Reaching out,
Touching the switch,
Turning it on.
With a "click," the light came on.
Orpheus continued walking down and reached the basement.
Often, the sense of fear doesn't come from actual objects but from the "self-imposed imagination."
When the Immorales family was decorating their basement, they certainly wouldn't have designed it to look "sinister" or "oppressive." However, at night, no matter if you paint the walls Barbie pink, knowing there are two corpses lying inside would prevent any feelings of "warmth" or "cuteness."
The sobbing continued.
It came from Aunt Mary's workshop.
Orpheus walked to the door of the workshop, which wasn't locked... because there seemed no need to lock it.
Orpheus paused, not immediately reaching for the doorknob. Instead, he turned around and looked behind him.
The corridor behind him was lit, so it wasn't completely dark, but the winding ramp leading up to the first floor was still dim and unclear.
Closing his eyes,
Taking a deep breath,
Orpheus wished he could smell the sweet aroma of warm milk,
But alas, he wasn't a bloodhound.
Thinking about the dog,
Orpheus glanced down,
The golden retriever, which had been so enthusiastic about coming inside earlier, didn't follow him into the basement.
What a worthless dog, unworthy of love.
Reaching out,
Grasping the doorknob;
In an instant,
It was as if the "channel" suddenly switched, bringing on a faint sense of disorientation—not overwhelming but perceptible.
Immediately,
The sobbing inside the workshop abruptly stopped.
Orpheus turned back again, the corridor lights still shining steadily.
"Click..."
Turning the doorknob,
Opening the door,
He quickly reached for the switch and pressed it.
"Click..."
The lights in the workshop turned on.
Light,
Adequate light,
Can bring immense psychological comfort.
Two gurneys lay in the workshop, with Lazarus and Mr. Moisan lying on them.
Lazarus's face was coated in makeup, "radiant."
You could see it was heavy, and his hair was parted in the middle and slicked back with gel, looking... especially spirited, probably more so than he ever did in life.
Mr. Moisan, on the other hand, looked much more "normal," with only subtle and natural makeup, making him appear genuinely asleep.
Aunt Mary clearly "favored" one over the other in her work; the distinction between welfare cases and regular clients was evident here.
YOU ARE READING
Number 13 Chiswick Street.
Mystery / ThrillerNumber 13, Chiswick Street On a pitch-black, stormy night, Orpheus falls from a rooftop while trying to save someone, only to find himself transported to a mysterious world filled with gods and demons. Now, he's the eldest son of a funeral home fami...
