"How strange, why are there suddenly so many fewer holess people overnight?"
"Must be the doing of the Londinium police, right? Maybe they sent the holess sowhere to be killed collectively. These days, human life isn't even worth as much as bread. A country as big as Columbia disappeared just like that, and our Parliant lords are still having their afternoon tea. I can't believe we've fallen to this state…"
Looking at the fog outside the theater door, the guard stomped his foot and said with a resentful expression.
They were currently responsible for guarding the main entrance of the Arkham Theatre. Today, a mysterious art film exhibition was about to unfold in the Arkham Theatre. A considerable portion of Londinium's high officials and nobles were inside the theater, preparing to welco the opening ceremony of this so-called unprecedented great work of art.
Speaking of which, it was strange; before then, no one knew who this so-called great artist actually was. Her na, rather than a na, was more like so kind of codena. The green-haired girl, whose hair resembled octopus tentacles, nad Ghost Evil Old Sea—this na was truly quite a mouthful, sounding like a nickna from Yan Country—quickly beca popular throughout Londinium's high society along with her art, and made others deeply avoid.
Apart from the old die-hards of the Royalist Faction who refused to acknowledge other arts, and those rchants chasing fa and fortune, the Parliant Faction was exceptionally fond of this green-haired girl.
Clearly, every one of them spoke vaguely about the so-called art this girl privately displayed, yet every one of them was sincerely convinced by the green-haired girl. Although the girl looked vaguely unsettling, the rectangular pupils in her bright yellow eyes made one shiver .
But the Parliant Faction held this artist in high esteem. Often holding so-called 'Sea-system Art Discussion etings' in private. The guards didn't know what exactly happened inside, just that after it ended, every mber of Parliant felt exceptionally spirited and radiant . They felt this art was the so-called true art, while other arts were just a jumble of noise and piled-up oil materials.
This pursuit lasted for nearly a full year, and now, she finally had the qualifications to display her art in the city's renowned Arkham Grand Theatre. She herself funded and organized a strange, so-called epoch-making film. Inviting all those high-level officials she had good relations with, preparing to display unprecedented greatness in this screening. Strangely, a female artist actually used 'great' to describe her own work. Normally, this was sothing critics would do, but this girl just did it, and very matter-of-factly at that. Making everyone feel sowhat strange.
But even if strange, the Arkham Theatre was still packed to capacity ; no one had any objection to this arrangent. Even those nobles who traditionally prided themselves on being late arrived at the theater early today. The two guards could only stand at the entrance, staring blankly at the increasingly dense fog outside.
It was as if the world itself was reflecting sothing; the dense fog obscured the moonlight, only hazy streetlights cast cold, dim light and shadows in the mist, twisting and shining around. Although this scene looked grotesque and eerie, the guards had already grown accustod to Londinium's increasingly severe pollution recently. Very normally taking out their gas masks and putting them on, they then lowered their heads and started chatting about the banquet inside behind them.
"If you ask , that woman's skills down there must be incredible; that hair probably isn't just for show either."
Looking at the foggy, gradually vision-obscuring hazy street, the guard gossiped in a low voice to his companion beside him:
"That woman must be so so-called social butterfly . Otherwise, who would be pursuing such an inexplicable thing? What isn't for people to see, acting all mysterious like that. It's not like we haven't seen those great artists; I feel this woman definitely has issues."
"To be fair, as a pure passerby, it indeed is like that."
The guard beside him took a breath, choked on the impurities in the fog, and also obediently put on his gas mask.
"I'm an old guard, even fought in the Rank Wars back then. If not for taking an arrow to the knee, I wouldn't be staying here. That woman indeed has so problems; when I was on guard duty before, I often heard strange lights and so hair-raising sounds coming from the so-called art exhibitions she held."
"What sounds?"
"Very, very strange, felt like the gurgling sound of so sticky thing crawling past."
"…Like this?"
'Click'
"Yes, that's right, just like this—"
Seeing his companion's surprised gaze, the guard instantly realized sothing.
Hearing the sweet sound from beside them, as if a slimy object had crawled past leaving behind mucus, the hearts of the two guards jumped directly. They subconsciously raised the weapons in their hands, aiming towards the direction the sound ca from. And an unusual scene was deeply imprinted in the eyes of the two.
A tall figure slowly erged under the light, dark green radiance clinging and lingering around, forming a bubble skirt similar to the idol seen before, filled with a cute style, yet carrying a hint of inexplicable eeriness. This girl, with a sowhat tall and buxom figure, tapped her lips; her rectangular pupils, under the now dark green light, slightly contracted then dilated, looking at the two guards who swallowed hard and inexplicably tensed up, and smiled lightly.
"Gossiping about others' identities behind their backs, that's not a good habit, okay? Mr. Guards."
The girl took out a folding fan, tapped her lips, and said with a smile:
"But for having such a misunderstanding about , I can actually understand it very well. After all, if one doesn't et, it's very difficult to see that great thing."
"Don't be anxious, Mr. Guards, the art exhibition has just begun. If art cannot let the public understand where beauty lies, then it doesn't deserve to be called art. Don't you think so?"
The girl erging from the shadows grinned at the nervous guards, the shadows behind her squirming and spreading like octopus tentacles.
And at the sa ti, the curtain of the grand theater slowly fell. The host, whose face was so pale it looked as if a smiling mask was nailed onto it, walked to the front of the stage holding a microphone, cleared his throat, looked at the densely packed so-called high-level personages below, and revealed a brilliant smile.
"Welco everyone to the Arkham Theatre. I am your host, and also a follower of the Master. You can all call , Dagon."
The host's red lips parted slightly, revealing a smile; his crimson gums and teeth, denser and more nurous than a normal person's, integrated together, as if about to devour sothing.
Reviews
All reviews (0)