The Royal Academy was located on Queen Street. It was a learning and research institution managed and operated by the royal family. It was said that those who could study here were all future elite talents of the nation. Precisely because of this, this series of murders had Scotland Yard jumping into panic. After all, the students here were not only of noble status but also elite talents. Several of them had died in succession, and were murdered. If mishandled, it could easily be regarded as a hostile act by another country.
So the case had to be solved as soon as possible. Otherwise, what Scotland Yard's chief faced would not just be a matter of reputation…
At present, the victims were all of different ages and disciplines. They had no personal connections. They didn't know each other.
But… if one had to say—it wasn't entirely without overlap.
Indeed, in a school, no matter how socially skilled a student was, they couldn't possibly know every other student. But there was one type of person they had to know.
Teachers.
As instructors, it was extremely easy for them to access student files and information. Going deeper—where the students went, where they lived—all could be easily known.
In fact, Scotland Yard had considered this angle. But… their investigation could go no further.
The reason was simple. This was the Royal Academy. The students trained here were the nation's top future talents. So naturally—the teachers here were not comparable to ordinary instructors. In terms of identity, status, and influence—they were giants in their respective research fields. People who could publish papers in top journals without breaking a sweat.
If Scotland Yard arrested and interrogated such figures without evidence—that would be real trouble.
The police couldn't do it. Naturally, Duanmu Huai couldn't either. But he had his own methods.
If you can't do it openly—do it secretly.
Duanmu Huai knew that students loved gossip. They talked about which teachers they liked and disliked. If he used the stealth techniques of the Dark Raven Guard—hiding in the shadows and eavesdropping—he could gather plenty of information.
Of course—only he could do this.
Students were sensitive and cautious. They might speak freely among themselves—but the moment a stranger appeared, they became guarded. Only Duanmu Huai could hide himself completely—and listen in unnoticed.
Others simply didn't have that ability.
Hmm… thinking about it, this trick could be used elsewhere too.
While listening to nearby students chatting, Duanmu Huai looked at the courtyard ahead. Most students at the Royal Academy were young, beautiful girls. Either born into nobility—or from middle-class families. Unlike the more open culture of the New World—perhaps due to tradition or status—most students here wore old-fashioned dresses. At a glance, it felt like returning to the 19th century. Quite refreshing, actually.
I wonder if there's a bathhouse or something here… could follow the girls in and take a look…
Cough cough—never mind.
Thus, Duanmu Huai spent the entire day at the Royal Academy. He gathered quite a bit of information from student chatter. But which of it was useful—remained unknown.
At night, he didn't rest either. Instead, he had Lorena act as bait. Since the target preyed on young, beautiful girls—Lorena was definitely within its hunting range, right?
Lorena was enthusiastic about the idea. She circled the city—yet didn't encounter the so-called monster at all…
And so—for the next week—Duanmu Huai spent his mornings gathering intel at the Royal Academy, and his nights wandering the city with Lorena, trying to lure out the culprit. But after all that time—there was no result whatsoever… utterly frustrating.
Compared to the lack of progress in the investigation—finding a place to live turned out to be much easier.
Duanmu Huai's requirements were simple: spacious, comfortable, bright.
The luxury suite at the Ritz Hotel was great—for normal people. But for him—it was inconvenient.
Fortunately—as long as you had money, problems solvable by money weren't problems.
On the morning of the eighth day, while Duanmu Huai was having breakfast, the excited hotel manager knocked on his door.
"Ah! Esteemed sir! You won't believe the wonderful news I bring—thank God, I've finally found an apartment that meets your requirements!"
"Oh?"
Duanmu Huai set down his utensils and looked at the well-dressed manager.
"You're sure? My standards aren't low."
Indeed—his requirements weren't high in theory. But that depended on who you compared them to. A place large enough to accommodate his body was hard to find. Additionally—due to his height, he couldn't use normal transportation. So the apartment had to be in a busy district—so he could walk conveniently. And everyone knew—the closer to the city center, the more expensive and cramped the housing became.
"Of course! This apartment is practically tailor-made for you!"
"Oh?"
Now Duanmu Huai was interested.
