Chapter 4
1693 Words
"A woman? Don’t tell me... she was here for the ad?"
Was she? She seemed more like someone on a mission to catch a criminal. The image of her flashed in Reginald Beaumont’s mind, making his smile turn a bit more wicked.
What was she really after? Why did she spin that story in front of him? Just came up from the south to find a relative? Reginald Beaumont’s smile grew colder.
He had already encountered her a few days earlier, though she was unaware.
He didn’t care what her motives were; the only thing he wanted to prove was that Reginald Beaumont was never the one to be toyed with.
But her cautious and disdainful eyes, coupled with that slightly challenging expression, had sparked a certain... interest in Reginald Beaumont.
Meanwhile, Lancaster was still in a panic, muttering, "What do I do? What do I do...?"
"What do you do? Do whatever you want," Reginald Beaumont responded with a hint of sarcasm. "The ad is clear as day. Whoever is willing to take the bait, it’s all just a matter of mutual consent."
"How did she leave?" Lancaster asked.
Reginald Beaumont’s tall frame sank into the soft bed, his voice lazily amused, "She ran off in fear."
"Ran off? What did you do to her!?"
"Nothing. Not this time, but next time..." He closed his eyes, hiding the sharp gleam in them, yet his lips remained curled in a sinister smile.
"She ran away, so there won’t be a next time," Lancaster muttered.
"She won’t get far," Reginald Beaumont replied indifferently. "For all you know, that policeman might still be at her place."
"Her place? Where’s that?"
"The second floor. I heard the policeman ring the second-floor doorbell."
"The second floor? You mean that woman lives on the second floor? No way! The people downstairs just moved in not long ago. I heard it was a single woman, but I don’t know her..."
"You’ll get to know her soon enough. Your new neighbor seems to have a strong sense of community and responsibility."
Was that supposed to be a joke? Lancaster’s face had already gone pale. Thinking about the ad and the earlier "battle," he let out a groan of realization, "I know what’s going on now... I can’t stay here. Everyone’s just going to think I’m a freak..."
Looking at the trembling "seven-foot-tall man" before him, Reginald Beaumont shook his head and sighed. "You’re already a freak."
"You're the real freak! Once the other tenants see that ad, they'll be scared to death! And you talk about willing participants? Who knows what that woman downstairs came up here for."
Reginald Beaumont ignored his complaints, calmly poured himself a glass of premium red wine, and sipped it elegantly.
"Can I have a glass?" Lancaster asked, looking pitifully at him.
Reginald raised an eyebrow slightly but then filled another glass without hesitation.
And so, the two glasses were filled and emptied...
A little while later—
"Reginald Beaumont, it’s been so long since we had a drink like this... Uh? Out of wine already? I’ll go get more."
"Alright." Reginald deliberately indulged him, thinking that maybe the alcohol would revive Lancaster’s heroic spirit—that was his plan.
But just as Lancaster walked out the door, he suddenly staggered back in, wobbling with drunken steps, his voice trembling, "N-no way! There's a huge sign posted on our door! You have to see this! Look!"
Reginald Beaumont squinted and saw the eight large characters:
**"Beware of Vicious Dog, Strangers Keep Out."**
Second Floor.
Sterling was sleeping soundly, only to be woken by a police officer who had come to "clarify the situation."
"Ms. Mr. upstairs said that two crazy women came to harass him tonight, but everything is fine now, and there shouldn’t be any more problems."
Two crazy women? Sterling and Georgina Prescott exchanged glances.
After seeing the officer out, Sterling was indeed on the verge of losing it—apparently, bottling up too much anger can seriously affect one’s mental state.
She definitely needed to vent!
Grabbing a piece of paper, she scrawled a few words on it, crept upstairs, and after a bit of rustling, returned to the second floor feeling quite pleased.
Hehehe... it turns out being naughty can be pretty satisfying!
"You're still laughing!" Georgina Prescott whispered worriedly, "What you did is too obvious. He’ll definitely figure out it was you when he sees it tomorrow."
"So what if he does?"
"Don’t forget, you live here. It’s not like you can avoid running into him," Georgina reminded her. "Aren’t you just making trouble for yourself?"
"It’s his own fault! He tried to trick me into going inside when there was no one there. What was he up to? And then he had the nerve to tell the police he was harassed!" Sterling huffed indignantly.
"Maybe... but the police officer said he checked and found nothing wrong. Maybe we misunderstood him..."
"Just based on that nonsense he posted in the newspaper, there’s definitely something off about him." Stretching, Sterling collapsed back onto the bed. "Damn it! The whole night has been nothing but chaos. I finally fall asleep, and then I get woken up."
