Half an hour later, a car drove into the manor from outside.
The young man named John got out of the car and went straight to the living room.
When he saw Linen and Elsa Bloodstone sitting on the sofa, his eyes widened in surprise.
But he quickly pretended to be calm and walked over to Brown Ferguson. "Dad, did you want to ask me something?"
Looking at John—who had become haggard and thin because of his daughter's death during this period—
Brown Ferguson sighed and said, "Sit down first."
Hearing his father-in-law tell him to sit first, John silently breathed a sigh of relief.
It seemed his father-in-law didn't know the truth yet, and Linen wasn't as "magical" as he appeared on Mystery Files.
Otherwise, judging by his father-in-law's character and his influence, John would've already been stuffed into a cement barrel and thrown into the Hudson River.
After John sat down, Brown Ferguson looked at Linen. "Mr. Linen, I've called John here as you requested."
After glancing at John, Linen put down the teacup in his hand. "There's no need to look further, Mr. Ferguson. Your daughter was killed by him."
From the moment John entered, Linen had seen Sarah Ferguson's spirit glaring at him with pure hatred.
"What did you say?!"
Before he could even think, Brown Ferguson shot to his feet.
His eyes were red as he pointed angrily at Linen. "What the hell are you talking about? Do you know how much Sarah and I loved each other? I was willing to die for her!"
"Why would I kill the woman I loved most?!"
At that moment, John turned to Brown Ferguson. "Dad, he's lying. Many experts online have said he doesn't know any real psychic skills at all."
"All those so-called supernatural abilities are just tricks to fool people."
"He's slandering me on purpose for money!"
Seeing John's agitation, Brown Ferguson frowned. His voice carried no room for argument. "Sit down."
Seeing his father-in-law's stern expression, John's heart jolted.
He was just about to speak, but when he met his father-in-law's cold, terrifying stare, he sat back down angrily.
After John sat, Brown Ferguson turned to Linen again. "Mr. Linen, do you have any evidence for your claim?"
"Evidence? That's simple."
Looking at John, Linen crossed his legs, holding the teacup calmly. "Mr. John, ever since Ms. Sarah died, have your shoulders felt extremely sore? Has your body felt heavy every day?"
"And when you sleep at night, do you feel suffocated? Do you often dream that Sarah is grabbing your throat and killing you?"
Hearing this, John—who had been shouting moments ago—turned pale.
But he still argued, "I… I don't have those symptoms! I'm only like this because I miss my wife Sarah too much!"
Hearing John's trembling voice, the shrewd Brown Ferguson narrowed his eyes.
"In fact, there's an even simpler method."
Putting down the teacup, Linen tapped the table lightly.
"Mr. Ferguson, why don't you let Sarah tell you the answer herself?"
Brown Ferguson, whose eyes had been full of icy rage, froze.
Then his expression trembled with hope. "R-Really? Mr. Linen… can you really let me see Sarah again?"
"Of course. Ms. Sarah's spirit hasn't left yet."
As soon as he finished speaking, Linen tapped the table again.
The next second, golden magic spread across the entire room.
Seeing this, John's face drained of color, and Brown Ferguson immediately ordered the butler to pull all the curtains shut to block out sunlight.
"No need for that, Mr. Ferguson. The idea that spirits fear sunlight is just a myth."
Hearing Brown Ferguson's anxious command, Elsa Bloodstone spoke with a small smile.
Right as she finished speaking, the golden magic pattern floated into the air.
After hovering for a few seconds, it split into countless tassels that spread across the room.
When the spirit-appearance ritual completed, the soul of Sarah Ferguson—still wearing the pajamas she died in—appeared before them.
"Ah!!!"
John, who was already on edge, instantly fell off the sofa in terror.
He pointed at Sarah with a horrified expression, scrambling backward.
But the butler—who had been shocked a moment earlier—swiftly held him down.
It was strange how a man in his twenties couldn't break free from a butler in his sixties.
Meanwhile, Brown Ferguson—eyes filled with tears—kept calling out to his daughter.
Seeing this, Linen exchanged a look with Elsa, then stood up. "Mr. Ferguson, you can ask Ms. Sarah about the rest yourself."
"With you here—and the butler—Mr. John won't be able to hurt you."
"Oh, and Ms. Sarah's spirit can only remain for about half an hour. Say whatever you need to."
After Linen finished, Elsa smiled and said, "Mr. Ferguson, we'll take our leave now."
Without waiting for the emotional Brown Ferguson to respond, the two walked out of the manor.
Just as they reached the car, they heard John's screams echoing from inside the villa.
"Tsk… honestly. If he didn't love her anymore, he could've just divorced her. Why kill her?"
Hearing Elsa sigh, Linen raised an eyebrow. "Everyone has moments when they're forced into something. In certain situations, no matter what they want to say or do, they can't express it."
"Is that why you signaled me not to take the money yet?"
"Yes."
Nodding, Linen opened the car door and started the engine. "If we took the payment now, Mr. Ferguson would have the money transferred immediately."
"But believe it or not, after today he'll definitely pay us far more than the original amount as thanks."
"Linen, is this how you made money before?"
"Of course."
"Aren't you afraid people might refuse to pay?"
"Refuse to pay?"
Hearing that, Linen chuckled. "No one has ever dared to default on me. Ever."
Just as he was about to drive away, Linen suddenly sensed someone watching him.
Looking toward the manor's gate, he saw a van parked there at a very inappropriate hour.
"Heh…"
Seeing this, Linen smiled.
Such unprofessional surveillance definitely wasn't from any real agency.
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