Super Righteous Player
Chapter 420 - 417 Mr. Detective’s Fear_1

Chapter 420: Chapter 417 Mr. Detective’s Fear_1

Annan narrowed his eyes slightly and walked forward at a leisurely pace.

He took a puff of smoke, and his thoughts gradually became clearer.

Fragments of information linked up rapidly in Annan’s eyes.

—This might be the Curse Binding possessed by the master of this dream.

Does smoking improve thinking ability? Or is it the pipe? Or inhaling some kind of gas?

No... that’s not important.

Annan forcibly used his own willpower to twist his off-track thoughts back on course.

Is this tendency to get sidetracked also a component of the Curse Binding?

Hmph.

"How fascinating,"

Annan chuckled softly, touching the stubble on his chin.

The middle-aged male detective issued a magnetic, methodical voice, "A true detective, huh? It must be a Hunter’s profession after all.

"How many Curse Bindings do you hold to restrict your chain of actions? No... that too is unimportant."

Annan stopped thinking abruptly again and gently touched the white wall beside him.

—Indeed, it was not an illusion.

The moment he touched it, Annan immediately discerned... the wall was soft.

Roughly speaking, it felt like the upper arm skin of a sixteen to twenty-two-year-old girl. Judging by the density of muscle and fat, her figure was not emaciated, but it couldn’t be considered fat either; it was about a level of slight chubbiness.

"...This level of thinking ability."

Annan realized that his mind was racing, and he clenched his lips tightly.

Why did the white wall give Annan a "young girl’s skin" association at first glance?

Ordinarily, shouldn’t it be described as ’lily-colored’ or ’cream-colored’?

"There is only one reason, this is my first time entering the body of a Transcendent whose thinking capacity far exceeds my own,"

Annan stated calmly, "Just as I gained the werewolf’s ability to transform and dynamic vision after entering Bella’s body. After obtaining the detective’s body, did I also gain his cognitive judgment ability?

"So that’s the deep mechanism of the nightmare... no, I need to focus. Or rather, this shift in attention is not a side effect of the Curse Binding, but because my will is not accustomed to this level of thinking speed and thus, after completing thoughts in the same amount of thinking time, subconsciously engaged in tangential thinking—"

"No, calm down. Continue reasoning...

"It’s this body’s overly sharp observation that has made me instinctively make such associations,"

Annan stopped in his tracks, crouching down nimbly and touching what seemed like scorched skin.

As expected... the touch felt like skin that had been charred.

He turned his head, squinting at the pure red curtain that fluttered in the distance.

—That was a very beautiful, pure red.

If compared to stage curtains, it lacked heavy shadows; if likened to the hem of a silk dress, it did not reflect light.

"Is that blood? No... it’s fire. That’s the explanation for the scorch marks on the wall,"

Annan muttered to himself calmly, using speech to limit his speed of thought: "After I reach the end, will the curtain turn into flames, sealing off the exit?

"But why are the curtains up high and the scorch marks closer to the ground?"

Annan tapped his foot lightly.

The sensation told him that underneath was a wooden floor with quite a few years on it. It was very damp due to lack of moisture-proofing.

Memory fragments this detailed couldn’t possibly be fabricated out of nothing.

—So it’s different from Denton’s nightmare?

These were experiences the "detective" had lived through...

"...Strange."

Annan murmured softly, "Why haven’t any traps appeared yet?"

Based on his deductions, this should have been composed of one death chamber after another, with deadly traps designed specifically for the personality of the owner of the nightmare.

Like Denton, as a Soul Reaping Wizard without direct attacks—his nightmares had never involved a single living person; the continuous ice water wash prevented him from using complex spells; the castrato voice might signify his fear of eunuchs; and the chronic death trap corresponds with Denton’s overly conservative character.

—Yes, his overly conservative character.

Denton had controlled the fourth Prince for years. With just a bit of risk, he could have tried to scheme control over Henry VIII.

But he never made a move.

On one hand, it was because he followed the eunuch’s commands, and on the other... it was likely also his own caution. Or rather, that almost cowardly hesitation and indecisiveness.

Then, since this is related to the detective’s fear of death.

What sort of trap would it be this time?

"Standing here, pondering, I’ve gathered so much information. But time seems to have stood completely still. I even took a few steps forward before, without any response... It’s unnaturally calm."

—It’s as if it’s intentional, letting me think here.

...Could it be?

Annan’s heart suddenly tightened.

No longer hesitating, he abruptly started to run forward.

His boots clattered on the wooden planks, making a series of loud noises.

Along the way, there were no sudden attacks, everything around him was eerily calm.

Yet the sense of crisis in Annan’s heart grew stronger and stronger.

Approaching the pure red curtain, he did not try to crawl under it.

A silver, slender blade emerged from between Annan’s fingers.

He swung his right hand forward and twisted his body at the same time.

The sparring scene he had witnessed before, young Annan and Dmitry, flashed in his mind.

The unique swordsmanship techniques belonging to Dmitry revived from the depths of Annan’s memory—

The sword blade was not covered with crystal frost.

But the light and deft slice formed a perfect crescent in the air.

Without damage to the "Sharp Object," Annan made a few cuts and completely severed the curtain that blocked the entrance.

As expected... the moment the curtains hit the ground, they ignited instantly, turning into intense flames. The uncut curtains in the air also caught fire, the flames nearly solidifying, fully obstructing the doorway.

Even as Annan instinctively stepped back, he still couldn’t outrun the swiftly spreading blaze.

That intense heat was not like the flames that burn on a wooden floor... If I had to describe it, it felt as though a match had fallen into gasoline flowing on the ground.

The fire spread so quickly that it was unstoppable and irresistible—

If I hadn’t cut them down... the moment I crawled under the curtain, I would’ve been completely enveloped by fire.

But even so... it’s impossible to stay alive!

As Annan pondered how to escape, another voice emerged in his mind:

Is Mr. Detective afraid of the flames? Why? And what’s the deal with the skin on the wall...

"—Nonsense!!"

Annan growled low, flinging the pipe directly out of his hand.

The accelerated thinking brought about by the pipe was irrelevant.

Compared to that, what was more important was—

He kept stepping on the flames while hurriedly taking off his coat and clumsily putting it over his head. Moreover, he didn’t forget to put the remaining two silver coins in his pocket.

No time to douse with water, just charge through!

Annan endured the pain of his feet being scorched as he ran quickly through the corridor that had turned into a sea of flames.

He charged headfirst into the door engulfed in flames with his coat over his head!

There was no pain.

But the coat burst into flames immediately.

After breaking through the fiery door, Annan ran up the wooden staircase behind the door and without thinking, shook his coat in the air a few times trying to extinguish the flames.

Fortunately, there were no flames on the steps.

But the more he shook it, the more intense the flames grew.

What is the rule here... what does this fire signify? That corridor—

"Damn... is my brain malfunctioning?"

Annan couldn’t help but curse softly under his breath.

He threw his irredeemable coat behind him, kicked open the wooden door, and raised the "Sharp Object" in his hand.

Don’t move—was what he had intended to say.

But after seeing everything clearly, Annan’s pupils contracted sharply.

It wasn’t a basement at all.

Because there was no swaying, Annan had assumed wrong.

—It was a ship’s cabin.

And this was a passenger ship ablaze with fire.

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