Doomsday Wonderland C.1416: The Baby and the Flowerpot

"Wait," Jessica said, tightly clutching Leah's hand for support. "Are you sure the baby is really here? I don't understand. Why would a single man steal someone else's child?"

Elizabeth, who had entered first, catching Barbeque Brow by surprise, replied from the entrance hall, "Single, yes. But a man, no."

Everyone was taken aback, except for Pink, who sighed languidly. 𝚏𝗿𝗲ew𝐞b𝐧o𝚟𝚎𝗹.com

"It was the divination that made me realize," Elizabeth began, choosing her words carefully. "When we first moved in, the landlord introduced us to the residents. He mentioned Barbeque Brow's alcoholism, rudeness, and middle-aged divorce but never said she was a man. We assumed based on those characteristics that it had to be a man, never doubting it. But can't women also be rude, alcoholics, and middle aged divorcees?"

"Huh?" Ms. Chen rubbernecked between the silent Barbeque Brow and Elizabeth. "That can't be right. I saw Ivy dating him. Ivy likes men..."

Her words trailed off when she noticed the surprised look on Barbeque Brow's face.

"Ivy? With me?" Barbeque Brow pointed at herself, too shocked to form a proper question. "When did I date her?"

Elizabeth turned to Ms. Chen, explaining, "Just like we mistakenly believed Barbeque Brow was a man, Ivy was similarly mistaken."

Ms. Chen paused for a few seconds, blinking. "Now that you mention it... I only saw Ivy using her key to enter but never actually saw Barbeque Brow with her. Was it all a charade by Ivy? But how do you explain their fights?"

"I'm also heterosexual," Barbeque Brow said, bewildered. "How could I have dated her, let alone fought with her?"

When the truth was acknowledged, everyone was slightly taken aback. Jessica coughed and said, "I'm sorry... It's hard to tell your gender from your appearance."

This comment revealed the limitations of the game. In reality, when Elizabeth looked at Barbeque Brow, the finely crafted eyebrows and slender shoulders had little in common with a man. The truth was, they all assumed Barbeque Brow was a female player role-playing as a male character. Of course, they couldn't say that out loud; it wouldn't fit with the role-play principles.

"Yes, Ivy thought Barbeque Brow was a man. As part of her plan, she swung by a few times to make you think that she and Barbeque Brow were involved romantically," Elizabeth explained. "Since Barbeque Brow is often drunk and seldom sober, Ivy could easily sneak into her house and make preparations. Barbeque Brow was the perfect target. As for the arguments... I'll bet if we search their phones, we'll find voice messages edited to sound like a couple fighting."

Having Ivy's phone in her hand, Elizabeth was quite confident about this point.

"How... how did you discover Barbeque Brow's gender?" Mr. Grant asked in disbelief. "If she didn't kill Ivy, then who did?"

"Of course, through my divination arts," Elizabeth said gravely. "The omens I read on my oracle bones never lie. As for Ivy's killer... I'll cast another divination."

Of course, the so-called 'omens' were not the real reason.

A baby was missing, and she had heard someone singing lullabies. These clues seemed like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. If Barbeque Brow was assumed to have stolen the baby, it challenged the assumption that a deeply maternal figure, one who would steal a child to sing lullabies, would be a man. Instead, it hinted at a woman possibly traumatized by childbirth issues such as miscarriage or loss, which often impact women profoundly.

This notion, albeit reinforced by cultural stereotypes, began to form once doubt was seeded. When Elizabeth read the messages on Ivy's phone, the artificial nature of the conversations became apparent. Precisely because Barbeque Brow couldn't have had a romantic relationship with Ivy, the conversations seemed too straightforward, lacking the chaos and miscommunication of genuine interactions.

Why Ivy would fabricate messages and frame Barbeque Brow for murder remained a mystery to Elizabeth, as did the manner of Ivy's death, which clearly wasn't suicide.

Luckily, Elizabeth guessed correctly at the crucial point.

Without giving everyone much time to ponder, Elizabeth turned to Barbeque Brow and said, "Even if you shut yourself in, I know you're a woman and that you stole the child next door. My oracle bones see through your actions. However, I won't force you to hand the child over. Just tell us where you've hidden the child, and we'll leave."

Her main goal wasn't to seek justice. Given that nobody would likely want to take care of the baby, it was better to leave the child with Barbeque Brow. The primary objective was to emphasize how she "divined" the truth time and again.

Seeing how much Barbeque Brow cared for the child, Elizabeth hoped that by assuring her she wouldn't take the child away, Barbeque Brow would be more cooperative.

However, Barbeque Brow sneered and retorted, "Are you crazy? I didn't take the child."

Elizabeth was taken aback.

"If you don't believe me, search around," Barbeque Brow said, stepping back and raising her arms. "Go ahead, search the apartment!"

Sweat formed on Elizabeth's palms. For a moment, she thought of the worst possibility—her intuition was wrong. If the child wasn't here, the foundation of her whole "cult" would crumble. Who knew how much effort she had invested to make these people even semi-believe her.

As she lowered her head in panic, she noticed some black soil on the floor where Barbeque Brow had just stepped back.

'Where did this come from?' Elizabeth wondered. She hadn't been near the building's lawn, and anyone who had would've been spotted immediately.

Barbeque Brow's willingness to let them search likely meant she was confident they wouldn't find the baby—she must have hidden the child. Observing spots of soil, Elizabeth slowly realized the grim possibility: the child was probably dead.

Barbeque Brow crossed her arms. "If you're so good at predictions, predict where the child is."

She seemed oblivious to what Elizabeth had noticed, her judgment perhaps clouded by alcohol. She must have assumed the flowerpot was an unexpected hiding place. Everyone had dressed for the game. Jessica in shorts, Barbeque Brow in stained clothes—naturally, there would be a pot for the catmint.

Paralyzed by a chilling thought, Elizabeth questioned the feasibility. How could Barbeque Brow bury a nine-month-old in a flowerpot? It was a very practical game, so the pot couldn't be empty. Such a large pot of catmint would have developed roots and needed lots of soil to support the plant. It was hard to imagine there being any space leftover to hide the child's corpse.

Unless... unless she cut off the catmint's roots to clear some space. Could a plant survive without its roots?

"Elizabeth!" someone called.

Snapped back to reality, Elizabeth realized she had rushed outside. It was dark; she paused by the catmint under the dim corridor light. The plant wasn't upright but leaning against the wall.

She reached out and gently pushed the catmint.

It fell with a thud, revealing a small pale figure in the pot. Elizabeth didn't even look at the body but stared at the catmint.

It looked as it always did, but it was clearly dead.

1