Chapter 159: Disappearance

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Nine
Disappearance

After waiting more than half an hour and confirming that nothing unexpected had happened, Klein and Emlyn White finally left Solicitor Jurgen’s house. Each occupied by his own thoughts, they walked in silence and soon arrived outside 15 Minsk Street.

The vampire Emlyn pressed a fist to his mouth, gave a soft cough, and said, “The payment has been fully made. I hope there will be no chance for us to meet again.”

That line has quite a bit of style. But Mr. White, have you perhaps forgotten something important?

Klein smiled politely.

“I will occasionally visit Bishop Utravsky. I hope you will not be at Harvest Church when I do.

“And in that case, I would no longer need to trouble myself looking for a way to resolve the psychological suggestion on you.”

Emlyn White’s expression immediately turned rather peculiar. After two seconds of silence, he lifted his chin and said, “Among us Sanguine are many powerful mystics. I will write to them and seek help.”

After saying that, he pressed a hand to his chest, bowed, and took his leave.

He had only turned and walked several steps when he suddenly slowed down, turned his head back, and asked hesitantly, “What are you—what are you cooking?”

“Beef-bone and radish soup. It needs to be paired with rice and the kind of chili pepper specialty from the Feneport Plateau,” Klein said, breathing in the fragrance drifting from inside the house, his voice full of anticipation.

Emlyn frowned and shook his head.

“Chili peppers do not fall within the aesthetic domain of the Sanguine.”

Frankly speaking, I find it hard to imagine a vampire eating chili peppers too. Of course, I occasionally imagine one holding a plain steamed bun while gnawing garlic and scallions…

Klein silently mocked once, then pointed toward the door to indicate that he was about to enjoy dinner.

Emlyn White considered for one second, lowered his voice, and said with careful deliberation, “I thought about it for a long time last night and realized that, in truth, you did nothing. Why did you demand payment? That old man would have let me leave at any time.”

Klein gave a low laugh.

“No, no. That is not how the account should be settled. The mission your parents entrusted was to find you, not to rescue you. In the end, I was the one who found you. According to the agreement, the payment naturally belongs to me.

“In addition, without my reminder, you might have remained at Harvest Church for weeks or months before realizing you were free to leave, and you would not have detected that you had been given a suggestion.”

“Are you implying something about my intelligence?” Emlyn’s face twisted.

No, I am saying it outright…

Klein smiled and said nothing more. He opened the door himself, entered the house, and headed straight for the kitchen. His mind was filled with clear, enticing soup; pearly white rice; tender beef that still retained a satisfying chew; marrow hidden deep inside the bones; sweet radish that cut through grease while carrying the scent of meat; and chopped Feneport Plateau chili peppers.

Among those fiery-red fragments would be sprinkled pink rose salt and green Balam coriander leaves.

…

Early Thursday morning, Klein went to the cheap café in the East Borough at the appointed time.

Old Kohler, still wearing that thick jacket from before, sat in the corner, eating a strip of black bread with tea whose flavor was almost impossible to taste.

Klein came to sit opposite him, took out the items he had prepared in advance, and pushed them across.

They were the funds: two five-soli notes, four one-soli notes, and a handful of copper pennies deliberately added to enhance the effect.

Old Kohler stared fixedly at them for quite a while before reaching out with his right hand and taking them, trembling.

He examined them over and over, raised a hand to wipe his eyes, and squeezed out a smile.

“At the docks, we carry heavy cargo and stand in cold, filthy water to do troublesome cleaning work. A day’s labor only earns about one soli…”

And here were a full fifteen soli!

Klein listened silently. After several seconds, he said, “Have you heard of anything recently? Noticed any situations?”

Old Kohler put away the funds, drank another mouthful of tea, and pinched the corners of his eyes.

“I have gotten to know many dockworkers, and I have rebuilt contact with friends I knew back when I was wandering. Some of them have entered factories. Some still go back and forth between the workhouse and the corners of parks, heh, exactly like I used to…

“Recently, no one knows where it came from, but a certain saying has begun to spread. It says that since we believe in one of the seven gods, why not pray directly to the Creator at the source? It says He is inside every person’s body, inside all things, and that He has not truly passed away.

“They say praying to Him will allow us to receive salvation. Not only will we enter His kingdom after death, but we will also gain a better life while alive. For example, we would not need to work so hard, and every day we would have cream and sizzling, oil-dripping meat—every single day.”

This… A variant Creator theory spread by the Aurora Order? After the matter with Lanevus, have they started paying attention to the East Borough, the Dock Borough, and the poor of the East Borough, hoping to use them for some purpose? I wonder whether the three major Churches have noticed this phenomenon… They should have…

Klein placed butter between two slices of toast and took a bite without tasting it.

