Glen grew increasingly bewildered as what she said became more and more outlandish, until she suddenly stopped short, falling silent.

  I can fathom the idea of overthrowing a regime, but what connection could it possibly have with dragons? And what are these so - called 'expeditions' and 'divine descendants'? Is this mayor truly so extraordinary that he led the villagers to traverse the continent in a rampage? He stared at Sissily, who seemed to have frozen in place, lost in contemplation.

  A few minutes passed, and before Glen could rouse the young girl opposite him, she abruptly regained her senses and, wearing a puzzled expression, inquired,

  "What did you just say?"

  Glen narrowed his eyes. "Do you not remember anything at all?"

  "You clearly didn't say anything!" Sissily affirmed with great certainty.

  This made Glen all the more suspicious.

  It appears that no more information can be gleaned. Mentioning crucial details likely triggers amnesia. I wonder if she's doing this deliberately... He shrugged and addressed Sissily,

  "I was wondering, what shall we do next?"

  The girl immediately brightened up and, seizing Glen's hand, led him into her chamber.

  After that, Glen encountered nothing out of the ordinary. He simply endured patiently as he accompanied Sissily in playing childish games reminiscent of make - believe for an entire day.

  As night deepened, the girl, citing the lateness of the hour, attempted to persuade Glen to remain and continue keeping her company.

  However, even with Glen's remarkable patience, he could no longer bear it, so he left resolutely.

  As he passed by the old man's abode, Glen noticed that the second - floor window was illuminated.

  At this hour, everyone ought to have been asleep. The old man, being a creature of regular habits, this unusual behavior piqued Glen's interest.

  Consequently, he halted in his tracks, concentrated his auditory faculties, and listened for a while.

  There was the sound of rummaging, accompanied by the old man's murmured mutterings, which were completely incomprehensible.

  Guided by the principle that good neighbors should extend assistance to one another, Glen nimbly leaped onto the old man's window.

  He grasped the balcony outside the window, scarcely making a sound.

  He slowly inclined his head towards the window crack to observe the situation within the room.

  The old man, with his back to the window, was frantically rummaging through a large object resembling a suitcase. His movements were marked by extreme haste and agitation.

  From time to time, black tentacles emerged from in front of the old man, coming into Glen's view.

  Could this be a case of the demon from the contract running amok? Glen pondered. Employing a subtle technique, he gently opened the window and crept forward to discern what the old man was doing.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  However, scarcely had his foot touched the floor when the old man spun around abruptly, his voice rasping, "Who's there!?"

  Glen's movement halted. He was somewhat startled upon beholding the old man's countenance.

  The old man's entire visage was replete with numerous wrinkles, as if it had absorbed an excessive amount of moisture. His bags under the eyes sagged, and his eyeballs seemed on the verge of dropping out at any moment.

  As he spoke, his lips flapped, presenting a grotesque and terrifying sight.

  "Old man, what on earth is going on? Has the demon from the contract revolted?"

  Glen probed cautiously.

  Upon recognizing Glen, the old man grew irate. "Who gave you the audacity to enter my home uninvited!? This has nothing to do with you! Leave this instant!"

  "Come now, you never bother with formalities when you enter my place." Glen seemed to roll his eyes. Then, he stepped forward a few paces and pointed at the old man's chest. "These things are practically spilling out. Are you truly alright?"

  Realizing that Glen was unlikely to depart easily, the old man ceased attempting to shoo him away. He turned back to resume rummaging through the contents of the suitcase and replied,

  "This isn't the first or second time this has occurred. I can manage it."

  "I hope you're not merely being obstinate." Glen remarked casually. After a brief pause, he inquired,

  "What are you searching for at present?"

  "The Sand of Chrome, the rhizome of the Delight - bringing Grass. Do you have any knowledge of these?" The old man's tone was laden with disdain for Glen's lack of erudition.

  In truth, Glen was indeed unfamiliar with these two items.

  As such, he could only find a spot to sit and await the old man's efforts to resolve the matter on his own.

  He wondered what exactly was contained within the old man's suitcase. It was crammed full, with an array of items, both large and small, making it a formidable task to locate anything.

  "It was surely here... Why can't I find it? This isn't it... Nor this... Come out, come out..."

  The old man continued to mutter.

  Despite an extensive search, more and more tentacles emerged from his chest, and he still seemed unable to locate what he required.

  The old man grew increasingly irate, his hand movements becoming more exaggerated.

  Glen, watching from the sidelines, felt a sense of urgency. He was tempted to rush over and empty the contents of the suitcase onto the floor, thinking it might facilitate the search.

  Suddenly, the old man emitted a muffled grunt. The black tentacles on his chest, as if possessing independent motility, pushed against the ground, hoisting the old man off the floor like a spider.

  Glen immediately rose to his feet and shouted, "Old man! Can I save you by severing these tentacles?"

  "No! These tentacles are now part of my body... Do not touch them..." The old man, buffeted by the tentacles, struggled to speak.

  "Then tell me quickly if there's a solution! Preferably something I can do immediately!" Glen could only endeavor to safeguard the old man from harm by the tentacles and dared not act rashly.

  "Your curse might... pacify it for a while. Can you unleash your werewolf curse?"

  "Certainly."

  Glen immediately opened his mouth and exhaled a thick cloud of cursed black smoke, enveloping the old man. Glen could sense the tentacles voraciously absorbing the curse he had released, gradually calming down.

  The old man, as if granted a respite, promptly crawled towards the suitcase and resumed his search.

  Glen, too, stepped forward and swiftly laid out the items from the suitcase on the ground one by one.

  However, in the end, the old man suddenly exclaimed, "It's not here..."

  "What?" Glen's gaze fixed intently on the old man.

  "It's not here. The emergency raw materials and tools that I've always stored in here have vanished..."

  The old man's eyes were filled with bewilderment as he began to recollect the circumstances leading to this situation.

  "I've got it!" He suddenly donned an extremely malevolent expression. "It must be that I rebuked that portly fellow a few times last time, and he's exacting revenge on me. He has the ability to do this. I'll slay him the next time I encounter him!"

  "I suggest you focus on navigating this predicament. You're unaware of how ghastly you appear at the moment." Glen gestured towards the old man's face.

  The old man bared his teeth. "This is a periodic phenomenon. It won't claim my life, but if no measures are taken, I'll endure pain more excruciating than death."

  Upon hearing this, Glen scoffed. "If that were truly the case, you wouldn't have been so agitated just now. There must be some other consequence that you find even more unacceptable, I presume?"

  The old man closed his eyes, reached out, and stroked the slowly undulating black tentacles on his chest. "What other consequence could there be? After a few more such occurrences, I'll transform into a genuine demon. Ordinarily, this wouldn't concern me, but I cannot countenance the fact that the one who harmed my kin is still alive and well."