Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Laughing Sickness

"Miss Chloe is a wolf-chicken, but she looks more like a chicken, so I feel the title of 'Chicken Keeper' suits you perfectly."

Ivy analyzed this with great seriousness. The three golden hairs on her head split apart again; she crossed her arms and nodded continuously, clearly in complete agreement with her own assessment.

However, this title, decided on a whim, coupled with such a sloppy introduction, made him feel like cannon fodder. Ethan couldn't help but imagine that once he arrived at the Headquarters, his colleagues would have cool, impressive codenames, while his own response to them would be, "I'm a chicken keeper."

The mere thought made his scalp tingle.

"Can this codename be changed?"

"Yes, you can apply for a change with the Headquarters during a promotion or a transfer. The approval process usually takes between a week and half a month."

Ivy's explanation made Ethan feel slightly better, though at the same time, a familiar, sinking sensation returned.

Late at night, the boss suddenly announces that overtime is required.

He hadn't expected the Bureau of Containment to be so tight with their scheduling; they had eagerly assigned them work the very day his ID card arrived. Fortunately, it sounded like the work was within the small town and didn't seem particularly dangerous.

Ethan packed his tool kit, changed into his work uniform, and grabbed his "Exorcism Agent" and "Blocker." Naturally, he didn't forget the detector. After all, this was the first anomalous case he had ever handled, and it held great significance for his career. He was still full of anticipation; this would eventually become a story he could tell his grandchildren while lounging in a rocking chair during his retirement.

His food was a piece of hard bread. According to Ethan's observation, this stuff was no different from instant noodles in this era—easy to store and effective at staving off hunger. Apart from being dry and tasteless, it had no real flaws.

Marshall's mansion was close by. Like Ivy, the wealthy banker lived in the most prosperous district of Brookwood.

As Ethan chewed on his hard bread and entered the door, a sumptuous candlelight dinner was laid out before him.

A candle sat on the dining table, accompanied by a whole roasted turkey that filled the room with a mouth-watering aroma. He couldn't help but glance at the table; the main course was accompanied by a cinnamon pie and a vegetable salad.

He took a savage bite of his hard bread.

He adopted a "gazing at plums to quench thirst" strategy, hypnotizing himself into believing that what he was chewing was actually a turkey leg—at the very least, its hardness was nearly comparable to a chicken bone.

Marshall was not there. He seemed to have no appetite, having only taken a single bite of the cinnamon pie and torn a small piece of meat from the turkey thigh before letting the rest of this lavish candlelit dinner go to waste.

Ethan suddenly thought of something and hurriedly turned to Miss Chloe, who had followed them into the house.

The turkey's size was somewhat similar to hers, and since they belonged to the same family, the sight on the table was likely no different from a horror movie to her.

"Don't look at the table, Miss Chloe..."

Hearing Ethan call her, Chloe, who had been staring blankly at the dinner table, snapped out of it. She stiffened her neck, let out a slurping sound as she swallowed the saliva that had been about to spill out, and then primly straightened her posture, trying her best to maintain the demeanor of a lady.

Miss Chloe clearly wanted to eat the meat.

"You must be the investigators from the Bureau of Containment. The master has been in a very bad state for the past two days."

They were greeted by a worried maid, her tone urgent. "The master hasn't eaten properly for two days, and he hasn't gone to work at the bank. He has become very strange."

"Could you elaborate?"

Ethan took out a notebook, quickly slipping into his professional role.

"The master, er... he suddenly started laughing a lot. He laughs in a terrifying way, so he locked himself in his room and hasn't come out since."

"When did this start?"

Ethan wrote the description "likes to laugh" under Marshall's name on the first page of his notebook. If this matter could disturb the Gear City Bureau of Containment enough for them to be sent out for overtime work, it was certainly more than just an anomaly of "liking to laugh."

Behind Marshall was the Lophic Consortium, which handled all the banking operations for the entire town of Brookwood. If he were unable to work, it would inevitably have a massive impact on the bank.

"It was yesterday morning. After the master went to repossess a property, he came back like this."

It was likely he had been affected by a cursed object while repossessing the property; the Blocker should be able to do the trick.

A professional Bureau of Containment investigator must dare to make judgments!

There was actually no need for an in-depth investigation; the fact that the Gear City branch had handed them this case meant it was highly likely related to a cursed object.

Ivy wanted to speak, but seeing Ethan enter his role so quickly, she revealed a faint, subtle smile. This was the kind of assistant she had envisioned—every great detective needed an assistant just like this.

Having finished recording and analyzing, Ethan asked, "Could you take us to see him?"

He took out his detector, keeping it switched on.

The needle remained in the blue zone, which meant Marshall hadn't accidentally brought a cursed object home with him.

"Please."

The maid quickly led the two people and the chicken to the bedroom door. The door was tightly shut, and not a sound could be heard from within. She knocked. "Master, the investigators from the Bureau of Containment are here."

"Come in."

Hearing Marshall's voice from inside, Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. The banker was still alive; they hadn't arrived to find nothing but a cold corpse in the room.

Inside the bedroom, Marshall was dressed in formal attire, trying to maintain his dignity, but it was clear from his pale complexion and disheveled hair that he had been having a rough time. When they entered, he was sitting at his desk with vacant eyes, holding a parchment book, unaware that he was holding it upside down.

Receiving a look from Marshall, the maid bowed to everyone and retreated from the room.

"Mr. Marshall, I am an investigator from the Bureau of Containment, Chick—"

"Hahahahahahahaha!"

I haven't even finished speaking yet, damn it!

Ethan's self-introduction was drowned out by a burst of intense laughter. He felt that Mr. Marshall was being incredibly rude; at the very least, he should have waited for him to say "Chicken Keeper" before laughing.

"Sorry, I really... hahahahaha!"

A very bizarre scene unfolded in the bedroom. Marshall was pale, his face filled with guilt and agony, his features twisted together, yet he was laughing so hard he was rocking back and forth, unable to stop. His body was curled into a ball, and his hand kept slapping the table.

After laughing for a while, his hand tremblingly gripped a pen and left the words "Help me" on the front cover of the book he was holding upside down.

"Don't panic, we are professionals."

Although he didn't have much work experience, the calm Ethan knew what to do. This wasn't really much of a problem. He took a glass jar containing a black solution from his kit; the liquid was bubbling with ominous bubbles.

"This is 'Carefree Spirit Blocker 2.0.' It can effectively expel the influence caused by most cursed objects."

Ethan unscrewed the cap in front of Marshall, and a strong, fishy stench instantly filled the room.

Marshall's pupils constricted. He backed away several meters, chair and all. Even though he was still laughing uncontrollably, he used every ounce of his strength to shout, "I won't drink it! I'd rather die than drink it!"