The sun rises, a new day arrives, Rica got up early in the morning, his anger still hadn’t subsided.

Yesterday, when he was out searching for the High Priest, he heard unexpectedly that someone had seen him. Having initially thought the High Priest would appear as a homeless man on the street or in a park.

But unexpectedly, the person who had seen the High Priest said he was seen this person in a shopping mall in the center of Bupen City, having bought quite a few things.

After a brief denial, Rica suddenly became furious!

He realized he might have been deceived.

It made sense, how could that damned old man not have money, with his wealth in Nagariel, even if he gave only a portion to satisfy the appetites of those people of the United Development Company, the remainder would be enough for him to lead a luxurious life in the Federation!

He was deceived, deceived by someone claiming to be his father for over twenty years, someone who never intended for him to inherit any property!

After searching all day without any result, he went back and slept early.

No drinking, no smoking, no watching TV, no promiscuity or abuse. To have more time searching for that old man, it might be the first time in his life he slept so early and arose so early.

He prepared some food, tasting a bit strange, a little spoiled.

However, it didn’t matter, as a Nagariel person, eating just slightly spoiled food felt like a natural skill, his taste could instinctively ignore those odd flavors, realizing nothing wrong after the second bite.

He looked at the map, yesterday he explored many communities, today he would go to more advanced communities, he needed a plan.

The experiences of studying abroad made him learn some efficient working methods.

Meanwhile, a community security patrol personnel was wandering nearby.

He was a Special Agent arranged by the Security Committee to monitor Rica, a newcomer. Such low-value work was often assigned to beginners, a characteristic of the Security Committee and many Federation institutions.

While he ate a one-dollar bacon and egg sandwich leisurely, he kept an eye on that house, today seemed no different than any other day.

He thought so, sometimes questioning the higher-ups about the job’s significance, feeling he was wasting time.

Fortunately, once the month ended, he could move from the "newcomer" level, to other duties.

At that moment, a young man approached carrying a note, observing him from afar.

This gave the Security Committee Special Agent a sense that "this person might need some help", quickly eating his breakfast sandwich, he dusted his hands, looking at the man.

"Sir, I’ve been looking for this place for a long time but couldn’t find it, is it here?"

The Special Agent took the note, indeed an address from this community, yet more precise details seemed unfamiliar.

"I’m not sure if the house number you have is correct, but I can help you check for this... person."

The note carried a name, though the house number seemed incorrect.

In the Federation, generally addresses come as a certain street number or a detailed house number within a community, yet this number wasn’t within the community’s range.

Maybe a mistake?

Uncertain, but he could check the community residents’ profiles for this person’s existence.

Anyway, early morning, those residents possibly still weren’t awake, idle as he was.

Amid the young man’s excited gratitude, he felt he’d have a meaningful morning.

The two headed to the duty room, and just as he left, two young men emerged swiftly from the roadside landscaping, entering Rica’s house quickly.

Early in the morning, everyone else in the house was asleep, except for Rica.

When someone pushed the door in, Rica heard the sound, but didn’t get up; youngsters often came over, he was too lazy to keep opening and closing the door repeatedly.

He was still thinking about how to find the High Priest, then how to force him to hand over the money.

Until... when footsteps approached, he noticed something wasn’t right.

Floors here were wood, they wore loose comfortable shoes, mainly cheap sneakers.

Leather shoes were expensive, plus maintenance was a hassle. Others didn’t have leather shoes; Rica used to, but sold them amid tight times, currently wearing sneakers too.

Yet the room echoed with leather shoes tapping on the floor sound.

Turning back, he saw two... oddly dressed young men.

Wearing suits, brown silk shirts, thin brown vests, dark jackets, and a trench coat.

Chains of pocket watches adorned their chests; honestly, Bupen locals didn’t really favor pocket watches anymore, wristwatches were preferred.

Regardless, the outfit was very formal, enough for any occasion without embarrassment.

Yet, they bizarrely wore woolen caps, rendering it unusual.

