Sob, sob~ Sob, sob~
Myrtle's cries were shrill and piercing, grating on everyone's nerves. Luo Bin's eyes shifted as an idea struck him. He took three blank riddle sheets and an inexpensive but decent quill, conjured a flame on the spot, and burned them to ashes.
In an instant, three nearly transparent, grayish-white sheets covered in riddles and a quill floated in front of Myrtle.
Myrtle stared blankly at Luo Bin, seemingly unable to understand what he intended.
"Myrtle, you mentioned that you were a top student fifty years ago, and I just saw it myself—you gave the answer the moment you read the riddle. Want to enter the riddle contest? First prize is a complete set of Gilderoy Lockhart's signed books!"
Myrtle stared longingly at the floating paper and quill. Finally, she pressed her lips together and tentatively reached out a finger, only to jerk it back the instant her fingertip touched the cool, soft feather.
"I—I can touch it!"
Myrtle drew both hands against her chest in amazement.
"Of course. As long as you agree to enter, they'll belong to you. You and you alone!"
"To me alone?"
Neither in life nor after becoming a ghost had Myrtle's looks or personality been particularly likable. During the first few years after her death, she had occasionally received white daisies and black-and-white drawing paper, but later, even her parents had stopped "mailing" her things!
Peeves had torn the drawing paper to shreds, and other ghosts had snatched away the daisies, white lilies, and other flowers. Perhaps the only things Myrtle had managed to keep were her loose, old-fashioned clothes and her thick, heavy black-framed glasses!
Seeing the anxiety, uncertainty, excitement, and shock in her eyes, Luo Bin knew the fish was about to take the bait. He drew his wand