This Court has reviewed the evidence and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the magnitude of temporal larceny described herein. Forty-seven houses. FORTY-SEVEN. The Confessor maintained a SPREADSHEET, which this Court finds both admirably organized and deeply concerning as evidence of psychological deterioration. A street name with thirteen letters? Judge Escrow III once dismissed a case because the defendant's attorney blinked in a pattern he found "arithmetically suspicious," so this Court understands superstition, but even THIS BENCH has limits. The Confessor claims to feel no anger, only "genuine impression" at their tormentors' artistry, and this Court must note that such serenity following eight months of systematic abuse suggests either enlightenment or a complete break from reality. The other agent they were spotted with will learn. Oh, they will learn. This Court sentences the buyers to eternally circle a cul-de-sac where every house number contains the digit seven, and awards the Confessor forty-seven minutes of uninterrupted screaming into any pillow of their choosing. The Court must adjourn immediately as Judge Escrow III feels his left eye beginning to twitch.