New Gods of North America.

Chapter 557 Lessons
After dancing with Lena, he continued chatting with people. When the mayor and his entourage reappeared, Wayne, accompanied by the old Mr. Basque of the Beeton family, met some businessmen and councilors. Reverend Tyrell also learned a little about the detective agency's current progress.
After the dance, Wayne had accomplished most of his "small goals," basically confirming the gang situation in the dock area and roughly understanding the city hall's attitude towards that area.

In fact, the resources controlled by Richmond City Hall are no less than those of many wealthy individuals.

Unfortunately, they have budgets for expenditures, and the municipal government doesn't have that many important officials who need special protection, so forget about entrusting security to them; they'll have to find wealthy people for that.

On the return journey in the carriage, Lina was still quite disgruntled about the unexpected attendance of the priest Tyrell. "If I had known that old man would secretly bring so many people to the ball, I wouldn't have come. It's not even convenient for me to take a stroll along the way; I haven't even gotten a feel for the surroundings yet."

Wayne was too tired to even comment on Lina's occupational hazard, so he joked, "Then isn't it a waste that you and Inessa are all dressed up so beautifully today?"

“No waste at all. We really brought honor to the detective agency today. Many ladies came over to inquire about the agency’s income, thinking that we must be very capable.”

Lina perked up a bit when she talked about these things, "And many officials' wives are actually easier to get along with. At least when they look at jewelry, they know to appreciate the design and craftsmanship. But there are also some types who are similar to some wealthy wives, who only ask about the price and popularity of perfumes and have no aesthetic sense at all."

Inessa remained as composed as ever. "Actually, many of them have their own interests. One lady loves music, and I think her explanations are more in-depth than those of the professors at the academy. She also wanted to talk to me about literature, but unfortunately, I don't know much about that."

"No, when you talked about the history of Windsor, I felt she was quite engrossed."

Lina offered a brief rebuttal, then the conversation veered back to Wayne. "There's a lady who seems particularly interested in you, asking a lot of questions about the detective agency. Would you like to get to know her?"

Wayne had already guessed who it might be and pointed out the answer directly, "Was it Miss Harley? I spoke with her at the ball and even signed her autograph."

"Tch." Lina curled her lip. "But how come I didn't notice that?"

Inessa remembered it clearly: "You were eyeing the tiara that Mrs. Kate was wearing, asking who the designer was. Then you even compared the prices of the jewelry you were wearing."

"It seems like that happened..." Lina recalled briefly, "She just wanted to show off, she didn't know anything about jewelry at all. She didn't even win the price comparison, and you can see she didn't dare to speak afterward."

"But she mentioned at the end that she has even more valuable jewelry at home, and she'll probably come looking for you again next time you meet."

“I’m not afraid of her at all. We still have that ruby ​​necklace worth several thousand pounds, and we can borrow it from Miss Olivia. But jewelry is nothing compared to gold coins; it’s useless except for showing off. Once my grand hotel opens, I’ll even deliberately make my jewelry look like glass, since some ladies won’t recognize it anyway.”

……

Midnight,

A glass marble, taken from a paper package, was shot into the second-floor window of James Damotic's apartment.

First, there was a "clang" inside the room, then a bouncing "tap, tap, tap, tap," and finally, a series of thin trails of sound.

A floating, semi-transparent phantom, accompanied by illusory wails and shrieks, rose from the marbles. It resembled a disheveled, grotesque banshee from a horror story, its face twisted and grotesque.
Harley Quinn glanced briefly at herself through the window and was fairly pleased with her random transformation, thinking it would be perfect for teaching the gangsters a lesson. She didn't dislike the gangsters' criminal activities, but she hated people and things that lacked "class."
A classy criminal should either remain undetected or be brazenly brazen, rather than hiding and being discovered.
Mr. Wayne has already investigated you, so as a criminal, why don't you just publicly confess and accept your punishment? The story shouldn't be like this.

Since the phantom could only exist for a limited time and the noise didn't attract anyone, the "banshee" had no choice but to float and actively search for it.

Upon discovering that the door to the room was closed, and with the phantom's power being so weak that she couldn't even turn the doorknob, the "Banshee" let out a ferocious, illusory shriek—a normal phenomenon that occurs when using "powers," reflecting her mood, but the specific manifestation of which is not under Harley Quinn's control—she could only obediently float to the window to "take a detour."

As a thoughtful woman with a father who liked to bring work home, Harley Quinn was familiar with the addresses of some of Richmond's "well-known figures" and knew where to hire kids who needed pocket money to send her her recharged items.
But she didn't actually know her target for the night. She only learned about his crimes from her father on the way home in the carriage. The gist of her father's words was, "That Wayne just investigated the cathedral assassination and now he's chasing after the gangsters in the docks. He's too likely to attract retaliation. You should keep your distance from people like that."

It's just an illusion; each time it appears, it's a different form that Harley Quinn can't control. Harley Quinn herself doesn't need to worry about retaliation.
So she chose to become a "classic detective" herself, to teach criminals who were unwilling to turn themselves in a lesson.

……

In his sleep, James Damody felt a slight itch on his face.

I scratched myself a couple of times in a daze before realizing that the itching wasn't caused by my own body.

Then he opened his eyes and was instantly jolted awake:
"Ah ah ah ah ah--"

A hideous face, like that of a vengeful ghost, witch, or demon, suddenly appeared before him.
Accompanied by screams that seemed to be both auditory hallucinations and filling his ears, he vaguely heard a word that sounded like a murmur, something like "reporter".

He instinctively threw a punch, but it felt like he'd hit cotton—no, something much lighter and softer than cotton.

At the same time, he scrambled off the bed, frantically pulled open the bedside table drawer, grabbed the gun, and fired a burst of shots at the ghostly figure:
"Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!"

The bullet pierced the ghostly figure, sparks flying against the wall behind it, while the ghostly figure rapidly approached amidst a chilling, sinister laugh.

A pair of sharp claws swooped down from both sides, swiftly grabbing at his neck—

James Damody felt a sudden darkness before his eyes, and almost at the same moment the illusion vanished, the bedroom door was pushed open by his previously dozing subordinate.
The men, armed with lever-action rifles, found no enemies in the room, only James Damody lying on the floor, his crotch already soaked with sweat.

On the other side of Richmond,
Lying on the bed, Harley Quinn removed her mask after the illusion's energy was depleted and it had successfully knocked the other person unconscious.

He hugged himself tightly, curling his body into a shrimp-like shape, "It hurts..."

(End of this chapter)