Chapter 69: “I”

Chapter 69: “I”

I sat on a chair in the police station, watching the mouths of the two men in black-and-white checkered uniforms across from me open and close in turn, as though they were saying something.

The one on the left had an indifferent face, as if he had already seen far too much misfortune. The one on the right was still somewhat inexperienced, and his gaze carried a little pity.

I did not feel pain, nor did I regret thrusting down that blade. At that moment, I had even felt as though I had been freed. The warm blood that sprayed onto me had been like salvation bestowed by a deity.

I only regretted why, when I was young, I had so fanatically pursued money, sacrificing dignity, body, and freedom for it.

During these past few days in the police station, I had gained enough peace to think deeply about that question. My thoughts had become more thorough than in all those many years before.

A will that was not firm enough and a mind that was not mature enough were the roots of the mistake I made, but that did not mean they were the whole of it.

From childhood until adulthood, the education I received had always told me that hard work and struggle were for a large house, full-length windows with ample lighting, more than three servants, a garden lawn that belonged only to oneself, silver or gold-inlaid tableware, dinner parties laden with delicacies, balls filled with melodious music, and so on, and so on.

The newspapers and magazines I read also told me, again and again, that only by obtaining sufficient respectability could one be called middle class, become a pillar of the kingdom, be elegant, excellent, not vulgar, possessing character, and at the same time be someone with compassion and knowledge.

At the same time, they also told me what respectability was. Respectability meant beautiful dresses. It meant clothes chosen for different occasions. It meant expensive skincare products and cosmetics. It meant refined and fashionable women’s handbags. It meant a concert, an afternoon tea, a tasteful gathering.

And once everything was converted, it meant gold pounds, gold pounds, and gold pounds.

It must be admitted that pursuing a better life is every person’s instinct. But when every aspect a girl can come into contact with tells her this, when the mainstream thoughts of an entire society are respectability, refinement, and elegance, it is very difficult for her thoughts not to be influenced.

I do not know what such a phenomenon is called. I only know that, if all this is not changed, tragedies like mine will inevitably continue to appear, and more and more of them.

And at that time, there will certainly be people angrily cursing:

“Look at these gold-worshiping girls. They sold their souls!”

Subconsciously, I turned and looked out the window. I saw a beautiful and prosperous world. I saw the fresh red blood flowing through that world.

“Miss Tracy, are you listening to us?” A voice pulled back my thoughts. It came from that slightly inexperienced policeman.

I smiled at him and did not tell him that I had just been thinking about a few philosophical questions.

How laughable. A gold-worshiping girl who had sold her soul was actually thinking about such boring matters while being questioned by police officers.

That police officer nodded and said to me,

“Miss Tracy, next, you will need to prepare for court. We will arrange a lawyer for you.

“I am sorry. We did not keep that witness here. We only have his statement, and that is quite unfavorable to you.”

“It is all right,” I said to him calmly.

I would work hard to defend myself, and I would frankly repent for the crime I had committed. I only hoped that I could still have a new life in the future.

After thinking for a moment, I raised the corners of my mouth and said to the two officers,

“While I am waiting to appear in court, could you help me borrow a few books from the library?

“Mm, Social Trends and Educational Phenomena…”

At that moment, I saw both police officers look a little bewildered, and also a little, mm, amazed.

…

I sat at the very bottom of the mottled long table and listened as Miss Judgment described matters related to Utopia.

After she finished, I looked around once, then spoke in a low and hoarse voice.

“This is a ritual.”

As expected, I saw Miss Judgment’s gaze freeze to a certain degree and sensed Mr. Hanged Man and Miss Justice looking over, carrying a hint of conjecture.

At that moment, I seemed able to guess what they were thinking.

They would certainly suspect that this was The World Gehrman Sparrow’s Sequence 1 ritual. And they had long since learned through the Tarot Club’s internal exchanges that, when there was already a Sequence 0 true god, Sequence 1 could not exist.

I had already prepared an explanation for this matter: have them think of the ancient sun god and His eight Kings of Angels.

Unfortunately, no one raised the question. Perhaps they had already thought of the Kings of Angels, or perhaps they believed the ritual involving Utopia was mainly to help Mr. Fool revive further.

…

I looked at the quiet, distracted, beautiful young woman and asked after considering my words,

“Miss Tracy, where do your parents live?”

“They have already passed away…” The beautiful young woman, whose soul seemed not to belong here, answered in a somewhat drifting voice.

I lowered my head and made a note, then asked,

“Do you have any other relatives?”

The young woman turned her head and looked out the window, casually answering,

“No…”

My colleague and I exchanged glances. I raised my voice.

“Miss Tracy, are you listening to us?”

The young woman across from me withdrew her gaze and smiled at me.

No one knew what she was thinking. She was as quiet as a flower blooming alone at night.

That metaphor came from a poetry collection. My brother told me that reading poems would make me more charming.

