People are scared in America, my uncle is Dante

Chapter 145 A Fat Sheep Delivered to the Door

"Private investigator—Surren?"

Half an hour later, at a hotel in Delhi.

Beverly held the business card that Suren had handed her. She looked at the logo printed on it and hesitantly read out the name on it.

"DevilMayCry? What kind of agency is that? I've never heard of it."

Half an hour ago, they turned around with the determination to die.

It turned out that it wasn't the clown who had stopped them, but this very young, white-haired man in front of them.

He claimed to be a private investigator who could help them solve the Joker's problem.

"Yes, our firm handles all kinds of business."

Suren sat on the sofa, looking at the only woman in the small group.

Beverly had a sadistic father who abused her from a young age. He not only frequently punched and kicked her, but also harbored some despicable thoughts.

Having finally escaped her family of origin, she later married a husband who was also violent and controlling.

They jumped from one fire pit into another.

He looked away and glanced at the other people in the room.

"For example, helping people find lost pets, writing love letters, or resolving some difficult family disputes —"

Suren said casually.

"However, our main business is hunting demons."

Upon hearing this, the people in the room looked at each other, somewhat bewildered.

If it weren't for the fact that the other person's demeanor was somewhat intimidating, they would have even suspected that this person had just escaped from a mental hospital.

They all turned to look at Bill, who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Bill had always been the spiritual leader of this small group since he was a child.

As an adult, he became a horror novelist, and his novels were very popular.

If we were to ask who among this group understands demons or supernatural forces best, it would probably be him.

"Devil Hunter————"

Bill repeated the sentence in a low voice, then shook his head and chuckled.

"Dude, while we did encounter some inexplicable things at the restaurant, that doesn't mean we'll believe some conman who popped up out of nowhere claiming he can hunt it down."

The others in the room remained vigilant, clearly not taking Suren's words seriously.

"Okay, since you all think I'm joking,"

Suren remained expressionless and looked at everyone, "Then let's talk about something else."

He looked directly at Bill.

"Bill, do you remember how your brother died twenty-seven years ago?"

Bill's face darkened as he thought of his brother George's death.

Twenty-seven years ago, on a rainy night, his younger brother was dragged into the sewer by a clown, and he never saw him again.

Before Bill could speak, Suren continued.

"Or perhaps you have one friend who couldn't make it to the party?"

Upon hearing this name, the faces of the few people who had been trying to remain calm instantly turned grim.

"What's wrong with him?"

Bill stared at Suren and asked.

Just now at the Chinese restaurant, the sentence they pieced together from the lucky slips was: Stanley can't take all of this.

They originally wanted to call and ask, but were stopped by the young man at the restaurant entrance.

"Before I came to find you, I casually checked on the recent situation of each of you."

Suren made up a reason on the spot.

"Your friend committed suicide after receiving Mike's call."

Suren's tone was calm, but his words were like a thunderclap to Bill and the others.

Mike is the black man who just smashed the table in the restaurant.

He has stayed in the small town for so many years, studying the Joker and waiting for his return.

Of all the people, he knew the most about the Joker and had the deepest impression of him.

The reason these people are gathered here now is because he called them one by one.

"impossible!"

Beverly stood up abruptly, her eyes reddening. "How could Stanley, such a rational person, possibly commit suicide?"

, 7

"This must be that damn clown's doing! He's deceiving us!"

Another member of the small team paced back and forth in the room, looking incredulous.

"I'm sorry, but this is the truth. You can easily make a call to confirm it."

Suren looked at them and said calmly.

Bill picked up his phone, his fingers trembling, and dialed a number.

A moment later, the call was answered. Bill exchanged a few words briefly, then his face turned deathly pale.

He slowly put down his phone, looked at his equally nervous companions in the room, and nodded with difficulty.

"He died; he committed suicide by cutting his wrists in the bathtub."

Bill's voice was hoarse.

These words were like a heavy punch, hitting everyone hard.

The monster lurking in the shadows announced its return to them in the most cruel way.

It didn't even need to do anything itself; it simply used fear to drive one of them to their death.

"Now, you still don't believe me?"

Suren spoke at the oppressive moment, breaking the oppressive atmosphere in the room.

Bill took a deep breath, trying to suppress the sadness in his heart.

He looked at Suren and asked in a deep voice, "Who exactly are you? Why do you know so much about our affairs?"

"What brings you here?"

"I told you, I am a demon hunter."

Suren walked to the sofa. "As for other things, you don't need to know."

"So you came here because someone hired you to deal with the Joker?"

Mike, the Black man, finally couldn't hold back any longer and spoke up.

He knew better than anyone how terrifying the Joker was, and if someone could actually deal with him, that would be fantastic news.

"Hire me? I'm here to deal with the other guys."

Suren raised an eyebrow and casually made up some nonsense.

Although his real target this time was the Joker, there's no reason to turn away a fat sheep that's delivered to his door.

Even if these people are poor, they can still be squeezed out of some US dollars, right?

"As a legitimate business, I never turn down business that comes to me."

"Since it's a problem for you—why not consider formally assigning me a commission?"

Suren shifted to a more comfortable position. "Don't worry, my prices are always very fair."

A brief, deathly silence fell over the room.

A light drizzle began to fall outside the window, the raindrops pattering against the glass, making me feel uneasy.

Money is not a problem.

Bill looked up, his eyes reddening.

"As long as you can really take down that monster—for George and Stanley, we can scrape together as much money as you need."

The others tacitly agreed with Bill's statement.

For them, no amount of money matters as long as this nightmare can be ended completely.

"Great, I like dealing with straightforward people."

Seeing the system notification pop up in his mind, Suren smiled slightly.

"Now, all you need to do is take me to the Joker's hideout."

"Hiding place?"

Bill looked at Suren with some confusion. "What hiding place?"

"Twenty-seven years ago, you personally inflicted severe damage on it. Have you even forgotten that?"

Suren frowned slightly.

The Joker Pennywise has a power.

Once you successfully escape Derry, your memories of the clown and your experiences in the town will quickly fade away.

The farther you are from this town, and the longer you are away, the more you forget it.

What he didn't expect was that Bill and his group could forget so completely, even forgetting the Joker's exact location.

After a moment, Mike, the Black man, sighed, breaking the silence.

"I know where it is."