The tip of Russell's pen paused, while Holly's narrative continued.
"That feeling, do you know... it's like... like when you leave home.
"Someone crawls into your bed and uses your body heat to warm his body.
"And when his body warms up, he turns around and uses his own body heat to help you warm the bed...
"Can you understand, that feeling..."
Holly's voice stopped abruptly.
She could no longer go on; the only sounds coming from her mouth were suppressed, fragmented sobs.
Listening to her description, Russell couldn't help but feel a wave of goosebumps.
This was a bit perverted.
He subconsciously looked at Charlotte.
He saw Charlotte stand up from the sofa, her movements no longer holding a trace of laziness.
In those silent, grey-blue eyes, a fire seemed to be burning.
"Interesting..." she said softly.
"Congratulations, Ms. Davey. You have successfully interested me in this so-called ghost.
"I'll take this case."
She paused, then looked at Russell.
"Watson."
"Mm-hmm?" Russell raised an eyebrow, looking at Charlotte.
"You accompany Ms. Davey to her house. It's time for you to be useful."
"No," Russell refused without thinking.
"Now is not the time for you to throw a childish temper tantrum. Can't you see our poor lady is being entangled by a perverted ghost?" Charlotte said.
"It's time for you to display some chivalry."
"What bullshit chivalry? That was lost tens of thousands of years ago." Russell twitched his lips. "Anyway, don't even think about making me go over there alone."
As he spoke, he walked past Charlotte and Holly, heading straight into Charlotte's room.
Not long after, Russell walked out holding an overcoat. Then, under Charlotte's puzzled gaze, he threw it onto her.
"Change your clothes," he pointed at the coat, then pointed at the door.
"Then, we set off."
Two minutes later, the three of them were seated in a carriage heading to Holly's home.
Russell and Charlotte sat on one side, while Holly sat on the other. At this moment, she was nervously hooking her fingers together, occasionally glancing at the young girl opposite her who seemed to be resting with her eyes closed.
"Ms. Davey," Russell decided to break this suffocating silence.
"Mind if I ask about your work?"
"Ah..." Holly was stunned for a moment, then came back to her senses and said:
"I work at a fashion design studio. I am a designer," she explained simply.
"Single?"
"Yes... I had a relationship before, but it ended later on. But it's definitely not him," Holly said with certainty.
"Why?" Russell asked.
"Because he was the one who dumped me, and he never sought me out to get back together," Holly said somewhat awkwardly.
"Then, during this period, has anyone else pursued you, or shown affection toward you?" Russell asked again.
He intended to try approaching this from an emotional angle.
"Uh... no." Holly shook her head.
"My relationship with the others in the studio is quite good. Although there are members of the opposite sex... we haven't reached that level yet."
"Alright." Russell nodded, leaning back against the cushion, quickly reviewing the information in his mind.
Coffee cup, perfume, watering flowers, bookshelf, and... warming the bed.
The intruder didn't take any valuables, indicating it wasn't for theft, nor was it for intimidation.
This seemed more like a... pathology.
He couldn't sense a shred of malice from this ghost's behavior, only pure sickness.
A pathological crush.
"Then, what about work?" Russell changed the angle.
"In the studio, have you made enemies with anyone, or is there anyone who particularly admires your talent?"
"There shouldn't be any enemies..." Holly thought carefully.
"Everyone is just trying to design better clothes.
"Although there are occasional disagreements over concepts, it hasn't reached that extent.
"As for people who admire my talent..."
She gave a bitter laugh.
"Every designer thinks they are Van Gogh or Monet, thinking others cannot understand their art.
"In our line of work, jealousy is far more common than appreciation."
"That's true enough." Russell remained noncommittal.
Excluding colleagues, ex-boyfriends, and suitors, the scope seemed to have narrowed, yet it also seemed to have widened.
Unknowingly, the carriage came to a stop.
They had arrived.
The apartment Holly lived in was a typical London red-brick apartment. It looked somewhat aged, but was maintained quite well.
"I live on the third floor. It's a one-bedroom," Holly explained as she walked toward the entrance.
"Ms. Davey," at that moment, Charlotte, who had maintained her silence, suddenly spoke.
"Are there any construction sites nearby, or neighbors undergoing large-scale renovations recently?"
"Huh?" Holly froze for a moment, feeling the question was a bit sudden, but she still answered.
"No, there aren't. Because most of the people living here are elderly, they don't really like noise.
"I moved here for that very reason; I need a space quiet enough for me to think."
"Understood." Charlotte nodded. "Lead the way."
"O... Okay."
Holly nodded, then turned and opened the main door.
Holly's apartment was on the third floor, a small and cozy one-bedroom unit. It consisted of a room that served as both bedroom and study, a living room, and a separate bathroom.
The arrangement within the room was full of the designer's ingenuity. Every piece of furniture, every decoration, was just right, emitting a faint scent of aromatherapy.
But at this moment, beneath this warmth and elegance, a lingering sense of dissonance loomed.
"This is my home." Holly's voice was somewhat nervous.
Charlotte walked in without a word, her gaze skimming over the exquisite decorations, quickly scanning the entire room.
Meanwhile, out of the instinct of a Phantom Thief, Russell began to inspect any places where someone might have entered, or any loopholes.
Such as the door lock.
Just as Holly had said, it was a newly changed lock, and there were no signs of it being pried.
He walked to the window again and checked the window latches; they were likewise intact.
Russell straightened up, frowning slightly.
Due to occupational disease, he instinctively checked all possible methods of infiltration in the entire room.
Setting aside those that would leave extremely obvious traces, the remaining few infiltration methods were also ruled out one by one in his mental simulation.
Too clean.
Clean as if no one had ever been here.
This in itself was unreasonable.
Unless that ghost's levels in [Stealth] and [Sleight of Hand] far exceeded his own, otherwise he would definitely be able to discover something.
And then again, if the other party had that kind of skill, they were just hiding in someone's house acting like a pervert?
Wasn't that a bit too unambitious?
On the other side, Charlotte walked to the vanity and raised her hand to pick up the bottle of perfume.
"Is this it?"
"Yes."
Holly nodded, stepping forward to take the perfume bottle from Charlotte's hand.
"I bought this last week. Every time I go out, I spray it once. Look, just like this—"
As she spoke, she sprayed a small amount in front of Charlotte, and a faint fragrance instantly permeated the air.
"The amount used in one spray isn't much," Charlotte said, her gaze resting on the perfume bottle.
"But at least a third of it has already been used."
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