.

An entire wall was covered in bookshelves.

Real firewood burned inside the fireplace.

A massive old-fashioned desk stood in front of the window.

Beyond it, the entire old district could be seen below.

Behind the desk.

An old man sat quietly.

His silver-white hair was neatly combed back.

Deep wrinkles had already appeared across his face.

Yet his posture remained perfectly upright.

He wore a black suit.

Underneath it was a dark gray waistcoat.

A white pocket square peeked from his breast pocket.

An old mechanical watch rested on his left wrist.

And in his right hand was a slowly burning cigar.

He had none of the sharp, hurried air commonly seen in managers of top modern hotels.

Instead, he seemed unusually relaxed.

As though even if the world outside were going to end in the next second.

He would first finish his cigar.

Then slowly decide whether it was worth standing up.

The moment he saw John.

A warm smile appeared on the old man’s face.

"You must be John Blackwood."

John didn’t sit down.

"You know me?"

The old man slowly exhaled a thin stream of smoke.

"Ocean Hotel has a duty to remember every guest’s name."

John pointed at himself.

"I’ve never stayed here before."

The old man’s smile deepened.

"And yet, here you are."

John fell silent for two seconds.

Fine.

The old man raised a hand.

"Please."

Only then did John sit down across from the desk.

The old man placed his cigar in the ashtray.

"So."

"What brings you here, Mr. Blackwood?"

John didn’t bother circling around the subject.

"I heard."

"That this place can help with certain kinds of... information gathering."

The old man folded his hands together.

"Indeed."

"What kind of information?"

John looked directly at him.

"The people involved may be dangerous."

The corner of the old man’s mouth lifted slightly.

His originally gentle expression didn’t change in the slightest.

"Mr. Blackwood."

"If the matter weren’t dangerous."

"You wouldn’t have come here carrying that gold coin."

John’s eyes shifted slightly.

The old man continued.

"We are particularly good at dangerous work."

John stopped wasting time.

He reached inside his coat and took out a photograph.

Then gently slid it to the center of the desk.

In the photo.

A girl with red twin-tails was rolling her eyes at the camera.

Clearly, she had never imagined this picture would one day end up in a place like this.

The old man picked it up.

He only looked at it once.

No surprise.

No question about her identity.

His gaze didn’t even linger for more than two seconds.

John spoke.

"I want to know everything about her connection to the Gray Ledger."

"When they first came into contact."

"Why the conflict started."

"Why the Gray Ledger suddenly put a bounty on her."

"And—"

"Whether there’s anything she’s been hiding from me."

The old man placed the photo back on the desk.

"Gray Ledger."

He repeated the name softly.

Then nodded.

"We accept."

John narrowed his eyes.

"That’s it?"

The old man picked up his cigar again.

"That’s it."

"Anything else I can do for you, sir?"

John was just about to speak.

When the image of the big man he had met that morning suddenly surfaced in his mind.

Nearly two meters tall.

Military background.

Fifteen years serving with a fleet.

And a face extremely similar to Horus.

If Ocean Hotel really possessed the level of intelligence capability John suspected.

Then perhaps a single sentence would be enough.

And the man’s identity could be uncovered immediately.

But just as the words reached his lips.

John stopped.

The man had shown no hostility whatsoever.

From beginning to end, all he had done was go for a run with John.

Whether he really was Horus or not.

There was no need to investigate someone who currently bore him no ill will.

Especially when John knew absolutely nothing about the man’s background.

Some doors.

Didn’t need to be opened just because of curiosity.

John shook his head.

"That’s all."

The old man nodded.

"Very well."

"When we have results, one of our people will contact you."

"Now."

"You may go."

John stood up.

After taking two steps, he suddenly stopped.

"Wait."

The old man looked up.

"Something else?"

"What about the price?"

From the moment John entered the room until now.

The other party had never once mentioned payment.

John didn’t even know what an intelligence investigation of this level was supposed to cost.

The old man smiled.

"You’ve already paid."

"I have?"

John frowned.

"When?"

The old man gestured toward the door with his cigar.

"The coin."

John: "..."

One gold coin.

One service?

He suddenly remembered the calm expression Alfred had worn when placing the coin on the dining table.

As though he were merely handing over an ordinary business card.

Then John looked at the old man in front of him.

His evaluation of his butler quietly rose by yet another level.

"I see."

He didn’t ask anything further.

Then turned and walked toward the door.

Just as the door was about to close.

The old man suddenly spoke from behind him.

"Mr. Blackwood."

John looked back.

The old man raised his cigar.

The smile on his face remained as gentle as ever.

"Welcome to the Ocean Hotel."

Click.

The door slowly closed.

The corridor returned to silence.

John stood outside.

For some reason, he suddenly felt that what he had just completed hadn’t been an ordinary commission.

It felt more like he had officially stepped into a world he had never touched before.

...

The supercar drove away from Ocean Hotel.

And returned to the main city.

Along the way.

John didn’t turn on any music.

His hands rested on the steering wheel.

While his mind continuously sorted through everything that had happened recently.

Inside the game.

He was practically unstoppable.

Too many monsters?

Suck them in with a black hole.

Boss has too much HP?

One-shot it with Void Spear.

Runs too fast?

[Sun Chaser] would chase it to the ends of the earth.

As long as he kept leveling.

More and more traits would continue appearing.

His strength would keep snowballing into something increasingly absurd.

But the real world was completely different.

Who exactly was Zoey?

Why had she become involved in such a serious conflict with the Gray Ledger?

Why would she rather move in next door to him, yet still refuse to explain the real reason?

And who was that man he had met this morning who looked so much like Horus?

Fifteen years in the military.

A fleet.

Classified operations.

Living in a residential community of this level.

No matter how John looked at it, the man didn’t resemble an ordinary retired soldier.

And then there was Alfred.

A private butler recommended by a real-estate office.

Who casually pulled out a gold coin.

And somehow that coin was enough to make the three-hundred-year-old Ocean Hotel accept an intelligence investigation involving the Gray Ledger without even discussing a price.

That was supposed to be an ordinary butler?

The more John thought about it.

The more ridiculous it became.

Every time he felt like he had cleared away even a little of the fog surrounding reality.

More things would immediately appear behind it.

One layer.

Two layers.

Three layers.

Like an endless set of nested boxes.

"Forget it."

John rubbed his brow.

"If I can’t figure it out, I won’t think about it."

The information gap in the real world wasn’t something he could solve by sitting in a car and imagining answers.

Instead of wasting his brainpower.

He might as well log in.

Level up.

Find bosses.

And keep triggering [Reality Merge].

As long as he continued extracting abilities from Apocalypse every day.

And continuously strengthening his body in reality.

Then eventually.

No matter what was standing behind that fog.

He would have enough strength to tear it apart with his own hands.

Strength.

Would always be the simplest answer.

...