You said you were going to make games, how did you become the richest man without doing anything?

“I see, you’re so smart.” Fufu nodded seriously, seemingly agreeing with the “business strategy of unlicensed therapists.”

“And…” Sherlock paused, his gaze sweeping over the dilapidated rooftops, “the rent is also a problem.”

After all, he had received almost no compensation from Louis's team. His meager severance pay had been used to save Fou. Although the lizardmen later gave him a few coins, as a poor man, he was not qualified to sign a formal property deed.

"But in places like this, there's no need for contracts, and nobody cares."

The houses on the ruined street were almost outside the scope of the law. That's why it became his only choice.

The two walked and looked around until they stopped next to a half-collapsed building.

This is a two-story stone brick building. Although the exterior walls are mottled, the structure is still relatively intact, and the roof has not completely collapsed. Compared to the surrounding ruins that look like they have been gnawed by monsters, this place can almost be described as "intact".

“Let’s go in and take a look,” Sherlock said.

"Hmm..." Fufu responded softly, but her face showed obvious unease. She quietly moved closer and tightly grasped Sherlock's sleeve.

"What's wrong? Are you scared?" He looked down at her.

“Yes…” Fufu nodded, her voice trembling, “I always feel like ghosts or monsters might come out…”

Sherlock was taken aback, then burst into laughter.

But he didn't laugh out loud, because he knew that this wasn't just a child's ignorant fantasy.

The "ghosts" in this world are not the legends imagined by humans.

Even though the Demon King was defeated and destroyed by the Holy King hundreds of years ago, the lingering poison of the demon race still remains in every corner of the continent. Undead, vengeful spirits, and ghouls are constantly born from those "places where too many people have died." These places are called "Demonic Miasma Zones," and Ruins Street, in a sense, is a remnant of unpurified demonic miasma.

“Fou has heard before… that places where many people have died are prone to having undead.” She clung tightly to Sherlock and whispered, “If there really are any in there… then we’re both doomed…”

"A necromancer?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"That's... a demon that reigns supreme among the undead. Although it looks like a human, it can drain a person's life with just a touch... and it can also control ghosts." Fufu's voice trailed off, as if she herself was frightened.

“I see, that’s quite frightening,” Sherlock said softly.

As he spoke, he walked to the door and pushed it open.

The door creaked open with a jarring sound, releasing a musty stench that had been sealed off for years. It was as if countless invisible hands were reaching out from the darkness, trying to pull them into the abyss of memories.

The room was completely dark, like an abyss that swallowed everything.

"Radiance".

Fufu sang softly, raised her little hand, and a faint bluish-white light appeared at her fingertips, like a firefly dancing slowly in the dark, illuminating the surroundings.

"Fou, so you can use magic too?"

“Yes,” she nodded, “but I only know some simple spells.”

Sherlock nodded.

Even though Fou is just a child, as a member of the elf race, she is born with a magical affinity higher than that of ordinary people. Even without receiving systematic training, she can master basic spells on her own.

Bathed in light, the interior of the house, which had been dormant for many years, slowly emerged.

The decaying beams and pillars resembled slowly gnawed skeletons, covered in black mold and moss. The floorboards had collapsed, with splinters of wood mixed with dust scattered everywhere. The staircase extended upwards, but almost all the treads were broken, like a broken bridge on the verge of collapse.

The air was filled with a lingering, damp, and dusty smell, as if the entire space had been frozen in some distant, forgotten era.

Fufu frowned, and her little nose twitched slightly.

"Is...this place really going to be a place for people to live?"

Sherlock looked around and remained silent for a moment.

Then, he nodded slightly.

"This place is so much freer than the previous hotel."

G-chan spoke up at this moment, her tone serious: "I know this scene isn't the point, but I really think the atmosphere in this scene is so well done. I even want to renovate this shabby house."

[Ruins Street is truly ruins]

Sherlock and Fou's initial base looks like a warehouse before they started a factory.

[The initial base for unlicensed therapists, with a high level of immersion]

This is where the dream began!

Sherlock entered the house, his footsteps creaking on the soft wooden planks.

He whispered softly:
"Let's start from here."

……

"My God, this room..."

