Chapter 224: Obituary

Chapter 224: Obituary

This was not the first time Klein had watched someone familiar die before him, but it was the most sudden, the one with the least warning. Talim Dumont’s expression when he had asked what it felt like to truly like someone seemed still to remain in Klein’s mind. It had been vivid, concealing excitement and the urge to show off, yet because of certain factors, unable to share directly and needing to be cautious.

Too fast… A normal illness would not cause death this quickly! Klein’s expression sank like still water as he lightly tapped his teeth and activated his spirit vision.

He knelt on one knee and crouched. He saw Talim Dumont’s aura and emotional colors rapidly vanishing.

Around the place tightly covered by Talim’s hand—his heart—there were strands of black gas coiling like serpents, gradually dimming.

A curse-like Beyonder method? Klein instantly made a preliminary judgment.

At that moment, a waiter in a red vest and a black-and-white-skirted maid nearby came running over, staring in horror at the dead man on the floor, whose eyes remained wide open and whose mouth still had traces of white foam.

Klein closed his eyes briefly, then ordered in a deep voice, “Go to the nearby police station and tell them someone has died here.”

“Yes, Mr. Moriarty.” The red-vested waiter immediately turned and ran toward the door, so panicked he even forgot to put on his coat.

Under the gazes of one person after another, Klein did not inspect Talim’s personal belongings, nor did he try to pluck a few strands of hair to attempt divination when no one was around.

His identity was now half official and half underground. He could completely use the power of the Machinery Hivemind for the follow-up investigation. There was no need to play a lone hero.

Thinking of the many times he had played cards with Talim Dumont, thinking of the clients and investor he had introduced, thinking of that romantic story whose answer he had pondered over for a long time, Klein could not help letting out a long, slow sigh.

“Who murdered Talim?

“Which Beyonder skilled in curses did Talim offend?

“Judging by his performance today, he should have been in a very happy, very stable state. He had no awareness whatsoever that he had provoked someone terrifying…”

One question after another flashed through Klein’s mind, but because he did not know enough about Talim Dumont, none of them had the soil needed to produce inspiration.

When the police arrived, he was questioned as a witness, which delayed him for quite some time.

It was only after everything was complete that Klein had the chance to leave Hillston Borough and head once more to the Lucky Bar in the Backlund Bridge area.

Carlson was still drinking there. Only this time, he had replaced his pure-malt distilled liquor with golden, foaming beer.

Klein raised his right hand, half covering and half pinching his mouth, then approached and lightly knocked on the table.

“Is your job to drink here every day?”

Carlson was startled. Only when he turned and saw that it was Sherlock Moriarty did he relax.

“You… have something again?”

That reaction feels very familiar… Klein sighed silently and said gravely, “There is a case involving Beyonders.”

Carlson immediately looked around and found that the Lucky Bar already had quite a few customers at that hour. Some were loudly shouting while holding their cups. Others looked eager to step into the fighting ring.

“Come on. Let’s play a game of billiards.” Carlson pushed up his thick glasses, picked up his beer, and walked toward an empty billiards room.

Klein followed closely and skillfully shut the door.

“Your drinking capacity seems quite decent,” he said casually first.

“No. I simply drink slowly,” Carlson said, setting down the glass and picking up a cue stick.

Then, for some reason, he added, “Also, recently, I want to stay alone.”

I don’t care about that question… Klein pursed his lips and said, “At the Krag Club in Hillston Borough, I encountered a death. The deceased was my friend, a descendant of nobility and a riding instructor. He was usually in excellent health, and his recent mental state had also been very good. But just now, he suddenly died in front of me. It looked like a sudden heart attack, but my spirit vision tells me he may have been cursed.”

“You’re good at spirit vision?” Carlson instinctively asked back.

Just what specific situation did Mr. Stanton fabricate for me? After I became an informant for the Machinery Hivemind, they never asked which pathway or Sequence I belonged to, nor did they inquire about my origins or background… Of course, allowing informants to keep certain secrets of their own is also a common strategy used by official organizations… Klein responded frankly, “Yes. There was some quickly dimming illusory black gas over the dead man’s chest.”

“It may indeed involve a curse, and therefore Beyonders.” Carlson did not ask further. He nodded slowly. “Hillston Borough… That is within our Machinery Hivemind’s jurisdiction.”

In the northwestern region of Backlund—that is, the core area of this metropolis—Queen Borough and Cherwood Borough belonged to the Mandated Punishers. West Borough and North Borough belonged to the Nighthawks. Hillston Borough and the Backlund Bridge area were managed by the Machinery Hivemind.

At this point, Carlson looked toward Klein and asked for confirmation, “Which deity did your friend believe in?”

After thinking carefully for several seconds, Klein answered somewhat hesitantly, “The Lord of Storms.”

