Trafford's Trading Club

Translator: AlfredoPoutineSoup Editor: DesTheSloth

Anatoly didn’t know the purpose of Mr. Sullivan for taking him to this mysterious place.

In Anatoly’s opinion, this place was just a very common dwelling— but Sullivan asked him if he thought of something after coming here.

Anatoly was aware that Sullivan had mentioned things that were related to his memory loss.

Anatoly didn’t feel like he forgot anything— but no matter Sullivan’s behaviors, or the bishop’s words, even the matter of the sudden fragmentation of his cross, they pointed to one conclusion through rational analysis: He really forgot something.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Sullivan, I can remember anything.” Anatoly shook his head.

The result was like in Sullivan’s expectation, he nodded, “Not only you, but all the neighbors don’t know who originally lived in the house.”

Anatoly asked curiously, “Who originally lived here?”

Sullivan said slowly, “It was a widower with a ten-year-old kid. They should have just left for a few days, because some food in the fridge is still not expired. But…”

Sullivan paused his words, which made Anatoly more focused on listening to him.

Sullivan looked at the house, telling the story with puzzlement, “We cannot trace the whereabouts of this father and son pair… they seem to have vanished from the the world.”

Anatoly frowned, “If they are common people, how could they escape the network of the monastery.”

“What if they are not?” Sullivan looked at Anatoly with profound meaning.

It might be his illusion.

But at this moment they gazed at each other, Anatoly seemed to feel a slight… fear from Mr. Sullivan’s eyes.

“Anatoly, follow me to the monastery,” Sullivan suddenly ordered.

However, Anatoly just graduated from the monastery and had been sent here, he didn’t understand his decision.

Sullivan said indifferently, “I am being restrained here, so I can’t put to good use any of the complete magical arts. But if I can go to the monastery belonging to you all, maybe I can display what I mastered freely.”

Anatoly stared blankly, because he heard Sullivan said… ‘You all’?

…

…

The two priests who left didn’t know that a pair of eyes kept monitoring them in front of the dwelling they observed.

It was Luo Qiu, who was sitting on the chair in front of this house, and browsing webpages on the phone— You Ye was not here.

Of course, Luo Qiu didn’t order her away from here; instead, she went to the supermarket after waking up and preparing breakfast.

Luo Qiu no longer lived in the former hotel. He moved here secretly as a temporary place to live after Oleg took Antonio to leave Moscow quietly.

It didn’t mean the hotel the servant girl prepared for him was not good.

He preferred the style which gave him a more memorable feeling— just like the rocking chair in the corridor, he didn’t want to move since he laid down there. The hotel couldn’t give such a feeling.

This placed still retained the happy memories when Kamala still exist.

“You guys.”

After the two priests left, Luo Qiu looked up to the sky in the morning— According to human perspective, there should be something existing there.

But Luo Qiu had read those old account books, he was clear nothing existed above.

It existed, but not in the sky or on the ground.

“Heaven … it’ll take three more years.”

Luo Qiu stretched himself, standing up from the chair.

He wore the earplugs, and then kicked his shoes slightly, jogging along the road of the housing estate.

It was quite a nice morning and very suitable for jogging.

Luo Qiu met many people jogging with him at the time on the road. Guys fond of sports were full of enthusiasm in hearts.

A lot of people greeted him, different men and women, who may be enjoying the scenery on the roadside— what did they think of the scenery?

Luo Qiu didn’t know that.

He still understood the concept of color, but all the colors seem to be single hue to him. They mixed together and looked the same, but did not seemed to have any order.

The whole world appeared to have become a black and white world, from his perspective.

But he suddenly slowed down, walking to an old house.

There was some graffiti shown outside the wall.

The graffiti was not as colorful as the street graffiti that could drag spotlights; there wasn’t any jeering in it that could express the daubers’ strong dissatisfaction to society, which could stroke the people’s chord.

It was merely a full view of the city outlined by simple black lines— but this city didn’t follow the correct ratio.

It was distorted, like the city’s reflection in a magic mirror. Straight buildings turned fat, and tidy roads became curved.

Luo Qiu hands felt the wall, and then watched his fingers… It wasn’t from a charcoal pencil, but was probably drawn by wood charcoal.

The lines were rough.

“During a period of time, I always intentionally went through here every day.”

Suddenly someone opened his mouth behind Luo Qiu. Luo Qiu turned to see, it turned out to be a man wearing a mask, a cap and sportwear.

It should be a middle-aged man.

Who looked very hearty and strong.

Luo Qiu looked up after a mere glance, taking back two steps to view the whole painting— so did the middle-aged man behind, who looked at the ‘Twisting Moscow’ on the wall.

He suddenly said, “It hasn’t been finished yet.”

“Yes.” Luo Qiu nodded.

The man showed a look of pity, “Approximately one year ago, I started to have morning jog in this area. Sometimes I saw a young man painting here. I remember it was the winter, which impressed me. He wore thin clothes like a tramp, but he didn’t feel cold at all. He held a stick of wood charcoal to draw. When I saw the picture, he had drawn a building already.”

He seemed to tell a story that was seldom shared with other people… a story shared with strangers.

“I observed him for some days. One day, I couldn’t help walking close to ask him.” The man looked at Luo Qiu now, perhaps with a smile, “I asked him why he didn’t he burn the charcoal to get heat in the cold weather?”

“What did he answer?” Luo Qiu asked calmly.

“He didn’t answer me.” The man shook his head, “But he asked me a question, ‘Do you have a dream?”

“A dream?” Luo Qiu thought of the question.

The man nodded as well, “Yes, a dream…to be honest, I have no idea if I had a dream. But later, I always make time to jog around for exercise, and watching how long that guy could insist drawing the pictures.”

He shook his head, “But unfortunately, this picture hasn’t been finished, and I didn’t meet him in very long. However, I still jog here at times and think I may meet that guy, and looked at the unfinished picture.”

“Some parts of it attracts people.” Luo Qiu smiled.

And the man whispered, “Yeah, looking at this unfinished, twisted city, it always shows me a different feeling, as if reminding myself at any time… that I won’t let myself live in such a twisted city. Well, looks we’re talking about a boring topic.”

“That’s OK.” Luo Qiu shook his head.

When the man started trotting on spot, he patted Luo Qiu’s shoulder suddenly, “Man, are you Chinese? I’ve been there a few times, it’s a very good country. But since you speak Russian very well, how about considering settling down and starting your new life here? A young man will always have chances.”

“Wherever I stay, it will be the same,” Luo Qiu shook his head.

The man gave a start. It seemed he didn’t understand the meaning. He just nodded and jogged to leave— nevertheless, not long after he left, a black car caught up with him.

Luo Qiu turned about to look at the graffiti on the wall.

This was the picture that Urey drew; however, he was living in the manor of Typica’s family… maybe he was with Ms. Anna that he took back from last night.

“Dream.”