The Bizarre Detective Agency

Second floor of the gallery.

Lu Li bypassed the office and walked toward the break room, with Anna floating behind him.

The scene was strange—a human and a ghost getting along relatively well. Lu Li began to understand what Hades meant by communicating with ghosts.

Ghosts were once human. While some might undergo drastic personality changes after death, most retained aspects of their human thought processes.

Like Anna.

The other two ghosts might be similar, but Lu Li hadn’t yet figured out how to deal with the eyeless ghost. Physical intervention seemed to be the only solution for now.

The door to the break room had already been forced open, exposing the contents of the room.

A few single beds, some cabinets, and a dining table. Nothing particularly noteworthy.

“Do you remember which bed Campbell used?” Lu Li asked as he stepped into the room.

Lu Li walked to the bed closest to the door and lightly pressed on it with his hand. Suddenly, he lifted the blanket.

A notebook appeared beneath it.

Anna looked stunned.

Lu Li picked up the notebook, brushed off the dust, and brought it to the oil lamp. Without lifting his gaze, he explained, “Men tend to hide their secrets under their beds.”

The notebook was signed “James Campbell.” Lu Li had effortlessly acquired a key clue.

“Girls do that too,” Anna muttered under her breath, ceasing to swing her legs.

“True. But you also hide things in cabinets, under rugs, behind mirrors, and inside stuffed toys,” Lu Li replied, flipping open the notebook as his gaze fell on the first page.

[March 6, Sunny]

A familiar format greeted him.

On the other side, Anna pouted, unable to refute his point, and let out a dissatisfied hum.

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The saying “diaries are unreliable” only applied to celebrities. Most ordinary people who kept diaries tended to record their most genuine thoughts.

At least, in Lu Li’s experience from his time on Earth assisting the police, it wasn’t uncommon for murderers to outline their motives and methods in their journals. 𝘳

Clearing his mind, Lu Li focused on the diary before him.

[March 6, Sunny]

“Damn this weather. The factory chimneys are choking the life out of us. The nobles in Parliament are talking about shutting them down. As if that could actually happen.”

—

[March 10, Overcast]

“Where is this fog coming from? The sea? The industrial district?”

—

[March 8, Overcast]

“Good news. I heard the factories are shutting down. It seems the nobles have finally grown a conscience.”

—

[March 10, Cloudy]

“Why hasn’t the fog cleared yet? At least it’s not suffocating anymore.”

—

[March 12, Overcast]

“I forgot to write yesterday, but nothing happened anyway. The weather’s still gloomy, like the fog has risen to the sky.”

Lu Li flipped through the pages quickly, skipping over the short, insignificant entries. He also noticed that every subsequent day’s weather was listed as overcast.

[March 26, Overcast]

“What’s happening? Why does it feel like there’s something in the dark? When I woke up this morning, I saw another family on the next street dead in their home… What’s going on?”

—

[April 1, Overcast]

“I… I killed someone… Haha, just kidding.”

—

[April 15, Overcast]

“Is this the apocalypse the church has been preaching about? So many people have died recently. The clouds haven’t lifted, and Parliament has issued a decree requiring every household to light lamps at night… What’s happening here?”

—

[April 21, Overcast]

“What Parliament said is true! Disaster has come to Belfast! Everyone is saying to stay in the light. Some people, trying to save money, didn’t light their lamps at night. When they were found in their homes, their bodies were already rotting… What’s in the darkness?”

—

[April 24, Overcast]

“Everyone’s terrified. Duncan even quit his job. Poor Duncan—how will he afford kerosene now without work?”

—

[April 25, Overcast]

“Thank goodness, the price of kerosene has dropped. The homeless scavengers can now huddle under street lamps.”

—

[May 1, Overcast]

“Those who had left Belfast have returned. They say the journey was dangerous and that other cities are the same now. But… not all of them came back. Where did the rest go? Or…”

—

[May 5, Overcast]

“She came for me… How could this be? She’s supposed to be dead… I understand now. That was her ghost. She’s back for revenge!”

The diary ended abruptly here. Lu Li unconsciously flipped through the blank pages.

It was clear now: Campbell’s “I killed someone” on April 1 was no joke.

Rustle—

The sound of flipping pages suddenly stopped.

New content appeared in the latter half of the diary.

It was no longer written in the diary format, but the handwriting seemed to belong to the same person.

“She did it on purpose… She threw me into it. She’s getting her revenge… She’s haunting me for killing her, for gouging out her eyes…”

“What’s happening!? Why is everything and everyone twisting and distorting? Is it me? Or is it because of it?”

As Lu Li turned to the next page, he noticed the handwriting becoming increasingly erratic.

“They heard me! They’re searching for me… They see me! They want to touch me… I must hide. I can’t let them touch me. If they touch me…”

From here, his sanity began to unravel. Just as he described the distorted world around him, the words on the page twisted into grotesque shapes, limbs seeming to reach out from the letters, groping toward the reader.

Lu Li frowned, ignoring the unsettling visuals and focusing intently on deciphering the text.

“It must be… It’s doing this. When I get closer, everything calms down… I understand now… It’s urging me… It’s calling me… It’s behind all of this… It wants me back…”

“I know those are houses—they’re made of wood. I’m sure of that. But when the massive, pulsating flesh mounds lining the streets grow limbs and start writhing and waving… I keep moving closer to it. Only by getting closer can I think clearly… Father, Mother, what should I do…”

“I’m barely holding onto my thoughts. I need money. I can’t lose this job. Benjamin and my coworkers look like writhing masses of flesh to me… I’m doing my best to hide my disgust and revulsion.”

“I can’t hold on any longer… I have to stick to it to stay sane… This is the last entry. I’m going in. If anyone reads this, remember—stay away from it. When you hear it, it can see you. When you see it, it can touch you. Never let it touch you… Never… The door is opening.”

“It’s coming for me.”

The handwriting stopped abruptly here.

What followed was a string of nonsensical, jumbled English words.

From these words, Lu Li managed to piece together a phonetic sound: “…

But he didn’t say it aloud. In horror movies, speaking unknown words tended to lead to bad outcomes—something Lu Li was keenly aware of.