2.07.3 The need for eyes.
It's been a few days since Marshall Maisel came to the city that took his son away from him.
But with his nature, it was harder to show any care for it.
His son was a disappointment anyways and he can make another one, a better one with his wife if he went home. He was truly a heartless and focused individual.
Or so what many thought. But the truth was slightly different, much to my surprise.
Since coming to this city, Maisel has never slept. During the day, he carries on his act, and at night. He carries on his investigation.
With the emotions that he had been suppressing present on his face.
"Why have you been following me?" Maisel asked while lifting the body of an old woman with his hand.
"Mis… ter… bega…r" She was barely able to speak and say any words. And she even looked like a beggar.
But Maisel was sure that it was all an act, for few were able to keep up with him. Which this woman had been able to do, changing her appearance with each meeting.
"Lies won't work on me." He said before breaking the neck of the woman and smashing her body on the ground, causing a loud thud and blood to splatter all around.
But Maisel was not over yet, because, after this, he took out a gun and aimed it at the head of the dead woman.
"Speak now." He threatened.
At which point, the body of the old woman squirmed a bit. "It's painful… painful.." Like a child crying in pain, she wriggled on the ground. Before shedding her skin, exposing a small black cat that crawled out of it.
But as soon as it came out, it gave one last look at Maisel, before it rotted at an accelerated rate in front of Maisel.
And he knew that he could do nothing about it.
The only thing left of this cat's existence was the skin of the old woman, which has also started to show signs of rot.
"3rd one," Maisel said, feeling frustrated over these little spies.
He can't count how many he has noticed and if one were to think that all those people might once be living common people, then the innocent died by his enemy's hand to track him would be countless.
But his face remained stoic. Sending an inkling of flame toward the poor woman's skin, he turned it into ash. After which, he left. Inching toward Gregory street and the building where his son's mark flared up.
Each night he comes out and does an investigation on his own. With the information that was provided by Maxim along with the circumstances of his son's death. Everything was a bit odd.
And if he has to say it, this even looked a bit familiar to him.
'Last time they were able to escape. But this time, I won't let them.' They have already come for his son, he didn't wish for the same thing to happen to the remainder of his family.
And he had also learned that acting uncaring towards them also won't stop his enemies from not harming them.
So with all that in his mind and regretting the way he treated his son. A son that would always curse his father, he went towards the building.
"Blue flower Garments." This was a workshop operated by the mundane, sewing clothes in bulk during its heyday.
Sadly, since the problem with Gregory street started, the shop was shut down in fear of ghosts and the curse that had spread throughout the whole street.
No one liked to suddenly fall asleep. Not when they were next to heavy machinery used for sewing clothes.
"Maxim was right, there is something wrong with this place."
In the negotiation and transaction from before, Maxim has shared a lot more things than just information.
He had even given him a job.
No, it would be better to say that he had taken this job by himself and wished to explore the specialty in this place.
Before his arrival, Maxim had already done a preliminary checkup of this abandoned workshop and nothing much was found on his end.
The most he knew was that this building had something to do with Farhad's death. And even while knowing this, Maxim left it at that.
Which if I have to say, ruined some of my initial planning as well.
Maxim escaped the trap I dug for him and found a better counter to that trap for himself.
But it was to be expected, with the mark in his body that still lies patiently, it would warn Maxim of others like itself. And Maxim was smart enough to stray away from this.
Even if he didn't know why his body felt that way.
"It's the third floor today."
Opening his mouth wide, Maisel exhaled a flurry of fire bugs from his mouth that slowly flew and started to scan the surroundings.
Illuminating the dark corridors and machinery.
*****
Everyone was busy with their work and Maxim was the same.
Coming to his room, he was silent and wondering about the events of today.
Or so it looked like.
"Should close this wound." Taking out the med kit and needle, Maxi started to stitch the giant gash on his hand after disinfecting it with some alcohol.
Though, it was only then that he noticed something.
"You are already here?" He asked the boy that had just been sitting on the side, looking at the blind old man's actions.
He never said anything nor did he try to disturb the old man. He stared at the injury like a statue, fearful that he might face the same fate if he did say something.
"Ye.. Yes, Magistar…" The boy said in fear before his mind lit up and he took out a bottle. "Mister, please take this. It will heal your injury instantly." The boy said while presenting a potion from his shop.
Which Maxim denied.
"Let it heal naturally, no need to waste something as precious as that on something so insignificant," Maxim explained while rolling a bandage on his arm with some balm.
"And besides, I don't have much use of my physical body anyways." He explained, before asking the young man, "But before we begin, I wish to know are you sure about it? There is already someone that died before, and you might face the same threat as the boy from before."
Maxim didn't wish for the death of another young man on him so he wished to confirm if the boy was aware of the danger he would be putting himself in.
Though the answer that the boy gave was somewhat unexpected. "Magistar, I am a potions apprentice, I have experienced my fair share of danger." The boy said with some confidence on his face.
And if Maxim thought about it, the boy was right.
The potions might seem like a safe subject. But it's not the talented ones that survive long enough to be a potions master. Instead, it's the lucky ones who can live longer.
The reason for it was also simple. There is not much difference between a potion and a poison. One can even say that each failed potion is poison And this poison needs to be tested before learning what the problem with the technique or material was before they can edit the recipe and update the methods.
This trial and error method of checking potions has cost the lives of many apprentices. So if one were to think from this angle, the young man in front of him was very courageous and lucky to come this far on his own.
And who knows, he might even become someone big in the coming future.
Generally, young men like this do so as they grow up. Though this only applies when they actually grow up.
And considering the danger this case held, it would be hard.
But Maxim didn't try to force this young man out. If he has to die, then so be it, he has done his best by warning him. Now it all depends on him.
For he had to find the secret about this dream curse no matter what. And few sacrifices need to be made for this.
"Then follow me," Maxim ordered while picking up a book and leading the young man called Adam through the corridors of the library and then into the basement.
Unlike the bright and sanitized state of the library, this place was dark and damp, with water and gas pipes crawling along the walls.
Though, those were not the worst part.
The worst was the humidity.
"Come and sit there." Maxim pointed at the giant magical circle in the middle of the room, where Adam can see two different places of sitting.
"As I have said before, your job is to act as my eyes," Maxim said while sitting in the middle of the bigger circle while pointing toward the smaller one and gesturing to him to sit down. As he said. "But not in reading, it's while dreaming."