Chapter 22: Another Person Fished Up!

The weather in late September had already turned somewhat chilly. Billy tested the water temperature before casting his line; it felt a bit cold to him, though Holmes did not seem to mind—perhaps due to his own body heat.

Once Billy’s hook sank to the bottom, Holmes submerged himself entirely, moving with the lithe grace of a mermaid. Due to the clarity of the river, Holmes’s skin, which was so pale it almost glowed, remained strikingly visible through the refraction of the water. It reminded Billy of the water nymphs from myths, who lured passersby into the depths to drown them.

Billy forced his gaze away from Holmes, struggling to focus all his attention on the fishing rod in his hands.

With a success rate of only 20 percent, Billy caught nothing on his first two attempts, while Holmes surfaced several times to catch his breath.

When the third cast also came up empty, Holmes surfaced once more to breathe, wiping the river water from his face with his hand. Fortunately, his hair had been set with pomade; otherwise, it would surely have fallen forward to obscure his vision.

Whether it was because he had just emerged from the water or not, Holmes’s gray eyes looked damp and puppy-like, which made Billy feel a sudden, flustered flutter in his chest.

*Why would Holmes look at anyone like that? This must be a trick of the light!*

"It really is quite miraculous. The fish clearly bite the hook, yet the bait magically slips from their mouths and vanishes, and when you pull the line up, you find nothing."

"Perhaps the fish here are just particularly clever?" Billy replied hesitantly. He still found it hard to believe that wild fish could be so cunning, especially since almost no one fished in this area.

*Could my ability actually be increasing the intelligence of the fish?*

*That would be too much, wouldn’t it? I’m supposed to be able to catch them!*

Holmes let out a delighted laugh, clearly unconvinced by Billy’s theory, though he didn't say much else, signaling for Billy to bait the hook again.

Billy attached the bait and carefully cast the line back into the river, determined not to accidentally snag Holmes. As the hook hit the water, Holmes dove back in with a splash, coming to a halt not far from the hook, his eyes wide and fixed upon it.

The hook had settled into some aquatic weeds, making it difficult for Billy to see what was happening, but Holmes had clearly chosen his vantage point specifically to keep a clear view of the hook.

It wasn't long before Billy felt the rod sag once again. Without hesitation, he expertly jerked it upward to see if he had caught anything this time.

To his surprise, the weight on the line felt unusually heavy—his casual tug hadn't even budged whatever was at the bottom!

The moment reminded him of the suitcase he had previously hauled up. *Could Hughes have been snagged as well? Why is my luck so terrible lately?*

Billy’s heart tightened, and he used all his strength to haul the line toward him. But just as he did, he almost fell backward because the heavy weight suddenly went light!

*What on earth is going on?*

Billy steadied himself and heard a splash. When he looked, he saw Holmes leaping out of the water, carrying something in his arms.

Yes, it was something Holmes was holding—no, not something, but someone!

And his fishing hook was snagged firmly on the person's clothing!

*Is it another corpse?*

Billy felt his luck was truly abysmal; he kept fishing out bodies. *No, it isn't my luck—why do these killers always insist on tossing bodies into this river?*

But now was not the time for such thoughts. Billy dropped his rod and rushed to the riverbank to help Holmes drag the person ashore.

As they moved him, Billy noticed something amiss: the man’s skin lacked the dark, decaying venous network typical of a corpse. Though he had been submerged in the river, his skin still held a faint warmth and remained soft and elastic.

Most importantly, Billy felt a pulse!

*He’s alive!*

Billy’s heart leaped with joy. He immediately laid the man flat on the grass to check his condition.

By all accounts, someone fished out of the water should have shown symptoms of drowning, but the man’s breathing was steady, his heartbeat strong, and his mouth and nose were free of silt. Yet, no matter how they tried to rouse him, he remained unconscious.

It was all very strange.

The man’s body temperature was significantly lower than normal. Even though the weather was relatively warm, Billy stripped off the man’s wet clothes, dried him, and wrapped him in his own coat.

Seeing how skilled Billy was in his examination, Holmes’s eyes flickered. He turned to dry himself off and put on his own clothes.

Returning to Billy’s side, Holmes remarked, "He wasn't in that patch of weeds originally. He appeared near the hook quite suddenly, and the line caught on his clothing as a matter of course. What’s more, he held his breath while he was underwater."

Holmes reached out to examine the palms of the man they had just hauled from the river. "He must have been in the water for quite some time, but he must have been floating near the surface. Look—only half of his hand is soaked, white, and wrinkled. The other half is smooth, though it has turned a bit blue from the chill of the river."

Billy let out a sigh of relief; he had been terrified that his strange ability might have caused the man harm. But this "golden finger" of his was truly bizarre—it was practically space-time travel!

Billy looked at the man: he appeared to be in his twenties, with brown hair and a striped tweed suit. Judging by his height of six feet, it had to be Henry Hughes.

While changing the man's clothes, Billy found only a few scrapes, but he couldn't understand why the man remained in such a deep coma.

Billy carefully examined the man’s head and finally discovered a swelling on the side of his forehead.