Old days, dice and investigator's manual

Isaac picked up the revolver. The gun was in decent condition, and the wood grain of the grip was worn smooth and shiny. He opened the magazine, and six silver bullets were neatly arranged inside.

He emptied the bullets one by one, holding them in his palm to examine them closely. The bullets had intricate etched patterns that depicted the shapes of branches and leaves.

These are holy silver bullets specially made by the Golden Bough Church, specifically designed to deal with evil spirits, and naturally, they were left behind by Edward. It's unknown whether these bullets are still effective after all these years, but they're better than nothing.

Hopefully we won't need it... Isaac reloaded the bullets one by one into the magazine, closed it, lifted the pillow, and tucked the gun underneath.

Besides the revolver, there was also a sheathed letter opener at the bottom of the box, which Isaac simply stuffed into his pants pocket. After doing this, he got up, hung his clothes in the closet, took a couple of steps, and walked to the full-length mirror.

The mirror reflected Isaac's appearance: black hair, deep blue eyes, handsome but not rugged. One button on his shirt collar was undone, and he wore a dark brown vest over it. His trousers were dusty from his journey.

He reached up and tidied his hair and trousers to make sure the outline of the letter opener wasn't visible.

He walked to the desk, which was covered in a layer of dust. He wiped it clean, unfolded the somewhat crumpled newspaper, took a pencil from his suitcase, and sat down in the chair.

The light streaming in from the window was enough to make the handwriting clear. He reread the report, trying to find some hidden information in the official wording.

"A group of robbers of unknown number broke into the bank vault through unknown channels." The unknown channels mean that they did not directly pry open the door.

"Several private safes were broken into." "Several" means not all of them, implying that the robbers may have been selective in their actions.

"All cash and gold reserves are intact," he had previously speculated that the robbers' target was not the bank's money, but rather items stored in private safes by certain clients...

Just as he was reading the newspaper, a slight sound came from outside the door.

squeak-

It sounded like someone stepping on a wooden floor, the old planks groaning under the weight. Isaac paused, listening intently, but the sound didn't return, as if the previous sound had been merely his imagination.

He got up and walked to the door, put one hand in his pocket and gripped the handle of the letter opener, and with the other hand he gripped the doorknob. After taking a deep breath, he suddenly pulled the door open.

As expected, the corridor was empty. Isaac glanced at the floor and then looked towards the stairwell.

……

An afternoon passed, and Isaac studied the newspaper thoroughly, then analyzed the current situation in his notebook. He didn't go downstairs for dinner either, but took out the dry bread and water bottle he had packed in his suitcase that morning, ate a few bites of bread with water, and that was his dinner.

Seeing that it was getting late, Isaac turned off the kerosene lamp that was barely illuminating half the room. There was faint streetlights outside the window, so the room wasn't completely pitch black.

He lay down on the bed fully clothed and closed his eyes, but didn't really fall asleep. In this supposedly haunted room, he obviously couldn't sleep too soundly; something strange was likely to happen tonight.

After an unknown amount of time, a faint sound came from the doorway, like metal rubbing against metal. Isaac stirred slightly, reached under his pillow, picked up the revolver, and remained asleep.

A moment later, faint sobbing came from outside the door, sending chills down one's spine in the quiet night. Isaac's heart quickened slightly as he waited quietly.

A few seconds later, the door, which should have been locked, was slowly pulled open, and the crying stopped abruptly. Isaac squinted and, in the light from the window, saw a white figure standing in the doorway.

The figure remained motionless, its face obscured, like a ghost. It stood at the doorway for a moment before slowly moving inside. Isaac's gaze was fixed on the figure, watching it approach the bedside step by step.

Just as the other person stood still, seemingly about to bend down, Isaac pressed his revolver against him.

The figure froze, and Isaac opened his eyes to see the "ghost's" true form—a person draped in a white cloth with two holes gouged out in the eye area. His eyes were filled with shock, clearly not expecting this young man to suddenly pull such a stunt.

"It's impolite to dress up as a ghost in the middle of the night, Mr. Finn," Isaac said.

"...How did you know that, kid?"

The voice belonged to the mercenary who had "kindly" reminded him of the ghost story. Isaac, with his gun pressed against the mercenary's waist, slowly sat up, maintaining the same posture: "When that lady was flipping through the register, I glimpsed the contents. Each tenant's name was followed by a room number. And not long ago, someone rented several rooms on the third floor, all under the same name: James Finn."

Finn lifted the white sheet, his expression anything but pleasant: "So you knew from the beginning that I was lying?"

"I just find it strange," Isaac said. "Mr. Finn, I felt something was off when you came to me about the ghost stories. With several rooms recently rented on the third floor, for someone to come and talk to the new tenants about ghost stories, the only thing I can think of is that this person is the one who rented several rooms on the third floor and doesn't want anyone else to live on the third floor."

Finn clicked his tongue: "Damn, this was indeed handled rather sloppily... Who knew you guys would trace it back to me so quickly?"

Ok?

Isaac was a little confused. He had only made a guess, so how did it become "being investigated"?

Seeing that Isaac remained silent, Finn assumed he was weighing his options and lowered his voice, saying, "But I must warn you, I have connections, so you'd better not touch me."

Isaac remained calm, but he understood. Finn probably had some kind of misunderstanding, thinking that he had come for some specific purpose, perhaps to investigate something on someone's behalf.

Isaac decided to leave the misunderstanding for the time being. Although he didn't know what Finn was up to, since the other party had already imagined a script, following his lead should make it easier to extract more information.

"Of course I know you have connections," Isaac gave a vague response.

Finn's eyes flickered: "Hmph, then you should know that messing with me won't do you any good."

"Maybe, but now that I've come this far, I have to give you an explanation."

"Well... I'll return it in a few days anyway, there's no need to make a big deal out of it." Finn pouted, but his tone sounded a little guilty.

The items? Return them?

Isaac's heart skipped a beat. The idea of ​​returning something immediately reminded him of the Palmer Bank robbery, which was, after all, the incident involving the lost items that he was currently most concerned about.