The Cycle of Fate

Chapter 119: Morning Light

Dead!

Even though Lumian had been somewhat mentally prepared, he still couldn't accept it.

When they left the clinic, Ruer had clearly recovered, escaping the fate of death. So how could he have suddenly died?

Lumian stepped slowly into Room 307, his gaze falling upon the bed.

Ruer lay there, his skin covered in festering wounds oozing a pale yellow liquid. His face was deathly pale with a sickly yellow tinge, completely lifeless. His eyes were wide open, and there was a bit of vomit at the corner of his mouth.

After staring into those eyes, which still held traces of confusion, pain, and reluctance, Lumian asked in a low voice, "When did he die?"

Mrs. Michelle, her once-gray hair now dull and lifeless, slowly shook her head, saying, "I was too tired and fell asleep. When I woke up, he was already dead."

"Did he return to Room 302 before going to sleep?" Lumian pressed on.

"No, he only went to the washroom near Room 302. I went there too," Mrs. Michelle's voice was low, yet to Lumian, it felt distant, as if part of her soul had already left her body.

Both of them had used that washroom—one fell ill again, while the other remained fine. Lumian frowned and decided to check the washroom. If nothing was wrong there, then Mrs. Michelle might be the one with something strange about her.

Leaving Room 307, Lumian walked down the dimly lit hallway towards the washroom. Mrs. Michelle remained kneeling by the bedside, weeping softly, seemingly oblivious to everything around her. Thanks to the regular cleaning staff, the washrooms on the third floor were no longer as filthy as before. Though there were still some stains and trash after a day's use, it was at least tolerable.

By the faint red moonlight streaming through the window, Lumian spotted the toilet and sink, the rusting water pipes, and his silhouette reflected in the mirror. He carefully surveyed the room and noticed a white silk handkerchief draped over a pipe in a hidden corner.

Just by looking at it, Lumian could tell that it didn't belong to any of the current tenants of the Golden Rooster Inn. The fabric was of high quality, with elegant embroidery, and it was clearly expensive.

An outsider? Lumian's first instinct was to pick up the silk handkerchief for a closer inspection, but he immediately recalled the image of Ruer's body covered in festering wounds and forced himself to hold back.

Quickly deciding, Lumian left the washroom and returned to Room 307, where Mrs. Michelle was still crying. He asked, "Do you know whose handkerchief that is in the washroom?"

Mrs. Michelle, still overcome with grief, responded instinctively, "It's Ruer's."

Ruer's? Lumian was surprised, though part of him had expected this. He asked further, "Where did it come from?"

Looking at Ruer's grotesque corpse, Mrs. Michelle answered in a daze, "He found it in the trash tonight. I don't know if it belonged to a gentleman or a lady, but it was wrapped around a glob of phlegm, and it wasn't damaged. Ruer cleaned it and planned to sell it as a second-hand item, not throw it away as garbage."

"When you said the trash might be dirty, Ruer hid it in the washroom. He didn't dare bring it back to Room 302."

Phlegm... Lumian felt he had found the source of the problem.

Slowly exhaling, he asked, "Did Ruer touch the handkerchief again afterward? Did you touch it?"

"I don't know," Mrs. Michelle shook her head slowly. "He went to the washroom alone. I didn't touch it."