Doomsday Wonderland Chapter 1405: The Third Story
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Chapter 1405: The Third Story
After leaving the tea party first, Ivy didnât head home. Instead, she went straight to Apartment No. 1 downstairs. Approaching the catmint pot by the door, she reached out and grabbed the foot of the posthuman pretending to be a catmint. Of course, she had to pretend it wasnât really his foot.
The catmint seemed displeased, but Ivy didnât care. She rummaged around its feet, even lifting its long robe, and finally found the key that was stepped on and hidden beneath its heel. Barbeque Brow probably knew he couldnât trust his alcohol-soaked judgment, so he had left a spare key there â Ivy finding it was purely a stroke of luck.
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She picked up the key and slipped it into her pocket, listening carefully.
None of the other residents on the first floor had returned from Elizabethâs house yet. Goldie seemed in bad spirits, seemingly taking Elizabethâs words seriously and refusing to leave, so Jet had to wait. The two college girls seemed to be heading to Mr. Grantâs place, so they wouldnât be back anytime soon.
That meant she could only hope for Ms. Chen.
After waiting a while, she finally heard the door of Apartment No. 6 open. Pinkâs grandma could be heard intermittently. After bidding her goodbye, Ms. Chenâs slow footsteps approached the staircase. Ivy waited until she could faintly see Ms. Chenâs feet. Only then did she confidently take out the key, ready to unlock the door. However, when Ms. Chenâs footsteps suddenly stopped on the stairs, Ivy knew the old lady had seen her.
She inserted the key into the lock of Apartment No. 1 and sweetly called out, âBrother Barbeque? Itâs me, Ivy.â
Ms. Chen remained silent on the stairs. From Ivyâs angle, she couldnât see the old woman without turning her head, but she could feel her gaze firmly fixed on her back. Elderly women are naturally curious, especially about relations.h.i.+ps between men and women.
Once inside the living room, Ivy carefully closed the door behind her, cutting off Ms. Chenâs view. Even though Elizabeth seemed unreliable, this tea party had been a great help. When others asked how she had been, Ivy laughed and said her recent boyfriend appeared rough and loved his alcohol on the surface but was genuinely good to her, and she was happy.
Even if the neighbors hadnât connected her boyfriend with Barbeque Brow then, seeing her enter Apartment No. 1 should have made everything clear to Ms. Chen. Ivy wondered how long it would take for this gossip to spread.
The living room of Barbeque Browâs home had not been aired out for G.o.d knows how long. The atmosphere was heavy and stifling, and the thick smell of alcohol acc.u.mulated over the years seeped into her nostrils, pores, and every nook and cranny. A âbangâ sound signaled the closing of Ms. Chenâs apartment door outside. The sound seemed to release Ivy from her stillness. She began to move around, inspecting the house. As expected, she found a completely drunk Barbeque Brow sprawled on the bathroom floor.
After ensuring he wouldnât wake up anytime soon, Ivy left him there and headed to the living room to open the windows for ventilation. According to the character manual, ever since she discovered Barbeque Browâs habit of hiding keys under the catmint pot, she had sneaked into the apartment a couple of times when he was drunk, becoming quite familiar with the place.
She went to the kitchen, fetched a bag of fresh apples from the fridge, and washed one for herself. Amidst the crunching sounds of her biting into the apple, she could hear the faint snoring of Barbeque Brow. It felt like a consistent background track during her visits. Given that Ms. Chen would probably keep an eye on Apartment No. 1 for a while, she couldnât leave too earlyâafter all, lovers donât just meet and part ways so quickly.
Ivy ate her apple and watched TV for a short while, which took less than thirty minutes. Barbeque Brow wouldnât wake up for several hours, so she wasnât concerned about him. But out of sheer boredom, she rummaged through Barbeque Browâs cabinets and drawers.
To her pleasant surprise, she found a stash of coins and change in a corner of the TV cabinet. She pocketed them all, and now, there was a jingling sound whenever she moved.
When she settled back on the sofa, she faintly heard music playing. Following the sound, she found Barbeque Browâs phone vibrating between the cus.h.i.+ons. Several messages had flooded the screen.
A-Ting: You called me again last night when you were drunk. Iâve told you, donât call anymore.
The message lit up the screen. By the tone of it, the sender seemed quite agitated.
A-Ting: Weâre divorced. Canât we both just move on?
So, A-Ting was his ex-wife.
A-Ting: If you continue with your drinking, youâll ruin your health. Even though weâre apart, donât you want to find someone suitable, get married, and have children?
This message was longer, with some parts hidden.
To think Barbeque Brow was still hung up on his ex-wife. Ivy was curious about what he said to her, but unfortunately, the phone was locked. After some thought, feeling that it was best not to leave any trace, she grabbed the phone and headed into the bathroom.
As she entered, the overpowering stench of alcohol almost knocked her over. Her nose quickly succ.u.mbed to the smell, but after adjusting, she felt much more comfortable. Ivy looked in the mirror, touching up her lipstick. She then bent down and held the phone up to Barbeque Browâs face. Perhaps his face was distorted from lying down, so it took her a few tries to unlock his phone using facial recognition.
She opened the chat history between Barbeque Brow and A-Ting, deleted all the messages, then went into the contacts and changed A-Tingâs number to her own. This way, the next time Barbeque Brow was drunk and tried to call A-Ting, heâd call her instead. As long as she didnât pick up and imitated A-Tingâs tone when messaging, it would be hard for Barbeque Brow to notice.
Ivy sent herself a message from Barbeque Browâs phone.
Barbeque Brow: I received your call yesterday. Did you mean what you said? I was so happy to hear it.
Without much thought, as if instinctively knowing what to do, she picked up her phone and swiftly replied.
Ivy: Of course, Iâve been thinking about you.
Barbeque Brow: Me too. I miss you a lot. Why donât you want me to tell everyone that weâre together?
Ivy: Being in a relations.h.i.+p is a private matter. I donât like to share personal affairs. You havenât told anyone, right? Especially not the neighbors.
Ivy thus chatted with herself for a while. Both phones quickly filled up with messages, making it look like a conversation between two people deeply in love. She wasnât sure if Barbeque Brow ever reviewed his chat history with his ex-wife, given how frequently he was intoxicated and incoherent. However, considering everything would fall apart if discovered, she deleted most of the messages.
It didnât matter. After all, when she pa.s.sed away, the police and neighbors would be checking her phone, not Barbeque Browâs.
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As these thoughts pa.s.sed through her mind, Ivy ruffled her hair. She smudged the lipstick she had just applied with her finger, leaving a red mark as if she had just been kissed. She opened the door and carefully glanced at Ms. Chenâs apartment, ensuring there were no shadows under the door and the curtains were tightly drawn. As she pa.s.sed the catmint by the entrance, she stealthily slid the key she had clutched in her sleeve into the catmint pot.
âDonât snitch on me,â she whispered, stroking the catmintâs leaves with a faint smile. âNext time I visit, your owner and I will probably have an argument.â
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