Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 850: The Devil’s Deal (1)

When the model component suddenly slipped from Dr. Franky's hand, it felt as though time had come to a standstill.

It was as if everything turned gray, a cold and colorless gray, like the moment right after an explosion when all sounds are drowned out.

Dr. Franky slowly collapsed, as if weightless.

The world seemed to slow down. His body jerked and then fell completely. The impact caused his cheeks to tremble slightly. At that moment, Mr. Alfie reached out his hand, but he couldn't catch him.

“Dad!”

“Doctor!!”

The cries of the people surged like a tide, and everything became bright again. The lights in the lab shone as bright as day, brilliant, like the sun.

Dr. Franky gazed at the light above, a halo of light reflecting in his pupils, and a faint smile appeared on the corners of his mouth.

He slowly closed his eyes.

...They refused to let Dr. Franky's life end just like that, attempting to rescue him in the final moments.

The city's traffic became congested once again, but one road leading to the hospital was miraculously clear.

Outside the operating room, not only Mr. Alfie but also the director of the research institute and a group of anxious researchers gathered. Before long, another of Dr. Franky's old colleagues, Matthew, the director of the Science Museum, arrived after hearing the news.

Director Matthew’s relationship with Dr. Franky was much closer than that of the research institute's director. Matthew was Franky’s true close friend.

He approached Mr. Alfie, silently hugged him, and patted his shoulder firmly, offering the kind of comfort an elder could provide.

“I never imagined something like this would happen.”

Matthew sighed deeply in front of Mr. Alfie, “That day... it wasn’t long ago that he brought little Louis to visit me. I even promised him that I would talk to Mr. Billy again. How could he collapse now? I haven’t convinced Billy yet... How could he fall now?”

Mr. Alfie remained silent, his mind filled only with Dr. Franky’s final smile as he fell, feeling calmer than anyone else.

Looking at the line of people in the hallway, Mr. Alfie quietly walked to a corner and lit a cigarette—one he had gotten from someone else, as he had quit smoking for quite some time.

He understood that it was his own naive request that initially set Dr. Franky on this endless path.

But the doctor continued forward... Perhaps, at the start, he did it only for a child’s casual remark. However, as more and more like-minded researchers joined him on this path, his persistence likely grew into something much greater than a mere promise to a child.

In the end, he carried the lives of the entire team on his shoulders.

Mr. Alfie suddenly recalled a saying he had heard somewhere: "No revolution in human history is a pastoral poem; it is always accompanied by tears and pain."

"So foolish..." Mr. Alfie murmured.

He was speaking about himself, Dr. Franky, and all those who fought on the front lines.

“Sir...” Barbara, who had arrived at the hospital at some point with Louis, looked at Mr. Alfie with some fear. Summoning her courage, she said, “I thought... I should bring Louis.”

Mr. Alfie glanced at his son. The boy probably still didn’t fully understand what had happened. He only looked around at the unfamiliar environment, filled with unprecedented fear.

Mr. Alfie gently stroked Louis' head, and the child immediately buried himself in his father’s arms, clutching tightly to Mr. Alfie’s clothes.

After what seemed like an eternity, the lights in the operating room suddenly dimmed. As the doors opened, the lead neurosurgeon, who had also served as the chief doctor for the consultation, slowly walked out.

The doctor removed his mask and shook his head at Mr. Alfie, who stood as the family representative, a look of sorrow on his face. At that moment, even those who had mentally prepared themselves for this news couldn’t help but feel as though it was some sort of cruel joke.

The institute's director and Matthew, the museum curator, both looked upwards—not out of relief, but because they suddenly felt as though something essential had been lost from their lives.

Barbara immediately covered her mouth, tears streaming down uncontrollably. She had worked for this family for many years, so her bond with them was much deeper than others.

Louis kept his head pressed against Mr. Alfie, refusing to look up.

But then, Mr. Alfie gently patted Louis on the shoulder, “Son, aren’t you going to say goodbye to your grandfather?”

Little Louis raised his head, looking at the faint smile on his father’s face. For the first time, he thought it was the most painful smile he had ever seen on him.

He couldn’t describe it, but it felt as though the smile was like a blank sheet of white paper—empty, with nothing on it.

Soon after, the hospital officially announced the time of death. Apart from the family, the rest of the people had no more reason to stay.

Some researchers, following the director's instructions, began to leave quietly.

The director himself stayed until late into the night, and finally left together with Matthew, the curator of the Science Museum. They made plans to go somewhere quiet to sit for a while.

They went to drink.

They said it had been a long time since they last drank with Franky. They decided to go to Franky’s favorite little bar, saying it was surely still open, and tonight, the two of them would drink enough for three. They wondered how Franky could just leave them like that.

They kept talking, and talking...

...

A white bed, a white sheet covering it, with no movement under the sheet.

In the room where Dr. Franky's body was laid, Mr. Alfie stood silently, with little Louis leaning against him, sobbing occasionally.

Maybe this was just a dream, an illusion. Perhaps in the next moment, the body beneath the sheet would suddenly start breathing again... Mr. Alfie thought to himself.

No one came to disturb Mr. Alfie and little Louis as they said their goodbyes to Dr. Franky. After a long while, little Louis, exhausted, fell asleep. After all, he was just a child.

"Sir, my condolences," Barbara said as she gently took little Louis from Mr. Alfie's arms.

Mr. Alfie sighed deeply and instructed the secretary waiting outside, "Take Barbara and Louis home. I'd like to stay here a little longer."

The secretary didn't insist on anything, simply nodding in response. "Sir, after I take Ms. Barbara and Louis back, I'll return to pick you up."

Mr. Alfie nodded and waved them off.

