The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

Page 160

Krull, who had been lying prostrate on the ground, slowly rose to his feet and raised his hands, revealing two scarred arms. One of them had been severed by the knight's halberd, and blackened flesh sprouted from the cut, forming a new arm.

No, judging from its shape, that thing can't possibly be called an arm. At most, it's a "forelimb" or a "cheliped."

"...Why did I become like this?"

"When did I become like this?"

"who I am?"

Krull examined his body in disbelief, occasionally uttering fragmented and incoherent babbling.

"You are Krull, the navigator of the Fenrir."

Davis keenly sensed Krull's wavering and confusion, and then responded to his self-talk.

“Do you remember? At the Wenlanta underwater ruins… we struggled to survive together in that desperate situation. When we encountered a storm in the open ocean, we lost all our supplies and could only survive on the corpses of our companions.”

He had previously mentioned that during the exploration of the Vinlanda underwater ruins, only two of his fellow sailors survived... and Krull was one of them.

That experience forged a bond between the two, and for this reason, in the subsequent lottery that determined who would die in the shipwreck, it was Professor Toussaint, not Davis, who drew the death lot.

Drawing lots is a tradition and a skill among seafarers in dire situations. In many past maritime disasters, it was not uncommon for the fate of a ship to be decided by drawing lots... However, there has never been a case where a captain drew a death lot.

Yes, who would die was decided before the lottery was even held...

“Krull…”

Upon hearing the familiar yet unfamiliar name, fragmented memories began to surface, and his expression became increasingly strange.

“But I’m clearly a chef at the Hanover Palace! But… how could I possibly be? This is my first time here…”

Having thought this through, the initial question has become the answer.

"I'm already dead? Am I now an 'evil spirit'?"

Krull felt a clarity of mind he had never felt before, and at the same time, a ridiculous sadness welled up in his chest.

"To die so inexplicably in a place like this, what a fucking joke..."

His body went limp, and the once restless, decaying flesh now curled up, as if it had lost all vitality.

"Lawyer, if you can give me peace, please do it quickly."

"As the night deepens, the 'chef' residing inside me will fully awaken. At that point, a single pistol won't be enough to deal with him..."

Krull would stop at nothing to survive if he could live. But now that he has become a rotting monster, there is no point in clinging to life any longer.

"Ah."

Tames raised her hand and touched his forehead.

The alchemical procedure [Bone Dissolution Technique] immediately took effect. Within moments, Krull's tall and imposing body began to collapse and dissolve at an extremely rapid pace.

Before he was completely reduced to mincemeat, he glanced somewhat absentmindedly at the folklorist beside him.

Hey, I always thought Davis had weird luck back at sea. Turns out, he's the one who's most likely to die here...

The flashes of thought appeared and then faded, and Krull's consciousness was completely plunged into darkness.

"despair."

A book fell out of his chef's uniform. Fran picked it up and brushed off the bloodstains.

This time, Tames left no loose ends. She took a small can of gasoline from her briefcase, poured it over Krull's mushy body, and then struck a match and threw it at him.

Flames rose, burning brightly.

Davis narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at the flames radiating heat from the corpse.

He initially thought Tames was joking when she said she'd burn it, but it turns out she really did carry gasoline with her. In this respect, this disciple and her teacher do indeed share some similarities…

"Ms. Fran, what is that book?"

Tames saw the fallen book and asked a question out of curiosity.

A. Fran flipped through the diary and answered rather casually.

"A diary, signed 'Tom Angus' on the title page. However, it is not yet clear who he actually is."

Upon hearing this, Tames nodded slightly, gently lifting her chin as if she had thought of something.

H: "Tom... I've heard of him. He was the previous head chef at Hanover House, but nobody knows where he went after he resigned."

U And on the first page of this diary, the missing third chapter of that poem is clearly written.

The cook stepped into the kitchen, his eyes gleaming with fear.

The meat on the counter was still twitching, accompanied by a disjointed, fluttering rhythm.