“A believer of the Lord of Storms… He was the only dead person?” Carlson frowned.

“Yes.” Klein gave an affirmative reply.

Carlson rubbed the tip of the cue stick and exhaled.

“We do not have the authority to take over this case. This falls within the domain of the Mandated Punishers.

“However, I will pass the intelligence you submitted to them.”

In the Loen Kingdom, jurisdiction over extraordinary incidents was based first on faith. If believers of multiple Churches and deities were involved, then it was determined by district jurisdiction.

Klein was no stranger to this and had no intention of making things difficult for Carlson. He sincerely said, “Thank you. I hope they can find the true culprit as soon as possible.”

Carlson picked up the glass beside him and took a sip.

“He was a descendant of nobility. The Mandated Punishers will certainly take it seriously.”

After pausing for one second, he sized Klein up and said in a low voice, “I find it hard to believe you have only been in Backlund for a little over three months.

“You seem to have already built a broad network of connections here and possess many resources.”

“Some people are naturally good at this.” Klein shook his head self-mockingly, then said farewell and left.

By the time he returned to Minsk Street, the sky had turned completely dark. The gas street lamps had been lit one after another by the workers.

Although his friendship with Talim Dumont could not be called deep, the man was still a familiar person Klein met roughly once a week, a friend with whom he gathered to play cards every few days. And Talim had been quite warm, always praising the great detective Moriarty and personally introducing clients and investments to him.

His passing likewise made Klein feel sorrow and helplessness before fate.

Apart from that, there was no small amount of anger—anger toward the person who had used a curse to kill him.

“I hope I can figure out what exactly happened. I hope the Mandated Punishers won’t be short-handed because of Duke Negan’s assassination…” Klein sighed, stepped down from the carriage, and walked toward his own front door.

During this process, he noticed that the Summer family next door had no lights on.

“Looks like they’re on their way to Desi Bay… Is this Backlund’s New Year atmosphere? I don’t feel it at all…” Klein felt a wave of melancholy.

Carrying that mood, he went to sleep early and woke to the seven o’clock chime.

To change his mood, Klein decided to try making a cake today.

“I’ll buy ingredients after breakfast,” he murmured, drinking milk while casually flipping through the newspaper.

Soon, he saw an “Obituary” in the Tussock Times:

“Our beloved son, Talim Dumont, passed away from sudden heart disease on December 18. His funeral will be held at Crown Cemetery at exactly nine o’clock in the morning on December 21. This is hereby announced.”

In the Northern Continent, for reasons such as corpse transformation, an ancient tradition had already formed: the dead were buried as quickly as possible, provided, of course, that the family did not lack the money.

Sudden heart disease? Is this the final investigation result? Or are the Mandated Punishers deliberately lulling the true culprit into carelessness? Klein frowned, unable to judge.

Perhaps I can go above the gray fog and divine whether this is a Mandated Punishers’ trap, but the result will most likely fail. After all, I have no personal item, and the matter is not targeted at me… He inhaled, settled himself, and methodically filled his stomach.

The subsequent attempt produced no result beyond Klein’s expectations. He had no choice but to leave Minsk Street and take a carriage to Hillston Borough, visiting Isengard Stanton.

Walking through the warm interior, the great detective pointed ahead and said, “Sherlock, would you like some breakfast? My cook’s skills are no worse than mine.”

“No. I have already had breakfast.” Klein shook his head, declining the offer.

Isengard stopped and casually asked, “Where do you plan to spend the New Year? I’m preparing to return—no, go to Lenburg.”

“I haven’t finalized it yet. Perhaps the Midsea County,” Klein said perfunctorily.

“The scenery there used to be quite nice. Unfortunately, it is rich in coal and iron resources, and its shipping industry is also rather developed.” Isengard straightened his collar and touched the pipe in his pocket. “You seem somewhat anxious?”

“Mr. Stanton, there is something I wish to consult you about.” Klein followed the opening and fully described Talim Dumont’s death, his own spirit vision result, the process of giving a suggestion to the Machinery Hivemind, and that morning’s obituary.

Of course, he concealed the fact that he had already become an informant for the Machinery Hivemind. He merely said that, for his friend’s sake, he had found the official Beyonder he had come to know during the Apostle of Desire case.

“Do you think this is a trap set by the Mandated Punishers?” he asked at last.

Holding his pipe, Isengard pondered before saying, “I have always worked hard to avoid the Mandated Punishers, so my understanding of their situation is insufficient.

“I will ask someone to inquire. If there is news, I will write and tell you.”

“All right. Thank you.” Klein bowed sincerely.

By evening, he received a letter specially sent by Isengard. It contained only one sentence:

“This case is not being handled by the Mandated Punishers. The royal family took it over on the grounds that Talim Dumont was a descendant of nobility.”