Fufu stood timidly at the doorway, staring at the dilapidated two-story old house, her face filled with disbelief. The wooden exterior was scarred by the passage of time, the windows were long broken, and only the broken wooden frames trembled in the wind, like limbs that might break at any moment.

Sherlock nodded with a satisfied look: "Hmm, it looks pretty good."

"Huh? Is this considered pretty good?" Fufu's eyes widened, wondering if she had misheard.

“Yes, at least there’s a roof here!” Sherlock said with a smile, his tone carrying a hint of happiness.

Fufu looked up at the dilapidated roof, which could indeed be barely described as "complete." But she really couldn't understand what kind of advantage that could be considered.

"Fou did see the roof... but is that really a plus?"

“When I was still in the army, I almost always slept alone in the open,” Sherlock said softly, his tone calm but carrying a hint of emptiness after being away from the war. “I was already very grateful to have a place to shelter from the wind and rain. Look, those pillars are quite sturdy; they can be used as a dwelling with just a little repair.”

"Sherlock, aren't you being a bit too optimistic?" Fufu puffed out her cheeks, like a cat being led into a doghouse by its owner.

"Anyway, I've already lost everything, so there's no point in continuing to dwell on it."

He spoke casually, then turned and stepped into the dark room that had been sealed off for many years.

The next moment, Fufu's scream shattered the silence.

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Sherlock stopped abruptly, his brow furrowing.

Deep within the room, dimly illuminated by the "Radiance" spell, a blurry shadow appeared in the air.

It was a black-haired woman, silently floating in mid-air.

She wore a strange, dark, binding garment, with a belt wrapped around her waist, like the attire of some ancient ritual. Her face was beautiful, with features so delicate they were almost doll-like, but her eyes were a bottomless void, as if staring straight into the depths of one's soul.

Most deadly of all, her body was translucent, surrounded by a deathly aura like black mist.

The air suddenly cooled down, and the musty and putrid smells were completely suppressed by the cold. A suffocating chill surged up like a tide, as if even the heartbeat would freeze.

“It’s the scent of a living person…” The woman’s voice was soft yet chillingly cold. “Hurry up and let me absorb life force…” “Sherlock, that’s… a necromancer!” Fou’s face turned deathly pale as she gripped his arm tightly.

“Sigh…” Sherlock sighed. “So someone already lives here? Well, this is the most suitable house for living around here.”

"Sherlock, now is not the time to say things like that!!"

G-chan couldn't help but laugh out loud in the live stream: "This guy's about to die and he can still make sarcastic remarks. Sherlock, just how carefree are you!"

[Sherlock: I just wanted to rent a house, and you ran into the Death King?]

[Necromancer: You disturbed my sleep, and I'm supposed to charge you rent?]

[G-chan, stop laughing, I'm laughing so hard I'm going crazy too!]

This part is so funny, but also a little scary...

The undead woman raised the corners of her mouth, her body floating lightly into the air, her ten fingers like claws, as she lunged at the two of them.

""treat"."

A burst of white light suddenly erupted.

"Aaaaaah!" the woman screamed as her entire arm evaporated in the light, turning into a wisp of smoke and disappearing into the air.

Fufu's eyes widened: "Huh?"

She turned to look at Sherlock, who had his right hand raised high, his face calm as still water, as if he had just helped someone stop the bleeding and disinfect the wound.

"So this guy is a necromancer?" Sherlock stretched, his tone as if he were meeting an old friend. "I've probably fought a hundred of these before."

"What did you say?!"

Fufu's mouth was wide enough to fit an egg.

"Sherlock, I heard that anyone who encounters a necromancer is doomed! And you actually defeated over a hundred of them?!"

“Well, once Louis was in a bad mood and left me alone in the deepest part of the underground labyrinth. I spent several days there clearing out the undead.” Sherlock explained, nodding habitually to the woman. “Excuse me, we didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just that this room looks perfect for living, and we’d like to stay for a few days. Would it be convenient for you to make room?”

"What nonsense are you talking about? Quickly hand over your life force...!"

""treat"."

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!"

Another beam of holy white light slashed down, and the undead woman's other arm was severed along with it.

