Ethan Chase squinted his eyes and tried to see the instructions on the GPS screen through the rain curtain. Raindrops, like dense bullets, fiercely hit the windshield of the delivery truck, making a "crackling" sound as if about to pierce through the glass.
His damp uniform clung tightly to his thin muscles, which had been honed through three years of bike delivery work before he upgraded to this creaking electric car. At that time, he shuttled through busy streets every day, racing against time and battling traffic. Every sprint and turn made his muscle lines clearer.
Now, although this electric delivery truck has reduced his physical burden, it also makes him miss those days when he was speeding at lightning speed.
The illuminated clock on the dashboard shows 11:47 pm, 13 minutes away from his 25th birthday. This birthday holds great significance for him. He had intended to invite a few friends to celebrate together, but due to work reasons, he had to postpone the plan.
He sighed and silently made a wish in his heart, hoping that this birthday could be safely passed without any unexpected events.
Last stop, Raj, "Ethan muttered to himself through his headphones, circling a pothole in Cherrywood Lane. There was a hint of exhaustion in his voice, but more importantly, his determination to complete the task.
Some beautiful brown stone buildings on Lighthouse Mountain, "he said softly, as if talking to himself.
His dispatcher's laughter crackled in the static, with a hint of mockery in his voice: "It's best to check your shoes after this. Rich people's packages either have gold bars or dead raccoons.
There's nothing in between Ethan smiled, knowing that the dispatcher was joking, but he still felt a bit uneasy in his heart. He has heard some strange rumors about wealthy packages, but has never personally experienced them.
This Victorian style mansion gradually emerged in the pouring rain, as if it were a building that had walked out of a fairy tale. Its gable roof is decorated with a forged iron wind vane shaped like a sailboat, swaying slightly in the wind and rain as if it could be blown away at any moment. Ethan's headlights illuminated a brass plaque with several gilded words engraved on it: Dr. ALARIC VAULT, a researcher in quantum economics.
He frowned. He had never heard of this name before, but it looked formal and mysterious. There is no doorbell, only a copper covered walkie talkie speaker.
Ethan walked up and pressed the button on the walkie talkie, but there was no response inside.
He sighed and picked up the waterproof package from the car, ready to personally deliver it to the door. As he picked up the package, a strange warmth surged out of his gloves, as if something inside the package was emitting heat.
He frowned and looked down at the shipping label, only to find that there was no sender on it, only a nine line moving symbol, like some kind of password, which made him shed tears. The barcode seems to have twisted a bit, revealing a line of text: 'Delivery to E.C. Chase.'. The timeline correction protocol has been activated. "
The pranks of ancient wealthy people, "Ethan sneered, although his throat tightened. He has never shared his full name with the client, and the appearance of this package made him feel a little uneasy.
Before he could retreat, the wrought iron gate opened with a sharp sound. The oak doors of this mansion swing inward, revealing a marble foyer illuminated by flickering gas lamps.
The flame of the gas lamp flickered in the wind and rain, casting a dim yellow light. Ethan stood at the door, hesitating for a moment.
His intuition told him that something was wrong here, but his rationality told him that it was just a job and he needed to complete the task. He took a deep breath and walked in, leaving a trail of muddy shoe marks on the mosaic of the twelve constellations.
His breath echoed in the hall, appearing particularly clear. In the center of the hall stands a floor to ceiling clock that is taller than NBA players. Its moon phase dial displays a black hole devouring a galaxy, as if telling the mysteries of the universe.
There are no numbers on this face, but economic terms are used: inflation at three o'clock, liquidity crisis at six o'clock, and excessive growth at nine o'clock. Ethan stood in front of the French clock, looking up at it with confusion in his heart.
Hello? Delivery... "He squinted his eyes and looked at the dirty recipient's name. A. Vault? Signature required! "He shouted loudly, his voice echoing in the hall.
However, there was silence around, no footsteps, and no shadows.
Only the flame of the gas lamp flickered slightly, as if responding to his call. Suddenly, the gas flame turned cobalt blue and emitted a strange glow.
Ethan's heart sank suddenly as he realized something was wrong. The instinct honed on the streets of Boston made him scream and want to leave, but his footsteps seemed to be restrained by some invisible force.
He remembered the rent he had to pay on Friday, gritted his teeth, and forced himself to calm down.
He looked around, trying to find anything that could provide clues. Everything in the hall appeared so ancient and mysterious, as if hiding countless secrets.
His gaze fell on the floor clock on the wall, and the pendulum of those pendulums froze at 11:59, as if time had stopped flowing here.
He walked up to one of the clocks and gently touched the pendulum, only to find it cold and hard, as if it had stopped breathing. Ethan's heart raced, and he felt an inexplicable fear spreading in his heart.
He doesn't know why he came to this place, nor does he know what secrets are hidden in this package. But he knows he must find the answer, otherwise he may never be able to leave here.
He took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down, and then continued searching for clues in the hall. His gaze fell on the paintings on the wall, which depicted ancient economic scenes where people were trading, debating, and celebrating.
He carefully observed each painting, trying to find some clues from it. Suddenly, his gaze lingered on a painting depicting a group of people gathered around a huge clock with its hands pointing to 12 o'clock. His heart stirred, could this painting imply something?
He turned around to look at the floor clock and found that its pointer was also at the 12 o'clock position.