Chapter 4817: Little Ghost in Charge (Fifteen)

A little later, the wind picked up on the beach. The east coast rarely has palm trees, and the maples swaying in the sunset on the beach presented another kind of charm—not so fervent, but rather restrained and literary.

The car drove up the mountain road. Watching the manor draw nearer, Pride seemed to want to say something but held back. Only when the car came to a steady stop at the manor gate, with no other buildings nearby, did Pride speak: "Is this your newly bought house?"

"Yes." Greedy nodded. He sensed that Pride seemed off, so he asked: "What's wrong?"

"This doesn't seem like the type you'd like." Pride paused slightly, then said, "Is it because of me that you chose this style?"

"To say it's completely not, isn't entirely true." Greedy said, "I don't have many options; this is the best one. If it weren't so much to your liking, I might have waited. But it just..."

Pride lifted his foot and walked into the manor.

This manor indeed matched his aesthetic, and compared to the previous viscount's manor, it was more open and bright. After all, the house faced the sea, and New York's weather was much better than Gotham's; even at sunset, the sunlight streamed through the windows, casting dazzling geometric shapes on the floor, adding a touch of warmth compared to that dark, damp Gotham manor.

"I don't know why you sold that big manor." Greedy said, "Don't you have any attachment to it?"

"You've misunderstood one thing. If I had any attachment, it wouldn't be because of the manor itself. That place isn't suitable for modern living, and I've never liked that house." Pride sighed lightly, appearing somewhat sentimental, "The house itself isn't the key."

"The key is memories, I know." Greedy walked over and sat on the bed's edge, the sunset on the sea rippling all the way to his eyes, "As your first residence in Gotham, there must be many memories worth commemorating. Even after moving to a new home, you can still keep them."

"I don't have that much money." Pride said, "Gotham's housing prices aren't cheap either. Without a trade-in, I couldn't afford a new house. And I also believe the new house will have many beautiful memories."

"It seems the one who always lives in the past, unwilling to move forward, is me. But actually, you've only just taken your first step." Pride looked at Greedy and said, "You're finally willing to step out of your cozy little nest to build new memories."

"When I first came to this world, I suffered much more than you." Greedy continued his thought, "I don't like change, so I frantically created change, wanting this world to never calm down. But lately, I can be still."

Pride had just opened his mouth to continue speaking when he heard a "thud" from upstairs. He looked up and then said, "Do you have guests?"

"We two are the guests."

The two went upstairs together, and in a guest room on the second floor, they saw a lamp fallen on the floor. Greedy shouted: "Don't just toss things on the floor; this lamp is expensive."

After saying that, he put the lamp back. Pride kept staring at him, and Greedy said, "This house has a few quirks. If anything abnormal happens, just pretend you didn't see it."

"What quirks?"

"Haunted."

Before he could finish speaking, the walls began to bleed. Of course, it wasn't really blood, as there was no smell, only color, and it started flowing steadily downward.

"I warned you not to get it on the floor." Greedy said irritably, "Otherwise I'll just splash feces on the wall."

The blood suddenly stopped, then abruptly rose back up as if defying gravity. It seemed they hadn't seen such a fierce person before.

"Interesting." Pride said, "This is the first time I've seen someone argue with their own house."

"Impossible." Greedy said, "You've seen Venom—he argues with his house every day."

"He doesn't count; they're in a symbiotic relationship, not a parasitic one." As they walked downstairs, Pride said, "It seems you're really too bored, actually choosing such a lively house."

Neither of them took the house's haunting seriously. This seemed to anger the restless spirits in the house, who began shaking the chandeliers violently. Greedy shouted impatiently: "Be quiet!"

The chandelier stopped again, then immediately the carpet began to writhe like a caterpillar crawling forward. They didn't even look, just leapt over it. The utensils on the dining table started clinking again.

"Alright, alright." Greedy seemed to concede, "I haven't officially moved in yet; once I move in, I'll keep you company playing, okay?"

Amazingly, all the noises finally ceased. Pride said somewhat helplessly, "So the spirits haunting the house are just a little kid?"

"It's not a ghost, but a poltergeist. Though many urban legends about poltergeists do resemble brat kids, desperately making noises just to draw attention."

Pride had also heard poltergeist legends, so he didn't press further. They could both tell the spirits in the house meant no harm; otherwise, there'd be no need to shake chandeliers or play with carpets—they'd just yank out the stairs, and an inattentive ordinary person would fall.

The house hadn't been cleaned yet, so they returned to the sanatorium that night. The next morning, it snowed heavily, but Natasha still arrived as promised.

"The agents have already gone through." She said, "Do you want to go take a look?"

