Chapter 1: A House Call

Chapter 1: A House Call

Backlund, East Borough. Inside a two-bedroom apartment.

Several policemen in black-and-white checkered uniforms followed the landlord through the opened door, each raising a hand to cover his mouth.

A strong stench of blood hung in the air.

“Officer, I don’t know what happened either. Other tenants said there seemed to be a great deal of blood here. They could smell it even through the walls and the door.” The landlord, wearing a silk top hat, looked around timidly, unwilling to remain in the room for even a second longer.

The officer with inspector epaulets, black sideburns, and blue eyes waved his hand.

“Wait by the door first. We still have questions for you.”

As he spoke, he put on white gloves and turned his gaze toward the wooden door of the bedroom.

He did not rush inside. Instead, he slowly scanned the surroundings, taking everything in:

A pile of coal, a cupboard storing tableware and ingredients, a small stove, an iron pot that had been scrubbed clean, a slightly greasy table, two round stools lying overturned on the floor, two slanted chairs with backrests, several glass bottles containing unknown powders, and a scattered stack of Tarot cards.

“An occult enthusiast in average financial circumstances?” the black-haired, blue-eyed inspector muttered softly, making a preliminary judgment. Then he gestured for one of his subordinates to open the bedroom door.

With a creak, an even heavier smell of blood poured out.

The constable who opened the door glanced inside, suddenly gave a short cry of alarm, and retreated several steps in rapid succession.

The leading inspector frowned slightly, pressed a hand to the retreating officer’s shoulder, moved past the obstruction, and approached the bedroom.

His gaze swept inside, and his expression changed at once.

In the bedroom, on the wooden bed, lay a man. Both his hands had been tied to the headboard above him.

He wore no clothes. His body was covered in thin, deep cuts. His blood had long since drained dry, staining the bedsheet beneath him and the blanket beside him a dark red.

At a rough glance, the dead man looked as if he had been tightly wound with wire after wire, each strand biting through skin and flesh and cutting all the way to bone.

Even for policemen who had seen multiple murder scenes, the sight remained deeply shocking. It carried a ritualistic and sinister quality that was difficult to describe.

Just as the leading inspector was about to say something, two people suddenly rushed into the apartment. One tried to take photographs while the other threw out a string of questions:

“Another murder?

“Have there been several murders in East Borough recently?

“Officer, do you believe this is a serial killing?”

The black-haired, blue-eyed inspector’s brows furrowed even more deeply. He waved his hand.

“Do not disturb the scene. Otherwise, I will treat you as accomplices to the criminal.”

Then he turned to the constable from earlier.

“Callis, escort these two reporters out and tell them to direct any questions to the press office at the Sivellas Yard.”

After the reporters were removed from the crime scene, the inspector let out a long sigh.

“It’s going to be in the papers again. Damn it.”

…

Queen’s Borough, inside the luxurious villa of Earl Hall.

“Another murder has occurred in East Borough. The victim is suspected to have been tortured before death…” Having finished dinner, Audrey casually flipped through the Backlund Evening News in the sitting room.

Hearing his daughter murmur softly, Earl Hall shook his head and sighed.

“In East Borough, that hardly counts as news. Statistics show that people die there every day, and not merely one.”

Audrey did not pay too much attention to the matter. After chatting with her father, mother, and brothers for a while, she took the golden retriever Susie and returned to her room.

Girl and dog had excellent tacit understanding. Without any verbal exchange, Susie remained by the door as a guard, while Audrey locked the door, sat down beside the bed, and silently recited Mr. Fool’s honorific name.

After waiting a few seconds, crimson light surged before her eyes and swallowed everything.

Audrey arrived above the gray fog, inside that grand and ancient palace.

She immediately noticed that a small room had appeared to the side. Its mottled door was half closed but not fully shut.

“It’s much better than the ancient confessional from the last treatment… but this doesn’t quite match Mr. World’s style. Has his mental state undergone some kind of aberration?” Audrey thought as she entered the room and closed the mottled door.

She had already done a follow-up consultation for The World, Gehrman Sparrow, and had concluded that he had recovered. Unexpectedly, she had suddenly received a message from him today requesting another treatment.

This left her a little surprised—and a little curious.

Inside the rather spacious dark room, Audrey leaned her back against the wall behind which someone was clearly present. She slowly lowered herself, kneeling sideways with her legs folded.

In that calm, peaceful atmosphere, she adjusted her own state, then spoke in a light, cheerful tone:

“Good evening, Mr. World~”

Before her words had fully faded, Audrey’s spiritual intuition had already sensed the surface condition of the other party’s Mind Body—what people generally called emotions, or mood.

Gray, downcast, confused, depressed, uninterested in anything… Mr. World’s problem this time is completely different from last time… What has he gone through again? Audrey lightly bit her lower lip, calmly made a judgment, and used Pacify at the right moment.

