Eldritch Horror Theatre

"No, he helped me. Otherwise, my work would still be this kind of trash."

Faced with Fu Qian's question, Rachel casually scattered the very artwork she had just warned him not to touch all over the floor.

Clearly, Rachel wasn't nearly as satisfied with them as she had initially appeared.

"What you see is only the surface. It's far more than just this cabinet and the paintings on it—"

And the deep-seated resentment in her eyes didn't lessen one bit as she did it.

"I know, it's a unified whole, right? All your movements, your reactions to threats... all coming together to hide him perfectly."

Fu Qian interrupted her dismissively, pointing around the room.

What was so hard to understand about that? Performance art was still art.

Rachel's "artistic awakening" had clearly reached a rather profound level. Simply imbuing paintings with meaning could no longer satisfy her; she found it shallow and dull.

Thoroughly hiding a person's existence in such a brutal, pure, and reckless manner was indeed a unique endeavor.

Especially when the subject being hidden was quite unique himself.

Fu Qian looked down at the boy inside the cabinet. His eyes were darting around more actively now, but he still showed no rush to get up.

Even so, that didn't stop Fu Qian from noticing the specks of blood on his hands and clothes.

"Did you kill Ivan?"

Giving a brief nod, Fu Qian greeted him casually.

The blood obviously wasn't his own; the boy's vital signs were perfectly normal.

And right beneath this area, in the Underground, Fu Qian knew there was a fresh corpse with its throat slit.

He had previously critiqued the killer's knife skills as mediocre, and theoretically, this boy should have been Ivan's prey.

But any veteran of the jianghu knew never to underestimate the lethality of a teenage boy.

...

Dennis didn't make a sound, but he did blink.

He didn't seem to be exercising his "right to remain silent," but rather, he simply didn't care enough to speak.

"Are you trying to tell me I'm harboring a murderer? Heh... Do you think I care? If he hadn't done anything at all, that would have been my biggest disappointment... Hahaha—"

Meanwhile, the artist beside them was quite energized.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fu Qian could see the pure joy on Rachel's face, possessing a contagious fervor comparable to the Saints.

"Stop adding drama to it. Don't you understand that top-tier art is inherently flawed?"

Unfortunately for her, this delightfully unhinged speech was ruthlessly cut off by Fu Qian, who pointed back into the cabinet.

"Such great material helped you complete your work, and you already achieved a perfect performance earlier. Are you still not satisfied?

"Shattering a perfect performance will only grant that perfection a Sublimation. What you're doing right now is the exact opposite."

These enlightening words of a master successfully plunged the entire room into silence.

And that was far from the only effect. It was clear that under this mental assault, both Rachel and Dennis had become significantly easier to communicate with.

"Where did you meet him?"

Deeply gratified, Fu Qian didn't waste any time and immediately pressed for details.

"On the road... He was walking alone. I thought he was in trouble, so I stopped the car and asked... Then he asked me if I could make it so no one could find him."

Her mental state still didn't seem entirely stable, but at least she could answer questions now.

Her smile pulling back to one corner of her mouth, Rachel finally began to recount her creative process.

It sounded like there really wasn't a path from the underground passage straight to here. After committing the murder, Dennis had likely wandered around until he finally stumbled upon that exit.

"And then your inspiration exploded, and you brought him here? Did anyone see you on the way?"

Nodding in satisfaction, Fu Qian continued to confirm the details.

"No, it was already pretty late."

Rachel's tone was completely certain.

"And you skipped work today just to finish your piece?"

Everything seemed to fall into place, bringing a deep sense that truth really was stranger than fiction.

The paint on the cabinet was still fresh, and some had even rubbed off onto Dennis.

"Yes, you arrived not long after I finished."

Rachel readily admitted it.

Even though he had been lying there all night, the boy still had no desire to leave, simply letting her do as she pleased.

Fu Qian glanced at Dennis, confirming that his earlier assessment of him as a "living corpse" was spot on.

Praising Rachel for completing an astonishing creation wasn't just false flattery.

After all, he had already been in close contact with this cabinet earlier, but because of her artwork, it wasn't until his second visit that he actually opened it.

And aside from Rachel's performance, Dennis's own disposition was also crucial.

A dilapidated, rusty, locked Box—how many people could lie quietly inside it? Let alone spend the entire night?

Without Transcendent Perception, the suspicion surrounding this Box wouldn't be any greater than any other sealed space in the prison.

"Can you stand up?"

Ignoring Rachel, Fu Qian spoke directly to the boy in the Box.

Creak—

Just as expected, the boy didn't make a sound, but he still propped himself up and climbed out.

Unfortunately, there was no Key inside the Box, nor could the outline of a Key be seen through his thin clothes.

"Let's go."

As long as he had been listening to the conversation between Fu Qian and Rachel, he would know about Fu Qian's identity as a police officer.

Fu Qian didn't say much else, simply gesturing for Dennis to follow.

"Someone is looking for Emily."

Soon driving his black car again, Fu Qian had Dennis sit beside him like an ordinary passenger.

Facing the walking corpse beside him, Fu Qian neither tried to comfort him nor questioned him, but simply offered a piece of information.

...

"A dangerous person."

When Dennis didn't respond, Fu Qian added another sentence.

As he spoke, he had already driven out of the prison.

"...Not the police?"

From the very beginning until now, Dennis finally made a sound for the first time. Aside from being dry, his voice had the unpleasant roughness of puberty.

"Not the police. And now you need to answer a few questions to help me find her before they do."

Fu Qian continued, perfectly justified.

"You aren't lying to me... just to find her?"

The young man still seemed very guarded.

"Do you think it's better for her to be found by the police, or not found at all?"

Explanations were useless in this situation, so Fu Qian simply gestured at the blood on Dennis's clothes.

"...Ask."

The effect was immediate.

"It's very simple. Have you seen a White Key?"

Silently calculating the distance they had driven from the prison, Fu Qian finally brought up the main point.

"No... What kind of question is that?"

Unfortunately, Dennis's reaction didn't sound too promising; he seemed to have no idea what that was.

"Then is there anything special related to the color white?"

No change could be heard in Fu Qian's tone.

"No, neither of us even likes wearing white clothes... Wait, the car we drove when we left was white.

"Emily didn't like it... Later, we crashed it into a tree, and then we walked all the way here."

At that moment, Dennis seemed to recall something.

"Where are the car keys?"

Fu Qian nodded.

"In my jacket..."

Dennis's voice dropped abruptly halfway through.

But there were no keys in his jacket.

He wasn't sure if the White Key was actually a white car key, but as Fu Qian recalled his experience in the underground passage, he could confirm one thing: this boy in front of him having a heart like dead ashes was clearly related to Emily's attitude toward him.

Teenage boys and girls having this kind of drama was perfectly normal.

Besides, the main point right now was, where did that possible Key go?

Could it be that he really needed to explore the Inner World of the Art Prison again and dissect Brother Peeker?

"Where did you crash into the tree?"

In the end, he didn't turn the car around. Fu Qian was actually prepared to fulfill his earlier promise.

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