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

**Victor Black's Apartment — Night**

Victor sat in the dim light of his apartment, his mind racing. Sebastian's casual remark about the psychological profile had struck a nerve. *They're closing in,* he thought. *Not through evidence, but through patterns.*

He clenched his fists, staring at the photos of his previous victims—John Wilson, David Smith, Harley Quinn. Each kill had been meticulously planned, each step calculated to perfection. But now, he realized that his perfection was his vulnerability.

"I've been too predictable. Too *perfect*," Victor muttered to himself.

The solution was clear: disrupt the pattern. His next kill would be messy, impulsive—nothing like the carefully orchestrated traps of before. Jones Thompson, a low-priority target, would serve as the perfect deviation.

Victor leaned back, his mind already working on the new plan. "If they're looking for a calm, calculated killer, I'll give them chaos."

Thomas Wilson stood before the team, a map of Blacktown projected on the screen behind him. The room was tense, the air thick with anticipation.

"We've found the connection," Thomas announced, his voice steady but tinged with excitement. "All three victims—John Wilson, David Smith, Harley Quinn—have ties to Blacktown."

Sebastian Gray leaned forward, his sharp eyes fixed on the map. "Explain."

Thomas nodded. "Harley Quinn was born in Blacktown. David Smith lived there for several years in his early days. And John Wilson's company, Wilson Properties, had multiple projects in the area. Additionally, the arrow poison—*Antiaris toxicaria*—traces back to Blacktown. It's one of the few places in the UK where the poison has been documented."

James Morrison's eyes gleamed with a mix of excitement and determination. "Revenge. It's personal. The Ghost's motive is tied to Blacktown."

Sebastian nodded, his mind already racing through the implications. "This is a major breakthrough. We need to send a team to Blacktown immediately. Dig deep. Find out everything we can about the victims' connections to the town and any possible links to the Ghost."

Mark Carter and Neil Baker, who had been monitoring Margaret's house, groaned audibly when they heard the news. "Blacktown? Again?" Mark muttered under his breath.

Neil sighed, shaking his head. "Some people are born to enjoy life, while we were born to work hard."

Despite their complaints, the two detectives knew the importance of the task. That night, they went home for a brief reunion with their families, whom they hadn't seen in weeks. Early the next morning, they shouldered their backpacks and set off for Blacktown, ready to uncover the secrets hidden in the small town.

**London Nightclub — 2:00 AM**

Alva Anderson adjusted his security uniform, trying to look professional. The job was a step up from food delivery, and the view wasn't bad either. The nightclub was bustling with life, the music pounding through the walls, and the patrons dancing and drinking without a care in the world.

His gaze lingered on a woman stumbling out of the club, her dress riding up as she struggled to keep her balance. Alva quickly looked away, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Then he spotted Jones Thompson, a regular at the club, swaying toward the curb. Jones was clearly drunk, his movements unsteady as he fumbled with his phone, trying to call a taxi.

"Mr. Thompson!" Alva called out, stepping forward. "Need a cab?"

Jones waved him off, his speech slurred. "I'm fine, kid. Just… just fine."

Chapter 31: Locking in on Blacktown