His Precious Love

Chapter 667

Curtis examined Channing with a cold glare, and his frosty aura flared up at those words. Upon noticing that, Robin

stepped forward to address Channing, “Are you implying that Mr. Faymon is pushing the blame on the hotel?”

Having thought that he was merely being pragmatic, Channing did not intend to anger Curtis, as the hotel was only

a small establishment.

If not for its strategic location in attracting tourists with the reputation of Shvomhid Mountain, they would have

closed down long ago due to the poor quality of the hotel's services.

“That's not what I meant,” Channing simpered, though he scoffed under his breath at Curtis and his men.

Seated on a couch in the hotel lobby, Curtis swept his cold gaze across the hall before turning to address his

bodyguard beside him, “Find out who owns this establishment.”

“Yes, sir,” the bodyguard replied before departing.

Robin examined the list of registered visitors in the hopes of identifying Rayna's visitors at the time of her

disappearance.

Half an hour later, the bodyguard brought a middle-aged woman, Phyllis, over.

Channing started forward at her arrival. “Boss.”

Phyllis glanced at him coldly before shifting her gaze to Curtis on the couch. “My apologies, Mr. Faymon. I have no

idea you would grace my humble establishment with your presence.”

As she spoke, she placed herself in front of the coffee table and bowed at Curtis in apology. “Being locals of

Shvomhid Mountain, my employees are not acquainted with matters of the outside world. It's expected that they do

not know who you are. I hope you can overlook their rudeness and move past this.”

Channing's eyes widened. Clasping his hands nervously together, he was tongue-tied. He tried to step forward to

provide his employer with an explanation on several occasions but was continually rebuffed.

“Faye, go get the footage of the secret cameras from the corridors for Mr. Faymon.” Phyllis beckoned a young girl.

“Remove the third brick opposite the fire hydrant on the left side of the corridor, and bring me the device in it.”

The attendant nodded before leading a coworker up the stairs with her. As ordered, she removed the memory card

from the secret camera and returned to the lobby.

Via a card reader, Robin connected the memory card to his computer before placing it before Curtis. “Here you go,

Mr. Faymon.”

The secret footage revealed one bodyguard on duty outside the door at that time, and that a man in a duckbill cap

entered the room. Upon his reemergence, he brought the unconscious figure of Rayna out of the hotel.

“Zoom in here!” Curtis pointed at the young man dressed as the bodyguard. “I want a closer look at his face.”

Robin increased the image's clarity and gasped in recognition when the face was clear enough. “Mr. Faymon, that's

Chandler!”

Curtis reached over and enlarged the still image of the perpetrator's face until even the other man's face,

concealed by the cap, could be seen. “Go and find out where Chandler is.”

Robin assented and stepped aside to make a call.

Phyllis stared at the man in the cap on the screen. “This fellow looks like the old traditional medicine practitioner of

Shvomhid Mountain!”

Are you sure?” Curtis said, gazing at her in surprise. “He's still alive and well?”

“He always has been.” Phyllis returned his gaze, puzzled. “What have you heard, Mr. Faymon?”

“Do you know how we can find this person?” Curtis' grip on the coffee table tightened. Her words could mean hope,

but they might be negative too.

After a moment's thought, Phyllis went to the counter and checked the calendar. “You won't find the traditional

medicine practitioner if you go with a specific intention to meet him. However, on the twenty-eighth of every

month, he will be at the cemetery paying his respects to his fiancée, and you will run into him there. As it's the

twentieth today, it'll be another eight days.”

Curtis frowned at those words. It would be another eight days of Rayna being in the company of those two who had

taken her. Being at a loss, he did not dare take the risk.

While he was hesitating about the next course of action, Robin returned after making his call. “I have contacted

Chandler's manager and assistant, Mr. Faymon, who verified that he has been shooting his scenes in the northern

district of Norwal City and had been too busy to return.”

As he made his report, Robin received a video bearing a geotag. Curtis took the phone and watched the footage

containing Chandler, pausing halfway through to study Chandler's face closely.

The recollection of the man he had seen on the surveillance cameras flashing across his mind, he brought the

phone up to make a side-by-side comparison and declared a moment later, “They are two different people, Robin.”

Having noticed the differences Curtis had picked up, Robin answered, “Indeed. While Chandler resembles the man

caught on the surveillance cameras, their frames differ slightly. Besides, Chandler has a mole near his left eye, and

the fellow on the surveillance footage does not.”

Curtis returned the phone to Robin and ordered, “Find out if this person is related to Chandler.”

In the meantime, Rayna heeded Jensen and did not take a single step out of the room within the beachside

mansion. She waited there alone until she was starving, but Jensen was still nowhere to be seen.

Occasional noises of the traditional medicine practitioner sounded downstairs in the living room.

Rayna was sleeping soundly on the couch in the bedroom when a loud bang from downstairs startled her awake.

Then came a deranged roar from the traditional medicine practitioner, “Why is this happening? It can't be. It

shouldn't have been. The last bundle of herbs is gone. How could I have failed? It had worked all along. The blood

parasites would be drawn out if I could just make quingot. It works, I know it does. How could I have failed? I will not

fail. I will not! She is still awaiting my medicine. I will not disappoint her.”

Rayna hugged herself, terrified by his manic laughter sounding incessantly from down the stairs. Then, when she

realized the possibility of the traditional medicine practitioner directing his anger toward her, she leaped up from

the couch in search of a hiding place.

A series of hurried footsteps sounded from the corridor outside the room, accompanied by the traditional medicine

practitioner's mutters.

“Without serendipity grass, I cannot make the quingot, and without it, I cannot lure the parasites out. If I cannot do

that, I will take them alive!” Armed with a surgical blade, the traditional medicine practitioner arrived at Rayna's

bedroom. He was about to push the door open, but he found out it was locked, and it was even stranger as it was

locked from the outside. Furthermore, the lock was a fingerprint scanner. The traditional medicine practitioner's

eyes grew red with anger. “Jensen Morag!”