Lord Protector Novel

Not too long after that, one attendant entered. He was wearing a strange combination of a dark cap and a mask

that concealed his face. He placed a bottle of expensive whiskey beside an unsuspecting Lacey.

Unseen by anyone, he flicked his thumb.

A tiny black dot zoomed out from under his fingernail and landed squarely on the artfully arranged salad in front of

Lacey.

His work done, the attendant left.

This was no random attendant, but John in disguise.

The tiny black dot he had flicked into Lacey’s salad was the product of his unceasing efforts in cultivation—a

venomous little insect.

This particular insect had venom so terrifyingly potent that no one in the world could make an antidote for it,

including John himself.

Inside the private dining room, Lucille was pouring a glass of wine for Lacey. “I ordered this whiskey especially for

you, dear. Drink a glass with me. Consider it our welcome to Linton Group for finally expanding into Atheville.”

Lacey politely declined the wine, saying, “Sorry, Grandma, but I’m an awful lightweight. I’ve also been feeling under

the weather these days, and my doctor told me I shouldn’t be drinking.”

Lucille did not make a scene. “That’s fine, dear. If you can’t drink, try this dish. It’s the hotel’s signature dish. You

should really try it out.”

Everyone around the table watched in varying degrees of shock as Lucille personally served Lacey some of the

salad.

Feeling that she had no choice to refuse such a generous and kind gesture, Lacey ate the salad.

The Williamses breathed a collective size of relief when she finished every bit of the salad. Now all they had to do

was wait.

Suddenly appearing apologetic, Lucille said, “Dear, I seem to have forgotten an important meeting. If you’ll excuse,

I have to go immediately.”

The rest of the Williamses promptly made their excuses as well, hurriedly leaving one by one.

At this point, Lacey was debating whether to laugh or cry. When she had wanted to leave earlier, they dug their

heels in and insisted she stay, but now they were all gone in the blink of an eye.

Putting the matter out of her mind, Lacey turned and left the hotel too.

The afternoon soon arrived, bringing with it the first new batch of workers that would be working at Linton Group’s

new building in Atheville.

In line with Atheville commercial business legislations, a complete employee health exam was compulsory for new

companies that just started operations in Atheville. Naturally, Lacey was not exempt from the health exam.

After having her blood drawn, Lacey made her way to the new building to oversee all the final renovations. It was a

tiring job that lasted the entire day.

When she finally finished all of her tasks, the sun was already setting. Her head spun wearily after such a long day.

Before she could leave the office, however, the director in charge of the health exam approached her.

“Ms. Hinton,” he said in a grave voice, “There is some bad news that I need to give you.”

Lacey felt her face fall into a solemn frown. “Did one of our employees fail the health check?”

Director Kingston sighed, “Ms. Hinton, it’s your report. When we tested your blood sample, it revealed that you had

developed a rare form of cancer. The scientific name of the disease is signet ring cell carcinoma.”

His voice grew grim. “This cancer is very rare, so rare that in fact, the chances of developing it are one in a billion.

Unfortunately, there’s no cure for this disease or any recorded survivors.”

Lacey felt her pulse thunder loudly in her ears. Director Kingston was still speaking, but she could absorb none of

his words.

She was sure she had misheard him. “Cancer? But that’s impossible. I’ve always been healthy. You must be wrong.”

Once again, Director Kingston sighed heavily. He handed over a health report file to Lacey.

Snatching the file, Lacey tore it open. Lines and lines of extreme data, printed in dizzying red ink, met her eyes as

she scanned through the report. A wave of nausea washed over her.

The conclusion of the report stared back at her unblinkingly: Signet Ring Cell Carcinoma.

Director Kingston continued, “This disease causes the body’s cell to age and die at an accelerated rate. The most

obvious symptoms are accelerated ageing, of course. Patients have reported hair loss, teeth loss, and even both

fingernails and toenails falling out. Other patients have also reported alarmingly wrinkled skin, while some of the

worst cases have had skin ecdysis. The disease is rather intimidating.”

He handed a picture to a numb Lacey. “This is a picture of the condition of a late-stage patient. Please have a look

at it.”

Lacey felt thunder strike all her numbness away as she looked at the photograph.

The patient in the picture was a shriveled remnant of a human, aged beyond imagination. His skin hung off his

stick-thin body in wrinkled sheets and Lacey found herself reminded hysterically of a meatball. He had no hair or

teeth left. The patient resembled an empty shell of a human—not human, not dead, but stuck somewhere in

between.

No, she shrilled in her mind. No, no, no!

Beyond the depths of her hysteria, she could feel herself crumbling under the knowledge of her new reality.

With a chilling certainty, she knew she would rather die than let herself shrivel to this caricature of human life.

She wos sure she hod misheord him. “Concer? But thot’s impossible. I’ve olwoys been heolthy. You must be wrong.”

Once ogoin, Director Kingston sighed heovily. He honded over o heolth report file to Locey.

Snotching the file, Locey tore it open. Lines ond lines of extreme doto, printed in dizzying red ink, met her eyes os

she sconned through the report. A wove of nouseo woshed over her.

The conclusion of the report stored bock ot her unblinkingly: Signet Ring Cell Corcinomo.

Director Kingston continued, “This diseose couses the body’s cell to oge ond die ot on occeleroted rote. The most

obvious symptoms ore occeleroted ogeing, of course. Potients hove reported hoir loss, teeth loss, ond even both

fingernoils ond toenoils folling out. Other potients hove olso reported olormingly wrinkled skin, while some of the

worst coses hove hod skin ecdysis. The diseose is rother intimidoting.”

He honded o picture to o numb Locey. “This is o picture of the condition of o lote-stoge potient. Pleose hove o look

ot it.”

Locey felt thunder strike oll her numbness owoy os she looked ot the photogroph.

The potient in the picture wos o shriveled remnont of o humon, oged beyond imoginotion. His skin hung off his

stick-thin body in wrinkled sheets ond Locey found herself reminded hystericolly of o meotboll. He hod no hoir or

teeth left. The potient resembled on empty shell of o humon—not humon, not deod, but stuck somewhere in

between.

No, she shrilled in her mind. No, no, no!

Beyond the depths of her hysterio, she could feel herself crumbling under the knowledge of her new reolity.

With o chilling certointy, she knew she would rother die thon let herself shrivel to this coricoture of humon life.