Eldritch Horror Theatre

Claire really didn't have the Key, and there was indeed no one inside.

Fu Qian didn't suspect she had brought him to a fake location; he casually surveyed the space before him.

This was undoubtedly the lowest level of the entire building, but the air circulation remained quite good. Even the locked door was spotless, clearly cleaned on a regular basis.

Perhaps this was why, over their several years of marriage, Claire's curiosity had never been overly piqued?

"This room doesn't have windows of any kind. Rick always kept the Key well hidden, and every time he went in, he locked the door from the inside. I have absolutely no idea what it looks like in there."

As the saying goes, alcohol lowers inhibitions. Even though she had been dragged down here, standing before a mystery she had lived with for years seemed to trigger a subtle shift in Claire's mood, sparking a faint desire to explore the unknown.

Her unconsciously quickened speech was proof of this.

"Please believe me. If there were a way to open it, I definitely would have gone in to check at the first opportunity."

The next moment, she looked back at Fu Qian, speaking with helpless sincerity.

Stepping forward, Fu Qian didn't sound like he was doubting her.

"It was right after I came back. I told him about my experience at your place... A servant saw him leave in a hurry, bringing nothing with him—"

Claire's words came to an abrupt halt as she stared at the door, which had been pushed open a crack.

Her nearly frozen gaze fell onto his hand a moment later.

Was that a... hairpin?

Where did he get that? And wasn't he entirely too skilled at this!

...

After being told that the man might be a transcendent with inhuman strength, Claire had clearly entertained some ideas about how he would open the door.

However, the casual ease he displayed—which seemed even more effortless than using a Key—made the surging anticipation of breaking in to uncover secrets feel uncomfortably like a punch landing on empty air.

But these were just details. Master Grimshaw clearly had no intention of paying attention to her feelings; he simply pushed the door wide open.

It was pitch black. Because of its location, the light from the Corridor could only shine in a little. Standing outside the door, Claire couldn't see anything at all, no matter how hard she strained her eyes—and the man inside had no intention of turning on the lights.

Grimshaw had already stepped into the darkness without hesitation.

His movements stirred up a scent that had accumulated over the years—something indescribable that simultaneously bred curiosity and fear.

In the end, a confined space like this couldn't possibly have air as fresh as the Corridor.

Click!

Attributing it to the side effects of alcohol, Claire neither stayed outside nor took the opportunity to flee.

The next moment, she suppressed her fear and walked into that foul atmosphere. Relying on the layout pattern of the building, she fumbled for a switch and turned it on.

The sudden glare of the lights almost caused a momentary loss of vision.

A few seconds later, when Claire's eyes finally adjusted, she looked at the scene before her and felt a sudden sense of emptiness.

It was empty.

Surprisingly, the moderately sized room lacked even basic furnishings.

So much so that, under the slightly reddish light, it appeared almost vast and hollow.

Grimshaw, who had entered first, was standing in a corner of the room, silently looking at a pile of identical boxes stacked before him.

Semi-transparent and stacked so neatly they almost blocked an entire wall, this pile of boxes was virtually the only notable thing in the room.

And at a glance, without exception, they were all empty. Claire completely failed to understand what he was looking at.

...

"It seems you are disappointed."

Looking at Grimshaw, who appeared deep in thought, the deflated Claire inexplicably felt a faint hint of satisfaction rise within her.

She even stepped forward and boldly asked a question.

"Did you find anything?"

"I did. It's very tidy."

To her surprise, however, he showed no sign of disappointment.

"And then?"

"And it looks like they're some sort of standardized item."

Answering smoothly, Fu Qian finally turned to look at Claire.

"You mentioned before that your husband worked at a hospital before retiring, as a surgeon?"

"Yes... this is..."

Nodding subconsciously, Claire suddenly realized something. She jerked her head back toward that strange wall, realizing that these unmarked boxes looked somewhat familiar.

"It seems he illegally brought back things that were excised from human bodies and originally meant to be destroyed."

Fu Qian didn't wait for her answer, smoothly drawing the conclusion himself.

"Have you never noticed this before?"

...

"I never ask about Rick's work..."

The moment she realized what the Master was referring to, that wall full of empty boxes suddenly became incredibly horrifying in Claire's eyes.

Images of mangled human anatomy stuffed inside them flashed through her mind, causing her drunkenness to surge and making it difficult to suppress the urge to vomit.

"They do look like things from a hospital, but... they're empty inside."

Taking a subconscious step back, she still struggled to offer a rebuttal.

"Right, so your husband used his position to illegally steal hospital supplies."

Without any intention of arguing the point, Fu Qian casually followed Claire's line of thought.

"He caused major losses, and upon being noticed, he resigned to take the blame. In other words, that's the truth behind his early retirement. Is that right?"

...

No matter how reluctant she was to agree with him, Claire couldn't bring herself to believe that the boxes in front of her could cause any significant hospital losses.

"But what about the things inside?"

After a moment of silence, ultimately not wanting to admit to that nightmarish scenario, she offered a rather weak rebuttal.

"That's the second discovery I wanted to mention. They're very clean."

Fu Qian shook his head slightly.

"And so? Doesn't that just prove they haven't been used?"

Claire countered, almost impatiently.

"Unused, or licked clean."

His reply, however, sounded like the whisper of a devil.

"Licked clean—seriously and meticulously, without missing a single corner."

As Claire's body trembled as if struck by electricity, he still refused to let her go.

"Just like the scene you saw waking up in the dead of night."

Hrk—

Vomit laced with the smell of alcohol finally spewed from Claire's mouth onto the floor.

And the hair-raising scene that had played out during her first visit repeated itself, this time to a much more exaggerated degree.

"Always look on the bright side. The fact that you didn't notice it for so long proves that Mr. Rick thoroughly cleaned his mouth every time he left here."

Although he showed no intention of helping her up, Fu Qian comforted her with extreme professionalism, easing the victim's emotions and naturally guiding the topic.

"Now, think carefully. Even earlier than that, did Mr. Rick display any rather unusual behaviors or say anything related to the situation we just described?"

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