很好,这一章信息量大,对话密集,情绪克制但张力极强,非常适合改写成西方读者友好的英文小说章节:风格目标:
✅ 保留原剧情与信息
✅ 英语自然,像原创英文小说
✅ 节奏紧凑,对白有力量
✅ 符合海外平台（Webnovel / Kindle / RoyalRoad）审美
下面是我为你完整翻译并文学化改写后的英文版本.
Chapter 5 · The Van der Meer Gaze
Los Angeles · Blackwood WorkshopNovember 19, 2023 · 3:47 PM
The third invitation did not arrive in a brown envelope.
When Bob came back with his coffee, a man in a black suit was already standing in front of Stall No. 47.
Not the gray-coated secretary from before.This one was younger. His jawline looked carved from stone. His posture was straight, hands folded neatly at his waist.
Do all Nine Heads bodyguards look this damn handsome?Bob tightened his grip on the coffee cup until his knuckles turned white.
"Mr. Elias Blackwood."
The man's voice was calm and professional, like airport staff announcing a delayed flight.
"Mr. Van der Meer requests a video call with you."
He took a tablet from his inner pocket, placed it face-down on the counter, then stepped back three paces and stood at attention.
Bob looked at the guard.Then the tablet.Then Eli.
"…What the hell is this?"
Eli set down the piece of suede in his hand.
"You arranged this?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why didn't he just call me?"
The guard hesitated for three seconds.
"Mr. Van der Meer said… he was afraid you wouldn't answer."
Bob spilled his coffee.
Eli picked up the tablet.
The screen lit up, displaying an encrypted call interface. At the top was a single label:
V.V.M.
He pressed Accept.
The image lagged for a second.
Then a man's face filled the screen.
Thirty-five years old. Gold-rimmed glasses. A three-piece suit. A tie clip set with a tiny diamond—the miniature crest of the Van der Meer family.
Viktor Van der Meer.
The youngest leader of the Nine Heads Council.Fifth-generation head of the Van der Meer family.
Behind him were oak bookshelves and a burning fireplace.
Eli recognized the room immediately.
It was the same study from March 14, 1972—where his grandfather had once sat, signing an agreement he should never have signed.
Fifty-one years folded into a single image.
Viktor now sat in the chair once occupied by his grandfather.Facing the grandson of his grandfather's rival.
History did not repeat.But it rhymed.
"Elias Blackwood."
Viktor's voice was lower than in photographs. He did not smile.He placed a ceremonial staff beside his chair, his thumb unconsciously rubbing its base.
That spot should have held Fragment III.
Now, it was empty.
"When your grandfather left this estate in 1972," Viktor said,"he spoke one sentence."
Eli did not answer.
"He said: What you owe me, someone will come to collect."
Viktor stared at him. Firelight reflected off his glasses, hiding his eyes.
"You are here to collect that debt."
It was not a question.
Eli propped the tablet against a toolbox and leaned back in his chair.
"I'm not here to collect."
Viktor's thumb froze.
"…Then why are you here?"
"I'm here to tell you—"
Eli looked into the firelit eyes on the screen.
"That this debt has been remembered for fifty-one years."
"And now, it's your turn to repay it."
The flames in the fireplace flickered.
Viktor did not speak at once.He switched the staff to his left hand, removed his glasses with his right, and slowly wiped the lenses with a cloth attached to his pocket watch chain.
—It was Hendrik's habit.
Eli had seen it in the first memory.
"What do you want?" Viktor asked.
"The fragment in the base of the staff."
Viktor did not deny its existence.
"My grandfather placed it there in 1972."
"My grandfather brought it back from Cairo in 1952."
"…Proof?"
Eli did not answer.
He raised his left hand to the camera, palm open.
—Empty.
Viktor frowned.
"What is this supposed to mean?"
"You don't know what this is," Eli said calmly.
"So you have no right to ask me for proof."
Silence. Five seconds.
"…The fragment is not in my possession," Viktor said.
"I know."
"After 1972, my grandfather never allowed me to touch the staff again. Until the day he died."
"I know."
Viktor stared at him.
"Then why are you here?"
Eli lowered the tablet's volume so only Viktor could hear him.
"Because when your grandfather died, the staff base was empty."
Viktor's pupils shrank.
"He knew the fragment didn't belong to the Van der Meer family."
"He guarded it for fifty years. Then before he died, he removed it and hid it somewhere you will never guess."
"He was waiting for you to find it… and return it to me."
