Charles's submitted work, *The Lunedon Times*, was released on Friday, while *The Strand* chose to publish on Sunday. As a result, the broad readership had the chance to get a sneak peek at *The Lunedon Times* content by Friday.
Albert, a literature professor, was clearly from an uncommon background. This profession was typically reserved for the aristocracy, open only to those who had received proper education. It was nearly impossible for someone from the lower or middle classes to break in, with exams specifically prohibiting their participation.
Though Albert wasn't a noble by birth, he shared the same fate as Elena's father, being the younger son of a noble, unable to inherit the title or land. However, thanks to his considerable intelligence, he managed to gain entry to a university, pursued higher studies, and eventually became a university professor. Thanks to his noble father's societal position, his mentors had been relatively lenient, though his classmates suffered under the stark contrast between nobles and commoners, enduring near-slavery conditions.
As a literature professor, Albert was naturally keen on new literary works, often reading magazines, newspapers, novels—he'd even read the penny dreadfuls found on street corners.
Thus, when he came across Charles's *Invisible Man*, he admired its creativity.
"Rarely does one come across such a concept," Albert paced in his study. "An invisible man, it's certainly a point worth exploring. Could there be similar 'invisible' entities in society? Could there be ghosts, not in the literal sense, but people whose existence goes unnoticed? Could they be considered another type of invisible man?"
He turned around, writing the title *The Visible Invisible Man*, deciding to approach it as the starting point for an in-depth article on social issues.
Indeed, many readers appreciated the clever premise of *Invisible Man*, but few found it truly terrifying. Letters from readers mostly focused on questions like "Does the ability to be invisible really exist?" or "What should one do if a bounty hunter is after you?" Some readers even suggested intriguing ideas, such as the ghost and the bounty hunter both hunting the protagonist. The ghost pursuing his life, while the bounty hunter sought his reward, with no clear distinction between the two.
"Perhaps I should have made the ghost more unique," Charles thought with some frustration. "It feels like I only used invisibility as a trendy plot device."
As Charles drowned his sorrows—not with wine, for the "barrel corpse" story still haunted him—but with tea, *The Strand* released its Sunday edition.
Unlike *Invisible Man*, Elena's small stories didn't initially draw much attention. At first, they appeared to be bizarre news pieces, similar to the odd events people might encounter in everyday life. Albert didn't notice their intent to be horrifying when he read them.
He chuckled at the "ghost teaching director" story, assuming it was just students afraid of their teacher making up tales. But when he read "the roasted baby" piece, his heart sank, for he had a young child at home. Luckily, their nanny was mentally sound, and his wife was very attentive to the child's well-being.
However, when he skimmed through "the insect crawling into an ear," his ears began to itch, and his head throbbed, as if insects were already laying eggs inside his brain. After all, his home was near the Lunedon River, which had many filthy insects. He couldn't rule out the possibility that bugs might crawl into the house.
"I'll have the servants give the place a good cleaning when I get home," he thought, gulping down some wine to calm himself, only to come across "the corpse in the wine barrel."
The wine Albert was drinking had come from a nearby winery, which made him uneasy. Who knew if the barrels at those wineries were hiding bodies?
"It's absolutely horrifying," he muttered as he shook the newspaper. He realized that once he'd seen such stories, his mind instantly conjured up all kinds of disturbing images. He doubted he'd be able to drink wine for some time.
As for "the missing wife," Albert had interacted with enough foreigners to know that if someone had the right intentions, it wouldn't be too hard to sneak a wife into a wardrobe and ship her off to another country.
"Could this be based on something that actually happened?" He pondered. "It seems like something that could totally happen in real life."
Albert grew restless, almost wanting to rush home to warn his wife and child to be especially cautious in any hidden corners.
"The murderer in the wardrobe" only added to his growing anxiety. He was determined to ask some reliable friends if a criminal was still at large.
That day, during class, Albert took the opportunity to share the issue of the newspaper with his students. "Although it's phrased in an unreliable 'I have a friend who says' manner, I believe these events could very well happen. We must remain vigilant."
"Speaking of which, I think I felt something crawling into my ear the other night while I was sleeping," one of the students began nervously. "Could it have been a figment of my imagination?"
"My family's wine barrels haven't been opened in years," another student said, scared. "The wine was a gift from my grandmother—who knows if there's a body inside? I've heard of soldiers being put in barrels after dying, but I never thought they'd hide bodies in wine barrels like that."
The students laughed at the absurdity of connecting such events, but as they discussed it, they couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that their wine now tasted off.
"I'm lucky I open my wardrobe every day," one student said, relieved. "No one could possibly hide in there without me noticing, right?"
The classroom became a cacophony of anxious chatter. The more the students discussed, the more terrified they became, practically rushing home to check. Albert tried to calm them, "Don't get too worked up. A lot of it might just be coincidences or delusions."
However, the panic was already spreading uncontrollably. Much like how rumors about gutter oil ruined street vendors' businesses, the tales in the newspaper had a similar impact, with people flocking to pharmacists and doctors to check their ears.
Many readers who believed there were insects laying eggs in their ears demanded medication to kill them. Though doctors repeatedly assured them that insects wouldn't crawl into their brains, they didn't completely dismiss the possibility of bugs entering the ears. This only deepened the unease among the public. After all, in the current environment, insects could easily crawl into beds during the night, and there were plenty of white ants in the walls.
The doctors' reassurances failed to calm people down, only increasing their fears about potential dangers.
*The Strand* never expected to have such a wide-reaching impact.
In contrast, Saville Street, known as "The Golden Road of Tailors," was eerily quiet. This was largely due to the "missing wife" story, which was so sensational that the women who would normally frequent the shops were now too terrified to enter any fitting rooms. They were appalled by the mention of "human centipedes" in the paper.
Just the thought of trying on a piece of clothing, only to be abducted and sent overseas to have her arms and legs cut off—and even have her tongue removed—was enough to make them develop a strong aversion to fitting rooms, as well as a deep fear of freak shows.
Freak shows were exhibitions of people with unusual physical traits, such as the obese, dwarfs, giants, or albino individuals. They had been around since the Middle Ages and became popular again in the previous century with performers who had two heads. These shows were often part of circus acts and were particularly popular in taverns and markets. Before the advent of television and film, these shows were a primary source of entertainment.
Now, however, their reputation was waning, and attendance at the freak shows in East Lunedon dropped sharply. Organizers were forced to issue statements in the newspaper, assuring the public that the people they exhibited were all naturally born with these traits, and there were no artificial modifications.
Meanwhile, the wineries were hit hard. People were more inclined to buy their own homebrews rather than risk purchasing wine that could contain hidden corpses. Street vendors even had to advertise that their wine came from clean barrels and didn't contain any bodies.
Soon, the streets were filled with the clatter of complaints, and the editors at *The Strand* couldn't have been happier.
"It doesn't even name names," one editor said confidently. "The story says 'a friend of a friend,' so how can they blame us if their businesses are suffering?"
The others laughed. "Exactly! We never said it was true."
Though the atmosphere in the editorial office was lighthearted, one older, more cautious editor furrowed his brow. "Perhaps we should contact the author and have her issue a clarification. If this spreads too far, it could cause widespread panic."
"Do we really need to?" the others asked, puzzled. "I think this will blow over soon."
"Maybe, but it could escalate," the older editor replied seriously. "We should at least consider the worst-case scenario."
The other editors exchanged uncertain glances. They felt it probably wasn't that serious but also feared the worst. In the end, they decided to compromise, sending a letter to the club inviting Elena to issue a clarifying statement.