Eldritch Horror Theatre

Cartman, Ray, and the rest certainly had no reason to keep refusing Jones's suggestion.

On the drive up the mountain, although nothing was said, Fu Qian, still sitting in the police car, could feel the sheriff's attitude soften slightly.

It seemed that after the earlier crime scene investigation, his suspicion index in the sheriff's eyes had dropped just a fraction.

He had gone from a cold-blooded animal covering up a hit-and-run to a psychopath who occasionally offered valuable suggestions.

"Where did you go after your wife left in her car yesterday?"

In an atmosphere even more oppressive than before, Jones looked at Harold and asked the question as if suddenly remembering it.

"I was at home the whole time..."

"Can anyone prove that?"

"No one can."

"I hardly left the house all day."

"Hm."

Silence fell over the car once more. Jones didn't ask anything else.

Fu Qian actually understood the sheriff's mood quite well.

In Jones's original assessment, this matter should have been incredibly simple.

It was nothing more than Fu Qian hitting Mrs. Harold with a car, hastily disposing of the body to evade responsibility, and demanding his companions keep it a secret to pretend nothing had happened.

The search along the way had clearly been driven by this exact assumption, and Jones firmly believed the body was hidden under that pile of branches and leaves.

Unfortunately, the facts had proven otherwise. Not only was the spot completely empty, but no other traces were found anywhere nearby.

Jones clearly found this somewhat hard to accept.

Because as far as Jones was concerned, such a feat was well beyond what Fu Qian should be capable of.

Even assuming Fu Qian was a cold-blooded beast, managing to find a hiding spot like that in an unfamiliar environment was already impressive enough. It was almost impossible for him to also have the leisure to deliberately set up a decoy.

Then they had found Mrs. Harold's car, and its condition undoubtedly contradicted the traffic accident theory.

Suddenly, the suspicions against Fu Qian became much harder to maintain.

And as an experienced sheriff, Jones clearly upheld the fine tradition of his profession: doubting everything.

With the suspicion on Fu Qian reduced, Jones's decision to ask Harold about his whereabouts yesterday undoubtedly stemmed from another possibility—that Harold himself had engineered this series of events to murder his wife.

But it was only a slight suspicion for now.

The preceding sequence of events undoubtedly demonstrated a level of execution far beyond what an ordinary person could manage.

Looking at Harold's still-trembling body, the possibility of a hired hit seemed even higher.

...

"Haven't been here in nearly ten years. It feels just as gloomy as ever."

They soon arrived at their destination. Stepping out of the car, Jones surveyed the courtyard and let out a long sigh.

"But it's cleaned up much better than I imagined."

Walking through the front door, he casually looked around.

"That's all Fran's doing," Ray said modestly from the side.

"Is that so? Good job."

Glancing at Fran, Jones didn't withhold his praise.

Next, with the air of someone revisiting an old haunt, he strolled through every part of the building that showed signs of activity, not even sparing the collection in the basement.

Standing before the terrifying design of the Iron Maiden, he remained silent for a long time.

Of course, he certainly hadn't come here to reminisce.

Jones was clearly still somewhat suspicious of the students' overly clean car; tagging along was likely his way of checking if anything was amiss around the house.

Ray seemed to understand his goal and voiced no objections. He even took the initiative to recount Fu Qian's heroic feat of climbing inside the Iron Maiden.

This bit of publicity obviously caused the others to look at Fu Qian with even stranger expressions.

...

"Just what is your purpose in coming here?"

After finishing his tour empty-handed, Jones found an opportunity to approach Fu Qian.

"I find it hard to imagine a guy like you playing these boring vacation games."

"And the two women inside don't look like they have what it takes to bewitch you, either."

"Don't demonize me too much. At the end of the day, I'm just a twenty-year-old guy," Fu Qian defended with a smile.

"My hormones are undoubtedly at their peak. What's so strange about coming out to let loose with a group of people my age?"

"Oh? Then who is Lasik?"

"Hm?"

"I talked to Mary. It's quite clear you were asking strange questions after dinner yesterday."

Jones stared at Fu Qian, refusing to let a single reaction slip past him.

"Just a casual question. Having a brain fart isn't a crime, is it?"

Facing Jones's unprecedentedly stern gaze, Fu Qian's smile didn't fade, nor did he deny it.

"You know how it is. Young people always get these inexplicable ideas."

"...Very well!"

Clearly unaccustomed to dealing with someone so difficult, Jones stared at Fu Qian for a long time before simply calling his deputies and Harold to head back down the mountain.

'This amount of pressure should be just about right, shouldn't it?' Fu Qian thought silently to himself as he watched the police car drive away.

Last night, he had indeed asked Mrs. Jones if she knew who Lasik was.

Having lived locally for many years with her husband as the sheriff, Mrs. Jones was undeniably the perfect person to ask.

Ultimately, however, he had received a negative answer.

Mrs. Jones was entirely certain that there was no one named Lasik in the area.

Fu Qian wasn't too surprised by this result, nor was it his main goal.

Getting a man like Jones to help directly was almost impossible. He wouldn't do anything he deemed boring or unnecessary, so a special approach was required.

A man like him, who believed he could see right through a person with a single glance, wouldn't allow things he didn't understand to exist within his purview.

He wouldn't believe what you told him voluntarily, but whatever you kept hidden—if he deemed it necessary—he would try every means to figure out.

The abnormal behavior of Cartman's group yesterday, coupled with Jones taking a call and abruptly leaving the dinner party, led Fu Qian to deduce that something had indeed happened. Thus, he had decided to toss out the name Lasik in this manner.

He had originally been thinking of ways to make himself look suspicious so the name would garner more attention. He hadn't expected Jones's imagination to be so astounding; it saved him a lot of effort.

Fu Qian was looking forward to seeing what kind of effort the sheriff would put into investigating the name Lasik next.

...

Apart from Fran, the other three clearly hadn't rested well yesterday. Soon, everyone returned to their respective rooms, and no one even called a gathering for lunch.

Fu Qian actually enjoyed the rare peace and quiet, continuing to rest and build up his energy.

However, this tranquility didn't last long. Just past noon, a soft knock came at the door.

Fu Qian went over and opened it to find Fran standing outside, an unspeakably anxious expression on her face.

Seeing him open the door, she looked as if she had breathed a sigh of relief. She leaned in close and carefully lowered her voice.

"Jessica is missing."

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