Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios
Sir Ders Shaw? Mr. Hibbert Hall? Who are they? I don’t know them at all… Acting as though he had no doubts, Klein said half-jokingly, “Let’s hope that they can bring blue skies and sunshine to Backlund.”
“Yes, although burning in your own fireplace is everyone’s freedom and is a right granted by the law, blue skies and sunshine are more desirable things.” Luke Sammer, a member of the Soot Reduction Association, sighed with emotion and pointed to the hired carriage. “We should go. Mary urgently needs some help.”
Stelyn Sammer added, feigning a level of restraint, “There might be Members of Parliament coming to the banquet, from the Backlund district or from the kingdom.”
“I can imagine the grandeur of this banquet.” Klein flattered politely and watched the Sammers board the carriage and leave.
As he turned to head for the post office at the end of the street, a postman in a dark green uniform arrived in a carriage and delivered a letter to his letterbox.
A letter for me? Klein pulled out a bunch of keys and casually chose the one that was simple and had a brass color.
The Master Key easily opened the letterbox.
I just need to have this key on me in the future… Klein mumbled as he took out the newspapers he had subscribed to and the letter.
The letter was from Isengard Stanton.
He had also looked through the old and unresolved serial murders yesterday and had picked out the most suspicious ones, and after obtaining a preliminary confirmation from the police department about the present circumstances of the suspects, he had written to Klein, Kaslana, and the other private detectives, that were interested in this angle, to share his findings.
It included the two cases that Klein had focused on.
Great detective minds think alike… The letter I wrote just now was for nothing…Klein joked before returning to the living room.
According to Isengard, the random murder cases of people who returned late had resulted in a large number of suspects, but the suspect had never been narrowed down. After so many years, it was very difficult, almost hopeless, to try to find a new clue.
One of the four suspects in the other case was a teenager whose mother was also a victim—a prostitute and single mother who had him as her only child. He had been abused by his mother, had been the police’s first suspect, but less than half a year after that case, he had been seriously injured in a gang firefight in East Borough and died in a surgical room at a charity hospital.
His body was cremated with people bearing witness before being buried in the cemetery.
As such, it was impossible for him to be connected to the current serial killer.
If he hadn’t been cremated, I definitely would’ve dug up the grave to verify it…Klein, who had once come back from the dead, seriously considered the possibility of the other party coming back from the dead.
Of the remaining three suspects, one had moved several times in the past few years. The police had lost track of his situation and needed more time to find him. One had gone through bankruptcy and moved to East Borough from North Borough, while the other was still running a grocery store on the same street.
Klein took out a fresh sheet of paper, described the situation, and then asked the recipient to observe the two suspects with specific addresses in secret. He emphasized, “The killers of serial murders are all cruel, brutal, and very aggressive. Please be careful not to get too close to them; act as if you’re just an ordinary neighbor observing them.
“The information I need pertains to their recent mental state, such as whether they are irritable, whether they like to shut themselves in their rooms, rarely communicate with others, and whether they have beaten others up.”
This was also the information he got from The Sun. After each kill, the Devil would eat the victim’s organs according to the ritual and stay in a bloodthirsty, manic state until a new victim appeared.
After emphasizing the need to take note of the investigator’s safety, Klein folded the letter, stuffed it into a new envelope, and affixed a black stamp to the surface.
Then he wrote down the name of the recipient: “Detective Stuart.”
In Empress Borough, the opulent villa of Count Hall.
Susie was lying in the corner of the study, looking around as if bored.
With a bulging stomach, Count Hall took a puff with his pipe and said to his eldest son, “Do you know why I insisted on having you be on the National Atmospheric Pollution Council?”
Hibbert Hall replied thoughtfully, “You wish to influence the formulation of the relevant laws and policies?”
“No, although I’m the second-largest shareholder of the Constant Coal and Steel Consortium, I don’t really care about this problem. I’ve been urging them to make adjustments accordingly. I have no doubt that fixing atmospheric pollution is a future trend.
“Hibbert, although our family has fixed seats in the House of Lords, and you will also become a Member of Parliament of the House of Lords in time, so why do some nobles have more influence than others when they are all Members of Parliament of the House of Lords? Notwithstanding the Speaker and other people with special statuses.”
