Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 44 The Lingering Ghost

The girl sitting in the café looked exactly like Lillian, but she was completely different from the cunning, arrogant, and somewhat mysterious and charming member of 'Flourishing Garden' that Green remembered.

She wore a well-tailored, soft-colored pale yellow dress, her hair cascading gently over her shoulders, and light makeup on her face. She was slightly bowing her head, gently stirring her coffee with a silver spoon, a shy yet polite smile playing on her lips.

Sitting opposite her was a well-mannered man in his early thirties, dressed in a dark suit and wearing gold-rimmed glasses.

The man seemed to be saying something, his attitude attentive yet polite, while Lillian nodded appropriately and occasionally responded softly.

The two seem to be...on a date?

Green even wondered if he was seeing things. But that face, those exquisite features, especially those eyes that occasionally lifted as if casually glancing out the window, still held a certain indescribable quality.

"No...this can't be..." Green muttered to himself, somewhat incredulous. "If it really is her...I'll drink the 'Secret Seeker' too!"

Just as Green had this thought, the girl who resembled Lillian seemed to sense something, and her gaze shifted from the man opposite her, casually glancing out the window.

Their gazes met in the air through the clean glass window.

Green froze.

Because he saw that on that face that looked exactly like Lillian's, the gentle and shy smile at the corner of her mouth subtly changed its curve, taking on a hint of cunning.

Then, she winked playfully at Green outside the window!

Not only that, her hand, which was originally gently stirring the coffee and was wearing a lace glove, was raised very naturally, and her fingertips lightly brushed against her lips, making a 'shush' gesture.

Holy crap...it really is her!

Green felt a chill run down his spine; it seemed like he was running into this "plague god" no matter where he went.

The refined gentleman sitting opposite Lillian seemed to notice his companion's distraction and turned to look out the window, following her gaze.

Green's heart pounded. Without thinking, he suddenly lowered his head, turned around as fast as he could, and almost fled into the crowd on the street.

He had a strong feeling that staying would definitely not end well. If that man misunderstood him, who knew what kind of trouble it would cause? Besides, Lillian definitely didn't have any good intentions.

To be honest, he was genuinely a little intimidated by this woman. Especially after the elaborate "family drama" he had staged in front of her last time.

"I need to finish this deal with them quickly. I never want to see that woman again!" Green muttered to himself as he hurried home.

Only after turning into the familiar Embankment Street and confirming that no one was chasing him did he finally let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"It's like a persistent ghost..." he muttered to himself, taking out his keys and opening the door.

Familiar cleaning sounds and faint conversations could be heard from inside the door.

Green pushed open the door and saw another young maid, dressed in a simple apron and with her hair neatly tied up, wiping the furniture in the living room.

This is the maid the Hayes family hired. She comes to their home every Tuesday and Saturday to help with the heavy cleaning and tidying work.

Hearing the door open, the maid looked up and nodded politely to Green: "Young Master Green, you're back."

His voice was calm and respectful.

"Hmm," Green responded, placing the bread and candy he was holding on the cabinet by the door.

He was already used to it. This was one of the things Uncle Victor insisted on regarding "decency."

How can a proper middle-class family not have a regular domestic helper? Even if the family's financial situation is occasionally a little tight, this "necessary expense" twice a week is still a must.

In Victor's view, this was about the Hayes family's image and status in the community, an indispensable part of maintaining a certain class identity.

Aunt Sylvia initially thought it was a waste, but she got used to it over time, since it did indeed help lighten her burden considerably.

In the living room, she was sitting in an armchair by the window, knitting a dark gray sweater quickly in the soft afternoon light, the ball of yarn rolling gently in the basket at her feet.

Hearing that Green had returned, Sylvia looked up. "You're back? Perfect timing, come and give it a try."

She put down her needlework, picked up the almost finished sweater, and gestured to Green, "Just finished knitting, see if the size is right. You seem to have lost some weight recently, so I deliberately loosened the shoulder lines a bit."

"Auntie, you knitted me a sweater again." Green felt a warmth in his heart.

The sweater was soft to the touch and had fine stitches, just like my aunt's usual style.

After Green tried it briefly, Sylvia nodded in satisfaction. "Lunch was prepared a long time ago and is keeping it warm in the kitchen. We've all eaten, but Emily said she was hungry and finished eating early and went back to her room. I don't know what she's been doing."

The aunt's tone carried a hint of helplessness and doting affection, as she often did for her daughter. "Your uncle... seems to be quite busy lately. He hasn't come home for lunch, saying he has something to do outside."

Uncle Victor has been elusive lately, and this isn't the first time Auntie has mentioned it. However, the port authority's inspection team frequently conducts surprise inspections of arriving goods, so working overtime is normal.

Green went into the kitchen and sure enough, he saw lunch being kept warm on the stove in a covered dish: a simple stew, bread, and a little salad.

He had just put a spoonful of stew into his mouth—

Suddenly, a painful scream came from upstairs! It was Emily's voice!

"Emily?!" Aunt Sylvia's face turned ashen, and the knitting needles and sweater in her hands fell to the ground.

The maid who was wiping the furniture stopped what she was doing and looked toward the stairs with a look of surprise and uncertainty.

Green instinctively dropped his cutlery and rushed upstairs. A sense of foreboding washed over him... The sound was too abnormal; it couldn't be a simple bump or prank!

"Emily! What's wrong?" Sylvia's anxious voice followed, trembling noticeably.

Green went to Emily's door and turned the doorknob hard, but the door was locked.

"Emily! Open the door!" He pounded on it, but all he heard were intermittent sounds and painful groans.

He rammed the door several times, but the lock remained firmly locked.

"It's too late!"

Green took a quick step forward and slipped straight into the room. At that moment, he didn't care whether he would be exposed.

However, the sight inside the room made his pupils shrink suddenly.

Emily was curled up on the floor, her body trembling violently, her hands tightly clutching her head.

Her face was an unnatural bluish-purple, the veins on her forehead were bulging, and she was making a hoarse, painful breathing sound as if she were being choked.

His eyes were wide open, his pupils filled with bloodshot veins and a near-mad, primal fear and struggle.

What alarmed Green even more was that a small, open glass bottle lay on the floor next to Emily, with a viscous, bluish liquid still clinging to its opening.

A faint, strange scent permeated the air.