Chapter 344: Chapter 344: Secrets Beneath the Floorboards

The black Rolls-Royce quietly glided into the grounds of an exclusive villa estate. However, this was not the route back to their home. Julian Sterling cast a slightly surprised glance at the man behind the wheel.

Because of their hurried return, they had not summoned a driver, and their two assistants had been allowed to go home early, leaving Ethan Caldwell to drive himself. Seeing Julian looking at him, Ethan steered the car into the garage and explained: “This is my parents’ private residence.”

In the past, Ethan’s parents had lived in this private house, and Ethan had also resided here. After they passed away, he moved to the main estate to live with Grandpa Arthur. Upon reaching adulthood, he moved out again to the house where he was currently living with Julian.

It had been many years since Ethan had returned to this place. To be precise, he had never come back to live. Occasionally, he would visit to briefly take in the scenery and then depart. This house was fully staffed with a butler and maids, and the rhythm of daily life continued as normally as ever. It was only that the master rarely made an appearance.

Julian did not ask any further questions. He guessed that their conversations in Kensington City had sparked a thought in Ethan’s mind, prompting the man to return here in search of information.

The tires crunched over the fallen dry leaves on the asphalt, creating fragmented, rustling sounds. As the car door opened, the night wind, carrying the distinct chill of St. Lawrence City, whipped directly against their faces, but Julian was already thoroughly enveloped in the woolen coat that carried the faint sandalwood scent of the man beside him.

Ethan wrapped an arm around Julian’s waist, half-shielding and half-embracing him as Ethan guided Julian into the house.

From the moment the car was driven through the main gates, the staff inside had adjusted the indoor heating to ensure that the two of them, stepping in from the night sky, would feel comfortable. The warm, golden lighting spilled across the wooden floors, creating a tranquil atmosphere that sharply contrasted with the hidden undercurrents waiting to erupt within both of their minds.

Butler Linn was already standing by in the main hall. It seemed Ethan had notified the staff prior to their return. Seeing the two men enter, the butler bowed respectfully and received the outer coat from Ethan’s hands. However, the elderly butler’s perpetually composed visage was now tinged with a mixture of gravity and bewilderment.

“Young Master, Young Master Julian, you have returned.” Butler Linn hesitated for a beat, his gaze drifting toward the ebony tea table situated in the center of the living room: “This afternoon, the construction team responsible for renovating the study area reported an incident. While prying up the oak floorboards directly beneath the old master and madam’s former desk to apply termite treatment, they inadvertently discovered a hidden compartment.”

“Yes, I am aware.” Ethan’s voice was flat, as if this matter came as no surprise at all. Julian glanced over, only to have his hand taken by the man, who gently stroked it twice.

Julian did not press the issue. No wonder there was a period during the flight when Ethan had looked rather pensive.

At this moment, the two men finally turned their attention to the object placed upon the tea table. It was a medium-sized, dull grey metal box, its surface mottled with rust stains, proving that it had lain beneath the ground or in some hidden corner for a remarkably long time.

Its aged exterior bore no identifying information whatsoever. There was only an old-fashioned mechanical padlock that the construction crew had broken in order to extract the box.

“We dared not handle it ourselves, so it was merely placed there. No one has touched it.” Butler Linn added, his voice dropping low.

Julian narrowed his eyes at the box. He said nothing, only feeling the hand that was clasping his own stiffen slightly.

“You have worked hard, please arrange for someone to tidy up my old room. Jules and I will be staying over here tonight. Once that is done, everyone may retire for the evening. If anything is needed, we will call for you later.”

“Yes, Young Master.” Butler Linn understood the underlying dismissal and swiftly retreated.

The living room was momentarily devoid of outsiders. Ethan reached out and lightly flicked the broken padlock hasp, opening the lid of the box.

A musty scent of old paper and rust wafted into the air.

Julian also stepped forward, standing close beside Ethan. His gaze swept over the items lying dormant within the faded velvet-lined box. There was no money, nor was there any precious jewelry. All that had been carefully concealed beneath the floorboards for so many years consisted of merely three exceedingly ordinary-looking objects.

