Drapeau fantôme

Chapitre 15

"How did you know I was in your room last time?" Zeng Rihua scratched his head in confusion. "I was extremely careful; I shouldn't have left any trace, right?"

"Because you rummaged through my backpack," Luo Fei replied readily.

"So what?" Zeng Rihua pressed on, unwilling to give up. "I'm sure the backpack is in the same position and the contents are exactly the same as before."

"But the position of the backpack zipper pull has changed. Originally, seven zipper pulls were not closed, but when you rummage through the bag and then zip it up, eight zipper pulls are not closed."

"Is this it?" Zeng Rihua seemed skeptical.

Luo Fei nodded calmly: "This is it."

“But… how could you…” Zeng Rihua looked incredulous.

When zipping up or down a zipper, no one usually pulls it all the way to the bottom; there's always a little bit of the zipper pull left open. Zeng Rihua realized this when he opened Luo Fei's backpack that day, so he specifically observed the position of the zipper pull, ensuring it was back in the same position when he zipped it up again. But even this left a flaw! He simply couldn't imagine that Luo Fei could distinguish between a seven-zipper pull and an eight-zipper pull.

"The difference is too subtle. One zipper zipper is only one millimeter wide. How can you tell?" He voiced his confusion. "Do you... do you count the remaining zippers when you zip them up?"

Luo Fei's answer surprised him even more: "Yes. I counted."

Zeng Rihua stared wide-eyed at Luo Fei, and after a long while, he seemed to understand something: "You're wary of us? So you've been on guard against us all this time?"

“No.” Luo Fei denied the other party’s guess. “It’s not that complicated. It’s just my habit.”

"Habit? What kind of habit is that?" Zeng Rihua clearly didn't believe Luo Fei's explanation. "Impossible, you're lying to me—hehe, actually it's nothing. Back then, we weren't familiar with each other, so it's normal to be wary of one another."

Luo Fei smiled, paused for a moment, and then suddenly said, "Do you remember the carpet at the elevator entrance on this floor?"

Zeng Rihua nodded blankly, wondering why the other person had suddenly brought this up.

"There's a tear in the carpet on the edge away from the elevator door, forming a gap less than a centimeter long. Did you see that?" Luo Fei asked again.

This time, Zeng Rihua shook his head, his expression becoming increasingly bewildered.

But Luo Fei hadn't finished speaking.

"That gap matches exactly the twelfth seam from east to west in the parquet flooring under the carpet—you can go and see for yourself if you don't believe me."

"This...you counted it too?" Zeng Rihua didn't doubt Luo Fei's words, he just didn't understand the other party's behavior.

“Yes. I counted.” Luo Fei said calmly, “This situation has never changed since the day I checked into the guesthouse. So I know that the guesthouse cleaners never lift the carpet to wipe the covered part of the wooden board when they are cleaning.”

"But... what's the point of you researching this? Are you rating the cleaners?" Zeng Rihua, still confused, couldn't resist cracking a joke.

“It’s meaningless.” Luo Fei raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s just my habit. If you still don’t believe me, I can tell you even more meaningless things.”

Zeng Rihua seemed very interested: "What else?"

"The clock at the front desk of the guesthouse shows Sydney time, which is one minute and twenty-three seconds behind standard time, while the one showing London time is fifty-four seconds ahead of standard time; the girl on duty at the front desk today has a blue hair tie wrapped four times around her braid; there are five cars in the guesthouse courtyard that haven't moved for more than two days, and the front left wheel of the Passat with license plate number 9563 is running right over three iron bars of the manhole cover; and you... the ballpoint pen you used in the meeting this morning is in the left inner pocket of your police uniform. If there is still two-fifths of ink left in the pen, it means you have rarely or never used this pen since."

As Luo Fei finished speaking, Zeng Rihua immediately pulled out the ballpoint pen from the inside left pocket of his police uniform. Just as Luo Fei had said, the ink level in the pen was about two-fifths full. Zeng Rihua paused for a moment, then sighed softly and shook his head, a look of admiration on his face.

