Matthew had great admiration for Josiah Wooler, who wrote the Plague
Compendium.
It was the first systematic medical literature that studied acute infectious diseases and the only treatise on plague in traditional medicine from ancient times to the present.
It was a book that had benefited the people for generations. As such, Matthew held respect not only for Josiash but also for his descendants.
The car entered Woolfields and stopped outside residence No. 86. After Matthew got out of the car, he noticed the front door was tightly locked. He approached and lightly knocked on the door.
He knocked three times. The rust clung to the large iron gate, and flakes of peeling paint fluttered down.
There was no response from the yard or from inside the house. He lifted his hand and wanted to knock on the door again but hesitated, afraid the door would fall apart.
Peering through the door gap, he saw the empty yard and shouted, "Declan Wooler, are you home?"
There was no response, still. As such, he waited at the door.
When the townspeople passed by and saw Matthew stationing outside Declan's house, they shot him peculiar gazes, prompting him to feel strange.
An hour passed, then two, then three, but still no one returned. At about noon, an old man walked over with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Dude, are you here to collect a debt?"
Collect a debt? Matthew needed clarification. "Why do you think that?"
The old man, Peter Klein, took a drag of his cigarette. "He's the most unwelcomed figure in our town. Everyone flees whenever they run into him. Even those who collect his debts avoid his house.
"Did he owe you a lot? Is that why you're here?"
Matthew only became more confused. "Sir, why do you say so?"
Peter was surprised. "You know nothing about that jinx, do you?"
Matthew returned to his car, retrieved a pack of cigarettes, and offered one to him. "Tell me about the family."
Receiving the cigarette, Peter glanced at it and remarked, "Nice cig. I've only smoked this once." Then his gaze landed on Matthew's pack of cigarettes.
"Here. Take it, sir. I don't smoke," Matthew said with a smile while passing it over. Peter grinned. "Oh, it wouldn't be alright, would it?" He unhesitantly took it and shoved it into his pocket despite saying that.
Pointing at the large iron door, Matthew smilingly asked, "Tell me about them."
Petter nodded, took a drag, and sighed. "Well, it's-" He paused suddenly and walked off after discarding the cigarette.
At that, Matthew quickly stopped him. "Don't leave just yet, sir. You haven't told me anything."
Peter turned around. "That jinx is back. I've got to get going. I don't want to tempt bad luck, do I?" He fled after that.
Bad luck? Matthew looked at the end of the road and saw a man riding in his electric scooter.
The man was thin and frail, with a sallow complexion and sparse, yellowing hair, making him look malnourished.
Soon, he appeared before Matthew, glanced his way, parked his scooter, and pulled out his keys to unlock a side door.
Matthew quickly went up to him. "Hi, are you Declan Wooler?"
The man paused his movement and turned back around to Matthew, stating, "He's dead. You'll need to get down to hell's gate if you want to see him."
Dead? Matthew was surprised to hear that. Why was Ansel's information always so inaccurate? It felt as though he was relying on intel from two decades ago.
He asked, "What's your relationship with him, then?"
The man coldly replied, "None," before turning around to unlock his door.
Matthew had hit a snag. He didn't believe that this man before him had zero connections to Declan.
Thus, he asked, "I owe him 100 thousand dollars; I'm here to pay him back. If Declan isn't around anymore, do you know where his children are?"
In reality, he had no financial debts with Declan. It was simply a lie he made up. He believed the other party would reveal his true identity as a Wooler if he were interested in the money.
Actually, it wasn't completely a lie. After all, Josiah had written the Plague Compendium, which benefited the entire nation.
If the other party admitted his identity, he would unhesitantly pay him 100 thousand dollars.