Chapter 174: Madam Sharon

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Four
Madam Sharon

“What?”

Tolle, who resembled a brown bear, was startled. He looked at Klein, then at the guest room. With an agility his build should not have possessed, he rushed inside.

He pulled away the white cloth covering the corpse, examined it carefully several times, then released a breath of relief.

“It is better than I imagined. This is not too large a problem.”

Perhaps I should have drawn my revolver and sent five Demon-hunting Bullets into Councilman Maynard, just to see exactly how serious the problem would become…

Klein grumbled inwardly, pointed outside the door, and said, “There should be nothing more for me here, right?”

“No!”

Tolle suddenly shouted, then said, “Wait a little longer.”

Klein asked back in confusion, “Why?”

Tolle explained with perfect seriousness, “We must guard against accidents. After we question Madam Sharon and record her statement, I will send you back to Zouteland Street.”

Maynard, who had been dead for more than ten hours, could still “come alive.” What else could not happen? If you leave, what am I supposed to do?

Tolle silently added in his heart.

“All right,” Klein said, rubbing the corner of his forehead. “Find me a quiet room where I can rest.”

Having advanced only one day ago, his condition in every aspect had not yet fully stabilized. He had also performed several rituals, used two charms, and received no small fright. Therefore, he needed to meditate as soon as possible and eliminate any problems.

At present, Klein was exceptionally vigilant toward “loss of control.”

Tolle pulled the white cloth back up and visibly relaxed.

“No problem.”

He led Klein into a guest room near the solarium, gesturing inside.

“Inspector Moretti, you may rest assured. No one will come disturb you. I will go find Madam Sharon first.”

Klein nodded slightly, watched the other man leave, then closed the door and drew the curtains.

Inside the dim, quiet bedroom, he slowly walked to the rocking chair and lay down comfortably, letting his body sway back and forth in rhythm.

Countless illusory spheres of light stacked and gathered inside his mind. Little by little, the buzzing in Klein’s ears and the aching pain in his head vanished.

Once his condition had steadied, he opened his eyes and looked at the outlines of the bed, cabinets, and other furniture sketched out in the darkness. Peaceful in both body and mind, he began summarizing his earlier attempts.

“Those somewhat exaggerated jokes did not give any ‘feedback’ for now…

“Perhaps it is because I have not truly controlled the power of the Clown potion, and there are still negative effects remaining… Of course, it is also possible that this kind of acting does not do much.

“…Personally, I am not very willing to act as a Clown. But since I chose this Sequence pathway, I can only grit my teeth and continue downward…

“In fact, everyone becomes a ‘clown’ more or less in life. There is no need to reject it too strongly…

“I must figure out the core element of Clown as soon as possible…”

Amid the rolling rise of many thoughts, Klein suddenly took out a brass-colored penny. Its value was one half-penny.

Out of habit, he was about to divine whether extraordinary factors had influenced Maynard’s death.

Maybe this is what people call an occupational disease…

Klein shook his head and laughed. His eyes darkened as he repeatedly recited inwardly:

“John Maynard’s death was influenced by extraordinary factors.

“John Maynard’s death was influenced by extraordinary factors.

“…”

Zing!

Lying in the rocking chair, he flicked out that half-penny coin and watched its brass-colored body flip and flash through the gloom.

Pap!

The coin fell straight into Klein’s palm, with the number “one-half” facing upward.

“Negative… In other words, John Maynard’s death was not influenced by extraordinary factors… Looks like this fellow really did die suddenly under extreme pleasure… The dead deserve respect, so I will not use any Chinese proverb to mock him…”

Klein put away the coin and let his mind empty inside the room soaked in deep black. He nearly fell asleep.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Amid the slow, rhythmic knocking, Klein straightened his clothes, put on the soft cap bearing the police emblem, left the chair, and slowly walked to the door.

Just as his right palm touched the handle, an image suddenly appeared in his mind:

Inspector Tolle, like a brown bear, stood outside the door, tugging at his collar. His expression clearly carried irritation and helplessness.

Turning the handle, Klein calmly opened the door.

Inspector Tolle appeared before him, tugging at his collar.

“I am very sorry to have kept you waiting so long.

“We have already found Madam Sharon and recorded her statement. You may return to Zouteland Street now.

“I am truly sorry to have delayed your valuable time.”

Klein did not ask the reason for the other man’s current mood. Instead, he smiled.

“Madam Sharon admitted she was with Councilman Maynard last night?”

“Yes. She said that under the influence of a great amount of alcohol, she and Councilman Maynard failed to control themselves for a moment. After discovering that he had died suddenly, she was terrified. She made some brief arrangements, then fled that room and hid back in her own guest room.

“For now, we do not have enough reason to accuse her of a crime. We can only allow her to leave, while restricting a certain amount of her freedom and waiting for the results of a more detailed autopsy.”

Inspector Tolle described the situation in detail.

Klein tilted his head slightly and asked keenly, “Who are you explaining this to?”

Tolle froze. Then he revealed a bitter smile.

