Chapter 104

The stairway entrance of this small building was generally quite narrow, somewhat like the old building where Lally lived.

However, it was much more spacious than Lally's place, wide enough for two people to go up and down the stairs simultaneously without feeling crowded.

However, the structure of this type of building design also had its advantages. It was not a commercial apartment, so there was no need to consider shared areas. The structure of one staircase for two households meant that while the outside might be a bit cramped, the space inside the apartments was actually quite large. More space meant the homeowner could make more money when selling the property.

Roughly estimating, each unit in this building was about a little over 1,000 square feet, which was actually quite large. Without considering shared areas, in Silverlight City, it would be equivalent to a large unit of about 1,500 square feet.

On the third floor, there are two units. The one on the right was Bob's place, easily recognizable because it had a banner hanging that said, Dance Artist Bob.

The door on the left was very normal, cleaned very well, just an ordinary household.

As I was about to go up and knock on the door, the door to Bob's place opened, and a young girl in her twenties came out holding a bowl. She was wearing yellow cartoon pajamas, with long hair draped over her shoulders, and I could vaguely see some blue highlights, indicating she had dyed her hair, making her look quite young and fashionable.

The girl had delicate features and good skin, especially her eyes, which seemed to speak, blinking as she glanced at Zoey and me. She didn't pay much attention, thinking we were going to the fourth floor, and was about to enter the door on the left.

"Hello."

I greeted her to stop her.

The girl stopped, turned around, blinked, and pointed at herself, "Are you calling me?"

I nodded and smiled, "Are you Bob's girlfriend, Shirley?"

Hearing the term "Bob's girlfriend," the girl couldn't hide her joy and said happily, "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"We spoke on the phone in November."

Shirley was stunned for a moment, thinking carefully, but couldn't recall the event.

"Around November 12th."

I took out my phone and checked Bob's call records, "It was around 3 or 4 in the afternoon. I called Bob, and he was probably asleep, so you answered and asked who I was, and told me not to trust men too much."

"Do you remember now?" I asked.

"No, I didn't receive your call. You must have mistaken me for someone else. If there's nothing else, please leave."

After I finished speaking, Shirley's attitude changed drastically, becoming impatient. She held the bowl in one hand and took out a key from her pocket with the other, preparing to open the door.

"On November 10, 2024, Bob didn't go to work. He wasn't in Shadow City at all during those days; he was in Silverlight City, right?"

"When he came home, he didn't tell you where he had been but went straight to sleep. You became suspicious, so when you heard a woman's voice on the phone, you were particularly alert."

"You've already remembered me, but you instinctively think my arrival is not a good thing. You fear that your happy days with Bob might be numbered, so you want me to leave, right?"

Shirley stopped, and sneered, "Are you some kind of goddess of luck, here to spread hope and luck?"

"Perhaps," I said calmly.

"Get out!"

"How can you be so rude!" Zoey couldn't stand it anymore.

"If you can't stand it, then leave. No one forced you to come here. If you don't leave, I'll call the police!"

Shirley rolled her eyes.

"If your happiness is solely based on being with Bob, isn't your happiness a bit self-deceptive?"

I observed Shirley's expression as I spoke. This was my last attempt and the most important clue of the afternoon.

Sure enough, Shirley's expression became unnatural, as if someone had stolen something from her. Her eyes started to wander, and she stammered,

"What do you know? If love isn't about being together, is it still love?"

"You're right."

I agreed with her, nodding, and then asked, "So which Bob do you like? The silent and reserved Bob, or the youthful and vibrant Bob, forever stuck in his college days?"

Shirley's face changed dramatically, looking at me in disbelief as if she were seeing a ghost.

I sighed, realizing I had guessed correctly.

"How long has this been going on? When did you and he get together?"

"You... you... who are you? What nonsense are you talking about? I don't understand what you're saying! Leave here immediately!"

Shirley instinctively took two steps back, her speech becoming incoherent.

"If this continues without intervention, he might soon become three Bobs, one with complete memories, one with college memories, and one as the so-called dance artist of Shadow City. Currently, it seems the college memories and Shadow City memories are starting to mix."

"If this goes on... he might eventually take extreme measures, possibly forgetting everything or even choosing suicide due to the mental pressure. You should be well aware of his current state and what illness he has."

"Schizophrenia, or multiple personality disorder."

As soon as I finished speaking, the bowl in Shirley's hand fell to the ground, shattering into pieces and scattering the remaining food.

Bob's place on the right was neatly organized, with the walls covered in paintings, all replicas bought online, including works by Monet, Van Gogh, Picasso, and others. This matched Bob's college interests. Someone once asked him where his dance inspiration came from, and Bob seriously said that he had seen a painting as a child and felt the lines were dynamic and graceful, with a unique rhythm, just like the movements of the body.

By the balcony, an old man sat in a wheelchair, basking in the sun. He had his back to us since we entered and seemed not to hear any sound.

It seemed he was the informant Ronald had mentioned from the old steel mill, who had been living with Bob ever since.

Shirley walked over, patted the old man's shoulder, and slowly whispered a few words in his ear, gesturing towards us, indicating that guests had arrived, friends of Bob, and asked him to sit for a while.

The old man nodded, continuing to bask in the sun, never turning around.

"Cedric Murphy had a severe stroke before. He used to be unable to speak but could hear others. Recently, even hearing has become difficult."

Shirley explained.

Ronald's information was correct. The informant was indeed ill, unable to speak, and seemed to have difficulty moving. How to question him became a big problem, and we needed to find someone to quickly ask about the past.

For now, it seemed only Bob and Shirley could help.