[Rolling steam swirls around the boiling soup pot, the enticing aroma of its delicious cooking is irresistible.]

[The intricately carved plating, fluid and expressive, showcases the culinary skill honed through countless trials!]

7. [—The dinner here was the same as yesterday, no different. No, no different.]

At first glance, this poem doesn't seem to depict any eerie scenes. However, some of its descriptions are hard to ignore.

6. If nothing unexpected happened, why would you specifically emphasize that "the dinner here is just like yesterday, with no difference"?

Fran casually flipped to the next page of the diary and discovered that this chef's diary was different from the one in his bedroom.

The following pages... contain other content.

[January 19th of the lunar calendar. Today's work was no different from usual, but the Earl has been frowning and seems somewhat melancholy these past few days. Should I prepare some more innovative dishes and have the kitchen purchase some unique fruits?]

[January 25th (lunar calendar). The weather is getting colder. A layer of frost has formed on the windows. The Countess mentioned wanting seafood chowder around this time last year. I wonder if she still likes it this year? She's always dieting to maintain her figure, but she's already quite thin. I can only try my best to prepare more nutritious dishes for her.]

It's a pity it's winter now, otherwise Miss would definitely have asked me to prepare desserts for her outdoor tea party...

[February 4th, lunar calendar. Many people have started to fall ill lately; it seems to be some kind of flu. The Earl's private physician has been busy these past few days. However, he says it's just a minor illness, and the fever will subside. Hopefully, Miss won't get sick.]

……

Most of the diary entries were like this, with no particular focus or specific meaning. It was probably just something the head chef wrote to pass the time.

Everything was as usual until the date on the diary reached March 1st.

[March 1st, lunar calendar. The doctor said it was just a common flu, but after contracting it… the usually healthy Countess passed away. The Earl, whose spirits had been improving, became incredibly silent, and the young lady locked herself in her room and cried all day.]

[March 2nd, Lunar Calendar. Today... the pork delivered was strange. It wasn't in its usual whole state, but already cut into small pieces, even the bones were removed. What kind of impatient, stupid butcher would debone someone? Unless the sun doesn't rise tomorrow.]

Moreover, the meat today was too lean; the fat-to-lean ratio was completely off. It was so lean, it was like…

The diary ends here.

The last paragraph's handwriting showed a noticeable tremor, clearly indicating that the head chef had already suspected something. But he was unwilling to delve into it and forced himself to ignore that almost overwhelming intuition.

"So...the Earl of Hanover ate his wife?" Davis guessed hesitantly.

Before coming here, he had always thought the Earl of Hanover was a respectable man. It was the blow of losing his wife and the disappearance of his daughter that plunged him into hysteria, making him depressed and silent all day long.

After understanding the deeper meaning of the matter, he discovered that the situation was not as simple as he had originally imagined...

"maybe."

Tames couldn't give a definitive conclusion either.

Although she served as the manor's legal advisor for a period of time, her actual tenure was relatively short. Furthermore, the entire household's servants and attendants had undergone a major reshuffle, and therefore were largely unaware of what had transpired.

Fran didn't seem to care too much about it, and after casually putting the diary into the medicine box, he prepared to leave.

Since "corruption" can now find its way by its taste, it cannot stay in the same place for too long.

"There shouldn't be any more information to gather in the side hall now. Let's go find the Earl of Hanover and prepare for the consultation."

As she spoke, she walked out the door.

"But before that, we need to do some preparation. Let me think... should we deal with that little dog that likes to chase people first?"

-

A side hall with an inner long corridor.

An ancient knight's armor slowly advanced through the corridor, the eerie blue light in its eyes scanning all the darkness within its sight.

Thanks to the intricate design of the Earl's mansion, Fran was able to circumvent the corruption investigation.

After all, it's not fast, and its senses aren't particularly sharp. But if it were in an ordinary little house that could be seen at a glance... there wouldn't even be a place to hide.

Without anyone noticing, Fran had already hidden in the shadows around the corner behind the knight's armor.

Objectively speaking, this doctor is probably the person with the most "hatred" in the entire mansion right now.