"It really is just a habit... a terrible habit..." Zeng Rihua looked at Luo Fei with the eyes of someone looking at a monster he had never seen before, and then he asked in confusion, "Then how much time do you need to maintain your habit? And how much brain capacity do you need to store so much information?"

Luo Fei simply smiled dismissively and explained, “It doesn’t require any extra time, because these tasks are done incidentally during daily activities. You pass by the guesthouse reception every day; if you just walk by aimlessly, you won’t see anything. But I like to observe, walking and observing without any specific purpose, yet I notice a lot of things that way. Similarly, when I zip up my backpack, my eyes scan the remaining clasps, and counting them isn’t difficult. Doing this doesn’t require extraordinary brain capacity, because I don’t memorize everything I observe. In fact, I only remember the information I’ve recently seen. For example, when I zip up the backpack again, I remember a new number of clasps and forget the previous one. To use a computer term: I’m not constantly storing; I’m just constantly updating.”

“I understand…” Zeng Rihua finally nodded in relief. “It really is a habit: to observe everything around you anytime and anywhere, and to record the relevant information as accurately as a computer. It sounds easy, but how many people can actually do it?”

“I’ve had this habit since I was a child. Later, when I went to police academy, I deliberately strengthened my training in this area. So, twenty years ago, this habit had already become ingrained in my behavior and became my way of life. For me, doing this kind of work is like eating and sleeping; it’s a very ordinary and very simple thing.”

“No wonder…” Zeng Rihua’s mood shifted from relief to感慨 (a sense of deep emotion). “No wonder everyone else was so indifferent to the ‘two-minute time difference’ in the April 18th massacre, but you alone were able to decipher the mystery of the entire case from it. Two minutes is a very short time for ordinary people, so short that it can be completely ignored; but in your life system, it is a huge change that cannot be avoided. Yuan Zhibang’s painstaking efforts were ruined by those two minutes of time difference. Heh heh, even he couldn’t beat you. I’ve fallen into your hands, and I’m completely convinced.”

Luo Fei refused to accept the praise, shaking his head dejectedly: "The one who defeated Yuan Zhibang was not me... In his plan, there was no room for those two minutes of error... It was Meng Yun..."

Luo Fei didn't finish his sentence; he didn't want to say more, because he knew it would be difficult for others to understand the feelings between him, Yuan Zhibang, and Meng Yun. They fought each other yet admired each other, and although everyone paid a heavy price for it, Luo Fei didn't want others to look down on his former rivals.

Upon hearing Luo Fei mention Meng Yun's name, Zeng Rihua tactfully revealed a hint of sorrow and didn't pursue the topic further. However, his earlier excitement hadn't subsided, and after a brief pause, he raised an eyebrow and said, "Captain Luo, do you know what you're like?"

"What?"

“Hound! You’re a born hound!” the young man exclaimed excitedly, not caring whether his words were appropriate. “You sniff everywhere you go, you’re always on high alert, it’s just your nature. What prey can escape the clutches of a hound like that? Not even Eumenides!”

Luo Fei smiled slightly, neither confirming nor denying. He knew Zeng Rihua was a passionate young man with no guile, while he himself had to remain calm: Eumenides was by no means an easy opponent.

Zeng Rihua seemed to have more to say, licking his lips as if he wanted to say something more. But Luo Fei raised his wrist at that moment and checked his watch—the hour hand had already passed ten o'clock at night.

"Alright, it's getting late." Knowing that the other person was quite talkative, Luo Fei decided to end the conversation. "Get some rest. Everyone has worked very hard these past two days, so take this opportunity to recuperate."

“Okay…” Zeng Rihua reluctantly swallowed the words that were about to come out. “Then I’ll go back to my room.” He got up and took a few steps, then suddenly remembered something and turned back to remind her, “Teacher Mu said that she can tell whether you’ve used the shampoo she bought or not just by looking at your hair tomorrow.”

Luo Fei chuckled and looked at the everyday items on the coffee table, which exuded a unique warmth amidst the chilly autumn air.

