1888: Memoirs of an Unconfirmed Creature Hunter-Chapter 80: Twisted Man

After agreeing on the time and location for the operation with Marcus, Lin Jie did not linger long in the Underground City.
He deeply understood that when facing a UMA with unknown abilities, even the smallest piece of extra intelligence could determine the outcome of the battle.
Force was the ultimate means to solve problems, but the path to that "ultimate" solution needed to be paved with wisdom and knowledge.
He came to the association's internal "Ether Telegraph Room."
Unlike the noisy public telegraph offices outside, this room was quiet, filled only with the rhythmic "click-clack" of electrical currents.
Several clerical staff wearing monocles worked intently before machines constructed from complex brass and crystal, translating encrypted spiritual signals from around the world into lines of text.
Lin Jie found the person in charge and applied for an encrypted communication with the Paris branch archives under the pretext of handling "follow-up intelligence sorting from Paris."
This was the fastest and most reasonable communication method his authority permitted.
The person he needed to ask for help was precisely that walking "living database" far away in Paris—Julian Belloc.
When it came to knowledge of Europe's various obscure ancient texts, folk legends, and urban rumors, probably no one in the entire I.A.R.C. European branch could surpass him.
If that eerie "Crooked Man" nursery rhyme truly existed in history, then Julian's archives were the most likely place to find its origins.
The telegram's content was carefully worded by Lin Jie—he only mentioned the nursery rhyme's lyrics and the key token "Crooked Sixpence," requesting Julian's assistance in investigating its historical origins.
He disguised this inquiry as an academic exploration of London's local folk legends, not mentioning the UMA or Lily's crisis, to avoid leaving any clues in the communication records.
After sending the telegram, Lin Jie returned to his Baker Street apartment and began making thorough preparations for the evening operation.
He didn't bother cleaning the [Serene Heart]—under Arthur's precise modifications, each shot from it was as stable as a precise Swiss timepiece.
He focused more energy on inspecting the [Cursebreaker Vambrace].
He carefully examined the golden neural network-like spiritual conduction circuits inside the vambrace, ensuring they hadn't been damaged during the previous battle in Paris.
This weapon capable of interfering with "order" might play an unexpected role when facing a UMA that was itself an embodiment of "twisting."
Time passed slowly to the continuous sound of drizzle outside the window.
At dusk, when the light in the apartment had dimmed enough to require lighting the kerosene lamp, the porter delivered a reply.
A telegram from Paris, encrypted and translated through the association's internal channels.
Lin Jie eagerly opened it and quickly scanned the contents.
What he read made his pupils contract.
Julian's profound knowledge had once again cleared away the heavy fog for him, pointing toward a terrifying clue hidden beneath the dust of history.
In the telegram, Julian first expressed his "most enthusiastic congratulations" in his characteristic exaggerated and dramatic style.
"My dear Lin! I must admit your sense of smell is sharper than Scotland Yard's finest hounds! You actually managed to sniff out such marvelous ancient remnants in that coal-smoke-blackened city of London!"
"The nursery rhyme you mentioned isn't the complete version—what you heard is just a relatively mild version that was 'purified' and 'censored' by later generations during its transmission."
"I spent the entire afternoon flipping through numerous folk poetry collections from the late 17th century and manuscripts by anonymous authors in the archives. Finally, among the belongings of an anonymous collector obsessed with gathering 'hanging ballads,' I found this poem's most original and complete form."
"Its name isn't 'The Crooked Man,' but rather 'The Crooked Man's Crooked House.'"
What followed in the telegram was that forgotten complete nursery rhyme.
The first half was no different from what Lily had sung, but the disturbingly new second half poured over Lin Jie's head like a bucket of ice water.
"...He opened a crooked door, walked into a crooked hall..."
"The stairs were twisted spirals, the floor was crooked waves..."
"The walls breathed in twisted ways, the windows were crooked eyes peeping..."
"He lay upon a crooked bed, dreaming crooked dreams that never saw dawn..."
"The crooked man waits for you, waits for you to come home, back to the crooked little house, to share the crooked death together."
The final line of lyrics deeply stung Lin Jie's consciousness.
He instantly understood this thing's ultimate purpose.
This wasn't a game of "hide and seek"—it was a direct "invitation" with death as the endpoint!
It wanted to imprison Lily's soul in that "house" constructed from twisted laws!
Lin Jie forcefully suppressed the chill in his heart and continued reading.
Julian's investigation didn't stop there.
"This nursery rhyme didn't appear out of thin air. According to some notes beside the manuscript, its prototype relates to a real historical figure—a man named 'Abraham Creechley.'"
"This person was a 17th-century London architect, or more accurately, a craftsman with grotesque ideas not recognized by the mainstream."
"He was active during the reconstruction period after the Great Fire of London in 1666. Unlike Sir Christopher Wren, who championed classical symmetrical aesthetics, Creechley was obsessed with studying primitive concepts of 'non-Euclidean geometry.'"
"He firmly believed that perfect architecture shouldn't consist of cold straight lines and symmetry, but should simulate 'nature and dreams' through vibrant 'curves' and 'spirals.'"
"His architectural designs possessed a startling surreal beauty on paper, but in actual construction, they became disasters because they violated mechanical principles."
"Every building he supervised construction on without exception suffered wall cracking, foundation sinking, or even complete collapse shortly after completion."
"There were even rumors that anyone who lived in houses he designed would hear strange noises from the walls at night, their temperaments becoming irritable and paranoid, ultimately either going mad or dying."
"Eventually, Creechley was expelled from the architects' guild for his 'blasphemous' design concepts and continuous accidents, becoming the laughingstock of all London."
"He spent his last savings to build his final and only completed work for himself—his own residence—on the then relatively desolate edge of the White Church District."
"edly, that house was 'tilted' from the very first day of its construction."
"It stood there at a bizarre angle that seemed to defy gravity."
"No one dared approach it, and Creechley himself never emerged after moving in."
"Weeks later, when neighbors ed to the authorities due to unbearable odors emanating from inside, the constable broke down the door to find he had long been dead, his corpse hanging from the roof beam in an extremely twisted, inhuman posture."
At the telegram's end, Julian provided a precise address and a scholar's excited conclusion.
"Although the main structure of that cursed 'Crooked House' collapsed long ago over two centuries of weathering, its foundation and some ruins are said to stubbornly remain like a malignant tumor in the most remote corner of the White Church District to this day."
"Go forth, my friend, and uncover historical truth! If my conjecture is correct, then the lingering obsession and resentful soul of that poor architect Abraham Creechley, born in the wrong era, likely formed the initial breeding ground for that 'Twisted Man'!"
After reading the telegram, Lin Jie stood for a long time before the window.
Outside, night had fallen, raindrops tapping against the glass with sounds that seemed to urge him on.
All the clues finally connected into a complete, clear chain of evidence at this moment.
The forgotten nursery rhyme pointed to a cursed house.
The cursed house pointed to a soul filled with obsession and resentment.
And that soul was now trying to find a new "family member" to live with it in that death-house constructed from twisted laws.
The target was locked.
Lin Jie picked up the [Serene Heart] revolver from the table, its heavy weight bringing him a measure of comfort.
He looked at the clock hanging on the wall—the hour hand had slowly moved to "eight."
Only one hour remained until the time agreed upon with Marcus.
"Twisted architect..." Lin Jie softly spoke the name.
His eyes showed no fear, only the cold calm belonging to a hunter.
"Your house is about to be forcibly demolished."