Chapter 176 All eyes were on him, five…
I was taken aback. "Huh?!"
"You're Miss Lan, who visited her a few times before, right? She passed away suddenly, so it's normal that you don't know." The speaker seemed to be the nurse who saw me off from the nursing home last time. "Her funeral is tomorrow. I'll give you an address if you'd like to go."
"OK, thanks."
The sun shone brightly under a clear blue sky; it was a beautiful day for Madame Doll's burial. The funeral was grand, and many people attended; I stood among them.
After the priest in his black robe finished reading the eulogy, a young man in a high-end black suit and gray tie carefully placed the urn into the grave.
All eyes were on him. He had striking features, deep-set eyes and brows, and bright red lips. He had a mixed-race look, somewhat like a vampire from an American TV series, similar to Robert Pattinson.
His face shape also has a bit of the style of people from the Western Realm of another world, somewhat like Hya, and also somewhat like King Midan.
I recalled that when Madame Doll was alive, she pointed to Hya and King Midian respectively, saying, "My grandfather is here."
The tomb was sealed with earth, and people offered flowers, thus concluding the funeral.
Just as the young man was about to get into a black luxury car, I rushed over, but was stopped by two bodyguards in black suits who asked in English with an Eastern European accent, "Miss, what do you need?"
"Hello, I have one of your grandmother's diaries here." I waved the diary in my hand and said loudly in English, "Would you like to take it back?"
The young man gave me a cold look, then glanced at the bodyguards. One of the bodyguards quickly took my diary. "Thank you, Miss."
Another bodyguard asked for my phone number, which I casually gave him.
Three days later, one evening, I was rushing to finish my thesis, researching frantically, when my phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number. "Hello, are you the young lady from Madame Doll's funeral?" a young man asked in fluent English.
"Yes." I asked as I typed, my phone on speakerphone.
"Hello, I am Mr. Worston's assistant. I would like to speak with you on his behalf."
“Go ahead and say it.” Worston? He must be the young man at the funeral, Mrs. Dole’s grandson.
"How did you and Mrs. Dole meet?"
I was introduced to him by a friend.
"May I know this friend's name?"
“Daylyn. But she probably doesn’t know Mrs. Dole either. She’s just very interested in a book written by Mrs. Dole’s grandfather’s father. Because she wanted to learn about the author, she found the author’s descendant.”
Why are you so interested in this book?
"Because it describes an alternate world," I paused, "it's very, very interesting."
Could you please explain in more detail?
"The books written by Mrs. Dole's grandfather's father and his experiences may have influenced some people."
"I still don't understand, Miss Lan."
"Sorry, that's all I can say. I have to finish my paper." With that, I hung up the phone.
A week later, as I was leaving the community college, I saw a familiar black limousine that I had seen at Mrs. Dole's funeral.
A well-dressed, refined young man with dark brown hair approached me. "Are you Miss Lan? Mr. Worston thanks you for returning the diary and would like to invite you to afternoon tea. We hope you will do us the honor." Judging from his voice, it must be the assistant who called me that night.
Looking around, a black luxury car in the distance gleamed dimly in the sunlight, as if it possessed some kind of mysterious power. I hesitated, unsure whether Mr. Worston's intentions were good or bad.
But the young man with dark brown hair in front of me was smiling amicably, and the students from the community college were looking at the black luxury car not far away, occasionally glancing at me curiously. I didn't want to be the center of attention, so without hesitation, I got into the car.
The vampire Pattinson and the King of the West I saw at the funeral that day—that man with deep-set features and sunken eyes was sitting in the car. He didn't say a word when he saw me.
The car started moving, and we sat side by side. After a silence of more than ten minutes, he finally spoke: "My maternal grandmother was an eccentric person who did not want to continue the family legacy. She worked in the library until retirement, and the huge fortune left to her by the family has always been managed by managers."
He was speaking in standard London English, and I hummed in response.
"I heard you visited her several times, but you are not related. Did you really do this for the book written by my great-great-grandfather?"
"Yes," I answered truthfully.
What do you want to find out from my grandmother?
I didn't know what to say for a moment, and after stammering for a while, I couldn't say anything.
"I read the diary you returned. It contains many of her childhood experiences and memories. What does this have to do with you?"
"I……"
“Mr. Worston, we’ve arrived,” said the assistant in the front seat, who immediately got out of the car and opened the door for us.
This is a five-star hotel. Today is not the weekend, so there are very few people in the rooftop restaurant.
Looking at the beautiful pastry tower on the table and the fragrant coffee in front of me, I didn't have much of an appetite for some reason.
“Miss Lan, I am currently dealing with some matters concerning my maternal grandmother’s estate. Perhaps you could offer me some advice?” Worston said casually.
Without a doubt, I know how rich the legacy left by the former King of the West to the modern world is, and inheriting it all would certainly be a troublesome matter.