...

October 31st, 2:50 AM.

Donglin Road is a famous "bar street" in the provincial capital. The slightly narrow street is lined with various bars, nightclubs and other entertainment venues, with dazzling neon lights vying for attention, reflecting the most brilliant night view in the city.

Even in such places, the hustle and bustle was inevitably drawing to a close—it was getting late. Groups of fashionable men and women emerged from the various clubs, looking exhausted and slightly tipsy. They had just released their excess energy with music and wine, and now all they wanted was to find a quiet corner, either to drift off to sleep or to indulge in some more private revelry.

Inside one particular bar, the situation was different. This bar had a small storefront and an less-than-ideal location. Situated at a corner at the end of Donglin Road, its signboard obscured by tall buildings on either side, it was easily missed if one wasn't looking carefully. The bar owner seemed unconcerned. Instead, he designed the bar's signboard to be entirely black, without any neon accents. Such a signboard appeared extremely inconspicuous in the night, as if afraid of being seen by passersby.

You can only make out the words on the signboard by getting closer and carefully examining it.

The strange font of "Black Magic Bar" exudes an eerie atmosphere.

Two tall, handsome young men stood at the entrance of the bar, dressed in all black, seemingly trying to blend into the surrounding night.

Clearly, these two young men were the doormen of the "Black Magic Bar." However, unlike ordinary doormen, their job wasn't to greet customers, but rather to stop them. Occasionally, when a casual customer tried to enter, they would reach out and block the doorway, politely saying, "Please show your membership card."

Most of the customers didn't have a membership card, so the young man smiled and explained, "I'm sorry, our bar is members-only. You need to be introduced by an existing member before you can patronize our bar."

Visitors would often shake their heads in frustration and leave.

However, some people entered the bar after showing their membership cards. After turning a corner and crossing a screen, the bar revealed a completely different world inside.

Compared to its cramped storefront, the bar's interior was much more spacious. A ring of tables surrounded the bar, where most members sat in small groups. Some VIPs were led upstairs by waiters to enjoy more attentive service in private rooms. A stage stood in the center of the lobby, where a male singer was currently belting out rock music, belting out notes and dancing across the bar. The DJ had the volume blasting, a level of sound that would be torture for most people.

It was nearly 3 a.m., and while other entertainment venues were closing, new customers continued to arrive at Black Magic Bar. They sat down amidst the deafening roar of music, their faces expressionless, seemingly unaffected by the upbeat rock music. Only after occasionally downing a glass or two of strong liquor would a hint of excitement appear on their faces, their gazes frequently drifting to the oddly shaped clock above the bar, as if they were waiting for something.

After the rock musician finished his song, the bar fell silent for a moment. Then the clock struck three, its hands pointing to the quarter mark on the dial. The young man guarding the door heard the sound and closed it, transforming "Black Magic Bar" into a secluded and enclosed space in the bustling city.

The patrons in the bar were getting excited; what they had been waiting for was about to begin, and an overwhelming sense of excitement surged through them.

As everyone eagerly awaited, the music returned. This was music unlike anything before; each note exploded like a burst within the bar's enclosed space, quickly forming a tidal wave of sound. That wave vibrated the listeners' eardrums, and this vibration instantly traveled to the depths of their hearts. In this process, every blood vessel and nerve throbbed, and the internal organs churned, as if suddenly tossed into the clouds, only to plummet back down in an instant. Compared to this music, the previous rock music seemed like a tranquil hymn in church.

Everyone went wild for the music. They started dancing, downing glass after glass of liquor. Then they began chanting rhythmically, "Come out! Come out!"

Amidst the shouts of the crowd, a woman walked onto the stage.

This was a tall, beautiful young woman with long, flowing hair and fair skin. A half-mask obscured her eyes and brows, but it couldn't conceal her exquisite beauty. The mask was shaped like a vampire bat with outstretched wings, entirely black except for a few drops of crimson blood dripping from its mouth. The terrifying bat perched on such a gorgeous face created a breathtakingly poignant scene.