"Well, you’re the one who called the cops, so of course they’re going to check on you in the middle of the night," Georgina said, curling up under the blanket with a pout.
"Alright, alright, from now on, no matter what crazy stuff happens, I’m not getting involved! I just want to sleep... sleep..." Sterling, already half-asleep, mumbled as her voice trailed off.
The night grew quiet, and finally, all was still—
BANG BANG BANG!
Who? Who’s knocking?
Cecilia Sterling poked her head out from under the covers, rubbing her eyes as her groggy mind slowly cleared. No, someone wasn’t knocking—on the ceiling!? She looked up toward the sound.
It was the "lovely neighbor" upstairs again!
Sterling’s senses finally kicked in, quickly turning into a blaze of anger.
She quickly jumped out of bed and left the bedroom. When she returned, she was holding a clothes-drying rod.
"Sterling, what are you going to do now?"
Georgina Prescott, who was puzzled, quickly got her answer—
BANG BANG BANG! Sterling took the rod and banged it against the ceiling, creating a loud racket.
Finally, the ceiling went quiet.
Good, they got the message.
BANG, BANG BANG, BANG BANG BANG!
Just as Sterling was about to put the rod away, she spun around, glaring at the ceiling that was now pounding back.
"This time it’s even got rhythm!" Georgina Prescott whispered.
What was this, Morse code?
Sterling clenched her teeth, steeled herself, and—
BANG BANG BANG BANG... she charged back into the fray, swinging the rod with full force!
At midnight, in a certain building, a certain woman was on the verge of losing her sanity...
And equally unhinged was a drunkard—on the third floor.
Third floor.
"Lancaster, where’s the note?"
"Didn’t you say that woman downstairs did it? Well... since we can’t live here anymore, let’s go all out! Who’s afraid of who? Don’t worry, I’ve already taken care of everything!" That familiar, brash tone was back.
Reginald Beaumont confirmed one thing—being "out of one’s mind" really does have a balancing effect on someone who's "abnormal."
But then there’s the risk of "too much of a good thing"—
"Shh... Reginald Beaumont, don’t disturb me. Hehe... come on, why did the sound stop?"
"What the hell are you doing!?" Reginald Beaumont yanked the grinning man off the floor.
"I was trying to kill a cockroach, but this floor... it's so much fun... it bangs right back... Ah!" A startled yelp replaced the previously coquettish voice.
At least this sound was more tolerable. Reginald Beaumont threw him onto the bed and let out a long breath.
Then it suddenly occurred to him—
How exactly did Lancaster "take care" of that note?
The next morning.
Sterling’s fragile sanity finally plunged off a cliff.
"Ah—!" She screamed at the sight of her own front door!
What was taped to it was her handiwork from the night before... but now "enhanced."
"Beware of Vicious Dog, Strangers Keep Out; Male Dogs Welcome, Purebred or Not."
Two additional crooked lines of handwriting swirled in Cecilia Sterling's wide eyes, igniting a fierce blaze of anger.
Georgina Prescott quickly grabbed Sterling, who was about to storm up to the third floor. "Sterling, what are you doing?"
"I'm going to give him a piece of my mind!" Sterling was livid.
"And say what? Complain that he returned what was yours? Or that he edited your original work?"
"I, I..." Sterling opened her mouth but couldn’t close it.
Suddenly, Georgina Prescott’s eyes widened in shock... Did she just hear what she thought she heard?
A door closing! From the third floor.
Georgina Prescott looked back to find Sterling's mouth twitching—was she really about to turn into a "vicious dog" and bite someone? Imagining the impending chaos, her heart sank.
Footsteps drew closer, and in a panic, Georgina Prescott desperately tried to pull Sterling back inside.
A whiff of masculine musk drifted down the stairwell, catching Sterling's attention.
It was him! She recognized those stylish sunglasses perched on his nose.
A few days ago, she had crossed paths with him on the stairs and had felt an almost invasive gaze, which had prompted her to hurry inside... Sterling’s shattered thoughts quickly reassembled.
So, he had known all along that she lived here, and last night, he was deliberately toying with her?
The rage that flared up inside her propelled Sterling forward in the next second, blocking his path.
She tilted her head up to meet his face—a face that, even with its eyes covered, could still make a woman’s heart skip a beat.
This time, Sterling saw him more clearly, and she had to admit, he was a bit more striking than she had initially thought.
He suddenly removed his sunglasses, and that "bit" of attractiveness expanded endlessly.
The man’s eyes were like the moonlight reflected on the surface of a deep lake...
- Writer
