Chapter 268

Chapter 268

The setting sun painted the sky over Prison Island a murky orange-red. The clamor of the arena gradually faded behind them as Evan and his group walked slowly along the stone path towards the commercial street.

As soon as they stepped out of the arena’s perimeter, a gust of air carrying the scent of food, alcohol, and the din of voices hit them—unlike the bloody violence of the arena, this commercial street was a rare "comfort zone" of Prison Island, lined with all kinds of shops to meet the needs of islanders, prisoners, and outsiders.

Neon signs on both sides of the street flickered with suggestive glows. Croupiers at casino entrances loudly touted odds. Restaurant windows displayed tempting roast meats and desserts. Hotel staff stood at their doors hawking rooms, and occasionally, scantily clad women leaned against doorframes, casting flirtatious glances at passing men.

Cruz walked on the far edge, his hand always resting on the sword at his waist, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily. The chaos of Prison Island far exceeded that of ordinary places; even this commercial street harbored many dangers.

Evan’s gaze wandered among the shops lining the street, finally settling on a particularly striking building on the corner. It was a three-story white house covered in green ivy, with a gilded signboard hanging at the entrance embossed with three gilded characters—Sabbath.

Unlike the surrounding noise, this hotel exuded a sense of luxury and tranquility. The doorman, dressed in an immaculate tailcoat, respectfully opened the door for guests coming and going.

"This one," Evan said, ascending the steps. He simply didn’t want to waste more time on the chaotic street. This hotel’s style was clearly a cut above the surrounding inns, and the accommodations would surely be decent.

As soon as he pushed open the hotel’s heavy doors, a faint fragrance wafted over, dispelling the smell of blood and sweat that clung to him.

The lobby was carpeted in thick velvet, muffling footsteps. Crystal chandeliers refracted brilliant light, illuminating the expensive oil paintings on the walls.

The most eye-catching feature was the attendants moving through the lobby—both men and women wore tailored uniforms that hugged their bodies, accentuating graceful curves with a hint of subtle seduction. On their heads, they all wore fluffy white rabbit ears, which swayed gently as they moved, adding a touch of playfulness that created a striking contrast with the hotel’s upscale atmosphere.

A female attendant with rabbit ears quickly approached, wearing a sweet smile and speaking in a voice as sweet as honey: "Welcome to the Sabbath Hotel. How may I assist you?"

"One suite, a quiet one," Evan said flatly, his eyes scanning the lobby. He noticed a staircase in the corner leading to the second floor, with signs pointing to "Fine Dining Restaurant" and "Indoor Recreation Area."

"Certainly, please wait a moment," the attendant replied respectfully before turning to the front desk. Her skirt swayed as she moved, and her rabbit ears gently bobbed.

Cruz took the opportunity to quickly scan the lobby, and after confirming there were no suspicious individuals, he let out a slight sigh of relief and said quietly to Evan, "This hotel has powerful backing. To run such an upscale establishment on Prison Island, they must have backing."

Evan nodded; he had already noticed. Prison Island was a melting pot of rogues; running such a lavish hotel here was beyond the capabilities of an ordinary merchant. But he didn’t care, as long as he could have a peaceful night’s stay.

Soon, the female attendant returned with the room card, her smile still sweet: "Sir, your suite is on the third floor, with the best view and a small balcony. Tonight, the restaurant has a seafood buffet, and the recreation area has a billiard room and a card room. You’re welcome to enjoy them anytime."

Evan took the room card, his fingertips accidentally brushing against the attendant’s hand. She didn’t flinch but instead winked at him, a hint of flirtation in her eyes.

Evan withdrew his hand expressionlessly, gestured to the Maid Dolls, and the two maids immediately followed. The Blood-eyed Raven flapped its wings and landed on his shoulder, its red eyes warily watching the surroundings.

Taking the ornately decorated elevator to the third floor, the door to the suite opened, and Evan nodded with satisfaction.

The room was exquisitely decorated. The bedroom had a soft bed, the living room sofa was covered in velvet cushions, and the floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto a small balcony overlooking the night view of the commercial street. The bathtub in the bathroom was large enough for two, with scented candles placed beside it.

"Sir, let me check the room for safety first," Cruz said, beginning to inspect every corner of the room, especially the windows and vents, to ensure there were no bugs or hidden dangers. The two Maid Dolls started unpacking the luggage, arranging Evan’s clothes and personal items neatly.

Evan walked to the balcony, opened the window, and the evening breeze carried the lively sounds of the commercial street inside.

He leaned on the railing, looking down at the flickering neon signs below. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his fingers against his storage ring, his mind still swirling with thoughts of controlling supernatural animals.

Maybe tomorrow he could stroll through the commercial street to see if there were shops selling supernatural animals or materials that could enhance his puppet strings.

Just then, laughter erupted from below. A few drunken men were escorting rabbit-eared attendants into the hotel, spewing obscenities. Evan frowned, turned, and closed the window, shutting out the noise.