The woman wore a tight black leather jacket and pants, with high-top black leather boots that accentuated her slender and graceful figure. She danced and twirled to the powerful rhythm of the music, exuding a seductive aura from her young body.

The patrons below the stage were restless, a wave of heat coursing through their bodies. Their shouts grew even more frenzied, almost desperate. They were still yelling, "Come out! Come out!"

Another person came up to the stage, this time it was a man. A black hood completely covered his head and face, revealing only two eyes that gleamed fiercely; his upper body was completely naked, his chest and abdomen muscles were strong and powerful, showing a fearsome sense of strength; and he wore a pair of black trousers, his overall appearance was very much like a bloodthirsty executioner from medieval Europe.

When the woman saw the man dressed as an executioner, fear appeared on her pretty face. She flinched, seemingly trying to escape from the stage, but the man quickly took two steps forward, grabbed one of her arms, and pulled her over like an eagle snatching a chick.

The patrons erupted in cheers, though the sound was immediately drowned out by the deafening music, the executioner was still deeply aroused. His gaze hardened, and he grabbed the woman's collar with both hands, tearing it apart with all his might. The woman struggled desperately, her slender body contorted, but her struggle only aided the man's actions. Soon, the woman's leather jacket was peeled away like a bamboo shoot. Underneath, she wore nothing but a black bra. Large swaths of her fair skin and her high breasts were exposed to the onlookers. The already heated atmosphere in the bar reached a new climax.

The executioner was not finished. He forced the half-naked woman to the ground and forcibly removed her leather pants. Now, apart from her underwear, the woman was only wearing a bat-shaped eye mask and high leather boots. All of these clothes, pants, and boots were black, which made her fair skin stand out even more.

The executioner stood up triumphantly and threw the leather trousers he was holding down onto the stage. This immediately caused a scramble. At the same time, something else was thrown up from below the stage. The executioner caught it and held it high for the audience to see, who responded with fists waving and almost frenzied cheers.

It was a long, bright red rope, as vivid and dazzling as blood. Below the stage, the patrons' eyes were also bloodshot; under the combined influence of alcohol, music, and the obscene scene, the bestiality deep within their souls was about to erupt.

The woman had given up resisting. She knelt at the man's feet, terrified and helpless like a lamb to the slaughter. The executioner stepped behind her, looped the red rope around her neck, then passed it under her armpits, constricting her breasts before looping it back again. This was repeated, the red rope going down her waist and abdomen to her legs, finally binding the woman tightly like a shrimp.

The man tightened the rope, which clung to the woman's delicate skin, leaving streaks of crimson like blood, yet exuding an eerily beautiful aura.

The man continued to pull, gripping the rope end and stretching it ever tighter. With each pull, the rope sank deeper into the woman's body.

As the powerful music gradually builds to a climax, the woman groans and contorts in pain, her underwear soaked with sweat, her exquisite figure almost completely exposed.

The patrons below the stage were breathing rapidly, their blood was churning, almost boiling, and some even groaned along with the woman on stage.

The man finally tied the rope into a knot around the woman's hands behind her back, completely binding her like a dumpling. The red rope, white flesh, and black clothing created a striking contrast, almost dizzying to look at.

At this moment, two waiters pushed a large glass case onto the counter, opened the lid, and then removed it themselves. The case was about one meter long and half a meter high, completely transparent, and resembled a huge fish tank.

The executioner picked up the woman and stuffed this large "meat dumpling" into a box. Then he took out a pile of gleaming swords from the box, which clashed and reflected a sinister light as they were thrown onto the stage.

The man closed the box again. The woman was curled up behind the glass, her buttocks and breasts high, her whole body twisted into an alluring pose.

The executioner picked up a long sword and showed its sharpness to the patrons. The people below held their breath, their bloodshot eyes wide, like a pack of hungry wolves waiting for their prey.

The executioner pressed his longsword against the box, and with a forceful pull, the tip of the sword pierced through the glass and went inside. With a piercing scream from the woman, the sword tip plunged deep into her breast, and blood immediately gushed out along the blade.

