Chapter 20: Hunting Time

Chapter 20: Hunting Time

The car started, having barely traveled a few hundred meters, when Karen heard a faint sound from behind, followed by an arm wrapping around his neck, and then, near his ear, came a breath laced with alcohol.

"Madam, I am driving."

The next moment,

Karen felt his earlobe being drawn into a slick, warm embrace, a sensation that was mildly intoxicating.

"Madam, I am driving."

Karen was forced to remind her again, simultaneously slowing the car.

"I am so foolish~"

Mrs. Hughes said softly against Karen's ear.

"Madam, how could you be foolish?"

"I am an ugly, unfortunate, and very foolish woman."

"Madam, do not say that about yourself."

"Was it not you who said I was foolish?" Mrs. Hughes asked, "On the phone."

"When did I ever..."

Karen suddenly felt a shock in his heart.

"Besides, this afternoon in the living room, were you and that police officer not also discussing me, for I could see complete disdain for me in your expression and tone."

"Mrs. Hughes, do not make such a joke," Karen said, while silently checking the situation behind him through the rearview mirror.

"You showed disdain for my artistic ability, no, you showed disdain for my entire being, Karen, I am truly so heartbroken, so heartbroken that you actually view me this way.

Do you know, the very first moment I saw you, I wanted you in my bed, I would give you true pleasure, and make you... a real man."

Karen slowly moved his left hand down to grip the steering wheel, his right foot preparing to press the accelerator.

A sudden stop should make her lose her balance behind him, and he could seize the opportunity to get out of the car.

But... damn it!

Why were his habits so good, clearly the police in Luojia City would not check if you were wearing a seatbelt nor deduct points for it, so why did he still habitually buckle it up!

"Waaah..."

Mrs. Hughes began to cry.

"Karen, you really have broken my heart, that watch I gave you, you actually still do not wear it."

"Believe me, Mrs. Hughes, starting tomorrow, that watch will stay by my side forever, never to part."

"The words of a man cannot be trusted," Mrs. Hughes's other hand rose slowly from behind, "However, I have another way to make your recent words come true."

Through the rearview mirror, Karen watched this movement.

Step on the gas, then slam on the brakes, simultaneously unbuckling the seatbelt with the right hand, opening the car door with the left hand, using the inertia to break free from the restraint of her arm, and then throwing his whole body out of the car or even rolling out first.

She should be holding a knife, at most he would be cut a few times, suffer some injuries, bleed a little, which was no big deal.

Karen rapidly planned all this in his mind;

Until, he saw, what Mrs. Hughes's other hand raised was,

Was,

A revolver.

Fuck,

It was actually a gun!

The next moment,

The chilling muzzle of the gun was pressed against his temple.

Karen knew that no matter how fast his movements were, they could not be faster than a bullet.

The previous series of assumptions, Karen had to temporarily abandon, being slashed a few times by a knife probably would not kill him, but a bullet...

"Madam, I think for an artist, you should use a knife; using a gun has no soul."

"My strength is not great, I cannot use a knife, it is only by holding a gun that Cole and old Darcy would behave honestly before me."

"I am different from them, I have seen Cole, his build is very large, and though old Darcy is old, he has always worked as an incinerator, so his body is also very good.

I am different,

I believe Madam if you used a knife,

No,

Even if we were fighting bare-handed right now, I probably would be no match for you, Madam."

"Hehehe, you are truly interesting, you see, you still treat me like a fool even now."

"No, Madam, the foolish one is not you, it is me."

These were Karen's true thoughts right now,

Not long ago he had done a criminal psychological analysis right in front of the Chief, even mocking the killer for being foolish;

And then, he himself drove the car carrying the killer, setting off.

But sometimes, how should one put it, when the opponent is truly foolish enough, and can foolishly shatter your predictions, it instead goes from one extreme to another.

At this moment,

Chief Duke, who had just received the news at the police station, was also in a state of shock.

One was her lover, one was her old employee,

The former had just been kept by her, the latter died inside her crematorium;

It could be said that as long as the simple identity profiles of the two deceased were placed in front of them, the direction was direct and clear.

But precisely because Cole was from out of town, investigating his identity and his network of relationships in this city took some time, which gave Mrs. Hughes the room to continue moving freely.

This killer simply could not be described as stupid, she was almost a brainless lunatic who did not even know how to hide herself after murdering someone.

"Madam, can I discuss something with you, I will drive you home right now, you get a good night's sleep, and we will act as if what just happened never occurred at all. Tomorrow's weather will be very good, there will be bright sunshine and fresh air.

Please rest assured, I am very good at keeping secrets."

