Arthur's words brought Malinda to a halt. She instinctively looked at him, hoping he could spare her the trouble once again.
All the guests in the hall froze as well.
Then quite a few eyes lit up.
Thanks to Malinda's "grand welcome," Arthur's identity had already spread among them-never underestimate people's curiosity, let alone the information network a crowd could form.
Once one person knew, everyone knew.
So everyone present knew Arthur was the "Medium" who had risen to fame over the past week.
The curse, the Axe Murderer, the Vengeful Evil Spirit, the murder at the Jorjok Swordsmanship Club, the Baby-Theft Case-each and every one had become a favorite topic of conversation in their leisure hours.
Some of them dismissed it all as tricks to fool the ignorant masses.
Some remained neutral, believing that if he had accomplished those things, there had to be something to it.
But most were curious, both about how Arthur had done it and what sort of person he was.
Regardless of which group they belonged to, however, they were all staring intently at Arthur now, afraid of missing even the slightest detail.
The skeptics were eager to expose his tricks.
The curious wanted to satisfy their curiosity.
As for the neutral ones?
Most were simply enjoying the show.
Arthur understood all of this perfectly.
But he had nothing to fear.
Because he really did know who the murderer was.
It wasn't because his thinking was particularly meticulous, nor because he possessed astonishing powers of deduction. He had simply seen far too many cases solved by famous detectives: one who roamed the fogbound city with a doctor as his assistant, one who shouted vows in his grandfather's name, a woman called Granny who was really a queen, an elementary schooler who never grew up,