Bizarre Detective Agency

   Chapter 1223 One hundred and sixty-one. Bizarre Syndrome (1)

   There is a harbour outside the window. The gray and gloomy weather leaves only a silhouette of Rodster Harbor.

  The chimneys in the industrial area have been stopped for many days, but the fog still envelopes Belfast eerily.

  The palm of his hand pressed the filth solidified on the floor, and a figure climbed up from the dark room.

   A cold, wet salty sea breeze poured into the room through the glassless window frame, and left through the cracked door with suspicious gnawing marks. The hanging rusty wind chimes swayed silently. Dirty, blood-stained coats piled on crumbling wooden chairs with skeletons dries up for a long time. The mold and larvae corpses adhered to the turbid mildew spots that climbed the walls.

   Like an old room covered with gauze curtains, it evokes Lu Li's long-term memories buried deep within.

   The corners of the windbreaker and the knees of the trousers inevitably got dust here, so Lu Li ignored them and stood in front of the window.

   The gray world shrouds the dead, run-down city, and the leaden-grey ocean is the only moving thing in this sketch.

   There is no place of light, no age of darkness.

   Lu Li perceives his cursed title.

   No dreamer, no tree whisperer, no lighthouse, no cursed title he ever had.

   palms to the waist.

  No psychic guns, no stomach bags, and certainly no doomsday books.

   His black eyes drooped slightly, and Lu Li looked at the back of his outstretched left hand.

   No devil curses, no scars with shards of redemption buried.

   Leaving the window, Lu Li approached the only corpse in the room, and pulled out a pen that was half exposed in his pocket.

  The once valuable handmade fountain pen is now accompanied by dust and rust, with the small text on it: Fesserli ? ? ? .

  The surname was blurred because of the scratches, and the sharp objects that left the scratches tore the fabric on the pocket at the same time, so the exposed bones showed gnawing marks that were homologous to the door.

   A certain monster broke into the psychiatrist's office some time ago and killed the unprepared doctor, but it didn't eat him - at least not the part of the clothes wrapped.

   The long-unusable pen was put back into the skeleton, and Lu Li walked to the door and pushed it towards the broken door. Unable to bear the force of the push, the door fell backwards, and the loud noise that could reach the street echoed through the dusty, cobwebbed old corridor.

   Keep quiet and listen for a while, no other sound can be heard, Lu Li stepped out of the room.

  There are no strange footprints in the dusty corridor, and this building has been neglected for a long time.

  Lu Li came to the empty street, and there was also no trace of any living creatures here.

  Looking at the rolling buildings on Sugard Mountain, there is no Onyx Lake camp, no whirlpool place.

   Walking along the nameless streets to the port, nothing happened on the way, as if Belfast had long been lost and abandoned.

   Abandoned by humans, abandoned by weirdness.

   Came to the seaside street where the sea breeze was blowing, and Lu Li walked into the Anleis Brothers maintenance station that had faded due to the wind and rain. Step over the collapsed and rotten wooden frame to the deepest point.

  The faded murals are looming in the darkness, this wall blocks Lu Li's way,

   groped and knocked on the wall, but couldn't find any holes, and there was a solid muffled sound from the wall.

   There is no investigator base.

   Walking out of the dim maintenance station, the sea breeze blew from the vast bay, and the anchored ship outside the port of Rodster drifted lonely on the sea.

  Where have all the people here gone?

  Lulli walked from the coastal street to the top of the mountain, without encountering survivors or weirdness. Passing by the Prince Academy of Nobles along the way, Lu Li stood outside the fence covered with rust and watched this historic and ancient building.

   No Oliver and Jojo.

From the collapsed gate of Belfast's surface building Kelthus Cathedral and outside the lost cemetery for a short time, I walked through the world of sketching under the pencil of a decadent painter, silently telling the bustling commercial street of the past, and climbed by Bell. The hills affectionately called "Little Macdonald Hill" by the Fast people, stand on the second peak of Mount Sugard and overlook the boundless ocean.

   Lu Li, who found his location, came to the Belfast Library a block away.

  The fire burned this temple of knowledge, and the politicians’ pushback left the sad wreckage untouched.

   Stepping on the charred soil to leave footprints, Lu Li got into the dangerous ruins, pushed open the dusty iron door, the dust rustled down, and a few stone steps extended into the invisible darkness.

  Lu Li threw the charcoal he picked up from the ruins into the darkness, and there was an echo in the depths of the darkness, but there was nothing else.

   No Ophelia.

   Leaving the ruins of the library, and then, Lu Li came to No. 23 Dafenci Street.

   Mrs. Annette Art Gallery is located here…

   It should be like this.

   In front of him, the building that was supposed to be Mrs. Anlei Art Gallery became the office of a shipping company.

   Lu Li stepped on the collapsed door and walked into the office, bypassing the crooked and collapsed desk, and came to the deepest room.

   Ignoring the locked safe at the corner of the desk, Lu Li looked at a document pressed under the glass plate of the desk.

  The font printed by the typewriter is unrecognizable, and only the vaguely scribbled handwriting in the lower right corner can be recognized as a person's name. Lu Li lifted the glass plate and wanted to take out the document, but the damp smudges surging under the glass plate tore the paper into shreds.

  Water destroys the text, but also preserves the text.

  Lu Li walked out of the office, walked along the street, and saw a gallery at No. 25 next to the shipping company.

  The iron door at the main entrance of the gallery was locked and rusted. Lu Li rolled up his sleeves and climbed into the gallery from the broken windowsill.

  嘭——

The sound of landing    echoed in the corridor, the leather shoes were muddy and dry, and the dust stains formed by the broken sculptures, Lu Li stepped into this art gallery that has nothing to do with memory.

   The works of art that once required artistic attainments and knowledge to appreciate are now relegated to dust and accompanied by stucco.

   Valuable oil paintings are hung on the wall and lying on the ground, without exception, they are distorted and turbid due to the rain and humidity. Become an unrecognizable, melted wax-like oil painting.

  Lu Li came to the place he remembered, a picture frame was buckled on the floor and he lifted it up.

The    closure keeps this painting well-preserved - a farmer standing in front of a farm holding a peasant fork.

   No Anna.

  Lu Li's eyes drooped slightly, put the picture frame back to its original place, and continued forward along the quiet corridor with echoing footsteps.

   No sculpture, no Dracula.

   Lu Li returned to the original road at the end of the promenade. After pausing for a while, he turned out the unnamed gallery from the window sill and walked to the open crossroads. He looked up at Mount Sugard—there should be no Baron Joseph there.

   Now, there is only one place left to go.

   Sailor Block.

   The place with the most memories.

   As evening approached, Lu Li came to the low long house.

  The door and the window were fixed with wooden planks. But because of the humidity, the planks were already rotten.

  Lu Li easily broke off the wooden planks that sealed the window, and a dim light penetrated into the room.

When    broke off the third board, Lu Li stopped and looked into the bright room.

   An outdated and unfamiliar arrangement appeared before us.

   There is no bizarre detective agency.

   (end of this chapter)