27423481

[Realism] [High-IQ Crime]
[Peak Mental Duel]
[No Female Lead] [Logic Enthusiast]
 
The police received a call. A person who claimed to be the Ghost said that he was going to kill someone in three days. What's more, the other party hoped that the police could immediately dispatch officers to protect this person, and he intended to complete the hunt under the police's tight protection.
 
In response to this, the police attached great importance to it and made thorough arrangements. When the three-day period arrived, the result was beyond everyone's belief. The target was dead!
 
However, this was just the beginning.
 
The Ghost's goal was to complete 99 perfect crimes and kill 99 enemies.
 
Thus, one perfect crime after another occurred, and the biggest serial murder case in history came into being!

The Ghost in the Dark Night: The Ultimate Revenge Strategy

*Scotland Yard, Serious Crime Unit — 7:00 AM*

James Morrison's office reeked of stale coffee and tension. Maps and surveillance feeds covered every surface. Midnight loomed—the Ghost's deadline.

*No gaps.* James traced the manor's perimeter on a blueprint. *Roadblocks. Patrols. Snipers. Food screened. Water tested. Underground pipes sealed. How could he possibly—*

A knock interrupted his spiral. Detective Thomas Wilson leaned in, tablet in hand. "Perimeter's locked. Even the rats can't sneak through."

James nodded, throat dry. "Double-check everything. Again."

*Dream-Fulfilling Community, London — Morning*

Victor Black strolled to St. George's College, sunlight glinting off his glasses. Neighbors waved—*harmless Mr. Black, the math teacher.* He smiled, savoring the irony.

"Morning, Victor!" called Mrs. Smith, pruning roses.

"Lovely day," he replied, adjusting his tie.

Two forensic reports mocked James from his desk.

**Fingerprints:** No match in any database.

**Red Pigment:** A cheap, discontinued brand from the 1990s.

*Why leave prints if you're this careful? Why outdated paint?* James crumpled the papers. *Catch him. Then the answers come.*

*St. George's College Cafeteria — Noon*

Victor slid into a seat beside Eric Matthews, whose grin reeked of mischief. "You're chipper today. Finally get laid?"

Victor speared a lettuce leaf. "Weekend's coming."

"Barbecue tonight. Kensington. My treat."

*Kensington District — 10:00 PM*

The barbecue joint throbbed with laughter and smoke. Eric devoured lamb skewers, grease dripping down his chin. Victor nursed a beer, eyes flicking to his watch.

"Gotta piss," Victor said, slipping into the restroom.

Inside, he pulled a burner phone from his jacket. One text:

James stared at his phone, sweat soaking his collar. *One minute.*

His heart stalled. "Thomas! Check Wilson—**now!**"

Through the receiver: footsteps, pounding doors, Margaret's scream.

James's knees gave out. The phone clattered to the floor.

Victor stood in the shadows, watching blue lights swarm the villa across the river. Eric snored on a bench, drunk and oblivious.

In Victor's pocket, a melted SIM card hissed under his lighter's flame.

Chapter 4: The Phantom’s Gambit