Because it is an island country, the lowest temperature in London in July is around 10 degrees Celsius. Logically speaking, Carl would not feel cold in his clothes.
But after climbing over the wall, he shuddered involuntarily.
What's even more strange is that when Karl looked at the other five people around him, they looked like they were fine and seemed completely unaware of the coldness Karl felt.
Ah, very good.
No need to think too much.
Karl was sure that his feeling was correct, so this was a cold breath that only he could feel, and combined with the environment that shouldn't be so quiet, the answer was obvious.
Eight days later, an active-duty British man named Carl once again encountered some kind of supernatural event.
"Mr. Mailing, don't you think it's a bit cold here?"
Although he knew that saying this would be of no use, Karl still reminded them out of concern for his own safety.
As expected, Mailin just raised his eyebrows.
"Although it will be a little cooler than during the day, it's not really cold."
He looked at Karl's thin body.
"Mr. Carl, you still lack exercise."
This guy thought it was Carl who was not in good health and was complaining about the weather!
Although these gangsters may have to deal with themselves in their work, Karl himself knows that now everyone is a grasshopper on a rope. As long as he can successfully make them notice that something is wrong here, these people will be in danger later.
The human shield will not disappear inexplicably.
So Carl continued.
"Didn't you say that there were more than 20 people making trouble in the company before? But now there is no sound at all. Doesn't Mr. Mailin think there is a problem here?"
Facing Karl's question, Mailin seemed a little confused.
He first touched his nose with his hand, and then said to his four younger brothers: "Mr. Karl is right, be careful when you go in later."
Mailin turned his head to look at Karl and continued.
"Although there may be some accidents, our work must be completed, and the reputation of the Black Crow Gang cannot be ruined. Mr. Carl, please continue to lead the way. Trust me, nothing will happen to you here."
I believe you are a ghost!
Karl swore that if it weren't for the dagger hidden in his wrist, he would never have the courage to continue walking. This would be a joke with his own life.
The distance between the wall and the building was not far. In two or three steps, Karl led the gang to a window.
"Can it be opened?" Karl asked, pointing to the locked window.
"Albert, open it."
Mailin called one of his men, and it seemed that he had a solution.
Then a guy named Albert came forward, took out two slender metal bars from his pants, held one in each hand, and came to the window to start tinkering.
Should I call him a professional? It only took less than 10 seconds for Albert to pull back the two metal bars, turn around and give up his position in front of the window.
"It's open." He turned back to Mailin and said.
So Mailin opened the window, and two people went in first to explore the way. After confirming that there was no problem in the house, Mailin and the other two boys climbed through the window with Karl.
After all six people entered the room, Karl opened his mouth to explain.
"This is a small waiting room, not too far from where the printer is stored."
The company Carl worked for before was a small local publishing house in London. In addition to the large quantities of books and reading materials that were printed and handed over to professional printing houses, some small samples, author manuscripts or letters and contracts were also distributed.
Hand-copied by the company's scribe.
However, after the new printer was purchased not long ago, and before Carl resigned, three of the five scribes in the company were laid off one after another, and Carl was the fourth poor person to be fired.
Before packing up and going home, Karl also saw the newly arrived printers, so he still remembered clearly where these things that took away his job were.
Carefully pushing open the door to the lounge, Karl quietly poked his head out and looked at the corridor. It was dark on both sides, and it was so quiet that there wasn't even a fly.
There was no light, and nothing could be seen on both sides. But before Karl could say anything, a soft "pop" sound came from the lounge behind him. Although the sound was not loud, it caused this in this quiet environment.
The sound becomes very clear.
Quickly closing the door, Karl looked back to see what happened.
In the dim room, he could see Mailin staring fiercely at Albert standing in front of the window, as if he was the one who made the noise.
"You kid don't want to live anymore?"
Mailin lowered his voice and threatened him.
"Boss, no." Albert looked very flustered by Mailin's anger. It seemed that he was really afraid of his boss.
Then Albert pointed to the closed window behind him: "I swear to God I didn't touch it, it closed by itself!"
Albert's tone sounded panicked, but he still suppressed his voice and explained to Mailin in a low voice.
"I really didn't..."
As if he wanted to prove something, Albert walked to the window and pushed the window open, but a terrible result happened.
Before Albert finished speaking, his whole body began to twist from the moment he touched the window with his right hand. The window sucked him in like a whirlpool. In less than a second, Albert's entire body disappeared.
Without a trace!
"Boss...boss?" one of Mailin's younger brothers asked in a trembling voice.
It seems that the high-pressure management of gangsters has prevented him from completely losing his mind.
"Walt, go over and see what's going on with this window."
Mailin did not answer the younger brother's question, but directly instructed another person to come forward and check.
"Boss, I...I...I, I..."
When Mailin asked him to go check it out, the unlucky guy who was summoned couldn't even speak a complete sentence, his legs kept shaking, and there was nothing but fear in his eyes.
"This thing is so weird. If we let people touch it, aren't we looking for death?"
Seeing this scene, Karl tried to dissuade Mailin. He didn't want any of his precious vitality to be lost like this.
"Listen, I'm done with this job."
As he spoke, Mailin took out a revolver from his pants and pointed it at Karl.
"Why do you think you didn't open the window? Because you are not from the gang. You have to go back to the gang with me to testify that this place is fucking haunted!"
The previously pretended friendship completely disappeared, and Mailin, whose true nature was exposed, gave Karl a vicious look.
"Walt, go and push that window open, let's leave now." Unfortunately, dominated by fear, Walter stood trembling on the spot, not wanting to touch the person who had just swallowed Albert in front of his eyes.
Special windows.
"You know the consequences of not listening to me." Mailin's expression was still calm, but Karl could see that his hand was shaking as he clenched the pistol. It seemed that he was suppressing the fear in his heart. After all, if he took the lead
If you lose your calmness and reason, then your little brother will be even more hopeless.
Mailin's threat pulled Walter back from his fear, so he moved towards the window tremblingly, turning back step by step, hoping that Mailin would change his mind.
Unfortunately, the one who responded to him was Mai Lin's ruthless urging.
"Hurry over there."
When he stood by the window, Walter didn't dare to look back with his back to the window.
"Brother, I don't want to die."
What greeted him was the revolver that Mailin took out from his pants, with the cold barrel pointed at Walter's head.
"Use your hands to push the window open."
Under the threat of death, Walt had no choice but to stretch out his hand.