"You had better not speak carelessly now, Karen, because every single word you speak now, after entering my ears, what I hear is a constant repetition of:

I am foolish, I am foolish, I am foolish!"

"Alright."

"I need a place now, a quiet place where I will not be disturbed, I hope to spend a wonderful night with you."

"It is my honor, Madam, where would you like to go?"

"I am already somewhat unable to wait, growing impatient, especially since I drank quite a bit of wine tonight, I feel very excited."

"As do I, Madam."

"Turn at the bend ahead and head to Number 128. Didn't that family just move out? It will be perfectly quiet."

Number 128?

A sudden knot of... conflict tightened in Karen’s chest.

That was an area he would deliberately order his taxi drivers to bypass whenever he traveled in or out.

Yet, the moment he heard Mrs. Hughes choose that very house, a silent breath of relief slipped through his soul.

He was psychologically scarred by that house, it was true,

but the problem was,

his current predicament could not possibly get any worse.

Encountering ghosts was a deeply terrifying prospect,

but when standing before the precipice of death,

ghosts

were no longer so difficult to accept.

First, because nothing was more horrific than death itself; second, because once dead, you would simply become one of their kind anyway.

Karen eased his foot onto the accelerator, and the sedan rounded the corner with a smooth, unhurried grace, coasting a short distance further before coming to a halt directly in front of Number 128.

Mrs. Hughes threw her door open first, stepped out, and kept the muzzle of her gun trained firmly on Karen.

"You get out too."

"Of course, Madam."

Karen stepped out of the vehicle.

"Open the trunk."

Karen walked to the rear and popped the trunk, revealing a hiking backpack nestled inside.

"Lift it."

Karen hoisted the backpack; it was somewhat heavy, and judging by his earlier brief contact, it contained a substantial number of implements.

"Are these your paintbrushes, Madam?" Karen inquired.

"Yes. The very paintbrushes of a mediocre hack, as you once called them."

"Had I known the artist was you, Madam, I surely would have prostrated myself at your feet long ago."

"Walk inside."

"Of course, Madam."

Pushing open the courtyard gate, Karen walked through with the bag in hand, Mrs. Hughes following close on his heels.

Karen wondered if, by swinging this heavy backpack backward with all his might, he could knock Mrs. Hughes off her feet.

He abandoned the thought almost instantly, doubting whether he even possessed the strength to swing such a load.

Furthermore, Karen noticed that Mrs. Hughes held the firearm with an incredibly steady hand.

"Do you know how Mary and I first met?" Mrs. Hughes asked.

By any normal logic, one ran a funeral parlor and the other ran a crematorium; they must have met through business cooperation.

Yet Aunt Mary had not actually been a mortuary cosmetician for very long, and the Hughes Crematorium had originally been managed by Mr. Hughes, only passing to Mrs. Hughes after his demise.

"The first time I met Mary was on a certain afternoon. I had just won a shooting championship, and before I stepped onto the podium to receive my award, Mary came to do my makeup."

"Madam, you can rest assured; I am a coward, and I will follow your instructions implicitly."

"Good. Now, open the door."

"I don't have the key."

Karen reached out and placed his hand on the doorknob.

With a sharp click,

the door swung open.

The door was actually unlocked!

What Karen did not know was that a few days ago, a young man named Jeff had stood in this exact spot and uttered a similar lament regarding this very door.

"All the valuables in the house have been moved out, so why bother locking the door?" Mrs. Hughes smiled faintly. "Even if it were locked, I have the tools in my bag to pick it. Now, go on in."

Karen carried the bag and entered the house.

"Keep walking forward."

"Very well."

A sharp snap echoed.

Mrs. Hughes flipped the light switch.

"Madam, turning on the lights might draw the neighbors' attention," Karen offered as a well-meaning reminder.

"We live in a cold, indifferent society. I hardly think anyone would notice whether a newly vacated house should be lit up at this hour, let alone be bored enough to call the police over it. Besides, even if they did call, by the time those officers arrive, whatever needs to happen will have already happened."

"I quite agree with your assessment of the police, Madam. Their response time cannot even compete with our family's hearse."

"Go upstairs."

"Of course, Madam."

"The master bedroom."

"Of course, Madam."

"Now, put the bag down, and then, get onto the bed."

Karen walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down.

Keeping the gun steady in one hand, Mrs. Hughes slowly crouched down and unzipped the bag, seemingly rummaging through the tools inside.

"Madam, if Aunt Mary hadn't insisted on dragging me along for barbecue tonight, your target for this evening..."

"Yes, my canvas for tonight was supposed to be Mary. She is my dear friend, I know her intimately, and by weaving her into my work, I would have achieved a profound sense of immersion. Just like Cole, who knew all my sensitive spots, and old Darcy, who served me for so long. You should understand that in art, the most critical element is resonance."