Cruz finished his inspection and walked over: "Sir, the room is safe. No anomalies."

"Mm," Evan replied with a yawn. "I’m going to take a bath first. You all do as you please." He was exhausted. After several consecutive fights, every muscle in his body was screaming for rest; all he wanted was a hot bath to relax.

Entering the bathroom, the tub was filled with hot water strewn with rose petals. Scented candles burned, releasing a faint fragrance.

Evan stripped off his clothes and slid into the tub. The warm water enveloped his entire body, instantly dispelling most of his fatigue. He closed his eyes, scenes from the arena flashing through his mind—the brutal battles, the Maid Doll handing him gold coins, the fierce appearance of the Flame-Tusked Lion. A smile crept onto his lips.

The journey to Prison Island was indeed far more interesting than he had imagined.

After his bath, the Maid Dolls had already delivered dinner to the room—a seafood buffet from the hotel restaurant: golden roasted lobster, fresh oysters, sweet fruits, all laid out on the table.

Evan sat at the dining table, slowly peeling a lobster. Cruz stood nearby, ever vigilant.

Outside, the night deepened, but the lights of the Sabbath Hotel grew even more brilliant, mingled with the clamor of the commercial street, forming the unique extravagant nightscape of Prison Island.

Evan looked at the delicacies before him, listening to the quiet breathing in the room, feeling an unprecedented sense of relaxation.

Perhaps tonight he could sleep well, regain his strength, and explore more secrets of this island tomorrow.

At that moment, however, the Governor’s Mansion on First Island received an unexpected visitor.

A beautifully decorated black carriage slowly stopped before the ornate iron gate of the Governor’s Mansion. The wheels crunched over the smooth stone pavement, making a crisp sound. The coachman jumped down, walked respectfully to the carriage door, and reached out to pull aside the velvet curtain embroidered with subtle patterns. A foot clad in white lambskin high heels first emerged from the carriage, followed by a lady in a pale lavender dress stepping down gracefully.

She wore a wide-brimmed hat adorned with pearls, beneath which cascaded a head of fluffy black curls, naturally voluminous and framing her delicate, petite face. Her nose was high and straight, her lips lightly coated with rosy lipstick. Her almond eyes sparkled with a mix of playfulness and a hint of barely perceptible shrewdness. Her skirt swayed gently as she walked, silver threads embroidered along its hem shimmering in the light, clearly the work of a master tailor.

"Cousin, welcome to New Nigeria State." James, the butler of the Governor’s Mansion, was already waiting at the door with a group of male and female servants. Seeing her alight, he quickly stepped forward with a respectful smile, though his tone carried a hint of distance.

The lady addressed as Cousin raised her hand, removing her gloves and handing them to a maid beside her. A warm smile curled at the corners of her lips, and her voice was as crisp as a silver bell: "Butler James, long time no see. You still have such a way with words."

Her gaze swept over the mansion’s main gate, a flicker of fear and anticipation flashing in her eyes. "Is my cousin not at home?"

"Governor Sara is quite busy," James nodded quickly, gesturing her in with a bow. "The guest room has long been prepared. You can rest first, Cousin."

As he spoke, two male servants efficiently carried luggage from the carriage—several large gilded-edge boxes bearing the family crest, clearly containing valuables.

The cousin gave a slight nod, her eyes inadvertently scanning the main building of the mansion as if searching for someone. Then, she calmly withdrew her gaze and asked softly, "When will my cousin be free?"

The smile on James’s face froze for an instant, but he quickly explained, "You see, Miss, the Governor has been extremely busy these past few days. Colonial affairs are complicated; he’s still handling official business tonight." He paused, then added, "But rest assured, once the Governor is done, I will inform him immediately of your arrival."

A flash of barely concealed disappointment crossed the cousin’s eyes, but she quickly masked it with a smile and waved her hand dismissively: "It's okay. My cousin has always been diligent; I understand." As she spoke, she stepped into the mansion, her pale lavender dress brushing the stone floor, leaving a faint trace of fragrance. "I’ll go to my courtyard and rest. I’ll talk to him when he’s free."

"Of course," James quickly followed, chattering instructions, "The mansion has recently added some new faces, all honest and steady. If you need anything, just ask. Dinner is ready—your favorite dishes: steamed sea bass, crab meat tofu, and your most beloved rock sugar lotus seed soup."

The cousin listened, nodding occasionally in acknowledgment. Though she seemed attentive, her eyes were subtly surveying the mansion’s layout.

Her steps were light. As she passed the garden corridor, her gaze fell on wind chimes hanging under the eaves. She gently touched them, and they chimed clearly in the tranquil night.

What she didn’t know was that the study window faced that corridor. Sara stood there, a document in hand, his gaze heavy on her retreating figure, complex emotions flickering in his eyes. He naturally understood the purpose of this cousin’s visit. But at this moment, half his mind was occupied with cumbersome administrative affairs, while the other half had already flown toward Prison Island, dwelling on thoughts of the youth enjoying dinner in that hotel.