It was one of a Psychiatrist’s most useful abilities. In ancient times, it had been called “psychoanalysis.”

The dark clouds piled up behind the wall scattered by quite a lot. At last, Gehrman Sparrow spoke in a hoarse voice:

“Good evening, Miss Justice.”

Leaning against the wall, Audrey thought for a moment. She abandoned the plan she had prepared and maintained that light tone from before.

“I’m very curious about what you’ve experienced recently. It seems as though far too much has happened.

“Don’t think about anything else for now. Let’s just talk. Talk like friends.

“And if you’re interested in my life, I’d also be willing to share some amusing things.”

On the other side of the wall, Gehrman Sparrow fell silent for a moment. Instead of answering, he asked,

“What expectations do you have for the future?”

Audrey’s eyes moved slightly. She answered with great seriousness:

“To improve myself and work hard to become a demigod, so that I can better protect Papa, Mama, and my brothers.

“Mm, during this period, I’ve gone with the foundation’s staff to visit several applicants for the education assistance fund. Their living conditions were truly beyond anything I had imagined. Although I had read reports and had some psychological preparation, when I actually faced them, I was still deeply shocked. There was a girl only a few years younger than me, but she was very thin and short. She never had enough to eat and owned only two badly worn dresses. When she spoke about wanting to study, her eyes were so pure, so filled with pleading. Even now, I can’t forget them…”

As she spoke, Audrey keenly noticed that Gehrman Sparrow’s mental state had changed a little. It was no longer like an entirely still lake; ripples and faint waves had appeared.

After a brief consideration, this Psychiatrist acted as though she had noticed nothing and continued on her own:

“I once also looked forward to a beautiful marriage. I hoped my ‘prince’ would arrive just like in those popular novels. But after becoming a Spectator, I discovered that this dream may be very difficult for me to fulfill. I can always read those gentlemen’s true thoughts, see through one lie after another, and confirm that many people are not as wonderful as I imagined. It leaves me a little disappointed. Mm, perhaps in a few years I’ll learn to appreciate other people’s flaws, but for now, that is truly very hard…”

Sensing that Gehrman Sparrow, separated from her only by a wall and sitting back to back with her, had finally developed the faint urge to laugh, Audrey timely released another Pacify. Then she heard him ask,

“You once obtained information about dragons from The Sun. You should know something about the Dragon of Imagination.

“If—if—you discovered that your father, mother, and brothers were all imagined by the King of Angels of the Spectator pathway and did not actually exist, how would you react?”

I would collapse on the spot. Perhaps even lose control… Is Mr. World suffering from psychological distress because he discovered that his main expectation, or final goal, can never be achieved? Audrey was first seized by inexplicable terror from Gehrman Sparrow’s question, then realized where the essence of the problem lay.

She did not answer. Instead, she asked in a guiding manner,

“It sounds as though you witnessed the shattering of a hope.”

“Heh.” From behind the wall at Audrey’s back came a self-mocking laugh. “Indeed. I once thought I still had family. Later, I discovered that this was only my extravagant wish.”

“Why do you say that?” Audrey asked as though making casual conversation.

Gehrman Sparrow remained silent for several seconds before saying,

“Have you heard the fairy tales Emperor Roselle used for children’s enlightenment?”

“They’re part of my childhood memories,” Audrey said with a soft “mm.”

At the same time, she discovered that Mr. World’s emotions on the other side of the wall now had obvious fluctuations. Suppressed pain surged out.

This time, Audrey did not use Pacify. Her spiritual intuition and professional knowledge both told her that the other party needed a measure of release.

“Then you should know the story of Sleeping Beauty and the prince,” Gehrman Sparrow said in a low, hoarse voice. “There was such a person as well. He too fell into slumber, until one day he suddenly woke… He thought his family was still there. He worked hard to improve himself, hoping that one day he could find them. This became the main meaning of his life. In the end, he discovered that he had slept for at least three hundred years—perhaps even a thousand years, or longer. Everything he once possessed could never be recovered again…”

That intense pain and confusion was so distinct in Audrey’s perception that she suddenly understood something:

The gloomy, repressed, experienced, and ruthless Mr. World also had a goal he pursued, and a meaning for his existence.

This matches the gentleness in his heart… He is truly pitiful… Although he was only giving an example based on a fairy tale, his emotional responses when mentioning certain words were real… When he said “slumber,” “family,” “three hundred years,” “a thousand years,” “longer,” and “could never be recovered again,” his pain was clearly greater… That means he is an ancient person who survived until now because of some incident? This matches the fact that Mr. Fool is a revived ancient god. No wonder he can become a blessed… Audrey quickly grasped the key point of the matter.

She pursed her lips and pondered for a moment.

“Did his family leave behind any words for him? Did they say what they hoped he would do after he woke?”