Number 13 Chiswick Street.

**Chapter 5: Does He Want to Kill Me?**

Mr. Hoffen lay on the ground, Orpheus standing over him. At this moment, if Orpheus wished, he could send Mr. Hoffen on his way a little early.

Because Mr. Hoffen's earlier expression and words had put him under immense pressure.

Being reborn in this world, Orpheus lacked a sense of security. Up to now, he had been surviving by relying on this "identity." Once he lost this skin, who knew what kind of unknown life he would spiral into.

And it wasn't just the ordinary "life" at stake here; there were clearly factors beyond Orpheus's understanding.

If it were just about "running away from home," Orpheus wouldn't be under such stress. But the fear was, it wasn't as simple as "being driven out of the house." It couldn't be that simple!

Orpheus felt a sort of anxious unease akin to a medieval witch fearing for her life.

He stepped forward,

bent down,

and reached out his hand.

Just one squeeze around the neck,

or lifting Mr. Hoffen's head and pretending to wake him up while bashing it again against the tiles would be enough to finish him off.

Then,

this sudden crisis could vanish before it swallowed him whole.

So,

should he do it?

Having such thoughts isn't unusual. Even the most ordinary, normal, and gentle people have moments of sudden emotional outbursts and dark thoughts in life.

But in the end,

Orpheus stood still, unmoving.

When Mina came down from the second floor and started calling for help, when Aunt Mary came up from the basement, when Paul rushed over to pick up Mr. Hoffen,

Orpheus only came to his senses at Aunt Mary's shouting and helped lift Mr. Hoffen into the Immolras family's hearse.

Paul started the car, and Orpheus stayed in the back, accompanying Mr. Hoffen.

This modified "shell" car was an extended version of a standard sedan. The front passenger seat had been removed long ago, creating ample space for a coffin.

Mr. Hoffen lay there, motionless.

He was lucky; ambulances were not common in this era. He had a car ready to take him to the nearest hospital right away.

Even luckier... even if he didn't make it, he'd have a ride back—his own dedicated transport.

They might even offer a discount on his funeral services, considering his relationship with Grandpa. The only one who would suffer would be Aunt Mary.

"Heh..."

Orpheus suddenly chuckled, reaching up to rub his face.

Just then, the golden retriever that had followed its owner onto the car moved over to Mr. Hoffen's side and licked his fingers.

After rubbing against its owner for a while, it slowly walked up to Orpheus.

Orpheus extended his hand, and the dog didn't back away, letting him stroke its head.

It seemed to enjoy the petting, lying down beside Orpheus's legs. When Orpheus stopped petting it, the dog nudged his hand with its nose, signaling for him to continue.

"Sigh..."

Orpheus glanced at the prone Mr. Hoffen, sighing.

He leaned back against the wall of the car,