Chapter 3: The Plan
"Your lunch is ready, sir."
"Here's your newspaper."
In the estate, a housekeeper dressed in a crisp black uniform with a white apron brought the food to Marcus.
"Thanks, just leave it here and close the door on your way out."
Marcus waved for the housekeeper to leave.
After finishing his steak and drinking a cup of coffee, Marcus gleaned some information about the world from the newspaper. He put down his coffee and went to the mahogany desk, picking up paper and pen.
Using a cipher only he could understand, he began to write down his plan:
"First, determine the current stage of the plot.
Where is Kirsty's new house, and how far is it from here?
Has her uncle Frank received the Lament Configuration yet?
Second, how can I benefit from this world and resolve the crisis back home?
After all, in reality, I'm still missing two kidneys, and a scalpel is poised over my chest.
The first task of the main storyline is to open the Lament Configuration.
However, this item is only given to certain chosen individuals by intermediaries. Only those who are tempted by the box and learn the specific sequence can open it.
In the movies and comics, some ordinary people who receive the box cannot open it and simply keep it as a curiosity.
Staying with the chosen person to open the box might count as assisting in opening it.
But after the box is opened, what awaits the opener is not paradise—it's a gateway to another dimension.
The Cenobites will be instantly summoned and use their instruments to tear the opener apart.
You think it's just about being torn apart?
No!
Their souls will also be dragged into that realm, where they'll endure the torment of the Cenobites and the agony of that dimension time and again.
Only when their souls are twisted and numb, devoid of all value, are they cast into the outer reaches of that realm, slowly becoming part of the labyrinth itself.
As for the second mission, it's actually related to the first.
To enter their dimension, one must first use the puzzle box to open the gateway.
If you can't even survive the Cenobites, let alone survive after entering, what's the point of completing the mission if you're dead?
Furthermore, the third mission—killing Pinhead—is utterly absurd.
In Marcus's eyes, it's a cosmic joke, even more outrageous than winning the lottery three times in a row.
The Cenobites' leather garments are supposedly crafted from materials beyond human understanding, impervious to conventional weapons.
Their bodies are modified, possessing superhuman strength and resilience.
Even the weakest Cenobite is not someone an ordinary person can handle.
Marcus unconsciously tapped the table with four fingers of his right hand.
"Think about it, think carefully."
After pondering for a while, he wrote a string of words on a piece of paper, then crumpled it up, tore it into pieces, and flushed it down the toilet.
"Sarah, call the butler over,"
Marcus called towards the door, then leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes to rest.
"Mr. Blackwood, what can I do for you?"
Butler Henderson, dressed in a well-tailored suit, his hair neatly combed, though the wrinkles on his face betrayed his age.
"Mr. Henderson, you've been with our family for over 30 years. If I'm not mistaken, you'll be retiring in two years?" Marcus asked.
"Yes, sir."
Henderson stood with perfect posture and nodded slightly.
"Mr. Henderson, I have a few very important matters to handle over the next few days. If you take care of them well, I'll allow you to retire two years early with full benefits and accept your recommendation for a new butler."
"Can I count on you?"
Marcus stared intently at the butler, asking seriously.
"Of course, Master Dean. I've watched you grow up. Just tell me what you need."
Henderson's expression turned serious as he saw Marcus's demeanor, and he answered carefully.
"Mr. Henderson, don't worry—it's nothing difficult. It's just that these matters are very important, so you must handle them perfectly."
Seeing his young master so serious, the butler had already steeled himself for the task, assuming it would be extremely difficult.
"I'm at your service, sir."
Marcus held up his index finger:
"First, immediately invite the local police chief to visit. Tell him I want to donate one million dollars to improve public safety."
Then he held up his second finger:
"Second, find me 20 private investigators and have them come to see me in small groups."
"Third, contact the media—newspapers, online influencers, entertainment blogs—to promote me personally. In two days, I'll be exhibiting an art piece, and I want to be presented as the youngest notable artist in the city."
Marcus finished listing the three requests in one breath, picked up his coffee, and took a sip.
The bitter, strong flavor of the coffee made his mind even clearer.
"Sir, are there any other requests?" the butler asked.
"These are the three for today. There will be others tomorrow. These things need to be done as quickly as possible, top priority, and there can be no delays."
Hearing the three requests, Henderson visibly relaxed, exuding confidence. For him, these matters were entirely manageable.
"Very well, sir. I'll arrange everything immediately."
"Good."
Butler Henderson took two steps back, turned, and walked towards the door, already dialing a series of phone calls as he went.
Marcus picked up his coffee, walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and looked at the classical sculptures and fountains in the estate, the autumn leaves swaying gently in the breeze.
"There's no going back now."
Marcus sighed, turned back to the sofa, and closed his eyes to rest. He needed to stay alert and wait for the guests who might arrive at any moment.
Marcus wasn't worried about the arrangements failing, because no one would refuse money, especially free money.
Indeed, as Marcus had predicted, at the precinct downtown:
"Sir, regarding your daughter's disappearance, are there any details you've overlooked? Think carefully—a person can't just vanish from a hospital into thin air. How about this…"
Police Chief Daniels, with his graying mustache, was talking to a middle-aged man dressed in business attire when his cell phone rang, interrupting him.
"What! One million dollars donated to the department?"
Chief Daniels's voice rose excitedly, drawing all eyes to him with eager anticipation.
"Mr. Henderson, this isn't some kind of prank, is it?"
"Alright, alright, I'll head over right now."
Daniels hung up the phone and quickly stood up. A quick-thinking officer handed him his cap.
"My daughter..."
The middle-aged man's face was full of anxiety, wanting to say something more.
"Detective Martinez will handle it!"
"God bless your daughter, sir."
Daniels casually pointed to the young officer who had handed him the cap, then hurriedly left.
Less than an hour later, the butler had escorted Chief Daniels to Marcus.
(End of Chapter)
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