Hibbert thought for a moment before saying, “The title of nobility, wealth, commercial status, as well as the relationship between the government and the army?”
“That is only a part of it. In addition to one’s own ability to handle matters, people will always rely on those with rich experience, and those who have participated in many similar matters. In the future, if you wish to have any achievement in politics, in addition to inheriting a seat, you will also need to try your best at participating in various matters and display the corresponding capabilities. Gradually, your activity will catch the eye of the various Members of Parliament. They will slowly find you trustworthy and that will be the source of your influence.
“Look at the current situation of the nobles in the Intis Republic, Hibbert. You should understand that with the passage of time and the development of society, the obvious privileges will be weakened, and one’s title will become less and less important. It’s just a title of honor, and the position and influence of the business world is what you should pay attention to,” Count Hall explained in detail.
“What if you encounter something you aren’t good at?” Hibbert muttered to himself.
“Then pretend that you can handle it. Don’t worry about wasting money; form professional teams, listen to their opinions, and make decisions. Everyone has a lot of areas that they aren’t good at, and only money is multi-faceted.” Count Hall gave words of advice.
Hibbert replied in enlightenment, “I see, Father.”
At this moment, Susie, who was by the side, yawned in boredom.
When it was all over, she slipped into Audrey’s art studio, repeated everything she had heard, and finally muttered, “I have no idea what they were talking about.”
Audrey listened to her thoughtfully, then she said with a faint smile, “They were discussing a good thing that involves reducing the pungent smell you smell.”
“Is that so?” Susie asked without fully comprehending it.
Audrey didn’t answer and thought of something else.
She had intended to quietly draw attention to the bad conditions of East Borough, the factory area, and the dock area, but in the last two social gatherings, she had found herself unable to find an opportunity.
Those nobles, those Members of Parliament, and senior civil servants would never even talk about such matters. There was no way to steer them towards that topic even if she wanted to!
On Monday afternoon, Klein returned to 15 Minsk Street from the Quelaag Club.
As Stuart had yet to provide any results from his preliminary investigation, and since he was temporarily unable to find a suitable candidate to become an Apothecary, Klein had nothing to do yesterday and today. Therefore, he simply went to the Quelaag Club to practice his shooting, read, and get some free food.
In the process, he got to know many other members of the club.
This is the lifeblood for future business opportunities… Klein sighed with emotion, took four steps counterclockwise and went above the gray fog.
He went about his preparations, step by step, first conjuring the fake World, familiarizing himself with the control of the All-Black Eye, and then sent a message to The Sun that the Tarot gathering was about to begin.
After all of this was done, Klein waited for three o’clock to arrive. Then, he reached out to touch the corresponding crimson stars and established a firm connection. The Magician had her own illusory star as well.
Under the pretext of concentrating on her writing, Fors Wall sent Xio away, and for a moment she was dazzled by the sudden rush of gray fog.
In the blink of an eye, she found herself above the mysterious and serene gray fog. She was inside a majestic palace, and in front of her was an ancient, mottled bronze table. Surrounding the table were one blurry figure after another.
One figure after another? One figure after another! Are these the gathering members Mr. Fool spoke of? Fors felt that the members of this secret gathering were all very, very powerful Beyonders.
Except for me… she thought, without confidence and full of fear.
However, looking at it from another perspective, since I can join this gathering as a Sequence 9, the other members might not necessarily be very strong. The requirement for this gathering is obviously not about strength, but for some other reason, a member must manage to establish a connection with Mr. Fool… Fors quickly rejected her first judgment and relaxed a little.
At the same time, Audrey also discovered that there was a new person at today’s gathering.
It’s a woman… Is it Xio or Fors? Has she passed the examination? Or is it someone else? Audrey nearly forgot to greet Mr. Fool in her bid to take a closer look at the features of the new member.
No matter how blurry the figure was, she could still see her hair color, silhouette, her accent, and verbal tics!
Hmm… I must also take note. At the very beginning, Mr. Hanged Man had managed to identify me as a noble from my special pronunciation of certain words, and from my habit of using certain special words… Audrey stood up, lifted her skirt, and said to Klein at the end of the long bronze table, “Good afternoon, Mr. Fool.”
After the greeting, she didn’t conceal her curiosity. She looked at the new member who was seated at the same row as her and asked with a smile, “This is?”