There seemed to be a microphone connected to an audio track inside the box. The amplified screams echoed throughout the room, creating a shocking effect against the backdrop of blood. The patrons shuddered, their faces displaying a mixture of tension and excitement.

The music grew increasingly chaotic and frenzied. Amidst the scraping of metal, the low howls of wild beasts could be faintly heard, interspersed with the ambiguous moans and plaintive sobs of women, fueling an irresistible primal desire and bloodlust. The wolves licked their lips, savoring the sweet, bloody scent in the air.

That was the scent they loved, the very "dark magic" that drew these drinkers in. They came to this unassuming bar late at night, waiting for this final, bloody spectacle!

The executioner drew his bloodstained sword, this time raising it above his head while gesturing with his left hand to the patrons below, inciting them. The hungry wolves erupted, flailing wildly, their bloodshot eyes blazing with lust. Many were already itching to rush onto the stage. However, there were clearly established rules. Only one man was allowed on stage; everyone else was stopped by the waiters. This man waved a woman's leather trousers that had been pulled off; he was the victor in the earlier struggle, and these trousers now served as his pass to the stage.

This man was about thirty years old, of medium height, with a respectable appearance, dressed in a suit and black tie. Walking down the street, you would most likely assume he was a well-off and respectable person. But now, he exuded a naked, bestial ruthlessness that sent chills down your spine.

The executioner handed the longsword to the man in the black tie, whose body trembled with excitement. He gripped the sword, his eyes fixed on the half-naked woman inside the glass case. The wounded woman appeared even more frail and helpless, bright red blood seeping onto her snow-white chest, creating a stark yet striking contrast.

The man in the black tie swallowed hard, as if he wanted to devour the other man whole. Then, he frantically opened the front of his shirt, appearing unbearably hot. To relieve this feverishness, he even brought the longsword to his lips and licked the blood flowing from the blade.

This scene deeply stimulated the audience, who drank heavily, seemingly able to taste the flavor of blood even in the alcohol.

Everyone was excited by the black-tie's blood-licking gesture, including a person with a special identity in the second-floor private room.

This was also a man, appearing to be in his forties. Although he was noticeably overweight, his brows betrayed a sharp and capable air. He sat upright on a sofa in the private room, in front of rows of surveillance screens. There were nearly twenty of these screens, recording the entire scene inside the karaoke bar.

The overweight man's gaze was fixed on the monitor in the center, which displayed the scene of the man in the black tie licking blood. The man raised an eyebrow, quite moved.

A young man who looked like a foreman noticed the change in the man's expression. He leaned forward and asked in a low voice, "Mr. Huang, should we investigate this person more thoroughly?"

The man turned out to be Huang Jieyuan, the owner of "Black Magic Bar". When questioned by his subordinates, he replied noncommittally, "Let's take another look." But his eyes never left the screen.

On the screen, the man in black tie could no longer suppress his sadistic desires. Guided by the executioner, he found a hidden crack in the glass, then gripped the hilt of the sword with both hands and plunged the blade into the glass case.

But the process of inserting the sword was not as easy as the executioner had demonstrated. The sword tip had only penetrated about an inch when it encountered some resistance. The man in the black tie paused for a moment, then concentrated, suddenly increasing his strength, trying to plunge the sword tip into the tempting prey in one fell swoop. However, contrary to his wishes, the longsword snapped in two with a "crack".

Seeing this, Huang Jieyuan shook his head in disappointment and muttered to himself, "It's not him..." After sitting there for a moment in a daze, he reached out and beckoned. The foreman understood and handed him a stack of documents.

Huang Jieyuan carefully examined the stack of documents, which were the membership registration forms for the "Black Magic Bar," containing detailed personal information of the new members.

Before long, Huang Jieyuan seemed to take an interest in one of the documents. After examining it, he pulled out that page and handed it back to the foreman beside him.

"Let Ali get to know this guy, and throw the leather pants at him next time."

The foreman took the document: "Understood."