The Unlucky Turn by Mark Twain 52
“Dark web appointments, same rules as always,” Leilani said, keeping her head down as she organized her needle kit. “Just remember to send me the medical reports. If I decide to take the case, I’ll reply.”
The door clicked shut. Leilani removed her colored contacts, rubbed her sore eyes, and let
out a long sigh. The first order was successfully completed.
To protect the safety of both parties in dark web transactions, completed deals were displayed on the user’s profile.
Far away in Zamora, Callahan sat in a study, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, staring at. his computer screen. The dark web interface was open, and the order history for ID “L” had just updated.
[Pigeon Acupuncture Completed $7,000,000]
He narrowed his eyes slightly. This “L” had recently risen to fame on the dark web, rumored to cure rare poisons with acupuncture and treat injuries the international black market wouldn’t touch. Her style-asking no questions about background, only treating the illness-was reminiscent of Paulina Cheney’s methods years ago. Not to mention, she possessed the jade pendant symbolizing the “Phantom Doctor,” Paulina.
So, was this “L” actually Dr. Cheney, the one treating his grandfather? Or perhaps another of Paulina’s disciples?
The connection between Dr. Cheney and Leilani hadn’t been clarified yet, and now an “L” had appeared. These three figures seemed like separate threads that were, in reality, tightly
interwoven.
Callahan crushed the cigarette and opened a chat box with L. He typed a line: [International house call. One hundred million in cash. Do you accept?]
Back in the country, inside the Pure-Spring Clinic, Leilani had just washed her hands when her phone vibrated. It was the specific notification sound she had set for the dark web. She dried her fingers, opened the message, and her gaze sharpened.
One hundred million? The amount was staggering. Her current fees were in the millions, but starting with a hundred million caught her off guard.
However, it required international travel. Leilani didn’t have a passport. Since returning to the Sloan family, they had treated her with disdain and indifference, rarely taking her on domestic trips, let alone abroad.
But the allure of one hundred million cash was too great. Leilani stared at the number for two seconds, her lips curving up. She replied without hesitation: [Accepted. Location?]
The response was instant: [One week from now, Zamora Country. I will send someone to pick
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you up at the airport.]
Leilani raised an eyebrow. Zamora Country? It was far, but since she was going abroad anyway, a few extra hours didn’t matter. She typed quickly: [I need to apply for a visa. Let’s set the departure for next Wednesday. For the order, please send medical reports and case history in advance so I can prepare my tools.]
The other party immediately sent an encrypted file package. Clearly, he was a man of few words and decisive action.
Leilani spent the next few days researching passport applications and handling the paperwork. By two days before her departure, everything was ready. She remembered she needed to check on Yvonne’s condition before leaving.
The Celestial Heights was quite a distance from Haven Sanatorium. Since Leilani had earned a significant amount recently, she didn’t skimp and booked a private car directly to Haven Sanatorium.
After Leilani’s treatment, Yvonne was barely able to stand.
Leilani crouched in front of Yvonne, gently pressing the acupoints on her legs, her voice gentle. “Try again. Take it slow.”>>
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