Yellow Shirt Fatty

Dear tired Reader, it is an honor that you have chosen this book amidst the heavy, gloomy aisles of the Library.
It is with some regret, however, that I must inform you this book is ill.
Your fingers should be able to feel the raised Proliferation of tissues on the surface of the Skin of the book, 
The words written in days of old are like Parasites taking root in the pages, longing for someone to observe their writhing,
To sense, to decipher, and to touch the very essence of this sick story.
If you insist on borrowing this book, please be sure to regularly check your own physical condition.
Keep in mind.

The Gentleman at the End

Grep froze for a moment, after all, it had been a very long time since anyone had addressed him this way. Listening to such a title did bring back some nostalgia, and he also had many things he wanted to clarify.


"I didn't say anything, Mr. 71 must have heard wrong, right? It's raining outside, let's go in and talk."


The creaky, rust-covered door hinges screeched as they moved.


The wet umbrella was stored in an upright bin by the door,


Oddly, the interior of the villa felt more oppressive than its exterior suggested, nowhere near as spacious.


It was more like a Japanese villa, without an open hall—entering meant facing a straight entryway and stairs leading to the Second Floor.


a white-haired lady with a mask emerged from a room at the end of the hallway, wearing only a high-collared sweater. The hem of the sweater covered half of her thighs, making them appear long and pale.


Chapter 735: The House Owner and the Lady