Chapter 89: A Simple Mission

Chapter Eighty-Nine
A Simple Mission

Klein nodded.

“All right. But I still do not know what my mission is.”

“A mission that is not dangerous, at least with no signs of danger for now,” Dunn said, emphasizing the most important point first before continuing. “This is a case transferred from the Golden Indus Borough police station. The famous philanthropist Sir Deweyville has suffered strange harassment for an entire month. But whether his bodyguards, the security personnel he hired, or the police, no one has been able to find the culprit. Inspector Tolle, who is responsible for this matter, strongly suspects that extraordinary power is involved, and so he submitted it to us.”

When I saw Sir Deweyville at the library earlier, I noticed that his mood was terrible and his spirit weak. So it was because he had been suffering harassment…

Klein frowned slightly.

“What kind of harassment?”

At present, the matter had not caused actual harm, so it truly could not be called dangerous.

“Sir Deweyville hears weeping and groaning every night, no matter where he sleeps, no matter whether he is in Tingen or not. This has made the quality of his sleep extremely poor,” Dunn said, flipping through the file at hand. “He has seen psychiatrists and asked the butler and servants around him, confirming that it is not a hallucination. Therefore, he suspects someone is harassing him.”

Closing the file, Dunn lifted his head and looked at Klein.

“Go to the lounge and change into your probationary inspector uniform. Then meet Inspector Tolle at the shooting club hall. He will tell you more details.”

“Probationary inspector uniform?” Klein instinctively repeated.

Dunn rubbed his forehead and smiled.

“Half our salary is paid by the police department. The title of probationary inspector is not merely something that exists in files. When you first met Leonard and me, we were wearing uniforms as well. This is a benefit every official team member possesses. Mm, the kind of benefit Emperor Roselle spoke of.”

A pity I cannot wear it normally. Otherwise I would have another set of clothes to rotate…

Taking his cane, Klein saluted, said farewell, and left the Captain’s office.

He entered the lounge diagonally opposite and saw inside a black-and-white checkered uniform, including leather boots. The soft cap was set with an emblem of crossed swords supporting a crown, while the shoulder bore a badge with black-and-white interwoven background and a shining silver star.

“So this is a probationary inspector?”

Klein glanced over and noticed an inconspicuous string of numbers beneath the silver star on the epaulet: 06-254.

He had already gained a preliminary understanding of the Loen Kingdom’s police hierarchy. At the very top stood the Minister of Police and the Chief Police Secretary. Below them were the commissioners, deputy commissioners, and assistant commissioners of various police departments. The middle ranks included superintendents and inspectors, while the lowest levels were sergeants and constables.

After closing the door, Klein removed his formalwear and hat, changing into the uniform.

He hung up his original clothes, opened the door, entered the civilian staff office, and looked at himself in the full-length mirror Rozanne had won for them.

In the mirror, the young man had lively black hair and gentle brown eyes. The uniform added several degrees of valiance to him that he normally did not possess.

“Not bad.”

Klein narcissistically praised himself in a good mood, left his cane in the office, turned, and walked out of Blackthorn Security Company.

In his pockets, both his police identification and his all-category weapon use permit were present.

…

Inside the shooting club hall.

Klein immediately saw Inspector Tolle, because he was the only person there wearing a police uniform.

Of course, now I must count myself too…

Klein silently added.

Inspector Tolle’s epaulettes bore two silver stars. His clothes were stretched by his belly. Thick brownish-yellow beard covered his face. He was tall but not imposing—or perhaps he had once been imposing.

“Moretti? Klein Moretti?” Tolle looked him up and down before smiling and walking over.

“Hello, Inspector Tolle. I believe you should not have mistaken me for anyone else,” Klein answered humorously. Based on what he remembered, he raised his right hand, brought his five fingers together, and saluted.

Tolle chuckled.

“I can tell you are an easygoing young man. That puts me at ease. Shall we go to Sir Deweyville’s home now?”

Although his police rank was higher than Klein’s, his tone clearly carried a sense of asking.

“No problem,” Klein said after thinking. “You can give me the detailed circumstances in the carriage.”

“Very well.”

Tolle touched his thick brownish-yellow beard and led Klein out of the shooting club, then onto a carriage waiting across the street.

The carriage bore the emblem of crossed swords supporting a crown and was driven by a dedicated coachman.

“Sir Deweyville is a believer of the Goddess, which is why we transferred the case to your side,” Tolle said impatiently as soon as he sat down.

“I know. Sir Deweyville is a frequent guest in newspaper articles and on magazine covers,” Klein said with a mild smile.

Tolle picked up the file bag beside him, untied the string, took out the documents, and said as he flipped through them, “Whether or not you know already, I still need to give you a detailed introduction.

“Sir Deweyville is one of the richest men in Tingen. His business began with lead factories and porcelain factories. By now, it covers steel, coal, shipping, banking, and securities. He is also a famous philanthropist praised by the King. He established the Deweyville Charity Fund, the Deweyville Trust, the Deweyville Library… Five years ago, he was granted the title of knight. If he were willing to run for mayor, I believe there would be no one in Tingen who could compete with him.

“However, his goal is in Backlund. He wants to become a member of the Kingdom’s House of Lords. We once suspected that the harassment he suffered was related to this matter, but we found no clues.”

