Chapter 295: Chapter 295

Jenkins heard the voice and glanced down, spotting another eyeball-shaped object emanating a faint, yellow spiritual glow.

"Damn it," he muttered. "Is this some kind of vision-sharing ability?"

"Damn you! You devil! You demon!"

Mr. Stahler gasped out the curse, his voice ragged. A moment later, Jenkins heard the sickening thud of flesh on flesh from above, followed by a man's agonized groan.

"A devil? No, no, no," the man's voice drawled from above. "Devils are ten thousand times more terrifying than I am. How could a mere mortal like myself ever compare to such a being?"

Though his words were humble, they dripped with a thick, mocking sarcasm.

After a scraping sound, as if something was being dragged, the middle-aged gentleman's voice returned. "Let's dispense with the pleasantries, Mr. Stahler. You're a surprisingly honest man—that address was indeed your home. Now, tell me, where exactly did you acquire that marvelous eye of yours?"

"You fiend... no... oh, my Lisa! My Mia!"

The sounds of another brutal beating followed. Huddled in the corner against the biting wind, Jenkins couldn't bear to imagine the state Mr. Stahler must be in.

"I've told you, I really don't know!" Stahler cried out. "This eye... the one that sees snippets of the future... it just appeared. Yes, at the start of the year, I had a bizarre dream, and when I woke up, it was there."

"So," the gentleman mused, "with this eye, you managed to climb from a slum urchin to a member of the middle class in just six months? And even trade up for a new wife?"

"Yes, sir, that's exactly how it happened. I swear, I haven't told a single lie! No, please, don't throw me off! Please! For the gods' sake..."

Something else tumbled down, landing near Jenkins's feet—a black money clip. If he hadn't been holding his pistol in one hand and the Spirit Striking Cane in the other, he might have caught it out of sheer reflex.

"Yes, my eye tells me that what you've said is indeed 'true,'" the gentleman confirmed. "But that is only the truth as you perceive it. Tell me, has that other eye of yours completely rotted your soul?"

"Sir, please, pull me back! I truly don't know anything else!"

A faint rustling sound drifted down, followed by a long, tense silence. From the gentleman's words, Jenkins pieced it together: the evil eye on the ground was sharing its vision with him, while another one he possessed could discern lies.

"But what did he mean by 'rotting your soul'?"

An evil eye that was a Mysterious Object was bound to be complicated. The appearance of a black spiritual glow always heralded some bizarre phenomenon. There had to be something strange about the captured man as well.

"It seems that removing your eye will be a rather troublesome affair," the gentleman sighed.

"Sir, if you want this eye that sees the future, please, just take it!" Stahler pleaded. "I won't resist. Just don't hurt my family again."

"Removing the eye isn't up to us," the man said. "The eye is the one that chooses its host. But do you truly believe its purpose is to see the future?"

The gentleman's voice held a certain malicious glee, a tone Jenkins recognized—it was unnervingly similar to how he sounded when he teased his cat.

"The society I belong to is called the Evil Eye Collectors' Society. That means I am familiar with a great many varieties of special eyes. As for yours..." he scoffed, "A-03-02-4491, the Vengeful Eye of the Suicided. It has absolutely nothing to do with prophecy." Check latest chapters at Nov3lFɪre.ɴet

"What... what are you saying?"

Jenkins couldn't see poor Mr. Stahler's face, but he imagined the color must have drained from it.

The situation had taken an unexpected turn. Jenkins had assumed this was an item similar to A-10-1-0230, the Parchment from the Future, but apparently, he was mistaken.

"Allow me to share some interesting news with you, all events that have taken place in Nolan over the past six months. To find you, I had to pore over countless issues of the *Nolan Daily*, the *Kingdom Gazette*, and *The Defender*. Here is the first story."

He let out a dry, chilling chuckle that sent a shiver down Jenkins's spine, raising goosebumps on his skin.

"The Dandelion Winery burned to the ground this past May. Every worker and manager on site perished in the flames. Curiously, a safe containing jewelry and two thousand pounds in cash also went missing. Does any of this ring a bell, Mr. Stahler?"

It was the loudest word spoken so far in their entire exchange.

"Impossible! I just left the winery! Mr. Dedlan, the owner, was just speaking with me!"

His disbelief was absolute.

Jenkins forced as much spirit as he could into his eyes and tilted his head up. He could see no trace of the undead around Mr. Stahler or his evil eye. The man was still alive.

"Oh, and speaking of Mr. Dedlan, what a tragedy that was," the gentleman continued, his tone dripping with false sympathy. "Two weeks after the incident at the Dandelion Winery, poor Mr. Dedlan and his entire family were found dead in their home. Every one of them had their throat slit, and the house was picked clean. Oh, and his daughter was among the deceased. The papers ran a photo of the young lady—quite a beauty. Such a shame. I imagine her many suitors must have been absolutely heartbroken!"

He couldn't suppress a laugh, the sound swallowed by the howling wind and Mr. Stahler's incredulous sputtering.

"How is that possible? How? Silvia... she was with me just last week..."

"Indeed. The promising young Mr. Stahler not only has a lovely family but a beautiful young mistress on the side as well. And even better, this beautiful mistress, an only child, just so happens to be the daughter of your generous benefactor, Mr. Dedlan. My investigation revealed that he took you in and gave you a job when you were at your lowest. But alas, what a pity. I found their family plot in the suburbs. Even left a bouquet of flowers on the grave. The groundskeeper was watching, so I didn't get a chance to dig it up, but I am quite certain that the whole family is lying there, all neat and tidy in their coffins..."

"No! Impossible! That's absolutely impossible!" Stahler shrieked. "I see now! This is some demonic trick of yours! What do you want? What are you trying to do? If you want the eye, just take it! Stop tormenting me!"

The wind on the rooftop carried away some of the words, but Jenkins heard enough to grasp the situation. Hiding below, he felt the story spiraling into absurdity. When he connected it to the gentleman's earlier comment about a 'rotted soul,' he began to suspect the horrifying truth of the matter.

He thought to himself, though he wasn't sure if his pity was for Mr. Stahler or for the countless innocents who had died because of that evil eye.