"I haven’t seen you before," Rica got up, no sense of impending danger yet. Unaware the High Priest, supposedly cherishing him, sought his demise.

He never thought about that, hence no vigilance.

Two young men seeing Rica neither flee nor scream, exchanged glances, finding it amusing.

One of the guys on the left smiled and said, "Someone asked me to bring you a message, sir."

Rica was a bit puzzled, "Who?"

Then immediately asked, "What is it?"

The man stepped closer to him, leaning forward as if to whisper something in his ear, sparking Rica’s curiosity as he focused on what he was about to hear.

The man said —

"The gods are summoning you..."

Rica’s scalp tingled suddenly. Just as he was about to leave, another man, who had somehow positioned himself behind him, used his arm to forcefully strangle Rica’s neck.

The man in front of him directly attacked, fiercely stabbing his chest with the long dagger in his hand.

With the first stab, Rica could still struggle, but the second plunged into his heart, instantly draining all his strength through the gash, causing his entire body to collapse.

After being stabbed seven or eight more times, the person strangling him let go of his arm.

Rica slumped to the ground, his eyes wide open.

His heart almost stopped beating, yet he remained conscious, likely for about twenty more seconds.

The man holding the long dagger crouched down and wiped the blood-stained dagger on his body.

The two stood by his side, only leaving swiftly after confirming he was fully dead.

At the time, the Security Committee special agent responsible for surveilling Rica also helped the gentleman who couldn’t find the address pinpoint the issue.

"Look, we are at No. 169, 17th Street. However, your address here says No. 169, 117th Street, so you went to the wrong place."

The issue was finally identified; whoever wrote the note was careless, making the numeral spread apart, making it look like 17th Street when it was actually 117th.

He even called the service company for this young man, and they confirmed a resident with that address indeed exists.

The young man continuously thanked the Security Committee special agent for his assistance and even suggested writing him a thank-you letter.

This brought considerable satisfaction to the otherwise mundane life of the Security Committee special agent, adding a bit of entertainment to his boring day.

After instructing this young man on how to take public transportation to 117th Street, he resumed his regular duties.

Wandering leisurely around the community, he observed that the house appeared no different from when he left. There were no signs of intrusion, no screams, no chaos; everything was just as it was every other morning!

He started imagining what responsibilities might be handed to him by the Security Committee once his "rookie phase" ended. Would he become the leading special agent of some film or novel, single-handedly challenging an organization or even a nation?

The future was full of hope and expectations!

Until... a scream pierced through the community’s tranquility!

Quickly, Lynch received a call from Noel, "Mr. Lynch, Mr. Rica has answered the calling of the gods and left us."

"Did he leave peacefully?"

"Very peacefully!"

After hanging up, Lynch made another call to the High Priest, "I’m sorry to disturb you at this time, but I just received some very bad news, and I’m not sure if I should tell you."

The High Priest, somewhat unaccustomed to the Federation people’s hypocrisy, paused for a moment before responding, "What is it?"

He already had a guess, but as the answer approached, he found himself not saddened, but rather anticipating it.

"Mr. Rica has answered the gods’ call and departed from us forever. He left very peacefully."

The High Priest smiled faintly, "That’s truly unfortunate news!"

"My condolences. If there’s anything I can assist with, feel free to call me anytime," Lynch’s voice carried a note of solemnity.

The High Priest let out a long sigh, "I will, many thanks for relaying the news!"

"So... see you later?"

"See you later!"

Rica’s death was hardly news in Bupen, though perhaps his house would be.

Under Federation law, if the owner of a property dies without heirs, the property will be auctioned off.

If someone makes a bid and wins the property, they become its new owner.

And the proceeds from the auction will go into public goods finances.

If no one bids, the property will be reclaimed by the Federation Government.

People would be interested only in the house itself, not in what happened there.

As everyone knows, the notion of a haunted house only matters to the wealthy; for the poor, price is their core concern.