"Go on."
"Well, here's the situation…"
Listening to the manager's explanation, Duanmu Huai finally understood his confidence.
While searching, the manager had met an artist hosting an exhibition. Coincidentally—the theme was "House of Giants."
The artist had bought an apartment and filled it with enormous furniture and decorations. According to him—he wanted visitors to feel human smallness. To experience daily life from the perspective of mice or cats—thus gaining a new perspective.
To achieve realism, he heavily modified the entire apartment. Even vehicles were resized. Visitors entering felt like they were in a giant's world. Because of this—the exhibition became extremely popular in the Fog City.
Now that it was ending—and Duanmu Huai happened to arrive—the manager connected the two.
The artist, upon hearing this, was delighted. After all—he had been worried about what to do with the oversized items. If Duanmu Huai truly was a giant—then perfect.
The artist didn't lack money. He even said—if Duanmu Huai was as described, he could consider giving him the entire apartment.
He didn't need the money.
Duanmu Huai was intrigued. Since arriving in this world, he hadn't found suitable housing. The artist might be eccentric—but if it worked, it worked.
So after breakfast, he went to 135 Birch Street.
It wasn't far from the Ritz. Near Hyde Park. Close to restaurants, shopping centers, even a subway station. Naturally—since it was an exhibition, not a residence. No one opens an art exhibit in a residential district for no reason.
When he arrived—even Duanmu Huai was surprised.
The building was enormous. The front door looked like a city gate. For normal people, hard to open. For him—perfect. Even the windows and structure were oversized. For others—huge. For him—just right.
As long as the price isn't ridiculous, I'm buying this.
He knocked.
The door opened.
A tall, thin man with a beret and mustache—clearly an artist—stood there. Seeing Duanmu Huai—his eyes lit up.
"Ah! You must be Mr. Lorenz's guest! Please, come in!"
Unlike a reserved British gentleman, he was enthusiastic, almost French-like. He circled Duanmu Huai excitedly.
"I didn't believe it at first… I never thought someone like you really existed… I wonder how the world looks through your eyes!"
"Like looking at a child's room."
Duanmu Huai replied dryly.
The artist nodded excitedly—and began the tour.
The apartment was actually called "Perspective." The idea was to let people view the world from different scales.
First floor—everything oversized.
Second floor—normal size.
Third floor—tiny, like a child's room.
Big. Medium. Small.
Different perspectives of daily life.
Duanmu Huai found it interesting. No wonder the exhibit was popular. But now it was ending. The artist planned to move on. Originally, he intended to sell everything off.
But Duanmu Huai's arrival—changed things.
Both were satisfied.
Everything was perfectly scaled. Furniture, doors, fireplace, utensils—all sized for him. He could move in immediately.
Second floor for Lorena.
Third floor—for Lingnu and the rabbit to mess around.
They quickly reached an agreement. The artist wanted to give it for free—but Duanmu Huai refused.
After discussion—they settled on half price.
Contract signed.
Payment ready.
Keys next—
"Ah, one moment."
The artist suddenly paused.
"There's something I must tell you… this apartment… has some issues."
"What kind of issues?"
Duanmu Huai frowned.
The artist explained.
Originally, the apartment belonged to a wealthy ship merchant. Happy family. Wife and daughter.
Then—one day—they were found dead.
The daughter had killed her parents—then herself.
She was only twelve.
Case closed as murder-suicide.
Later—a new owner moved in.
Half a month later—it happened again.
This time—neighbors saw a blood-covered man fleeing. His ten-year-old daughter chased him—and stabbed him to death in the street. Then slit her own throat.
After that—everyone fled.
The apartment was abandoned.
The artist didn't mind at first.
But strange things happened.
Furniture moved.
Items dismantled.
Night guards fled—claiming it was haunted.
Visitors reported:
A girl in white on the third floor.
Furniture moving on its own.
The artist never saw it personally—but enough people reported it.
So he warned Duanmu Huai.
After hearing this—
Duanmu Huai's eyes lit up.
Buying a perfect apartment—and it's haunted too?
There's actually something this good?
No need to think.
I'm buying it.
(End of Chapter)