The Demon’s Menu

From the thin coat hanging on the rack, Jason found the wallet, keys, and other items.

Inside the wallet, there was an ID card and two bank cards, as well as 173 bills and three 1-dollar coins.

Of the keys, there was one big and one small, both strung together.

Attached to the back of the bigger key was a small tag.

Clearly written on the tag was: ’Apartment 3A-313’.

And on the back of the tag was a phone number: 0054444944.

It was evident that the larger key was for this apartment.

After putting the wallet back into the coat pocket, Jason took the keys and directly pushed open the door.

The big key was for the apartment.

And since this was a rented apartment, the likelihood of a mailbox outside the door was quite high.

With a mailbox, there would be newspapers.

He needed newspapers or similar paper items to help him confirm more information.

Just as Jason had surmised, he found a stuffed mailbox on the wall outside the door. Using the smaller key, Jason easily unlocked the small lock and took out the newspapers.

There were also four letters.

Along with the letters, Jason brought them back into the room.

Of course, Jason didn’t forget the television.

After turning on the TV, he began to flip through the newspapers.

The newspapers were delivered consecutively. The earliest one was dated D99.7.10.

And the most recent newspaper was dated D99.7.17.

Through the broadcast on the television station, Jason could confirm that this was today’s date.

There were a total of eight newspapers, dates consecutive, with none missing.

Similarly, there was nothing on them that Jason found worth noting.

Setting aside the newspapers, Jason took the four letters.

Out of the four letters, one had no return address, just the destination; the remaining three were formatted traditionally, with both a sender and a recipient.

The senders of the three letters were respectively John, Brian, and McCaul.

The recipient was him, Jason.

He opened the first of these letters, signed by John.

Hello, Jason:

You said you wanted to know some special things?

I have some stories here, not sure if you want to hear them.

If it’s possible, call me at this number XXXXXXX.

Your stranger friend: John

99.7.14

...

This was the first letter.

"A stranger friend?"

Jason furrowed his brows and unfolded the second letter.

Hello, Jason:

I might have some information you’ll find interesting.

But I hope you would listen to some of my issues first.

In exchange, I will tell you the things you’re interested in.

Your trustworthy friend: Brian

99.7.15

...

Without hesitating, after double-checking to make sure there was nothing dangerous inside, Jason opened the third letter.

Hello, Jason:

I pondered for a long time over whether or not I should write this letter.

After hesitating, I decided to write to you.

Not to satisfy your curiosity, I just hope to give you a piece of advice.

Your loyal friend: McCaul

99.7.16

...

As he looked at the three letters before him, Jason’s brows wrinkled more deeply.

Three friends with various prefixes.

A letter a day.

Regarding the motives of the three individuals, Jason could roughly guess, after all, ’he’ came here to gather material, and the three were likely to be the ones providing the ’material.’ ʀÄℕÓΒЁṡ

But...

From what the three of them wrote, Jason always felt something strange.

Moreover, the three people had different personalities.

The first, John, seemed to prefer one-sided disclosure but didn’t want to meet in person, undoubtedly a very solitary person.

The second, Brian, although wanted him to listen, had the precondition of exchange, clearly a person who abides by his own principles.

The third, McCaul, was the strangest, different from the first two’s disclosures, the person seemed very concerned about him, wanting to offer help, a righteous companion?

Jason shook his head and collected the three letters.

Then, he turned to the fourth letter.

This was the only one without a name and address.

Moreover, the envelope was made of thick kraft paper.

"Covering something up?"

Jason murmured to himself in a low voice as he carefully examined the letter.

The thick kraft paper shielded the light, preventing Jason from seeing what was inside clearly, but this didn’t stop Jason from determining through touch that inside was something square and thin.

Such an item obviously couldn’t be a bomb or the like.

But it didn’t rule out other dangerous objects.

Jason stood up, took the letter, and walked into the study.

He remembered, inside the drawer of his desk, aside from his mask and the broad-bladed, short-handled machete, there was also a paper knife.

Picking up the paper knife, Jason carefully slit open the envelope.

Then, the envelope upright—

Clang!

Amidst the sound of metal colliding with the desk, something fell onto the surface.

"A blade?"

Jason looked at the blade on the table in surprise, somewhat puzzled.

Sending a blade?

What does it mean?

A threat?

But there was just a blade, without any threatening words.

There was no letter inside the envelope; just to be sure, Jason also tore the entire envelope open to check.

There were also no words inside the envelope.

This left Jason somewhat perplexed.

However, there was one thing Jason could be certain of.

The person who sent this special letter must be someone familiar with him.

At least, the sender knew he lived here.

Without an address, a ’postman’ couldn’t possibly know beforehand.

If an excellent ’postman’ like himself couldn’t manage it, let alone normal postmen.

"Interesting."

Jason muttered to himself.

Then, he prepared to call Mr. John; he hoped to hear some stories about the sender.

He hadn’t forgotten his main task: to sell at least 100,000 copies of his new book within 120 days!

This wasn’t an easy task!

Jason, though not a writer,

Knew that he hadn’t written a single word yet.

A book should be at least 200,000 words, right?

Even a thinner one would need at least several hundred thousand words, right?

Jason guessed uncertainly.

But as he was about to pick up the phone, it rang a step ahead of him—

Ring-a-ling!

After the phone rang three times, and Jason confirmed it wasn’t a wrong number, he then picked up the phone.

"Hello."

"Jason? When are you submitting the manuscript?"

"It’s already the 17th today!"

"You promised me you’d submit it by the end of the month!"

Just as Jason had begun to speak, a slightly irritated voice came through the receiver.

Chasing for a manuscript?

Is it the editor?

Jason thought subconsciously.

And such silence only made the editor on the other end even more irate.

"Don’t play dumb!"

"And don’t say you have amnesia!"

"Last time, you already used that excuse!"

"I’m your editor, Raven."

"Our publishing house’s address is 221 Broad Bean Street, Qiongsi city, the telephone number is XXXXXXXX."

"I’ve checked your cat and dog; they’re currently at the pet store for grooming—they’re both fine, not sick."

"Furthermore, none of your relatives have either married or had a funeral in the last six months!"

"And you?"

"You certainly haven’t gotten food poisoning!"

"So, send the new book over before the end of the month!"

After speaking, the person on the other end didn’t wait for Jason to respond and hung up the phone.

Click!

Beep, beep!

Listening to the busy tone on the phone, Jason simply shrugged; he could tell that the editor was desperately frustrated, and for good reason, considering all the excuses he’d used before.

They sounded so fake.

If you’re taking a leave, it should at least be believable.

At the very least say something like you injured your hand, and it’s in a cast, and preferably get a doctor’s note as proof.

That would make sense.

Food poisoning?

Too fake.

Who gets food poisoning?

Anyone would avoid it.

Food that’s that delicious.

He can never get enough.

With these thoughts, Jason set down the receiver and began to dial Mr. John’s number.

Yet again, he was interrupted.

Jason looked towards the door, his perception nearly six times that of an ordinary person, allowing him to clearly hear a series of footsteps ascending the stairs—messy footsteps, at least five people.

And more, after reaching the third floor, these people headed straight for his room.

The next moment, a knock on the door followed—

Thud, thud-thud!

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