An old-model black USB flash drive, bearing the clunky design typical of a decade ago.

A small brass key, its bow engraved with intricate yet incredibly peculiar patterns, entirely unlike any civilian key.

And resting at the very bottom, occupying the majority of the space, was a dark brown leather-bound notebook that was peeling in multiple places. The edges of the paper inside had yellowed and curled with the passage of time.

“This is…” Julian furrowed his brows slightly. The events of today had unfolded a bit too rapidly, leaving him unable to fully grasp all the information in time.

“Yesterday, when you mentioned that your past self had participated in the experiments of CORE, I reconsidered the timeframe during which my parents sought to restart the previous experiment.”

“It has been too long, and I was too young to remember everything. But looking back at it now, it seems as though the two of them had discovered something.”

“That is why I instructed the butler to have people come over today under the guise of renovating the study. In truth…”

As for what the truth actually was, both men understood perfectly well. And this action was not without merit. At the very least, they had uncovered this box.

Why were their belongings hidden so deeply beneath the floor? What were they trying to conceal? Or rather, what were they attempting to leave behind for those who came after?

Ethan did not utter another word. He gathered the box up and turned around, heading straight for the study on the second floor. At this moment, the broad back of the man revealed a trace of solitude and heavy burden that would absolutely never be shown in front of outsiders under normal circumstances.

Julian did not follow immediately. He stood unmoving in the living room, watching Ethan’s retreating figure until the study door closed shut.

He understood clearly that when faced with the remnants of the past, especially those of deceased biological parents who perished due to vicious conspiracies, no one could maintain absolute composure.

Wounds that had long scabbed over were being dug up once again, yet only by tearing everything wide open could one clearly unearth the root cause.

Julian pivoted and groped his way into the kitchen. This was his first time here, and he was not overly familiar with the layout of the house. Fortunately, the kitchen remained on the ground floor, and the arrangement of the utensils was easy to navigate.

Fifteen minutes later, the study door creaked open.

Julian walked in carrying a small wooden tray. The refreshing fragrance, carrying the faintly astringent notes of premium Longjing tea, slowly permeated the space that had been stifling with the smell of old paper.

Ethan was sitting in the leather-upholstered armchair behind the desk. The sole illuminated desk lamp cast a pallid light across one half of his angular face, while the other half was swallowed by the shadows. The USB drive and the small key lay scattered upon the glass tabletop. The yellowed notebook rested squarely in front of him, yet he had not opened it.

It was as though he were engaged in a psychological struggle against some terrifying monster sealed within.

Julian stepped closer, placing the teacup down in front of Ethan before sinking comfortably into the man’s lap: “Drink some tea, it will warm your stomach.”

The man rested his chin on Julian’s shoulder, leaning forward slightly to embrace him tightly. Julian heard Ethan’s heavy exhalation by his ear and also touched Ethan’s hand, which had grown somewhat cold.

Julian turned his hand over, intertwining their ten fingers tightly together, using his own body heat to warm the other man.

He remained silent, merely keeping Ethan company in quiet solidarity. A moment later, the man picked up the teacup and took a sip. The bitter and astringent taste of the tea spread through his mouth, helping his brain, which was currently as taut as a bowstring, regain a measure of clarity.

Only then did the man slowly open that notebook. Because Julian was sitting in Ethan’s lap, it was remarkably easy for Julian to see the contents inside.

The dark blue fountain pen ink had blurred with time, but the handwriting was slender and decisive. Ethan could never forget this penmanship. It was his mother’s handwriting, the very same strokes that had guided him through his earliest lessons and taught him how to write.

This notebook was not some dry, discarded collection of research documents. Rather, it was a letter written in blood.

Ethan stared blankly at the very first line, written meticulously right in the center of the yellowed page. There was no greeting, there was no date; there was only a single sentence containing infinite despair laced with a piercingly cold warning from the past, crossing the boundaries of life and death to be delivered into his hands today.

“If you are reading these words… it means I have lost.”

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