“You are right. I do not need to explain anything to you. I was driven nearly mad by Madam Maynard, so I subconsciously said too much.”

“Councilman Maynard’s wife returned?” Klein asked in realization.

“Yes. Unfortunately, today’s steam train encountered no abnormality and was not delayed.”

Tolle confirmed it in the form of a joke.

Klein did not ask further. After checking that all his carried items were still present, he followed Inspector Tolle toward the staircase and returned all the way to the ground floor.

“Why are you not arresting her?

“She is the murderer! I will sue her! I will sue all of you for dereliction of duty!

“I will hire the best barrister and sue every one of you!”

…

One piercing sentence after another entered Klein’s ears. He subconsciously looked over and saw, in the sitting room area, a plump, fair-skinned middle-aged woman supported by two young men, glaring at the people opposite her and scolding them without pause.

“A court-style gown that is popular in Backlund this year…”

Klein, who often flipped through the magazine Ladies’ Aesthetic, first had that utterly inappropriate thought. Then he saw a woman protected behind several gentlemen.

This lady wore a black dress. Her skin was fair, tender, and smooth. Her brown hair flowed like a waterfall. Her brown eyes were as pure and pitiful as a deer’s in the forest, making others instinctively want to shelter her.

Madam Sharon…

Klein suddenly remembered the “slightly indecent film” starring her, hurriedly lifted his right hand to his mouth, and coughed twice.

Out of professional habit, he lightly tapped the teeth on the left side of his mouth twice and used spirit vision to observe everyone present.

Madam Maynard’s body has some minor issues. Her aura colors are rather thin… From the color of her emotions, I can directly sense her anger and hatred. This is entirely consistent with her external performance…

Hm. Madam Sharon’s emotional color is blue, representing rational thought and a calm state… That is the complete opposite of the panic, nervousness, and delicate helplessness she shows on the outside… As expected, anyone who can become a socialite is absolutely no innocent little rabbit… Her body is extremely healthy…

After finishing his inspection, Klein was just about to withdraw his gaze when he suddenly saw Madam Sharon swiftly raise her head and glance in his direction. Then she lowered her head again, taking on a timid, trembling appearance.

If I could not see the color of your emotions directly, I might truly have been fooled by your performance… You really should consider developing toward “actress”…

After a few silent jabs, Klein did not linger further. Together with Inspector Tolle, he left Councilman Maynard’s home and boarded the carriage arranged by the police station to return to Zouteland Street.

After replacing the Captain, he continued his rotation before Chanis Gate and took the chance to handwrite a reimbursement application.

The night passed without incident. Early the next morning, Klein returned above ground and received the breakfast Rozanne had purchased on his behalf.

“I like this pie,” he praised.

He had already given her the breakfast money in advance.

“Really? Then I can try it tomorrow!” Rozanne answered happily.

…The corner of Klein’s mouth twitched. He focused on dealing with the milk and pie.

At eight twenty-five, he yawned, endured his sleepiness, and arrived at the nearby shooting club.

Several days ago, he had arranged to meet asylum doctor Daxter Guderian at this time.

…

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Inside the small shooting range, Klein and Daxter each aimed at their targets and fired a full cylinder’s worth of bullets.

Clink, clink, clank. Daxter shook the empty casings free, then turned his head with some interest to study Klein.

“You are more confident than before.”

Of course. I have advanced to Sequence 8 and possess practical combat ability now…

Klein reflected his facial expression and body language inside his mind, deliberately putting on an arrogant posture.

“That is because I took only a little over a month to thoroughly master the potion’s power.”

Daxter’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

“Although that is indeed something worth being proud of, there is no need to always keep it hanging by your lips.”

Heh. As a Spectator, you did not see through my performance… From that perspective, Clown restrains Spectator quite a bit…

Klein smiled with sudden realization, then changed the topic.

“How has Hood Eugen’s condition been recently?”

“…He truly has gone mad,” Daxter said after a second of silence. “I have tested him using every method I could think of. He really is insane. I am considering prescribing medicine directed at his symptoms to see whether he can be cured.”

A Sequence 7 Psychiatrist actually pretended to be a mental patient… Even if he was also performing a certain amount of treatment, that does not align well with the core elements of his potion name… This belongs to a vague and mistaken use of the acting method. It is not especially strange that he went insane…

After thinking for a moment, Klein asked, “Before he went mad, did you find out who had been in contact with him?”

“Other than the asylum’s doctors, patients, nurses, and orderlies, no outsiders were in contact with him,” Daxter answered with certainty.

Klein made a soft “mm” sound.

“What about even earlier? Did anyone visit him? Or perhaps—would he regularly leave the asylum for a period of time?”

To honor his original promise, Klein had not asked in detail about Hood Eugen during the previous meetings.

Daxter sank into thought. Only after a long time did he say, “Aside from members of the Psychology Alchemists, no more than five people ever visited him. One among them came three times. The name he used was El.”

Without waiting for Klein to ask further, Daxter continued on his own.

“But I once heard Hood Eugen mention that El was a false name.

“His true name is Lanevus.”