Relative to the city center, almost every other administrative district of Stuttgard, Titan's premier sky metropolis, is more or less a miniature miniature country, each with a dozen major cities and dozens of sub-towns. As the political, economic and cultural center of Stuttgar, the center of the first administrative district, the capital zone and the most special area of the entire metropolis are the most deservedly deserved capital districts of all the administrative districts.

People living in Stuttgard don't even give the city a separate name, just "downtown" all the time. It is not the center of a city, but the capital of the entire metropolis of Stuttgar.

The target location of Ed's trip is located in the upper part of the city center, in the east of Bachittal. Room 2174 Main Street. If you want to be more precise, it is the upper district of Stuttgar's first administrative district, Bakital East XVI. 2,174 Main Street.

Ed, who was driving the car, lifted one hand off the steering wheel and almost couldn't help but slap himself, but in the end he held back. He had to remind himself that in the future, these jokes that are getting worse and worse will have to be less restrained, otherwise he will become more dung beetles than the ladybug sister in the manure pit.

Normally, Ed is himself - based on old habits that can never be broken - but today, now, he is a little more lenient with himself. He wasn't in a good mood, mainly because of where he was now.

This neighborhood in the upper part of the city center had been a pretty bad memory for him, so bad that he felt pretty bad when he remembered it. That time, he did something for an old boy with a very high social status, and things were done very well, but that guy wanted to leave half of the balance for a random reason. I have to say that the influence of that product in this vicinity is indeed not low, and all of Ed's formal channels for rights protection have not achieved results. So after making a final last visit, after making sure that the old boy's attitude was still the same, and after discovering that his account was not clear in any way, he removed his mask of politeness and hypocrisy, and beat him half to death with his fists without any more nonsense.

Afterwards, he was taken away by the city bureau to criticize and educate, and the police detective who applied to be responsible for educating him was Marcy. The two sat in the cold storage for half the night and ate up two packets of cardamom.

Fat Director Wayne is reasonable in this regard. Because of the fact that he ate Ed's bonus at the beginning - it was really one of the most regrettable things he ever did - he was seized by the tough Marcy to seize the opportunity and kept staring at it fiercely, and he was choked by Marcy in all aspects for a long time, and he has almost been bullied out of the habit for a few months, and he can be accommodating with Marcy's affairs, as long as she doesn't trouble him anymore, anything is easy to say.

Of course, Ed was a man with a big heart—at least he thought so—so if it was just that, he wouldn't have remembered this neighborhood for so long. There was another thing that happened at the time. In the process of running errands for the old boy, he once accidentally knocked an old lady who was nearly seventy years old from one side of the roadside flower bed to the other side at a turn in an alley, and her crutches were broken. As he scrambled to pick the man up from the ground, the old lady's scent of flowers in the flower bed made him sneeze twice in succession.

There's not much to say about the follow-up to this matter. He took the old man to the hospital, paid for the medicine, and took some compensation with him and, of course, a new cane. It turned out that the crutch was very powerful, and if the doctor hadn't had it been for the crutch, it would have broken the old man's leg.

Before leaving, he left a business card for the old man, telling her that if she had anything in the future, she could call him, which was a bit of a broadening of his business. However, despite this, Ed has been praying to the cosmic star god who he has always thought is very ghostly, that the old man will not really look for him, because if he is really looking for him, even if he goes to brush her cat in the middle of the night, he will have to bounce up from the bed, shave his face, brush his teeth, take the keys and get out of the car. He knew he was going to be fast, because he never wore pajamas, which saved him a lot of time. But he also knows that his face must not be very good-looking, and the fact that his face is not good-looking is too unprofessional for an excellent and qualified detective who "commissions are everything, and customers are money". The kind that is too unprofessional is too unprofessional.

Now he didn't expect that he didn't wait for the old lady's call, but returned here first because of other business. This time he needed to be careful, but he didn't bump into anyone again, even if there weren't so many people on the road at this time just after the morning, he couldn't relax a little.