The firelight seemed to freeze.
—In truth, Eli was bluffing.
He had no idea where Fragment III was.
But when he spoke those words, the mist glowed faintly in his palm.
Not information.
Support.
From his grandfather, across fifty-one years.
Viktor remained silent for a long time.
He laid the staff across his knees. His posture finally loosened.
"…Come to Antwerp tomorrow."
"Next week."
"The auction is in one week."
"I know."
Eli stood and tilted the tablet downward so the camera faced his chest—where the cigar box rested.
"When you learn how to use the word please, then send another invitation."
He ended the call.
The workshop was silent for three seconds.
Bob stood frozen, holding his now-cold coffee like a statue.
"…You just hung up on the head of the Nine Heads Council."
Eli handed the tablet back to the bodyguard.
"He'll call again."
The bodyguard hesitated.
"Mr. Van der Meer asked me to pass along a message."
Eli looked at him.
"He said… on March 14, 1972, he was nine years old."
"He hid behind the curtains of the study."
"He saw your grandfather walk out of the door."
"He saw him remove his silver cufflink and pause in front of the family crest for three seconds."
"Then he heard him say—"
The guard paused.
"What you owe me, someone will come to collect. But not him.""His name is Blackwood. Not Revenge."
Eli said nothing.
The guard bowed slightly and walked away.
Bob took two steps after him, then stopped.
"…You okay?"
Eli did not answer.
He took out the cigar box and opened it.
First slot: stone skin from the pink diamond.Second slot: the truth of March 14, 1972.Third slot: empty.
He pressed his thumb against the empty space.
—Not him.
His grandfather had said: not him.
His name is Blackwood. Not Revenge.
That was Samuel Blackwood's second-to-last sentence to the world.
The last one was:
For Eli. He can see.
Eli closed the box.
"…Grandfather," he murmured.
"Do you want me to come… or not?"
The brass desk lamp glowed silently.
Outside, dusk gathered over Los Angeles.
9:00 PM · Elizabeth's Call
"Are you really not going to Antwerp tomorrow?"
"Next week."
"He invited you twice. You refused twice. You'll only go the third time?"
Eli did not answer.
After a pause, Elizabeth lowered her voice.
"You're waiting for him to kneel."
"No."
"Then what?"
Eli looked out at the city lights, spread across the glass like an upside-down sea of stars.
"I'm waiting for him to learn how to write the word debt."
"…What's the difference?"
"Kneeling is losing. Acknowledging is repaying."
"You want him to repay?"
"No."
He placed the cigar box on the windowsill, letting the cold glass chill its base.
"His grandfather's debt can't be repaid by him."
"I only want him to remember—that someone has carried this debt for fifty-one years."
"Not waiting for my forgiveness."
"But for my grandfather's rest."
Silence.
Then Elizabeth said:
"Are you free tomorrow?"
"…Yes."
"Then I'll come see you."
She hung up.
11:57 PM · Fragment · Third Touch
Eli held Fragment I in his palm.
This time, he did not trace it.
He simply pressed it against his pulse, feeling its faint warmth—like someone placing fingers on your wrist to test your heartbeat.
March 14, 1972.
His grandfather sealed the fragment into a spectrometer sample chamber.
Melted the solder.Closed it.Pushed it into the corner.
Then he wrote a note.
Seven characters.Crossed out.Wrote again.Crossed out again.
He sat beneath the brass desk lamp for a long time.
Until dawn.
Finally, he wrote one line and did not cross it out:
For Eli. He can see.
He hid the note in the secret compartment of the cigar box, locked the drawer, and swallowed the key.
Seven days later, the workshop burned down.
No one knew how he spent his last seven days.
But now Eli knew.
When he sat at the workbench, his mouth was flat.
No fear.No regret.
Like someone who had finally mailed a letter he owed for twenty years.
Eli opened his eyes.
He placed Fragment I back into the cigar box, beside his grandfather's fingerprint.
Third slot: empty.
—Waiting for Antwerp.
Waiting for the fragment that had been embedded in the staff base for fifty-one years.
Then he would tell his grandfather:
"The first one is back."
"Five more to go."
"Wait for me."
The Third Invitation of the Nine Heads
The next morning, a letter slid through the workshop door.
No bodyguards.No secretary.No tablet.
Handwritten. The same handwriting as the voice from the night before.
Mr. Elias BlackwoodPlease.Viktor Van der Meer
—He had learned the word please.
Eli slipped the letter into his pocket.
"Book a ticket."