“My stepmother has always wanted a share of the inheritance, but unfortunately she didn’t live as long as my maternal grandmother and passed away from cancer a few years ago. However, my biological father has always been eager to get a share, feeling that he should also have a share. A couple of days ago, he produced a handwritten will, claiming that it was written by my maternal grandmother before she lost her mind, and that she wanted to leave him one-third of her estate. I don’t believe it, but after examination, it was found to be handwritten by my maternal grandmother. I feel that something is amiss. I wonder if you can give me some advice on this matter?” He explained the purpose of his meeting with me.
"I'm sorry, I can't offer any advice on property matters; I don't know anything about it," I replied truthfully.
"Then why are you so interested in my maternal grandmother's family? You found her just because of a book, and you're even going to study her diary? What is your purpose? Do you know she's a wealthy old lady?"
"Because...it's another world." I finally said it, not wanting people to misunderstand that I was trying to scam the old lady out of her money.
"Another world?" He was taken aback.
"Yes, the book written by your great-grandfather's father describes a strange and wonderful other world, and I am very interested in this other world."
"That's just a fantasy novel, why are you interested in it?"
“Because I’ve been there too.” I said slowly, “Your maternal grandmother wrote in her diary that her grandfather’s mother once said that her husband hadn’t died, but had just gone to another world. This other world wasn’t the world after death, but a different world.”
He looked at me in shock, but didn't say anything.
I continued, "Her husband did come back to see her, and that wasn't just her imagination. He really did come back to see her and even advised her to remarry. This isn't just wishful thinking on her part."
He stared at me. "Go on."
“Your great-great-grandfather was most likely from another world, and was the King of the West. In that other world there are four realms: East, West, South, and North. I have been to the West, a place with only three seasons a year: spring, summer, and autumn. I have met the current King and Prince of the West, and they look somewhat like you.”
I took out the portraits of King Midian and Hya that I had shown to Madame Dorle, which were drawn using AI. "These are already very close to their likenesses. Take a look."
He took it with trembling hands, and after looking at it for only a few seconds, an expression of disbelief appeared on his face.
“Doesn’t it look alike?” I said. “When Mrs. Dole first saw these two paintings, she said, ‘My grandfather is here.’”
“What you’re saying is too bizarre,” he suddenly handed the painting back to me. “I have other things to do, so I’m sorry I have to go now.”
I was left alone sitting in this magnificent hotel restaurant.
A week later, Mr. Worston contacted me again. This time he clearly believed me and spoke earnestly, hoping I would tell him more about the other world. I then took him to the basement of the Yale Library. The castle maid and Dalene also came.
“We all feel that this might be a connection point,” I said, “a point connecting the other world and the modern world, because some strange things happen here.”
Mr. Worston stood in front of the rows of bookshelves and asked, "Where does it usually happen?"
"That's not necessarily true," I replied.
The castle maid had been curiously observing Worston when Dalyn suddenly laughed, “You and Haya really do look a bit alike.”
“She used to be Haya’s girlfriend,” I explained to Worston. “Her name was Dale.”
Mr. Worston seemed uninterested in this and instead asked, "Is it really possible? To live out two lifetimes in one, like my great-great-grandfather?" His eyes held a hint of eagerness, filled with a sinister desire.
I was a little startled, but the little maid in the castle looked at him with a strange expression. "Your maternal grandfathers two generations ago died of old age and then returned to this other world. Do you want to go now?"
He didn't speak, but his trembling fingertips betrayed his true thoughts.
I frowned. "That place isn't a good place. The power struggles are endless. Our world is a better place to retire."
"What's the point of retirement?!" he said indifferently.
I remained silent. Everyone has their own ambitions, and arguing is pointless. But it won't be easy for him to get there. We haven't even discovered the secret of traveling between worlds, let alone him.
——
It started pouring rain that day, and there were hardly any people walking on the streets. I suddenly had an idea to go to the basement of Yale University, which happened to be nearby. I braved the rain and entered the basement, only to find that another person was there as well.
It turned out to be Mr. Worston, whom I hadn't seen for over a month.
I hadn't seen him since our last meeting in the basement, so when I suddenly bumped into him there, I asked in surprise, "What are you doing here?"
"I just wanted to come and take a look."
Naturally, they wanted to look for opportunities from the past.
"Don't you care about the property here anymore?" I asked him in surprise. "Why are you so eager to go back?"
"My ancestors were kings there, why wouldn't I want to go there?"
I was shocked—did he want to inherit the throne? I burst out laughing: "Are you kidding me? The throne of the West is nowhere near your reach!"
The princes were fighting over it, and King Midian was even eager to wipe out all his brothers. How could he, an outsider, possibly have a chance? He could argue that he was also a descendant of the King of the Westerlands, but there was no DNA testing in this world. What proof could he have? Even if he could prove it, the throne might not be his. Even native-born princes might not get it, let alone him.
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Author's Note: Please also check out my other works, muah~~ Happy New Year in advance everyone~~ Hehe~~
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