The atmosphere in the dining room was exceptionally heavy.
This was a gothic-style long table stretching across the entire dining room. The heavy-tal table exuded a dull shine, the tablecloth on top was a deep blue that was so dark it was almost black, and on top of the tablecloth was a vase of the sa color and pure white flowers.
Each person's napkin and cutlery were pure white, apart from the flas from the candlestick placed between the two vases, there were no warm colors to be seen anywhere on the table.
Almost everyone sitting at the table was dressed in a dark suit, with a colorless tie that was ticulously arranged in the sa fashion. Their look and vibe resembled sothing less akin to a wedding banquet and more like they were there to attend a funeral.
It was clear so of them were not accustod to wearing suits, but they still managed to squeeze themselves into the black attire and adapt to this gloomy and heavy outer shell.
Because the majority were dressed this way, a few particular individuals stood out. When Lady Nihelet entered the dining room, she almost instantly noticed these outcasts.
Shiller was refolding his napkin, his actions were restrained but ticulous; Beihan was smiling cordially and making small talk with another businessman; Natasha sat silently, but was very noticeable; Batman was examining the silver cutlery in his hand.
What made them stand out wasn't their fear or worry about doing sothing wrong, but their nonchalance and the fact they didn't consider themselves to be different.
Lady Nihelet squeezed her handkerchief tighter, but she still walked into the dining room with her head held high, greeting her guests with a sowhat constrained smile.
Shiller watched as Lady Nihelet, a noblewoman who looked no older than her early thirties, walked in. Despite her young age, she appeared as weary and rundown as a woman in her fifties or sixties.
She wore a perfectly tailored black dress, high-collared and long-sleeved. A fringed collar was fastened right below her chin, the cuffs covered half of her backhand. Only the cinched waistline revealed her graceful figure, although it was mostly concealed by a shawl draped over her arm.
She wore a small hat with a semi-half veil, and her eyes were sowhat cloudy under the black netting. Although the dark circles under her eyes and bloodshot eyes heavily detracted from her beauty, her bone structure and the arrangent of her facial features revealed that she was quite a beautiful woman.
Shiller sighed softly. Unfortunately, the lady's rigid, almost chanical behavior took away half of her attraction and failed to prop up her personal character. She was no more than a walking corpse.
In Shiller's view, all the other guests were posturing with their appearances. Because they had lower social standing than the Nihelet Family, most of them were here for so favor. They hoped that with the intelligence they had acquired in advance, they could conform to the preferred style of the Nihelets, which would give them so confidence.
Yet, wasn't the lady herself doing the sa? She was not a woman of real ttle who could carry the family, but she also had to put on this façade; that was where her confidence lay.
To understand the difference between real confidence and empty posturing, one only needed to look at Natasha and Lady Nihelet.
In terms of attire, Lady Nihelet was more fitting of the "Black Widow" title. After all, she was clad in black from head to toe, with a gloomy complexion and a dark temperant. She looked like a resentful new widow.
But Natasha was dazzling, like a sword drawn from its sheath. Her cascading red hair frad her radiant face, making her look like a rose blooming amidst the dry branches of a scorched garden.
Of course, Lady Nihelet also noticed this. There were many won among the guests, many of whom were quite beautiful. However, none of them were as eye-catching as Natasha. The main reason was Natasha's sharp and aggressive deanor, which turned her beauty into her best weapon.
Natasha turned her head towards Lady Nihelet, and after a mont of widening her eyes, she nodded in a friendly gesture. Lady Nihelet's hand grip on her handkerchief tightened, her veins almost popping.
She forced herself to smile again, and with the help of the servant, sat at the head of the table. After a mont of silence, she picked up her wine glass and proposed a toast to everyone.
"Thank you all very much for coming. The Nihelet Family genuinely appreciates your presence."
After she spoke, she raised her head and sipped from her glass of red wine. Shiller's gaze, however, fell on her trembling wrist.
What looked like an ordinary involuntary muscle twitch, added an even more morbid shade of lancholy on her shriveled and pale hand.
Shiller slowly set his wine glass down, withdrawing his gaze before Lady Nihelet noticed his stare. Lady Nihelet continued, "To be honest with everyone, the Nihelet Family has indeed run into so trouble. So details should have been disclosed to you by our butler before you all ca."
"Due to the urgency of the situation, I won't waste your ti. In the eyes of you capable masters, why is it that my eldest son, Owen, suddenly fell ill? And why has my daughter gone mad?"
Lady Nihelet couldn't hide her anxious and sorrowful expression. In the eyes of the charlatans in the room, she looked like a sheep ready for shearing. Hence, soone promptly spoke up: "I apologize for any offense, but from my experience, this could be the work of ghosts..."
"Nonsense! It's likely to be a very ancient curse that cos from the Nihelet Family's lineage. It can be traced back to the earliest 'Combatant Nihelet'."
