Russell walked into the bedroom again, arriving before that massive oak wardrobe.
This time, he didn't knock on the wall. Instead, he pretended to carefully study the wooden structure of the wardrobe itself.
"Truly amazing craftsmanship, Madam," he exclaimed in admiration, while his fingers gently brushed over the intricate Baroque carvings.
"Was this wardrobe left behind by your husband?"
"No, it wasn't." The old lady shook her head. "It was already here when I moved in. Because it was too heavy, my husband and I never moved it. Besides, the location isn't bad."
"Indeed, it isn't bad. In every sense."
Russell nodded. His fingers slid slowly down the grain, landing nonchalantly on that inconspicuous, slightly depressed flower stamen carving.
Then, using the pad of his finger, he gently pressed inward.
There was no "click" of a mechanism as one might imagine. Just as Professor Fields had described, the sound was as light as a lady's sigh.
"What is it, child?" Mrs. Joey asked in confusion, seeing him staring at the wardrobe in a daze.
"Oh, nothing, Madam." Russell straightened up, a brilliant smile appearing on his face. "Everything is fine."
He didn't linger any longer.
Having confirmed all his conjectures, Russell politely bid farewell to Mrs. Joey, promising that the problem would be resolved very soon.
The elderly woman saw him to the door, insisting on stuffing a bag of her homemade biscuits into his hands and urging him to be safe on the road.
Russell didn't refuse this kindness. Carrying the bag of biscuits that still held a lingering warmth, he turned and walked down the stairs under the elderly woman's benevolent gaze.
Only after the sound of the door closing came from behind him did he leisurely turn around, walk back up the stairs, and enter Holly Davey's home.
He walked straight to the telephone stand, picked up the receiver, and prepared to report the results to Charlotte.
However, after dialing the number, the expected sound did not ring out.
There was only a dead silence in his ear.
Just as Russell felt confused, his peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of something nearby.
He bent down, picked up the black cord, and examined it in his hand.
It was a telephone line.
To be more precise, it was a telephone line that had been cut.
And ten minutes ago, this telephone line had been intact.
"Trespassing in a private residence is already an illegal act in itself, and now you're adding destruction of another's property to it."
Russell tossed the telephone line back onto the floor and placed the receiver back onto the phone.
"That's an extra crime, Mr. Ghost."
No one answered.
It was as if he were talking to himself.
Russell wasn't in a hurry. He walked slowly to the center of the living room, pulled over a chair, and sat down with extreme leisure, crossing his legs.
His posture appeared full of casual ease, as if this were his own home.
He unhurriedly opened the bag of biscuits Mrs. Joey had given him, pinched one out, and put it in his mouth.
The aroma of milk and butter, combined with the sweetness of granulated sugar, spread through his mouth just right.
"Mm, Mrs. Joey's baking skills are indeed good. No wonder you would parasitize her home," he said after eating another one.
"But then again, if you are a volunteer at the welfare institute, doesn't that mean you can't even be considered a colleague of Ms. Davey?"
The room remained dead silent.
"You know, at first, Charlotte and I both suspected that your true identity might be someone close to Ms. Davey. But unexpectedly, you turned out to be just a passerby.
This actually surprises me a little—what I mean is, that is truly disgusting enough."
[Malice Points from Lucas +5]
He's here.
The corners of Russell's mouth hooked up slightly.
The opponent was obviously hiding in this very room.
After knowing this, what needed to be done was very simple.
Just make him come out on his own.
If he went looking for him proactively, he might get outmaneuvered by the opponent. Rather than taking that risk, it was better to choose a more steady strategy.
And he could farm some Malice Points along the way, so why not?
"You must feel that you love her very much, right?" Russell spoke up again.
"You feel that by watering her flowers, you are taking care of her; by warming her bed, you are being considerate of her; and by imitating her handwriting to write letters to yourself, you are engaging in a spiritual exchange with her."
As he spoke, Russell couldn't help but sneer.
Don't make me laugh.
"Resonating, are we? It's one thing to fool others, but don't go fooling yourself into it too.
You don't really think she likes you, do you? You don't, right?
Who would like a parasite hiding in someone else's home? She practically has the word 'disgusting' written on her face, did you know that?
When it comes down to it, she probably doesn't even want to know your name."
[Malice Points from Lucas +15]
Another jump in the numbers.
Lies don't hurt people; the truth is the sharp knife.
As Russell spoke, he stood up and paced a circle around the room. Finally, he unhurriedly poured himself a glass of water and sat back down on the chair.
He could sense that the breathing of the rat on the other side of the wall had become heavy, but it was still enduring.
It was still fantasizing that as long as it didn't go out, all of this was just the incompetent rage of this intruder.
It was still fantasizing that Miss Holly still belonged to it, pure and flawless.
Regrettably.
It was time for the fantasy hour to end.
"Speaking of which, there's something you might not know."
He took a sip of water and cleared his throat.
"When we left yesterday, Ms. Davey told us some things about her personal life.
She said she actually has someone she admires. The other party is a nice man, successful in his career, and handsome—at least certainly better than you.
The two of them are currently in an ambiguous stage, so you might as well take a guess: when Ms. Davey went to stay at a friend's house, which friend was it?"
[Malice Points from Lucas +20]
"But you don't need to worry too much. Ms. Davey should be back in two days.
It's just that, perhaps out of safety concerns, she might bring that gentleman back with her.
So, when that time comes, you won't need to help warm the bed anymore.
However, for the sake of your utter devotion, letting you hide in the dark and listen to the sounds isn't entirely out of the question."
[Malice Points from Lucas +20]
That should be about enough.
Russell thought to himself.
The mental barrier should be shattered by now; next, it's time for the finishing blow.
"I heard from Mrs. Joey that you work at a nearby welfare institute... but I feel that place doesn't suit you.
Letting you be a volunteer is somewhat of a waste of talent. I know a place that suits you better."
He paused, then spoke in an incredibly mocking tone:
"I have some connections at the Royal Circus. They've been recruiting clowns recently. Interested in applying?
No need to submit a resume. Just tell them what you've been doing, and I guarantee you'll be hired directly—you won't even need an internship."
As his voice fell.
In the invisible air, it seemed as if something had snapped.
It was a string.
A string that maintained rationality.
Every sentence of Russell's ridicule was like a knife, constantly probing and gesturing upon this string.
Now, it had broken.
The room remained dead silent.
Russell didn't continue to twist the knife.
The blade of words had already completed its mission, flaying that layer of self-deceiving shell completely clean, revealing the rotting, foul-smelling viscera inside.
Next, all he had to do was wait.
Wait for that stench to slowly spread out.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
...
A sound rang out in the bedroom, like some kind of partition being lifted.
Then came a burst of heavy footsteps.
Russell sat on the chair, his gaze fixed on the bedroom door, watching as that tall, thin figure slowly appeared in his sight.
His fists were clenched tight, his eyes were covered in bloodshot veins, and the look he gave Russell seemed as if he wished to skin him alive on the spot.
Russell met those eyes filled with killing intent and unhurriedly revealed a smile.
"Hello there, Mr. Clown."
As he spoke, he picked up the playing cards he had accidentally discovered while pacing the room earlier, took one out, and threw it at the other party's feet.
"You dropped your ID card."
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