In hindsight, it might be hasty to trust the words of someone he doesn’t know, but because they turn out to be true it seems to make everything okay. It makes the fame okay, the enormous amount of wealth okay, and the numerous number of people who escaped death okay, too, because he’s pretty sure he’s still in control.
There’s something to be said about turning back to thank such a stranger, though, and seeing things he shouldn’t be able to see; that weren’t natural to see. It peels back the veil over his eyes, because when the unnatural points him to the truth, there’s always something wrong lying behind the picture framed in gold.
The stranger’s words are golden, but his intentions are blacker than the space beneath his bed.