Of course, so far, that poetry collection had mostly brought me ridicule. The colleagues at the police station all believed it had no value whatsoever.

After I told Miss Tracy about appearing in court, I saw her reveal a faint smile and request that we help her borrow a few books from the library, books whose titles sounded difficult to read.

That smile, combined with the names of those books, created an indescribable beauty.

After sending Miss Tracy back to the temporary detention room, I tidied up the case files and prepared to visit the lawyer. That appointment had been arranged long ago.

…

I leaned back against my chair, listening to that fellow, The Moon Emlyn, describe his dream.

After Father Utravsky’s “assessment,” that dream had not originated from a divine revelation of Earth Mother.

This inevitably made one cast suspicious eyes toward the moon, toward that Mother Goddess of Depravity, and then suffer corruption… I nearly amused myself with my own thought.

As a veteran Seer and dream interpretation master, I was not modest. I frankly gave my own understanding.

“There are three possibilities. First, this dream is guiding you to search for something and pursue something, and to a certain extent, it has interfered with your fate. Second, this dream hopes you will interpret it deeply, understand it, and use that to slowly, imperceptibly erode you. Third, you are overly worried about the matter of Beauty Goddess, and so you dreamed of the scene you fear most.

“The third possibility needs no discussion. The response to the first two possibilities is the same: do not think about it, do not investigate it, and unless absolutely necessary, do not leave Backlund.”

After I finished speaking, I saw Emlyn nod without the slightest hesitation.

I knew that was exactly the kind of handling method he liked.

…

“A murder case?” I skimmed through the case file in my hand and expressed my question through the shift in my tone. “You should hire a barrister.”

I was only a solicitor. Strictly speaking, I had no qualification to appear in court.

Of course, that was only the strictest case. In reality, this was not absolute. As long as the case was not major and did not involve a criminal court, solicitors could appear in court to provide assistance.

The police officer in black-and-white checkered uniform across from me piled on a smile and said,

“Utopia is only a small city. There are no barristers. We would have to invite one from elsewhere.

“Also, this case is being prosecuted as excessive self-defense. The sentence will be short, and the amount involved is under 400 pounds. It can first be tried in the public security court. If the ruling decides that excessive self-defense does not apply, it can then be transferred to the criminal court.”

He knows quite a bit. Is he planning to switch careers and become a lawyer? Normally, a homicide case prosecuted as excessive self-defense should also be handled by the criminal court. Heh. This is the advantage of a small city. Many things are not so strict… I thought for a moment and gave an “Mm.”

“Then I will try an innocent plea.

“In addition, please arrange a time as soon as possible for me to meet Miss Tracy.”

After finishing the material just now, I already had no small amount of confidence in this case. The greatest problem right now was whether Miss Tracy’s image could evoke sympathy.

Mm. Although my solicitor’s license was forged in another place, that cannot deny my professional competence. It just so happened that there was a mishap during that exam.

…

Bansy? Verdu wants to go to Bansy? I sat at the very bottom of the mottled long table and looked at The Hanged Man as he reported to Mr. Fool, somewhat puzzled by the development of matters.

Verdu, who was obsessed with mysticism and wanted to rely on it to save Mr. Door, did have a certain reason to explore the ruined harbor of Bansy. Also, he had lived in Bayam for nearly half a year. Coming into contact with Bansy-related materials was perfectly normal… The main issue was that The Hanged Man’s previous monitoring had provided no corresponding sign, making Verdu’s behavior seem somewhat sudden… This matter must receive more attention… I nodded inwardly and heard Mr. Fool give an instruction:

“Continue monitoring.”

…

I played a seven-stringed guitar by the fountain in the municipal square. I used knife and fork to cut steak. I stood inside the church and explained the Goddess’s doctrines to believers. I extended my right hand and, with the courteous support of a gentleman, stepped out of a carriage. I received the new dress I had long anticipated and could not wait to put it on. I moved with four legs, chased by a child. I laughed loudly and stumbled while playing with a dog…

Suddenly, all of us trembled and raised our heads toward the sky. We saw one illusory, fine thread after another emerge from our bodies, stretching toward the infinite height above, toward a region of grayish-white fog, toward an ancient palace, and falling into the hand of a lofty figure shrouded in mist.

During this period, Klein’s state had always been very wondrous. He seemed to have completely divided into thousands upon thousands of living beings, and every avatar possessed its own will, thoughts, cognition, and fate.

However, above those countless consciousnesses, there existed one ruling main consciousness. It constantly suffered all kinds of impacts and seemed as though it might be assimilated by the sea of consciousness it had formed at any moment. Yet ultimately, it held on, allowing Klein to maintain a degree of clarity.

His true body had always lain beneath the Saint Arianna Church. His consciousness sometimes rose into Sefirah Castle and sometimes sank into his body.

The various scenes experienced by the marionette avatars continuously flashed through his mind, like a dream formed from a great number of fragments.