Turning the steering wheel, Ed glanced out the window, in Naba Chitar East XVI. On the right side of the street crossing, under a street lamp near the park, there is a food truck. That time hasn't completely passed, and there are still a lot of people lined up in front of the window of the dining car. Ed had eaten breakfast early in the morning and drank an extra cup of coffee, so he only glanced at it from a distance as he drove by, and even the aroma did not arouse the slightest appetite. Now that there was at least a barrel of half-inferior second-hand oil before lunch, he could spoil his stomach a little later. But before that, he could have ruined his lungs.

Holding the steering wheel with one hand, Ed took out the "intermission" cigarette case from his arms, took out a cigarillo with great difficulty, held it in his mouth, and then stuffed the rest of the cigarette back into the pocket of his clothes. He pulled out the fire as he counted the signs along the way. Soon he saw what he wanted to see, slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road.

An unexpected thing. The first thing that caught Ed's eye was not the house in the target location of his immediate destination, but another large house on the side of the road where Ed's vehicle was parked across the street. And the reason is very obvious.

Ed got out of the car with a cigarillo in his mouth, put his foot on the solid ground, closed the door, and looked back behind him across his car. His eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses, and his elbow rested on the roof of his car.

The old mansion must have been quite old, and it was scary compared to the other houses here, and it was more of a small castle than a villa, or a part of the large manor in front of it that had burned down in some fire.

Ed isn't a very good architect, but this — this, is really unique. It was a burly and heavy body, and the entire building was a blackened color when viewed from the front, like the last decaying shell of the old turtle that had been left in the world to prove its existence. The windows above it are exaggerated, like the tail of a male peacock in heat. The stone walls were covered with lush vegetation, both in the courtyard and in the house itself, covering almost a fifth of the area.

Ed stared at the mansion for a moment. He had a strange feeling, familiar, but for a moment he couldn't tell when or where he had felt it. Finally, he lifted his glasses, shook his head, and turned back, turning his attention back to his true destination.

Bakitardon XVI. Two thousand one hundred and seventy-four on Main Street was a large brown house—certainly not as good as the old villa behind Ed, the difference between the two was a snail and a tortoise—but it was certainly more than enough for the inhabitants. Ed now lives in a house that looks like this. He had always felt that it was a bit too wasteful to live alone, and there was a little too much space to spare.

Ed looked down the street and saw a small van passing by. Because it is in a residential area, the speed of the driver is neither fast nor slow. Ed waited until the car had passed before crossing the road to the gate of the courtyard, glancing at the aviary mailbox on the wooden fence next to it—the tin mailbox was deflated downward, and I don't know which clever ghost had smashed it with a stone or a turtle shell.

The courtyard door was open, and Ed walked directly into the courtyard and followed the path to the door. He tried to ring the doorbell, but found that it was broken, so he reached for the wood next to the door.

He waited a few seconds, but didn't get any response. No one came to open the door, and no sound came from inside. So he knocked a few more times, but there was still no movement.

A gust of wind blew, and the strands of hair on Ed's forehead fluttered, and the unmowed lawn in the courtyard rustled dry, and a white piece of paper was rolled up into the air. He looked up at the light bulb at the top of the porch, feeling like a rag forgotten on the edge of the sink.

Patiently, Ed knocked on the door again, then grabbed the doorknob and turned it. The next moment, his expression changed slightly. Unexpectedly, the door opened very easily, and it wasn't technically Ed who opened it, it was already open.

Ed's brow furrowed slightly. He glanced through the crack in the door of the house, and then suddenly looked behind him like a strawberry importer about to break into the house and steal goldfish.

He didn't see anything. In the morning, the streets were as empty as the bones of vultures, except for the old mansion across the street, where every window was tightly closed, as if it had been cut off from the world for almost sixty-five million years.

Ed stuck out his tongue and licked his lips, turned his head, raised his foot and walked into the entrance of the big room, and bent down to check the lock of the door. As he expected, the door lock had been broken very beautifully, just embedded in the door frame. He didn't even need to twist the handle just now, and he could push it away with a slight push.

It's kind of interesting. This is not normal.

Ed licked his lips again, closed the door as before, then turned back and paced slowly to the living room. Until now, Ed hadn't heard a sound, and the air was silent as a pool of stagnant water, soaked with mermaid eyes.