Byrne returned to No. 79 Wisteria Street. As soon as he opened the door, he saw Old Anton lying unconscious on the living room floor.
He didn't rush forward. Instead, he deployed his psychic threads to cover the entire wooden house, checking for any latent dangers. After the threads swept through every corner and confirmed the area was safe, Byrne walked quickly to Anton's side and checked the pulse at his neck. Although weak, it was steady; his life was not in danger.
"Old Anton, wake up. Wake up."
Byrne patted the old man's face, trying to rouse him. After several attempts, Anton remained unresponsive, sleeping as deeply as a log.
Heh, looks like he won't be waking up anytime soon.
Byrne shook his head and helped Anton onto the sofa. Then, he turned his gaze to a spot on the floor not far away. There was a circular black mark, looking as if dark ink had been splashed there, though the edges were blurred with a lingering charred scent typical of energy burns.
Byrne walked over and crouched down to observe. The size of the mark was roughly the same as the cardboard boxes. He hadn't seen the two boxes during his sweep of the house. Does this mean that aside from the notebook, everything else in the boxes was destroyed by Tim?
This is a good opportunity to try that.
With that thought, Byrne stood up and gestured with his hand. A Live-Action Video Camera appeared in his grasp. The device had a faint metallic luster, with fine scales engraved on the top disc and a needle trembling slightly in the center—exactly as Young Byrne had described it.
Byrne walked to the center of the living room, calculated the timing, and began to adjust the needle on the disc. Once the time was set, he pressed the playback button. After a short wait, the lens atop the disc projected a beam of light onto the floor, instantly spreading into a translucent screen. The screen flickered a few times before stabilizing.
The projection began replaying events from nearly an hour ago. Old Anton was shown staring restlessly at the clock on the wall. When the doorbell rang, his body visibly shuddered, and his hands fumbled nervously as he straightened his clothes.
A moment later, the tall, thin man in black entered—the same Tim that Byrne had tailed. Tim walked toward the boxes in the living room. After destroying them, he picked up the remaining notebook. This scene aligned perfectly with Byrne's earlier deductions.
In the projection, Tim picked up the notebook. He whispered something and suddenly turned, tapping a finger against Old Anton's forehead. At that contact, Anton's eyes went hollow, and he collapsed unconscious. Byrne keenly noted that at the moment Tim touched Anton, a small puff of purple mist emerged from his fingertip.
Byrne sneered. "Heh, it really is the same power."
Once Tim left the living room, the projection flickered and shattered into nothingness.
"Not bad. This camera works quite well. In that case..."
Mid-sentence, Byrne turned his gaze toward the storage room in the corner. The dark brown wooden door stood silently, hiding the secret of Tim's disappearance and the eeriness that even Old Anton couldn't explain.
Byrne's fingers tightened around the camera. He remembered the pulling sensation he felt when he last probed that room with his psychic power. This time, with the help of the gadget, he could finally attempt to glimpse the truth.
He checked the sofa to ensure Anton wouldn't wake up soon, then walked to the storage room door. It was daytime, and the spatial folds within were dormant, but that didn't hinder his attempt.
According to the notebook, Tim disappeared on the night of March 22nd. Byrne didn't know the exact hour, so he figured it would take several tries. He glanced at the wall clock; it was currently past two in the afternoon. Fortunately, the camera had an automatic mode where he could simply input the duration for the playback. This saved him a lot of effort, as manually turning the dial ninety-odd times would be unbearable.
After several attempts, Byrne finally found the correct time window.
The living room in the projection was empty. The storage room door was closed, just like now. From Byrne's perspective, everything looked peaceful, showing no signs of the horror about to unfold.
Shortly after, Tim's figure appeared. He was wearing the same work clothes as in the photo, but his attire was messy, and there was a dark red bloodstain on his collar. Tim looked panicked, glancing back over his shoulder as he walked, as if fleeing from something. He was clutching an iron box tightly to his chest.
Tim stumbled to the storage room door. His fingers touched the handle but jerked back immediately as if burned. He looked back toward the front door, the terror in his eyes nearly overflowing, as if some monstrous beast were closing in.
He grabbed the handle again and twisted it hard.
Creak!
The moment the door opened, Tim rushed into the storage room. Due to the limited angle of the projection, Byrne couldn't see what was inside. A few seconds later, Tim backed out, the iron box gone. Clearly, he had left it inside.
Tim stepped out and reached back to pull the door shut.
"Phew... I finally did what the boss asked. I'm finally going to make a fortune."
Just as he finished speaking, a blood-colored symbol distorted and emerged on the storage room door. Byrne looked closely; it was the same one he had seen on Tim's corpse.
A massive amount of purple mist erupted from the symbol, wrapping around Tim like a living creature. Before the poor man could react, he was consumed by the mist and killed.
A moment later, Tim's corpse stood back up. He tilted his neck, scanned the living room, and finally fixed his gaze on the storage room door. He slowly raised his arm and pressed a pale finger against the blood-colored symbol. In the next second, the symbol seemed to come alive and transferred itself onto his body.
Just then, Old Anton's figure appeared from the other side of the living room. Tim turned to glance at Anton, and with a flash of purple mist, he vanished.