"Yes, that's right, this is a curse from Indians. I saw the vengeful spirit of an Indian wailing in the mistress of your house!"
"You frauds! What do ghosts and curses have to do with this? It is obviously the magnetic field of Nihelet Manor that's the problem. This magnetic field can influence people's minds, causing brainwave disorders! We need to rely on science were!"
"Science, my ass! Didn't you just see how much strength Miss Nihelet was able to exert? Is such strength normal for a six-year-old girl? She is clearly possessed by an evil spirit!"
"I believe so too. Furthermore, her condition is extrely dangerous. There's a high chance that the ghost is manipulating her to hurt people in the manor. Madam, it would be best if you keep her under close watch and perform an exorcism imdiately!"
Everyone was speaking at once, with so agreeing and so disagreeing, but the majority still believed the theories about ghosts and curses.
Many were earnestly expressing their ideas, focusing mainly on refuting the theories of their opponents, without noticing that Lady Nihelet's complexion was becoming increasingly ashen.
Just then, a figure pushed past a few servants and barged into the dining room. Shiller, who was having his al, paused at the knife's tip and looked up at the intruder. This was a middle-aged man dressed in a cal checkered suit, who slightly resembled Lady Nihelet in facial features and sported a slightly ridiculous mustache.
"Kick these damn scamrs out, kick them all out! They're nothing but charlatans, filthy, imbecilic scum..."
The middle-aged man was ranting in a rage. Lady Nihelet imdiately turned pale, jumped up to her feet, and pointed at the middle-aged man, shouting at the servants, "Take him away! Hurry, take him away!"
"Mr. Proche, Mr. Proche! Please, please leave this place quickly. This is Madam's important banquet. You must not..."
The short-statured middle-aged man broke free from the servants' grip and shouted at Lady Nihelet, "Sister, you know that's not a ghost! You know that's not a ghost!"
Despite being led away, Mr. Prosi kept looking at Lady Nihelet's expression as he was taken away. After a while, she turned back, lowered her head to look at the tableware and said, "This is my mad brother. Ever since my maternal family fell into ruin, he has been living here. He has serious ntal problems and often causes trouble. He's getting crazier each day, but please don't mind him."
An elderly man who looked like a priest stood up and said, "Madam, the situation with your child is quite unusual. Although this may seem abrupt and rude, we should hurry and prepare for a simple exorcism."
"Gentleman, would you please..."
"I co from the Church in the Trap District, I am currently the bishop of a rural parish. If you trust , I can start preparing the holy water and cross now."
Lady Nihelet was about to reply, but the old man drew a cross on his chest and said, "Don't worry, madam. I'm raising funds for an orphanage in our district. There are many children in the orphanage who were mistakenly thought to be possessed by demons by their parents. I have a lot of experience in this area. Please let try."
Lady Nihelet imdiately dabbed the corner of her eyes with her handkerchief. "Thank God, it must be God who sent you to my side. If my child is saved, my husband and I will personally thank you in your parish in the second half of the year."
The others exchanged looks with each other. They didn't dare to quarrel and seize the advantage. This old man was a certified pastor. Even though they were reluctant, they dared not outshine him.
Besides, they were all slightly skeptical about the idea of demonic possession. The young lady's performance in the garden was quite terrifying. If there really was a demon, wouldn't it tear them to shreds? Therefore, it was a good idea to let soone else break the ice.
And so, the following banquet had everyone enjoying themselves. Lady Nihelet glanced several tis at the two Batmans and Shiller, but she didn't strike up a conversation. These oddly dressed freaks appeared exceptionally quiet at present as if they had no interest in demonic possession.
As the banquet was nearing its end, around noon, the distinguished Mr. Nihelet and another masculine man returned to the Manor.
As soon as he walked into the dining room, all eyes were on him. No one looked at Lady Nihelet, who was seated at the head of the table. Instead, they all went up to greet Mr. Nihelet.
Mr. Nihelet, though sowhat shorter and thinner, had a friendly businessman look with a pair of circular glasses.
But he was also dressed entirely in black – coat, trousers, hat, bow tie; all were matte black, with only the lining being white, a pure white, devoid of any pattern. He perfectly blended with the solemn atmosphere in the dining room.
However, he wasn't the most flamboyant. The man behind him, known as Mr. Hancock, was a walking black statue. From head to toe, everything was black, whether it was his shirt, coat, or boots. His stern face under the brim of his hat had dark eyes, forming scanning beams that kept sweeping across everyone.
Eventually, Hancock's eyes fell on Shiller's party, sitting by the table but not hurrying to get up. Shiller stared back at him, his eyebrows furrowed with definite contempt and dissatisfaction.
Just as Black Widow rose from her chair and turned to him, Hancock's eyes faltered for a mont but didn't shift away imdiately. The corner of Black Widow's mouth instantly lifted in a smile.
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