?Chapter 451:


    Hevished praise on Elena, heralding her as a poetic genius with gifted hands. Overwhelmed and ttered, Elena quickly typed out a heartfelt response to Mauricio.


    The second email bore no sender’s name, simply tagged from Avaloria.


    However, Elena needed only a fleeting glimpse to recognize the sender—Earle. That unhinged fanatic had sent a single haunting sentence, apanied by a chilling image: a rose painted in shades so deep and red that they mimicked the hue of dried blood, casting a sinister, almost haunting aura. Beneath the image, a single line read, “When the petals fall, our paths will cross once more.”


    Elena’s brow furrowed, the disturbing gaze of Earle’s eyes shing through her mind. Despite their brief encounter, his unsettling obsession had firmly attached itself to her.


    Feeling a surge of unease, she powered down herputer.


    The following morning, Elena stepped out of the house, a backpack slung over her shoulder.


    She donned a simple outfit—jeans and a neat white shirt—topped with a baseball cap pulled low to obscure her face.


    Thirty minutes passed, and she finally arrived at the threshold of the Phantom Market.


    The marketce was situated on the fringes of the, enveloped by vast stretches of destion that led to a forsaken vi.


    She stepped into the elevator and decisively pressed the button for the basement level.


    The underground floor felt like an entirely different world.


    Once annually, the Phantom Market would swing open its gates, drawing a swarm of traders eager to exchange exotic and elusive treasures.


    Elena, her visage half-shrouded by a baseball cap, was garbed in unassuming attire that somehow still managed to capture curious nces. For a woman on her own, such a ce carried its risks.


    A small-framed, middle-aged man promptly made his way to Elena, his eyes alight with schemes as theynded on her. He shed a wide grin and inquired, “Miss, are you navigating this market by yourself? Are you here to acquire treasures or perhaps to part with some? I engage in both, and I might just have the item you seek.”


    Elena’s expression remained stony, her voice icy as she responded, “I’m neither a buyer nor a seller.”


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    The man paused, taken aback, and then burst intoughter. “You have quite the sense of humor, miss. I assure you, I’m no scoundrel. If you’re in doubt, why not visit my stall?”


    Elena’s frown deepened, her patience visibly waning. “I’ve already told you, I’m neither a buyer nor a seller.” Her gaze hardened, pinning him with a frosty look. The cold intensity in her eyes exerted a palpable tension, causing the man to involuntarily stifle his smile. It wasn’t until Elena had slipped away that he realized he had been daunted by a mere woman. By then, however, she was nowhere to be seen.


    Adjusting the brim of her cap, Elena’s eyes swept over her surroundings, ever vignt.


    Elena emerged from a narrow street only to find herself trapped at the corner. A dozen men d in ck suits swiftly encircled her.


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