Klein nodded lightly.

“That possibility cannot be ruled out, but at present I cannot confirm anything.”

Tolle did not dwell on that issue and continued, “Beginning on the sixth of last month, Sir Deweyville started hearing scalp-numbing groans of pain every night when he fell asleep. They sounded like a dying patient struggling with all his strength. He checked the surrounding rooms and discovered nothing abnormal. The butler and servants also testified that there were indeed similar sounds, though the movement they heard was very faint.

“At first, Sir Deweyville thought the matter would pass quickly and did not pay much attention to it. But the painful groans became more and more frequent, even appearing during the day. Later, there was weeping too, the sort that makes one’s heart twitch.

“This made Sir Deweyville lose sleep again and again. He had no choice but to leave Tingen and go to his countryside villa. But that had no effect. The groaning and weeping still followed him. In the same way, even when he went to Backlund, the matter did not calm down, though it was comparatively less severe.

“He hired security personnel to investigate the surroundings, but they found no clues. Our preliminary investigation likewise gained nothing.

“After more than a month of torture, Sir Deweyville’s spirit is close to collapse. He has repeatedly invited psychiatrists to visit, yet he still cannot escape the disturbance. He told us that if the problem is not resolved within this week, he will move away from Tingen and go to Backlund. He believes there must be someone there capable of helping him.”

Listening to Tolle’s description, Klein rapidly analyzed the possibilities.

Did he offend some Beyonder and get cursed?

No. If it were a curse, the butler and servants should not also be able to hear the sounds…

Could there be a Beyonder hidden among the servants and guards, for some unknown purpose?

But the problem is, over this past month, no one has made any demands of Sir Deweyville…

Perhaps Sir Deweyville accidentally picked up some dirty thing like a wronged ghost or evil spirit?

That possibility cannot be ruled out…

While Klein’s thoughts swirled, the carriage entered the Golden Indus Borough and stopped at Sir Deweyville’s gate.

There was a flourishing garden enclosed by iron railings, a hollow iron gate flanked by two towering statues, a fountain that continually sprayed water over a marble deity, a two-story house that occupied a vast area, and a road wide enough for three carriages to travel side by side.

“Sir Deweyville’s home only has two stories too… The newspapers said Backlund is experimenting with apartment buildings as high as ten floors…”

Klein stepped down from the carriage and saw a constable with three chevrons on his shoulder rapidly come over.

The constable glanced at Klein, raised his hand, and saluted.

“Good morning, sir!”

“Good morning.”

Klein smiled and nodded.

Beside him, Tolle said with a smile, “This is Sergeant Gate. If you need anything, you may instruct him.”

“And this is Mr. Moretti, probationary inspector. A historical and psychological expert from the county police department,” Tolle added, introducing Klein to Gate.

…I cannot live up to that title at all…

Klein felt a wave of shame.

After exchanging courtesies, Gate pointed toward the two-story house behind the fountain.

“Sir Deweyville is waiting for us.”

“All right.”

Klein reached down and touched the revolver at his waist.

That was currently his greatest reliance for dealing with enemies.

Because he had changed into police uniform, he could openly wear the holster at his side, making the gun easier to draw.

As they spoke, the three followed the broad road around the fountain and came outside the main entrance.

By then, servants had already opened the door and were waiting respectfully.

Taking advantage of the fact that they had not yet entered the house, Klein pretended to adjust his hat. He pinched the space between his brows twice and activated spirit vision.

Inside the bright living room, square-faced Sir Deweyville was rubbing his forehead, looking extremely poor in spirit. His dark-golden hair and blue eyes seemed either dried-out or dim, and his entire person appeared to have aged a full five years.

“Good morning, Sir,” Klein, Tolle, and Gate saluted at the same time.

Sir Deweyville stood and forced out a smile in reply.

“Good morning, officers. I hope you can resolve my trouble.”

At that moment, Klein narrowed his eyes slightly, his brows faintly furrowing.

Aside from his very poor mental state, he found no problem at all with Sir Deweyville.

That is quite strange…

After some thought, he asked, “Sir, in which room did you first hear the groaning?”

“My bedroom,” Sir Deweyville said with a shake of his head.

“May we take a look?” Klein asked.

“Have you not already examined it several times?” the middle-aged butler beside him asked with a frown.

Clearly, he did not recognize Klein as the companion of the kind-hearted person who had returned the wallet.

Klein smiled gently.

“That was my colleague, not me.”

“Sir, this is the expert sent by the police department,” Tolle seized the opportunity to add.

Deweyville gave the young expert a deep look and said, “All right. Kallen, take them to my bedroom.”

“Sir, I hope you will come with us,” Klein said seriously.

Deweyville hesitated several seconds.

“If that helps resolve the problem…”

As he spoke, he picked up his cane and walked with unsteady steps toward the staircase. Butler Kallen and several bodyguards clustered nearby, ready at any moment to support him.

Klein looked around, then followed behind in silence but with a calm bearing.

One step. Two steps. Three steps…

They came to the second floor and entered the master bedroom.

Before he even had time to inspect the surroundings, Klein’s hairs abruptly stood on end.

It was feedback from his inspiration.