"Yes." Holly nodded, her voice tight with fear.
"Someone must have been using it in secret."
As she spoke, she walked to the windowsill and stared at the thriving potted plant.
"Did you water it before you went out?" she asked.
"N-no… I didn't." Holly shook her head, then seemed to realize something and snapped her gaze over.
"Then you don't need to," Charlotte said.
"That kind Mr. Ghost has already watered it for you."
Holly's face went deathly pale in an instant.
"He… he's here? Where is he?!"
She looked around frantically, shouting,
"What do you want?! Come out! Why are you doing this…!"
She began pacing the small apartment like she'd lost control, yelling and cursing nonstop.
"Why are you doing this? What is it about me you're obsessed with?!"
"Uh… please calm down, Ms. David," Russell said.
"I can't calm down, sir—I can't!" Holly whipped her head toward him.
"My home was visited by a pervert half an hour ago. He might even be hiding somewhere in this room right now. I can't calm down!"
As she spoke, she ran into the bedroom and yanked up the neatly made bedsheet.
Of course, there was no one there.
"Who are you?! Come out!"
Her voice echoed through the tiny flat, tinged with hysteria.
She rushed to the wardrobe and flung the doors open—inside were only a few garments hanging neatly.
Then she crouched down, lifted the bedspread, and peered under the bed. Aside from a dusty suitcase, there was nothing.
"I know you're here! I know it!"
She kept muttering, then ran to yank the curtains open—outside was only London's gray, dreary sky.
She tore the entire apartment apart. The warmth and elegance vanished without a trace—
leaving only the desperate collapse of a woman on the edge.
Russell stood to the side, watching, not sure what to say.
Charlotte, meanwhile, continued strolling around the flat at her own pace, inspecting things—utterly indifferent to Holly's breakdown.
"Stop hiding, you coward! You freak!"
Holly's shriek grew sharper and more piercing.
And then—
Bang, bang, bang!
A light knock at the door interrupted her spiral.
All three froze and turned toward the entrance in unison.
Russell moved on instinct and opened the door.
A frowning elderly woman stood outside.
"Sir, could you please be a bit quieter?" she said softly.
"We're old. We need our rest."
"Sorry, ma'am…" Russell smiled apologetically, lowering his voice.
"Miss David has… experienced something rather hard to accept, so she's a bit overwhelmed right now."
"Oh…" The old woman glanced past him at the nearly shattered Holly, and sympathy softened her face.
"I don't know what happened, but it's alright, dear," she soothed.
"It'll get better, alright?"
"Thank you," Russell said with a polite smile. "And I'm truly sorry for disturbing your rest."
"It's fine, it's fine." The old woman waved it off, gave the room one more kindly, knowing look, then slowly turned and went back into the apartment across the hall.
Russell gently closed the door, cutting off the outside gaze.
He looked back. After the outburst—and the interruption—Holly seemed slightly calmer.
Now she sat weakly at the edge of the bed, eyes vacant as she stared at the floor.
Charlotte drifted through the flat like a wandering spirit, still searching every corner.
Russell sighed.
So much for a rare day off.
He rolled up his sleeves and decided to join this little ghost hunt.
He had no clue about the culprit's method—but as a professional phantom thief, he was at least confident in one thing:
finding things.
After all, his job was to find what other people hid… and then hide it in his own pocket.
The logic checked out.
"Ms. David, do you mind if I check your bathroom?" Russell asked.
"Go ahead, sir," Holly said weakly.
Russell pushed the bathroom door open and stepped inside.
Then he summoned his system panel.
"Consider it… civic duty to take down a pervert," he muttered, and with a thought—
[Skill: Reconnaissance C+ — Upgraded. Current level: C++. Malice Value -600
Malice required for next level: 1200]
[Malice Balance: 900]
"Tch…" Russell frowned.
Leveling up was expensive.
His heart ached for the cost, but a strange sensation quickly swept through his body.
His vision felt sharper.
The whole world seemed to take on new meaning.
Dust motes lingering in the air. Faint mildew in the grout lines. Water stains on the faucet that hadn't fully dried…
Details he'd never noticed before now glittered in his eyes like stars in a night sky.
He carefully examined every corner of the bathroom—
from the condensation traces on the mirror, to a few long hairs tangled near the drain, to toothpaste foam still clinging to the toothbrush.
But even with his upgraded [Reconnaissance], Russell found nothing suspicious.
Everything pointed to one conclusion:
besides Holly David herself, no second person had used this bathroom recently.
Unless the culprit's ability to erase traces far exceeded his own, that was the only correct answer.
He left the bathroom and shook his head.
On the other side, Charlotte was just as thorough, refusing to leave any potential hiding place unchecked.
She inspected the fireplace chimney—nothing but old soot.
Russell knocked on every wall panel; the sound was solid. No secret compartments.
He moved heavy cabinets, checked the walls and floor behind them—still nothing.
Under the bed, inside the wardrobe, between sofa cushions, inside the ceiling lamp shade…
Every hiding place they could think of—and plenty they couldn't—was searched top to bottom.
The result was the same:
nothing.
This ghost lived up to his name—appearing and disappearing without a trace.
"Find anything, assistant?" Charlotte called from the bedroom.
"Other than discovering Ms. David's shampoo is rose-scented—nothing," Russell replied. "And I'll say it again: I'm not your assistant."
"If your search skills were half as hard as your mouth, we'd be done already." Charlotte's voice was flat. "I didn't find anything either."
Time ticked by, second after second. The once cozy, tasteful flat now looked even more chaotic than Charlotte's own room.
They even considered the possibility that the ghost was living in the apartment—but Holly's food supply hadn't decreased in any unusual way.
The only thing the ghost ever took was her used coffee cup.
Holly curled up in the corner of the sofa, watching these two people turn her home inside out.
The hope in her eyes faded bit by bit with every passing minute.
"Nothing… at all?" she asked, her voice full of despair and helplessness.
"Obviously." Charlotte finally straightened up, brushing imaginary dust from her hands.
"Our Mr. Ghost…" she said,
"…is very clean."
"I'm sorry." Russell looked at Holly and shook his head gently.
"We did everything we could, Ms. David."
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