The corrupt monster has the highest priority in pursuing her, and the armor before them, driven by the remnant spirit of the Grey Knight... still harbors resentment over the fact that Fran took the emblem forged from fragments of the Imperial Power Armor from her body more than a decade ago.

Oh, I'm afraid that little golden thing is really important to it.

Of course, Fran II's special visit to the Knight Armorer wasn't to eliminate him, but rather to give him something and thus make appropriate use of his remaining value. As for retrieving the golden emblem... there's no need to rush; it's not too late to act after everything is over.

She moved lightly through the corridor, as quiet and silent as a night owl.

As Fran approached the point of near detection, he gently raised his hand, and the "Reaching for the Moon" weapon on his wrist instantly sprang out, striking the back of the knight's armor.

The spiderweb-like black biomass spread from the back to the face, enveloping the dark blue slits of the eyes.

An enemy attack! And without any warning...

The knight in armor suddenly turned around and thrust his halberd at the places where the enemy was most likely to hide, but he did not feel any real impact.

If its opponent were someone else, then this sharp and unexpected counterattack would indeed be very likely to be effective.

But... Fran knew it all too well. She had even written autonomous combat programs for the Grey Knights' Holy Shield Armor and knew every one of its usual movement patterns.

She moved with ease to the side of the knight's armor, which had its senses blocked, raised her hand, and stuffed a "gift" into the gap of its neck guard.

The object didn't seem to be very large, and its texture was quite soft, so it easily fell into the bottom of the armor.

"hiss--"

A sudden gust of wind blew, and the dark substance that had been obscuring the knight's eyes disappeared.

But when it looked around again, it found the entire corridor empty and eerily quiet.

The strange attacker has left... just as silently as she appeared.

The eerie blue light in the knight's armored eyes flickered with a human-like intensity, as if he were squinting in confusion.

They created a perfect opportunity for a surprise attack, yet failed to inflict any damage on me?

Before it could even ponder the question, the humanoid figure made of decaying sludge slowly appeared at the end of the corridor.

It sniffed the air several times as if confirming its presence, and finally, as if intoxicated, began to tear at the "face" of its own head.

Immediately, its remaining centipede-like limbs accelerated suddenly, crawling towards the knight's armor with an almost frenzied pace.

No more scruples, no more fears, only the pure, possessive desire of Lu Wang remained. ×∮←si〃。 $：

The knight, clad in armor, gripped his halberd tightly with his gauntlets, silently and coldly watching the swarm of flesh and blood rushing towards him. Despite the bizarre little incident that had occurred earlier, it wouldn't deter him from engaging in the ensuing battle.

For some reason, this demon has become much more violent...

Not far away, Fran was hiding behind a pillar in the side hall, quietly observing the battle. Clearly, the sudden encounter between armor and corruption was part of her plan.

She would only step in to clean up the battlefield once one of the two combatants had been completely defeated.

As for the gift Fran had just put inside the knight's armor... without a doubt, it was the silk jasmine flower from her Mary Jane shoes.

Thankfully, this time she didn't have to stuff her shoes completely inside; she certainly didn't want to walk barefoot on the marble floor in winter...

-

-

soup!

Chapter Fifty-Five: The Clown's Counterfeit [Ghost Mansion]

The final battle between "corruption" and knightly armor... has begun.

This time, unlike the previous half-hearted contacts, neither side showed any sign of backing down. It was like an inescapable life-or-death duel, to be fought to the death.

For the Grey Knight, its attitude towards every demon and evil creature was exactly the same: to exterminate them completely, burning them to ashes and reducing them to dust. The Corruption, however, had changed from its previous disheveled and panicked escape; now it appeared ferocious, violent, and utterly fearless.

It smelled it; the alluring scent lingered at its nose, so close it was almost touching.

So sweet, so mouthwatering...

But she was hidden, hidden inside that troublesome iron shell. Finding her was the ultimate goal of this corrupt entity, so this guy had no more scruples and adopted a fighting stance.