blogombal Chapter 172 Did you write this diary?
Chapter 172 Did you write this diary?
Chapter 172 Did you write this diary?
After an unknown amount of time, under the chilling sea breeze, Alger, who was hanging upside down on the comb pole, slowly opened his eyes. His vision was initially blurry, and then the dizzying sensation and the excruciating pain from the rush of blood to his brain caused him to subconsciously let out a painful groan.
"ah-
He saw a pitch-black night sky and, below him, a massive black sail billowing with the waves. The sound of waves crashing against the hull and the rough laughter of sailors came from below.
It took him several seconds to adjust to this upside-down world.
At the same time, he also realized his current situation.
He was being hung upside down from the comb of a pirate ship in a highly humiliating position.
I—have truly become the "Hanged Man"—
The thought, with an absurd irony, flashed through his mind.
After a brief pause, he gradually recalled what had happened.
He recalled Danitz's seemingly gullible yet cunning face, the sorrowful and crazed expression on "General of Illness" Tracy's face, and the helplessness he felt when he was instantly knocked down.
"Flame!" It's all his fault! That son of a bitch—he cursed the entire Danitz family in his mind.
What should we do now? After his anger subsided, Alger came to terms with reality.
He tried to summon the spiritual energy within him, grow phantom scales, and break free from these damned ropes.
But he soon discovered in despair that he couldn't do it. The weakness caused by the disease still permeated his entire body, and now he found it extremely difficult to even move a finger.
Forcing it is impossible.
Why not pray to Mr. Fool?
He remembered the enigmatic "Fool" sitting atop the gray fog.
Mr. Fool adheres to the principle of equivalent exchange. He still has several pages of Russell's diary that haven't been handed in yet, which should be enough as payment for his help. Besides, as a member of the Tarot Club, Mr. Fool shouldn't refuse to help him, right?
Just as he was enduring his physical discomfort and preparing to silently recite the name of "The Fool"—"
A sudden, intense wave of dizziness washed over him.
His mind went blank, and once again, he inexplicably lost consciousness.
In the instant he lost consciousness, a thick vine, seemingly made of illusion, silently wrapped itself around him.
When Alger regained consciousness from the chaotic darkness, the first thing he felt was not the dizzying sensation or the icy sea breeze, but a sense of calm.
He suddenly opened his eyes and found himself lying on a familiar bed.
He was surrounded by familiar wooden walls, on which hung his usual nautical charts and weapons.
Is this... the captain's cabin of the Azure Avengers?!
He subconsciously sat up, moved his hands and feet, and found that the deep-seated weakness he had felt earlier had disappeared, and the ropes binding him were nowhere to be found.
Just as he was utterly bewildered by this incredible situation and wondered if he was dreaming, a soft, emotionless voice came from the shadows of the room into his ears.
"You're awake."
Alger was startled and turned his head sharply, seeing a woman wearing black knee-high leather boots and with long, smooth chestnut hair.
He was standing there quietly.
With her back to the porthole, the hazy moonlight only outlined her graceful figure, but her face remained obscured.
Although he hadn't fully grasped the situation, Alger immediately realized that the woman in front of him was definitely not an ordinary person!
To be able to rescue me from the heavily guarded "Black Death" without anyone noticing, I must be a high-ranking powerhouse!
He dared not be negligent in the slightest, immediately got out of bed, straightened his disheveled clothes, and respectfully bowed to the other party.
"Thank you so much for saving me, ma'am."
Bernadette Gustave did not respond to his thanks. She simply looked at Alger quietly and asked in a flat tone, "Why were you captured and put on the Black Death?"
In front of such a powerful figure, Alger dared not hide anything.
"Did you know that there's still a bounty of 10,000 pounds up for grabs?"
"Hmm," Bernadette nodded.
"Here's what happened—"
Alger truthfully recounted to the other party how he was used as a tool by "Flame" Danitz, how he encountered "Disease General" Tracy, and how he was eventually knocked unconscious and hung upside down on a comb pole.
Bernadette simply nodded noncommittally after hearing this.
Then, she stretched out her fair hand and conjured a piece of paper covered in Chinese characters out of thin air, presenting it to Alger.
"This diary, it used to be yours, didn't it?" she asked.
Alger recognized it at a glance—it was the same Russell's Diary that he had sold to the woman wearing the white mask at the underground party not long ago!
He hesitated for a moment, but finally nodded honestly in admission.
"Very good," Bernadette said. "It seems you also know it's a diary."
Alger was startled, and a cold sweat instantly broke out on his back.
Bernadette ignored his shock and continued in her calm tone, "Did you write this Russell diary?"
"No! Of course not!" Alger quickly shook his head in denial.
"I can't read Russell's language. And I've never forged Russell's diary."
"How do you know it's a diary?" Bernadette asked.
"I can't expose Mr. Fool," Alger said, trying to remain calm.
He explained, in a half-joking tone, "I'm just an ordinary enthusiast who has some admiration for Emperor Roselle."
The only reason I knew it was a diary was because I was lucky enough to decipher a few simple, recurring symbols.
Bernadette listened quietly to his explanation and nodded, seemingly agreeing with it.
She continued in that calm tone:
"So, where did you get this diary from?"
"From—from the sea." Alger didn't hide anything and told the truth: "Some time ago, I pulled a suitcase out of the sea, and this diary was found in that suitcase."
Upon hearing this answer, a flicker of something unusual seemed to cross Bernadette's usually calm eyes. She glanced at Alger, as if assessing the truthfulness of his words.
Then, she waved gently.
Alger felt a blur before his eyes, and the few pages of Russell's diary that he had kept in the drawer suddenly flew out on their own and landed lightly in Bernadette's hand.
Bernadette casually flipped through the few pages of the diary, her gaze lingering for a moment on the familiar pages before she pulled out a few and pushed them in front of Alger.
"And these?" she asked. "Were these also found in that suitcase?"
"This—" Alger stared at the familiar pages of "erotic history," his mind racing.
I think these are the ones; they were sold to me by Monkey Brando.
Alger recalled the scene of his private transaction of the diary with Lorne before a certain extraordinary gathering.
He raised his head and said in a tone that was both sincere and regretful:
"No, ma'am. These pages—were sold to me by 'Monkey Brando'."
"That's the one—Monkey Brando, who was killed by 'Flame' Danitz."