Doomsday Wonderland

Chapter 1405: The Third Story

After leaving the tea party first, Ivy didn't 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 wasn't really his foot.

The catmint seemed displeased, but Ivy didn't 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 couldn't trust his alcohol-soaked judgment, so he had left a spare key there — 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 Elizabeth's house yet. Goldie seemed in bad spirits, seemingly taking Elizabeth's words seriously and refusing to leave, so Jet had to wait. The two college girls seemed to be heading to Mr. Grant's place, so they wouldn't 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. Pink's grandma could be heard intermittently. After bidding her goodbye, Ms. Chen's slow footsteps approached the staircase. Ivy waited until she could faintly see Ms. Chen's feet. Only then did she confidently take out the key, ready to unlock the door. However, when Ms. Chen's 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, "Brother Barbeque? It's me, Ivy."

Ms. Chen remained silent on the stairs. From Ivy's angle, she couldn't 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 relationships between men and women.

Once inside the living room, Ivy carefully closed the door behind her, cutting off Ms. Chen's 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 hadn't 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 Brow's home had not been aired out for God knows how long. The atmosphere was heavy and stifling, and the thick smell of alcohol accumulated over the years seeped into her nostrils, pores, and every nook and cranny. A "bang" sound signaled the closing of Ms. Chen's 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 wouldn't 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 Brow's 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 couldn't leave too early—after all, lovers don't 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 wouldn't wake up for several hours, so she wasn't concerned about him. But out of sheer boredom, she rummaged through Barbeque Brow's 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 Brow's phone vibrating between the cushions. Several messages had flooded the screen.

A-Ting: You called me again last night when you were drunk. I've told you, don't call anymore.

The message lit up the screen. By the tone of it, the sender seemed quite agitated.

A-Ting: We're divorced. Can't we both just move on?

So, A-Ting was his ex-wife.

A-Ting: If you continue with your drinking, you'll ruin your health. Even though we're apart, don't 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 succumbed 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 Brow's 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-Ting's number to her own. This way, the next time Barbeque Brow was drunk and tried to call A-Ting, he'd call her instead. As long as she didn't pick up and imitated A-Ting's tone when messaging, it would be hard for Barbeque Brow to notice.

Ivy sent herself a message from Barbeque Brow's 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, I've been thinking about you.

Barbeque Brow: Me too. I miss you a lot. Why don't you want me to tell everyone that we're together?

Ivy: Being in a relationship is a private matter. I don't like to share personal affairs. You haven't 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 wasn't 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 didn't matter. After all, when she passed away, the police and neighbors would be checking her phone, not Barbeque Brow's.

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As these thoughts passed 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. Chen's apartment, ensuring there were no shadows under the door and the curtains were tightly drawn. As she passed the catmint by the entrance, she stealthily slid the key she had clutched in her sleeve into the catmint pot.

"Don't snitch on me," she whispered, stroking the catmint's leaves with a faint smile. "Next time I visit, your owner and I will probably have an argument."

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