Chapter 25

Bo Li bought some baking soda, poured it into a bucket, stirred it into a paste, and had someone spread it over the bloodstained parts of the carriage.
Turns out, watching American TV shows paid off.
By morning, the blood had washed away easily.
She'd thought Eric wouldn't care about something so trivial, but he stood there the whole time, watching her mix the baking soda, splash white vinegar on the carriage, and have the cleaner scrub it down.
The cleaner was sweating bullets under his stare, not daring to breathe too loud.
Bo Li was puzzled too.
Why was he so interested in everything she did lately?
She preferred it when he ignored her.
After all, if he suddenly decided to interrogate her—why did she know this, where did she come from—she'd have no idea how to answer.
His memory was terrifying. His perception even more so—Bo Li still remembered how he'd tried to restore the hair she'd placed by the door.
If she hadn't had her phone to take a photo, he might have fooled her.
Right now, she could tell him small lies not because she was good at it, but because he didn't care, didn't ask, didn't push.
But if he asked directly, she couldn't lie.
A lie exposed would cost her his trust.
Losing his trust meant losing her life.
Bo Li broke out in a cold sweat, afraid life was about to turn up the difficulty again.
Thankfully, he only watched. No comments. No questions.
Bo Li let out a breath.
Soon she'd forgotten all about it.
After cleaning the carriage, getting closer to Mrs. Merlin became the priority.
Mrs. Merlin seemed like a gruff but warm-hearted middle-aged woman—sturdy build, stern face, never smiled. But every time Bo Li visited, she'd bring out a plate of pastries, stare coldly until Bo Li finished them, then ask her to leave.
After a few days, Bo Li learned that her husband had been dead for over ten years. She had no children. She treated Mrs. Healy like her own daughter.
She seemed to have deep feelings for Mrs. Healy. Every time she mentioned her, she'd fall into a long silence.
"I don't want to talk about her," Mrs. Merlin said. "If you're here to ask about the mistress, you can go. I have nothing to say."
Bo Li said, "You know I'm not here for Mrs. Healy."
Mrs. Merlin was quiet for a moment, then laughed—a strange laugh. "You're really not in the freak-specimen business?"
The atmosphere turned odd.
Bo Li rubbed her arms. Gooseflesh had broken out without her noticing.
She looked around—three in the afternoon, sun blazing. Even if ghosts existed in this world, they wouldn't show up now.
"Here's what I'll do," she said after thinking. "You blindfold me and take me to see them. If they don't want to come with me, I promise I'll never come back here."
Mrs. Merlin thought for a moment, as if deciding it was better to get rid of her once and for all than to keep being pestered.
"Fine," Mrs. Merlin said, her voice turning sticky. "I hope you're a girl who keeps her word."
Bo Li's eyes were covered.
She'd brought her gun, but Mrs. Merlin had taken it—she'd come with a gun the first time, so Mrs. Merlin always searched her and removed it.
But Bo Li had also hidden a small knife in her petticoat pocket.
Mrs. Merlin had suddenly gotten so strange. Bo Li slipped her hand into her skirt and gripped the knife.
Then again, maybe it was just her imagination.
If Mrs. Merlin really meant to do something, she would have done it days ago. No need to wait until now.
A rustling sound—Mrs. Merlin seemed to be dragging the drawing room carpet aside, pulling back a bolt, unlocking a copper lock with a key.
Bo Li's heart gave a strange lurch.
Mrs. Merlin had been keeping the freaks in the basement?
Just then, Mrs. Merlin took her arm. "Come. This way. There are stairs."
Her grip was strong. Her voice had grown even stickier, her breath carrying a strange smell that hit Bo Li's face. "Slowly. If you fall and break something, I won't take you to a hospital."
Bo Li stopped dead and reached for the blindfold. "…Actually, let's do this another time."
"Another time?" Mrs. Merlin laughed and grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her back. "There won't be another time, dear."
Bo Li had completely underestimated Mrs. Merlin's strength. No matter how she struggled, Mrs. Merlin held her fast, muscles bulging in her arms, and shoved her into the basement.
Bo Li's world spun. She crashed into a pile of hay, the stink of sweat hitting her nose, but she was too hurt to get up.
"I never deal in healthy people—that's a ticket to hell," Mrs. Merlin's voice came from the basement entrance. "But you kept asking about that little bitch Healy—she betrayed me too many times. I treated her like my own daughter, and what did she do? Took her gold and silver and ran off with some street girl, left me alone in this house."
