Eldritch Horror Theatre

Heading up The Mountain, it was the third building.

Unless Madam Tracy had lied about the address, Fu Qian had already found her residence.

Yet the place was dark as a ghost town, entirely devoid of life.

It was certainly exquisite. Though small at first glance, its opulence was striking, and its vantage point was impeccable.

But if Mrs. Tracy hadn't lied earlier, the scene before him was rather bizarre.

Her failure to bump into the Hairpin Woman could still be explained away: perhaps she had walked too fast, or moved so carefully that she used her familiarity with the area to avoid her.

But to return to her residence and feel so unsafe that she didn't even dare turn on the lights?

That reasoning was simply too absurd.

Or could it be that once she had cooled down, she regretted giving away her address so much that she simply didn't dare come back?

Even relying on pure trial and error, it wouldn't take long to find the residence of Mrs. Tracy's male companion.

For that reason, Fu Qian hadn't initially planned on rushing over to bother Mrs. Tracy.

Yet as he drew near her residence, Fu Qian didn't keep going. Instead, he turned inward and walked up the steps.

Why bother with trial and error when error correction was far more efficient? Better to just ask Mrs. Tracy directly.

His only slight regret was that he probably shouldn't have returned the brooch to her in such a hurry—

The next moment, Fu Qian stopped before the locked door, raised his hand, and knocked.

...

How did the saying go again? When the man named Fu comes knocking?

Darkness always had a way of freeing a person's imagination. At that moment, Fu Qian felt absolutely zero self-consciousness about disturbing anyone; he only felt a wistful sense that life is like a play.

Of course, not everyone could play along.

For instance, even after he knocked and waited a moment, Mrs. Tracy still didn't come out to answer.

Click—

Everything in the world followed its own fate, and Fu Qian never forced the issue.

He didn't mind the cold shoulder in the slightest. The very next moment, he simply took matters into his own hands.

The reason he only felt a slight regret about returning the brooch earlier was because Mrs. Tracy's male companion shared her sense of style. The clothes Fu Qian currently wore prominently featured a brooch as well.

Plucking it off, Fu Qian picked the lock on the dark wooden door with nearly the same efficiency as using a key.

"What are you doing?"

However, before he could cross the threshold, his superb technique was called into question.

As the door swung inward, a figure stood there in the dark. Upon closer inspection, it was none other than Mrs. Tracy, who had slipped away earlier.

Staring coldly at him, she was clearly not in a good mood.

...

"You look well."

Reaching the highest echelon of lockpicking was never simply about technical mastery; one's state of mind was equally important.

Take breaking and entering, for example. If you happened to get caught in the act by the homeowner, you had to maintain a calm, tranquil demeanor.

Facing her interrogation, Fu Qian showed not the slightest hint of hesitation or awkwardness. He merely offered a slight nod and a casual greeting.

And though it was just polite chatter, it wasn't baseless flattery.

Even without the lights on, and despite Mrs. Tracy's noticeably darkened expression, one thing remained glaringly obvious: she had changed her outfit.

It was just as exquisite and gorgeous as before, completely erasing any trace of her previous disheveled state.

Had it not been for their previous conversation, he would have thought her simply an aloof, aristocratic lady.

"Thank you."

Even her poise was impeccable.

Even though the compliment came from a brazen intruder—and served as a reminder of her embarrassing ordeal—Mrs. Tracy hesitated only briefly before actually thanking him.

"You look quite well yourself. The clothes are a good fit."

Not only that, she even threw some friendly flattery right back.

Of course, to Fu Qian, there was clearly a hidden barb in her words.

Deliberately emphasizing how well the clothes fit was her way of reminding him that he wasn't their original owner.

Furthermore, by taking the initiative to address their unsightly history, she was making a clear implication: whatever his reason for showing up, he could forget about using that history to blackmail her.

"I thought so too. It's just a shame about the torn collar. It was rather hard to control my movements while blindfolded."

Fortunately, Fu Qian had no intention of doing anything so vulgar. Instead, he simply chatted amiably about their recent adventure.

"If someone hadn't pointed it out to me earlier, I wouldn't have even realized it was so obvious. So I was actually planning on finding a new set of clothes to change into as well."

He gestured to his neck with a sigh of regret.

"...It's right in the back. You should already have the key."

Hearing the melody and grasping the intent, Mrs. Tracy fell silent for only a moment before seeing through Fu Qian's request, pointing out exactly where her male companion lived.

"Thanks for the heads-up... But actually, what I wanted to ask was: do you know who noticed my torn collar?"

Sadly, even with such stellar cooperation, Fu Qian wasn't entirely satisfied. After a polite thank you, he made it clear that his focus lay elsewhere.

...

Knocking on a door in the dead of night to play a guessing game? Was he really that bored?

Fu Qian's intent wasn't hard to grasp, but his jaw-droppingly casual attitude was a sight to behold.

Mrs. Tracy, at least, was thoroughly taken aback. Her breath caught, and her aloof facade nearly shattered.

"That might be rather difficult to guess. There are quite a few people here, and you are quite popular."

Ultimately, her good breeding won out. Taking a deep breath, she politely deflected the question, even throwing in a bit of flattery for good measure.

"That makes sense. But I'm confident you can guess who, because she was quite a unique young person."

Fu Qian refused to let it go, signaling for her not to give up so easily.

A unique young person...

Mrs. Tracy's patience was clearly wearing thin, and she no longer bothered to hide it from her face.

"Short hair, wearing a thoroughly tasteless hairpin? It's a pity I can't remember her name. All I know is that she has an excellent memory when it comes to clothes."

Seeing that resistance was futile, she ultimately resigned herself to reality. After a moment of thought, she actually provided an answer.

A remarkably accurate one, at that.

"Spot on. Though personally, I thought the hairpin wasn't half bad."

Mrs. Tracy's answer was wonderfully satisfying. It was yet another perfect cross-verification.

Not only did it prove the Hairpin Woman's story to be true, it also confirmed her assessment of the lady standing before him.

Thoroughly satisfied, Fu Qian didn't forget to offer a fair critique, pointing out that while the hairpin was plain, it actually suited her quite well.

"I suppose I can agree with that. It's been a lovely chat."

Mrs. Tracy's reaction was unusually accommodating, completely abandoning her normally uncompromising standards in fashion.

Combined with her closing remark, it was blatantly obvious she was desperately trying to show him the door.

"I thought so too. So shouldn't you invite me inside to keep chatting?"

Sadly, Fu Qian acted completely oblivious to her social cues. Not only did he refuse to leave, he pushed his luck even further.

"I can wait with you while we're at it."

And before she could refuse, he hinted that there was plenty more they could do.

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