"Of course, I'm worried the little ghost in the house won't behave." Greedy hastily put on his coat, then said, "Still, let's go check."

Natasha glanced at his new coat, then said, "You look like Constantine."

"Really?" Greedy doubted a bit, "This trench coat clearly differs in color and style."

"It's because Constantine leaves too deep an impression." Natasha said, "I dare say anyone who's dealt with him avoids anything related to him. I seriously doubt you're dressed like this just to impersonate Constantine to lure people over to beat you, then turn around and beat them."

Greedy laughed at her guess, saying, "Thanks for the tip, ma'am. You're really a fishing expert."

Though it was snowing, the flying shuttle hadn't stopped running. Greedy, Pride, and Natasha still came together to the new manor. The manor's legal name had already been changed to Rodriguez Manor, and one night was enough for the community to learn the owner had changed.

S. H. I. E. L. D. agents also arrived by flying shuttle, but not in S. H. I. E. L. D. -labeled shuttles. Natasha explained: "Nick worries it'll affect your neighborhood relations; no one here would like agents."

Greedy understood. After all, it's a wealthy community, naturally resistant to organizations like S. H. I. E. L. D. If they came in force with a team of agents, these people would still be traumatized.

"I don't care." Greedy said, "If you can provoke them into coming straight to your door, this Mr. will certainly be pleased."

Greedy turned to look at Pride, who shook his head helplessly.

Although Greedy had warned the little ghosts in the room, they still occasionally made noises. Fortunately, the agents weren't ordinary people; they ignored all abnormalities in the room and diligently did their cleaning.

One agent held a vacuum cleaner, leaning against the wall, sucking up the blood that kept seeping out, while still able to turn his head and chat with a colleague nearby who kept trying to push the cabinet drawers back in.

A female agent opened the cabinet, and a skeleton clattered out. She could only take the large trash can from a colleague beside her and stuff all the bones inside.

Another agent had just pushed open the door when the bedsheet flew up, forming a human shape in midair and lunging at him. The agent stepped back, raised his gun to aim, and the sheet ghost instantly raised both hands in surrender.

Natasha had just walked past the wall when she felt something off. She stepped back two steps, looked at the painting on the wall. The painting was a portrait of a person, whose eyes suddenly turned toward her and smiled.

Natasha snorted coldly, drew her gun, and pressed it against the other's forehead: "Don't move, treason, I'm arresting you (in Russian)."

The portrait "whoosh" vanished instantly.

Natasha put her gun away, smiling helplessly. She walked forward, and in the hallway, the people in the hanging portraits, as if seeing ghosts, all went "whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh" and disappeared completely.

Greedy and Pride came to the garden. The pitcher plant spat a fly straight at them, luckily its range was short. Pride snorted coldly and said: "Too rude; we should invite Miss Easley over."

"Don't rush; I'm preparing to open a small plot there, then plant some striker plants, so there'll be someone to play with it."

"Your house will become an arena."

"It already is an arena; I just want the striker plants to do the work for me."

Just as he said that, a figure appeared from afar and drew near. Strange descended, flicking his cloak, and said: "Old man, you really bought a house here."

"What's wrong?" Greedy asked.

"I was just about to tell you that." Strange said helplessly, "Hampton isn't a good place."

"How do you know?" Greedy was curious. By rights, Strange could also contact Hampton's wealthy, possibly visiting as a guest—could it be he was given a hard time?

"This place is cursed." Strange said, "And I also can't resolve it."

"Why?"

"The hardest curse to solve is the human heart." Strange implied as much. Whenever he encountered mystical problems, he would give such ambiguous answers, and Greed had already grown accustomed to it.

However, combining what Dracula had said earlier, Greed could roughly guess that the strangeness of this place was caused by its people, their excessive greed and sickly mentality creating these abnormal phenomena. Simply removing energy would not solve the problem; it must be addressed from within the people themselves.

But there were more than just one or two people living in Hampton, and even Strange could not treat them all. Moreover, many people did not even need treatment—not even a Sorcerer Supreme could possibly kill them all. This problem naturally had no solution.

"How could you choose to buy a house here?" Strange asked, puzzled, "Even if the houses here are indeed in good condition, Tony should have told you that the community atmosphere here is..."

"What's wrong with the community atmosphere?" Greed asked, knowing full well.

"They're not friendly." Strange pretended he didn't know, explaining further, "Vain, fawning over the powerful while trampling the weak, cliquish and exclusionary..."

"How could you think I'm afraid of this?"

"Living here would just be uncomfortable."

"Not necessarily." Pride suddenly spoke up. He turned his head toward a direction, and the sound of waves crashing against rocks came from there, "... The outside of the house is the sea."

?? Hahaha no one guessed right! It's really a ghost!