He sat alone outside the morgue, rubbing his face. The surroundings were utterly quiet, with not a single person in the corridor. It was a world of complete silence.

The corridor had likely been blocked off, arranged by his secretary, ensuring no one would intrude. Though this bordered on abusing authority, Mr. Alfie felt neither anger nor satisfaction about it. He simply didn’t want to think much at all.

Beyond that door lay the world of death, and in that world, perhaps Dr. Franky was slowly drifting away. Mr. Alfie leaned his head against the wall, his unfocused eyes staring at the corridor’s ceiling lights.

"Hmm... I smell the scent of death."

Suddenly, a deep male voice echoed down the hallway, accompanied by the rhythmic sound of heels striking the floor.

Because of the silence, the voice was extremely clear, immediately pulling Mr. Alfie out of his empty thoughts.

He saw a peculiar figure: a man wearing a common carnival mask and dressed in strange clothing that resembled a modified version of the white robes worn by church bishops during important ceremonies.

This masked figure slowly approached Mr. Alfie, hands clasped behind his back, exuding an air of mystery.

This made Mr. Alfie instinctively frown. "Who are you?"

The moment he spoke, a thought struck him. He suddenly recalled something his secretary had mentioned — the video of the person who had saved Mr. Besong after he was shot.

"I smell the scent of death..." the deep voice behind the carnival mask continued, "But I can drive death away."

"Playing tricks." Mr. Alfie gave the man a sharp look and immediately reached for his phone.

But before he could make the call, the phone was swiftly taken from him—or rather, it was snatched out of his hand.

The one who acted wasn't the masked man in front of him but another figure who had quietly appeared beside him—a man dressed in a long, dark-gray robe with a hood, resembling a sorcerer from a fairytale. After seizing Mr. Alfie’s phone, the man quickly turned it off.

"What do you want?" Mr. Alfie stood up abruptly.

At that moment, more and more robed figures, all hooded and concealing their faces, began to appear in front of him.

Someone among them placed their hands on Mr. Alfie’s shoulders, forcing him to sit down.

"Bring him! Bring..."

In an instant, these strangely dressed people covered Mr. Alfie’s mouth—he could barely even struggle.

The man wearing the carnival mask slowly reached out and placed his hand on Mr. Alfie's forehead, speaking calmly, "Foolish sinner, I forgive you."

A faint white light spread from his palm, imprinting itself on Mr. Alfie’s forehead. As the light appeared, the surrounding "sorcerers" began whispering.

Voices of reverence, words of praise.

Mr. Alfie felt terrible in that moment—he had seen too many fanatical, irrational religious zealots... and these people were clearly "followers" of some kind of religious cult.

But that wasn’t the only reason he felt bad.

Oddly enough, he felt incredibly good—better than ever. The gloom in his heart seemed to be dispelled, and he was suddenly full of energy, as if he had just come from a party, his spirits lifted.

But this was obviously unnatural.

"You..."

"I told you, I can drive death away. I can also take sorrow away."

As the man in the carnival mask spoke, he turned and walked toward the door of the morgue. Two "sorcerers" by his side opened the door for him.

Mr. Alfie heard the mysterious man say calmly, "I know you have many doubts, but don’t worry. I will perform a miracle to erase all your skepticism, so you can witness the extraordinary light and understand the greatness of life's miracle."

"What are you trying to do!?" Mr. Alfie suddenly became anxious. How had these people come in so silently?

His body was lifted by the "sorcerers" and carried into the morgue, with all of them following closely behind.

In front of Dr. Franky’s bed, the "sorcerers" gathered in circle after circle. The mysterious man in the carnival mask stood at the head of the bed, while Mr. Alfie was still being restrained by several of the "sorcerers."

Seeing Mr. Alfie’s bewildered and astonished expression, the masked man seemed quite satisfied. He nodded, then pulled back the sheet covering Dr. Franky's head, revealing the doctor’s pale face.

"You are desecrating the dead! This is illegal!" Mr. Alfie struggled furiously, but those restraining him were abnormally strong.

The man in the carnival mask—Bucky—glanced at Mr. Alfie again without speaking, then quietly lowered his head and looked at his hand.

From his sleeve, a small note slipped into Bucky’s palm. After a quick glance, he cleared his throat and continued in a deep voice, "Ah... such a noble soul, yet your life was so fragile..."

He paused again, sneaking another look at the note in his hand before continuing, "…Lost lamb, I will guide you to a new world, grant you new life, and give you precious time..."

As Mr. Alfie listened to the mysterious man’s strange words, he suddenly found himself calming down for reasons he couldn’t quite explain.

What Mr. Alfie found unbelievable was that, deep down, he felt a faint sense of absurd expectation.

"Franky! Feel the glory of my god, and then return to this world as my god's servant!"

Suddenly, Bucky shouted, raising his hands high and shaking them vigorously before pressing them firmly on Dr. Franky's chest.

In an instant, a blinding white light surged throughout the morgue.

At that moment, the surrounding people dressed as "sorcerers" all knelt to the ground, bowing toward Bucky. No one was holding Mr. Alfie anymore; they were all captivated by the scene unfolding before them.

Mr. Alfie, pale and terrified, slowly walked to the bedside and looked at Dr. Franky's face. He opened his mouth in shock, just as Dr. Franky's eyelids suddenly twitched.

Then, Dr. Franky's fingers moved slightly.

In disbelief, Mr. Alfie walked to the other side of the bed, glancing between the masked, mysterious man and the increasingly rosy-cheeked Dr. Franky.

Finally, when Dr. Franky suddenly opened his eyes, Mr. Alfie lost all reason.

"Alfie... where is this?"

Resurrection—right before his eyes.