She truly valued her honor above all else, and the killer likely exploited that very psychology. In truth, Emily White herself felt like a victim in this matter, if not for...
Due to her low spirits, the jigsaw puzzle remained unfinished. She also knew that staying here was not a solution; she eventually had to go out. She had ordered takeout for three consecutive days. Now, she sought a way to escape it all. Telling the police the truth was out of the question, but simply waiting to die at home wasn't a solution either.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, bored, she continued to work on the puzzle. Unexpectedly, this time she succeeded in completing it smoothly. This somewhat improved her mood, and precisely at that moment, the doorbell rang. Emily White flinched, her hands trembling, but she quickly composed herself, walked to the door, and looked through the peephole.
She didn't know that her death was at hand.
At that moment, Adam had just finished writing the latest chapter and sent it via email. Just then, someone arrived. He stood up and opened the door. Standing outside was none other than James Foster. Adam asked, surprised, "You, why are you here? Aren't you very busy?"
"I received authorization from my superiors. I hope you can use your intellect to assist me in uncovering the killer's identity."
"It's you!" Emily White opened the door, allowing the person who had come to claim her life to enter. She clutched the person's lyrics; their style was always fluctuating, new inspiration striking periodically.
After completing the lyrics and melody, he immediately opened the piano lid and began to play.
At that moment, he suddenly stopped. He seemed to be experiencing auditory hallucinations.
He thought he heard a groaning sound; he closed his eyes, desperately trying to pinpoint the sensation. The groaning was intermittent, yet strangely familiar. Then, a sound like thunder seemed to reverberate, followed by a profound wail. Everything felt so real; Ethan felt himself swept into a torrent, as if caught in a whirlpool. His hands began to tremble, his soul seemingly drawn from his body. This mansion was truly uncanny. Prolonged residence here often induced hallucinations. One might feel connected to any person or object, might be drawn in, and then subtly dominated by obscure forces, unknowingly becoming a part of the villa.
No, Ethan thought, perhaps it had nothing to do with the villa, but with ourselves. We all keep our inner selves closed off, and thus we might miss certain things, yet at the same time, we perceive what ordinary people cannot. Perhaps it's something that exists on the spiritual plane? Perhaps.
Ethan abruptly lost interest. He left the music room, deciding to return to his own room first. His profession was that of a private music tutor, so he usually stayed here when he had no students. For some reason, whenever he was in this place, inspiration flowed endlessly.
The narrow corridor seemed to lead people to another realm, the ground never recovered.