"You're both freaks," Mrs. Merlin said. "One doesn't love men, only women. And you—you're interested in freaks, want to make them stars—"
Her voice had gone sticky again. This time Bo Li finally understood—it was mockery, contempt.
"Blame yourself for being a freak and annoying me." With that, Mrs. Merlin shut the entrance, bolted it, and locked the basement.
It took Bo Li a long time to get up from the haystack, dizzy and disoriented.
Thankfully, to win Mrs. Merlin's favor, she'd been wearing dresses these past few days—the kind with multiple petticoats. Otherwise, even with the hay as padding, a fall from that height would have broken her legs or at least left them badly swollen.
Bo Li was frustrated.
Her guard had been way too low. Whatever Mrs. Merlin said, she'd believed it.
Think about it—if Mrs. Merlin was a good person, how could she have been so calm when she saw the body?
Bo Li hadn't reacted because, one, she'd seen too many lately—the circus guards, the manager, all died horribly. She was past being shocked.
Two, modern society had everything—horror games, horror movies, horror novels… All kinds of gruesome images had numbed her nerves.
Her lack of reaction was normal. But Mrs. Merlin's wasn't—as a lady's maid, she'd been way too composed.
Bo Li drew a painful breath.
How had she missed that?
It took over ten minutes for Bo Li to recover enough to look around.
The basement wasn't large, only about ten square meters. A rushlight burned on a post.
The air was heavy and putrid. The walls were filthy, covered in black specks.
At first, Bo Li thought they were bugs. Looking closer, she realized it was dried blood—brown now, like congealed cheap paint, flaking off in powder.
…This wasn't a nightmare.
Bo Li had never seen this much blood. She wouldn't dream up such realistic details.
No time for regrets. Once she had her strength back, Bo Li immediately began checking the room. At the far end was a secretary desk—cabinet on top, desk below.
She found a notebook in a drawer. Opening it:
Bevy sold
Theo Whit
Emily Brown
Ollie Thorn sold
Harriet Fielding
Edmund Bur sold
Forth
…
The handwriting was neat but childish, likely Mrs. Merlin's.
She only knew so many words. When she didn't know how to write a surname, she'd either use a letter or two, or skip it entirely.
Bo Li saw Emily's name on the list.
"sold" meant sold. Those names were probably freaks who'd already been sold.
…Mrs. Merlin was working with Tricky.
Bo Li rubbed her temples hard. This was the second time she'd fallen into a trap set by someone here.
If Mrs. Merlin had been from modern times, Bo Li might have been more cautious, wouldn't have so easily entered her home.
She'd underestimated people from the nineteenth century, always thinking that without phones or the internet, a middle-aged woman couldn't be that dangerous.
In reality, in an era without phones or the internet, a middle-aged woman who could become an accomplice to wanted criminals like Tricky and Boyd was dangerous in her own right.
Self-blame and reflection wouldn't help. The priority was saving herself.
Bo Li pulled out the small knife from her petticoat and decided that when Mrs. Merlin opened the door next time, she'd stab her in the neck.
Because she'd suffered from not knowing the time in the swamp, she'd bought a pocket watch to carry with her.
Bo Li found a bit of dark humor in it—at least she'd learned something from her past mistakes, right?
She took out the watch. Three-thirty in the afternoon.
No telling when Mrs. Merlin would open the door next.
Thinking that, she took off her coat, laid it on the ground, and decided to get some sleep.
At eight o'clock that evening, Bo Li was woken by the sound of a bolt being drawn back.
Mrs. Merlin opened the basement door and tossed down a boy like garbage.
"Here, the freak you wanted," Mrs. Merlin said. "Found him for you. This kid looks exactly like that Elephant Man from London. If you've got some weird kink, better do it now, because once he's famous—" she gave a strange laugh, "—you won't even be fit to lick his boots!"
Bo Li: "…I don't have that kind of kink."
"No?" Mrs. Merlin laughed. "I thought you kept asking about these freaks because you wanted to keep one as a pet. Turns out you're actually a good person—" She threw back her head and laughed, that mocking, sarcastic laugh. "My God, I've met a saint!"
"Thorn, what do you think?" Mrs. Merlin asked the boy. "This girl came to see me hundreds of times, drove me crazy. At first I thought she was in the business, didn't want to fight with a colleague, so I held back. But she's actually a good person! Thorn, tell me, do you want to become a big star?"
Bo Li looked at Thorn.
Thorn was trembling, curled up on the haystack, a burlap sack over his head with two eye holes cut out—a bit like Eric.