"Yes, Madam, I completely agree."

A mocking smile played at the corner of Mrs. Hughes's lips.

"Shouldn't there also be a matter of skill?"

"Trust me, Madam, that was merely the sacrilege of an artistic layman toward a divine craft. I have already repented for it in my heart countless times."

Mrs. Hughes drew a knife from the bag. It bore a striking resemblance to the cleavers used by butchers in the marketplace; it looked as though it would be exceptionally convenient for chopping through ribs.

"You can lie down now. Or, perhaps, you can choose to resist now. Because this is your final chance.

Mink Street is not like those vagrant neighborhoods; the public security here has always been excellent. Therefore, a gunshot will certainly disturb many people, but please rest assured, I can guarantee that the moment the gun fires will also mean several holes have already been opened in your body."

"Truly a difficult choice," Karen said with emotion.

"Indeed."

"Madam, your first work was a religious painting of the Berry Faith, and your second work was a religious painting of the Church of the Abyss. I am very curious, what do you intend for your third work to be... No, do not answer just yet, let me try to guess...

I guess, it is the Church of Order?"

Madame Hughes was somewhat surprised.

"Did I guess correctly?" Karen feigned great pleasant surprise.

"Yes, you guessed correctly."

"Let me continue guessing... The one you wish to pay tribute to is that painting of the God of Order punishing his daughter Ankara, the Light of Order, is it not?"

"Karen, I have to admit one thing, which is that you truly understand me."

"Yes, Madam, I feel that we share too many similarities in aesthetics and too many places where we can pour our hearts out to each other, so..."

"So that is why I chose you, Karen!"

"..." Karen.

"In truth, you are not Mary's substitute. The first choice for this work of mine was you all along. If you had returned even later this afternoon, then I would have had to take a step back and choose Mary."

"Madam, I feel that before creating, you must make proper plans. Ankara's body is divided."

"Yes, so I am already prepared. I will chop you into pieces, well, after you die, so that you will not feel the pain."

"But how do you intend to present the image of the colossal beast's massive maw swallowing everything? I do not wish for you to repeat the regret of Old Darcy. You know, that work of Old Darcy's was something you actually failed to complete successfully."

"This time, I have a very good method."

At this moment,

Karen suddenly discovered a black spot had appeared on Madame Hughes's face, and that black spot was slowly spreading, covering one of Madame Hughes's eyes.

And when she spoke the next sentence,

Madame Hughes's voice suddenly added a man's timbre, becoming thick and heavy:

"My artistic presentation method this time is to eat you, bit by bit, after chopping you into fine and tiny pieces."

This timbre was very familiar to Karen;

On the phone: You have disturbed my artistic creation.

It was the voice from that time!

So, what on earth was wrong with Madame Hughes?

She certainly could not be a man dressed as a woman like Piaget; she was a woman, this was something Karen could be certain of, because while driving tonight, Madame Hughes, who was lying in the back seat of the car, had lifted her skirt completely, and beneath her skirt, she was wearing very thin and narrow lace.

Although Karen did not deliberately look,

Just those few glances were already perfectly clear.

Therefore, Madame Hughes was absolutely not a man!

And right now, the feeling of her walking toward him step by step was like... like she was possessed by something, carrying a paranoid and frenzied mood.

Karen's gaze scanned the surroundings; he desperately wanted to catch sight of a red high-heeled shoe at this time, but unfortunately, he did not see one.

That touch of red which he had avoided like the plague before, at this moment, he desired to see it with utmost eagerness, even to the point of kneeling down to kiss the upper of her shoe without hesitation.

"Karen, I acknowledge your wisdom, and I also acknowledge that your level of artistic appreciation surpasses mine. Therefore, I intend to use this method; firstly, to complete my work, and secondly, after eating you down, you will then merge with me, and I shall inherit everything of yours."

"I still have one last request, an artistic request, which I hope you can grant me."

"Speak."

Karen pointed at that old-fashioned peanut-tube radio,

"Madam, I feel that when you chop me into pieces, accompanying it with the soft night music playing from the radio will make for a very beautiful and aesthetic scene, will it not?"

Madame Hughes hesitated for a moment; he was truly pondering this suggestion, and then:

"I think you are right."

Immediately afterward,

She reached out her hand and pressed the switch of the radio.

Just at this moment,

From the radio there came first a little bit of static snow audio noise,

Closely following that,

A magnetic male voice drifted out from inside the radio:

"Dear listeners, good evening everyone. Welcome to the 'Luojia Storytelling' program..."