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Chapter 1413: The Marble

She couldn\'t afford a phone. She had picked up the one she was using from beside Ivy\'s corpse, displaying a selfie of Ivy smiling on the screensaver. For some reason, the deceased hadn\'t set a password; anyone could access it. Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, then checked the communication logs, quickly scanning through text conversations between Ivy and someone else. That someone was Ivy\'s boyfriend, Barbeque Brow.

Even without reading in detail, Elizabeth could sense that the messages, initially sweet and intimate, had gradually become tense, threatening, and tearful over the past two weeks.

"We can\'t just leave her here like this, can we?" Jetson\'s voice cut through, startling Elizabeth. Although no one knew this phone belonged to Ivy, Elizabeth still felt guilty. She lowered her hand, letting her sleeve cover the phone, and glanced around.

After hearing her scream, neighbors had swarmed out like disturbed wasps. The hallway was soon filled with voices asking, "What happened?" Before the crowd gathered, Elizabeth, trying to calm herself, had spotted the black phone next to Ivy\'s body. She hurried over and grabbed it. As she stood up, Mr. Grant burst through the door.

"What\'s going..." He stopped mid-sentence as his eyes fell on Ivy\'s lifeless form. Without hesitation, he turned and shouted, "Ivy\'s dead!"

His cry drew almost everyone to Apartment No. 8. The living room was packed, with many crowded outside. Someone had opened the curtains, allowing them to peer through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the gruesome scene inside, their faces pale.

"Who... who killed her?" Leah asked shakily, standing at the entrance. Jessica, trying to comfort her, held her hand tightly.

No one could answer. After exchanging glances, Marigold frowned. "Barbeque Brow is missing."

Elizabeth blinked, and upon looking around, realized that among the residents, only Barbeque Brow was indeed absent.

The two college girls exchanged glances, hesitating before one said, "Once, we heard him hit Ivy. Ivy cried so miserably."

"I heard it too, once. He even threatened to kill her," Jetson added.

Ms. Chen shrugged. "After getting drunk, who knows what someone might do? Look at her! What could it be if not a crime of passion?" Her tone was detached as if there wasn\'t a body lying on the floor.

"So, should we go find Barbeque Brow?" Mr. Grant asked.

As the crowd fell silent, pondering the question, the haunting memory of the lullaby sung with sobbing from Apartment No. 1 echoed in Elizabeth\'s mind.

The lullaby felt disturbingly out of place, nagging at her. No matter how she thought about it, she couldn\'t understand why a single middle-aged man would cry and sing a lullaby after getting drunk. She had a feeling that uncovering the reason behind the lullaby might reveal the truth behind the entire situation.

"What if he\'s drunk and aggressive?" someone whispered. "Should we wait until someone capable handles it?"

Though unspoken, everyone understood that Ivy\'s death wasn\'t directly linked to each of their main goals. With only 12 days left until the end of their game, no one wanted to waste time on unrelated matters. After all, they hadn\'t dated Barbeque Brow, so they weren\'t concerned about him potentially harming others.

"For now, let\'s leave it," Ms. Chen said, dismissing the concern with a wave of her hand. "Whenever Barbeque Brow comes out, we\'ll deal with it then."

That decision effectively ended the discussion. They agreed to leave Ivy in Apartment No. 8, covering her with a sheet, before dispersing. Elizabeth was the last to leave. As she closed the door behind her, her fingers trembled.

The evidence on Ivy\'s phone pointed squarely at Barbeque Brow: his pleas, his sweet words, and his curses painted the picture of an emotionally unstable individual, suggesting he was the killer.

Yet, the clues pointing so clearly toward Barbeque Brow made Elizabeth uneasy. The evidence was too neat, too pristine, like a perfectly trimmed plant in a garden—it felt artificial.

Her thoughts returned to the lullaby.

As Elizabeth was about to open her apartment door, hurried footsteps approached from behind. Turning around, she was met with Marigold\'s large, round white eyes, narrowed to pinpricks.

Marigold\'s breath had the sour smell of someone who hadn\'t eaten for a long time. Unaware of her close proximity to Elizabeth, she whispered, "I\'m going to act today."

"What?" Elizabeth said, taken aback. Hadn\'t she just calmed Marigold down?

"Ivy is dead," Marigold said, her speech quickening. "I know he did it. I saw him talking to Ivy. They were definitely involved, and he probably killed her out of jealousy. This man is too dangerous. I can\'t wait any longer. I\'m taking action today."

"Wait—"

Marigold turned and ran off, quickly descending the stairs and vanishing from sight.

Elizabeth, caught off guard, tried to figure out her next move. She glanced towards Apartment No. 6. The curtains were pulled back, and through the window, she could see Grandma Pink still sitting by her grandson\'s side, never leaving him.

Since Grandma Pink was always with Pink, Elizabeth couldn\'t confer with her young ally. She wondered about Ms. Chen, who had drugged Grandma Pink twice since their encounter and had taken no further action.

Should she warn Jetson now? Regardless of her decision, it seemed she might lose a believer.

After some thought, Elizabeth decided she needed to calm Marigold down first and entered her apartment. Despite her lack of wealth, she possessed various mystical items like candles and charms. Mere words might no longer suffice for Marigold; Elizabeth had to try and intimidate the unstable woman.

For weeks, her spider-web-like apartment remained unchanged. As she passed by the doll displayed on the shelf, it seemed to follow her with its gaze. Elizabeth quickly opened a drawer, rummaging through its contents and shoving useful items into her pockets. In her haste, she knocked over a string of beads, scattering translucent imitation jade beads everywhere.

"The more hurried, the more mistakes," Elizabeth muttered, bending down to gather the beads. As she did, her motion halted.

A bead gleamed faintly not far away, blocked by a tiny red satin shoe.

The last time Elizabeth saw those shoes was minutes ago when she walked past the doll on the shelf.

She slowly looked up, following the line of the red shoe, only to find the doll had somehow moved from its place. It stood a few steps away, staring at her with its black eyes, its porcelain face bearing a sweet smile.