"Ah, sorry." Sherlock lowered his head somewhat awkwardly. "When I saw you rushing over, I... it was a conditioned reflex. I didn't mean any harm."

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...!"

The necromancer's expression finally changed.

Her face was contorted with humiliation and anger; her eyes no longer held mockery and contempt, but burning hatred.

"Unforgivable. I am—Ophelia, the Queen of the Dead!"

She raised her regenerated hands high, and dark magic surged from her body like a tidal wave, soaring into the sky.

"Come here, my retinue, kill these two foolish humans!"

"Sherlock, look over there..." Fufu exclaimed.

From the cracks in the walls and floor, countless blue-white spirits surged in like a tide. They floated in the air, their expressions empty, their eye sockets burning with cold blue soul fire.

That was—an army of ghosts.

Perhaps she summoned all the dead in the entire ruined street.

“This is a headache…” Sherlock sighed and shrugged. “Actually, I originally wanted to borrow this room peacefully…”

He slowly raised his hands, and holy light gathered in his palms.

"Advanced Treatment"

A halo appeared around him, then exploded outwards from Sherlock's center, transforming into countless flying feather-like rays of light that shot out in all directions like meteors.

In an instant, the army of ghosts, as if scorched by the blazing sun, let out mournful howls and vanished into nothingness in the light. Even the lingering deathly aura in the air was completely purified by the baptism of light.

The suffocating feeling that had been pressing down on them receded like a tide.

The Undead Queen Ophelia floated blankly in the air, her eyes trembling, and her voice finally showed a hint of hesitation:
"You... who are you?"

“I’m just an unlicensed therapist, I’m really sorry.”

Sherlock clasped his hands together and looked earnestly at the black-haired woman floating in the air before him. "We only need one examination room, and... two more rooms."

His tone was calm yet neither humble nor arrogant, as if he were renting a house from a landlord rather than negotiating with a sinister undead king.

The woman was none other than Ophelia, the Undead Queen who had nearly devoured them just moments before. At this moment, her translucent figure floated slowly, her cold and stern face appearing and disappearing in the darkness, and the lingering black mist gradually dissipated.

She silently watched Sherlock, as if deep in thought. A moment later, her figure suddenly shrank, her girlish silhouette merging into the air, slowly passing through the ceiling, and disappearing into the second floor.

"Then...then you can use the first floor as you like." Her voice came from upstairs, still arrogant. "However, the second floor is my room, and you are not allowed to come up."

“Of course, no problem.” Sherlock nodded earnestly, as if he hadn’t just been dealing with a high-level monster that could control ghosts. “Thank you. Fou, we’ve found a place to stay.”

"Fufu really doesn't know whether to be happy or sad right now..." The elven girl looked at the dilapidated house with a complicated expression, then glanced at the upstairs, still feeling that chill lingering on the back of her neck.

"And just like that, Sherlock successfully acquired a haunted house." G-chan said quietly during the live stream, her tone tinged with barely suppressed amusement.

Sherlock: I wanted to rent a place, but I ended up renting the Boss's house.

Ophelia: You live on the first floor, I live on the second floor, let's keep to ourselves.

The phrase "successfully acquired a haunted house" is so vivid, haha!

[I feel like this house is going to become a hidden hideout sooner or later.]

Meanwhile, on the other side of the capital, the city was ablaze with lights.

Inside a luxury hotel near the edge of the special economic zone, crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow, and red wine swayed in stemmed glasses, its jewel-like color shimmering.

Louis was sitting on the sofa, wearing a trimmed combat suit and a long silver-white cape, with a confident smile on his face.

“Louis, have you heard about that?” Oliver asked, sitting across from him, his short blond hair gleaming in the light.

“I’ve heard about it.” Louis picked up his glass, a smile playing on his lips. “This is a commission personally assigned by Minister Cohen. I can’t wait to show my skills.”

Cohen Walter—one of the seven great noble families in the capital, and a powerful minister in charge of finance and commerce. His name is synonymous with "golden brilliance" throughout the capital.

This time, he actually bypassed the Adventurers' Guild and entrusted the monster-hunting mission to them. (End of Chapter)