Eldritch Horror Theatre

At Fu Qian's shout, the quiet banquet hall fell completely silent.

A few seconds later, his only answer was a drawn crossbow and several gleaming handguns.

It really wasn't going to be that easy!

Stared down by all those lethal weapons, Fu Qian inwardly shook his head.

"I have to admit, your disguise is quite impressive."

Collins, still aiming his crossbow, was the first to speak.

"But unfortunately, you've made an unbelievable mistake."

He sneered, pointing to the spot beside Grace.

"The man you're impersonating is standing right here."

"You won't get another chance to run. Who exactly are you?"

I knew it!

Fu Qian wasn't the least bit surprised by Collins's words.

He never underestimated the power of self-delusion.

Since this group hallucinated a nonexistent Nate, assuming he was a fake upon seeing him was the most natural reaction in the world.

In fact, he had prepared for this exact scenario.

Glancing toward Grace as if sizing up the man beside her, Fu Qian shook his head with a smile.

"I'll return Collins's assessment to you, word for word."

A trace of melancholy touched his face.

"People really do change. In the past, I would have drawn my gun and blown your head off without hesitation."

"But now, I don't even have the desire to defend myself."

"The only thing I find strange is what joy you get out of playing an old man who just lost his child."

After a two-second pause, Fu Qian shook his head again.

"Not speaking? That makes sense. Your voice mimicry probably isn't as good as your physical disguise."

He ignored the phantom Nate and turned back to the crowd.

The next moment, he took off his hat, revealing his shiny bald head.

Pressing the black top hat against his chest, Fu Qian gave a polite bow.

"We'll stop here for today. You are all welcome to attend Sean's funeral tomorrow."

With that, Fu Qian turned around, unreservedly exposing his back to the armed crowd, and walked straight out.

Even as he left the banquet hall, no gunshots rang out behind him.

In truth, Fu Qian didn't expect this doppelgänger charade to instantly change the crowd's minds. Planting a seed of doubt was enough.

Besides, announcing Sean's funeral was his other objective.

The funeral was the crux of his plan.

And even if these people believed he was an impostor, they would most likely attend just to figure out his true motives.

......

"You're back early today!"

When he returned to his residence, Veil heard him come in. She walked downstairs and greeted him.

She seems to be in a good mood!

Fu Qian murmured an acknowledgment, noting Veil's unusually relaxed expression.

"Did you see your sister today?"

"Is it that obvious?"

Veil looked slightly surprised, but nodded with a smile on her lips.

"She's recovering well physically, and her mood is a lot better."

"Today was probably the most we've spoken in years."

"That's good."

Fu Qian nodded.

"It's just that she wants to stay here. She said she likes the atmosphere," Veil added.

"It's actually better this way. It keeps her away from transcendent powers and the like, and I can ask Aunt Grace to look after her."

"It's just a pity that with my identity, I can't stay here indefinitely. I'll just have to sneak in to see her every once in a while."

"But thinking about it, that's not too bad either. I can treat it as a regular vacation."

She beamed at Fu Qian.

"This place isn't half bad for a vacation, is it?"

"Indeed," Fu Qian agreed.

"It's a very unique place. Also, I should say my goodbyes. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"So soon?"

Veil, who had just been in high spirits, stopped short and stared blankly at Fu Qian.

Logically, this dangerous individual's departure should be a good thing, no matter how she looked at it.

Yet, alongside her relief, she inexplicably felt a faint twinge of loss.

Come to think of it, she still hadn't properly thanked him.

Not only had he passed on her message last time, but he had also played a part in her sister's change of attitude.

During her conversation with Lotte today, she hadn't dared to ask a single question about Fu Qian.

"What time tomorrow?"

"Very early. So you won't need to make me breakfast."

Fu Qian didn't elaborate. He simply returned to his room to rest.

......

The following afternoon, a funeral was held in the cemetery.

Back in his disguise as Nate, Fu Qian sat quietly in a chair, observing the grounds through his sunglasses.

Regardless of what Collins and the others thought, to ordinary people, he was the real Nate.

Yesterday, not only had he announced the funeral at the banquet, but he had also used Old Nate's identity to have subordinates send out as many invitations as possible.

Now, everyone in Baerluk knew that Old Nate had finally pulled himself together to host a grand funeral for his son.

As a rather prestigious elder, Nate's influence meant the cemetery was now teeming with people.

Most importantly, the See Me Faction had all shown up. Fu Qian easily spotted Collins and his group in the crowd.

Through his perception, he confirmed that at this very moment, no more than a third of them were in a state of brain dance. It was obvious that for most of them, this special condition triggered primarily at night.

Perfect!

Fu Qian was highly satisfied with this outcome.

After all, for the longest time, no one had noticed any abnormalities in this group's behavior.

This strongly indicated that even in a brain dance, they didn't act particularly out of character.

In other words, the scripts of their brain dances meshed well with everyday reality, carefully avoiding any intense contradictions.

Fu Qian's plan was built on exactly this angle.

The reason for holding this funeral was to make crucial information public before as many witnesses as possible, searing it into all their minds to suppress the direction of their scripts.

Ultimately, this would cause Nate to truly die within their perception.

Under these circumstances, Collins and his group's motives for attending no longer mattered.

They only needed to show up and observe; the scripts would handle the rest.

Besides them, Fu Qian also spotted Veil, once again dressed in a black dress.

The black veil over her face was twice as thick as the last time. Concealing her aura as much as possible, she stood in solemn silence beside her aunt.

And in a distant corner stood Bernard, the manager of The Bookstore. With his messy hair, a cigarette in one hand, and a drink in the other, he watched everything from a patch of shadow with the detached air of an observer.

Even he came!

Marveling inwardly, Fu Qian stood up, picked up a bouquet of flowers from the side, and walked over to Sean's tombstone.

Gazing at the young face in the photograph, Fu Qian gently set the flowers down.

Your father may be living in what you'd consider a delusion, but even in that delusion, he hasn't forgotten to avenge you.

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