After rambling for a while, Old Kohler said, “Detective, according to your instructions, I paid attention to the female textile workers. In the end, after the police joined in, their resistance failed. But, heh-heh, those who led the effort became factory supervisors, while one-third of the workers lost their jobs.

“Some of them are actively searching for new work. Some have become street girls. Some no one knows where they went. The entire East Borough is in chaos.”

If Vice Admiral Hurricane Qilangos had come to Backlund during this sort of situation, he could secretly kill one or two people in the East Borough every day, and no one would discover it, no one would notice…

Klein sighed inwardly.

Old Kohler continued talking about daily observations for a while before saying, “Right, the younger daughter of Liv’s family has gone missing.”

“Liv?” Klein was certain he had never heard that name.

Only then did Old Kohler realize and explain, “She is the laundrywoman you and the reporter gentleman saw last time—the fierce woman who quarreled with someone. She has always done washing work at home with her older daughter and younger daughter. But yesterday, when her two daughters were on their way back from delivering clothes, one of them got lost. The younger one. Truly pitiful. She has been a widow for years, always depending on her two daughters, and now… Sigh. The East Borough police definitely will not put much effort into finding her.”

Greater misfortune often falls upon the unfortunate, because they lack the ability to resist risk or change the environment they are in…

Such a sentence suddenly flashed through Klein’s mind.

He remained silent like a stone statue for several seconds before saying, “Take me to see them. I am a detective. Perhaps I can help them find her.”

“…They have no money,” Old Kohler reminded him.

Klein picked up his hat and cane.

“I occasionally do volunteer work too.”

…

Cherwood Borough, inside the house where the two ladies had originally rented rooms.

Xio had returned to her life as a bounty hunter, while Fors was speeding up progress on her new book, hoping to save enough money for the Beyonder materials required for Trickmaster as soon as possible.

But writing was not something that could necessarily be done just because one wanted to write. Irritably, Fors scratched her hair, then decided to go outside for a walk and search for inspiration.

Walking and walking, she discovered that, without realizing it, she had returned to a familiar place.

Diagonally ahead of her was Joseph Clinic, the rather large private clinic where she had first worked.

After staring at it for a while, Fors thought of the old woman who had led her into the supernatural world. She turned toward the small alley on the right, taking a shortcut to a nearby street.

Plane trees stood on either side of this street, shedding leaves that drifted through the air. It was a relatively quiet place.

Fors remembered that the old woman had lived in the house numbered 39. Back then, she had occasionally gone there to deliver medicine or injections, and had even helped with some everyday chores.

“It has been almost three years. That place should have been rented out again by now. Maybe it has already changed tenants several times… I still remember that when I went to organize the relics, I found quite a few notebooks recording mysticism insights…”

Fors walked under the plane trees that had almost no leaves left, slowly approaching Number 39.

Because she had been recalling past experiences, she gradually gained some writing inspiration.

Just then, she saw an old man wearing a heavy wool coat and a half-height black top hat standing outside the door of Number 39, pulling the doorbell three times.

After several minutes, with no one opening the door, the blue-eyed old man shook his head, turned around, and murmured in confusion, “Still no one…”

He suddenly noticed Fors standing not far away, looking toward him. He hurried over and smiled gently yet anxiously.

“Beautiful lady, do you live in this neighborhood? Do you know Laubero and Anlisa?”

Anlisa? Is that not the old woman’s name? Has this house not had new tenants recently?

Fors considered her words and said, “I do not know whether the Madam Anlisa I knew is the one you are looking for. She lived here for a very long time, but she passed away three years ago.”

“Passed away three years ago? What about Laubero?” the old man, whose wrinkles were only at the corners of his eyes, hurriedly pressed.

“Her husband passed away even earlier than she did,” Fors answered honestly.

The old man froze at once, then revealed a sorrowful expression.

After a moment of silence, he said, “Thank you, kind lady.

“I am Laubero’s older brother. I have always lived in Midsea County. Because too much time had passed without any letters from them, I decided to come and take a look.

“Can you tell me about what they experienced during those years?”

Madam Anlisa’s husband’s older brother… Could he be one of the descendants of the family she mentioned?

Fors suddenly became alert. Smiling, she replied, “No problem.”

She swiftly began considering what could be said and what could not.

The old man pointed diagonally behind him.

“There is a decent café over there.”

…

In the East Borough, inside a somewhat old apartment building, Klein once again stepped into that damp, heavy room.

He saw the fierce woman from last time—the one who had quarreled with the street girl and looked down on the other party’s profession—standing amid piles of clothes. Her face, already marked by many wrinkles, had lost its usual spirit, lost its energy for toil, and seemed utterly lifeless.

Meanwhile, her older daughter—the seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl who had been crouched in front of the basin washing clothes last time—sat beside the bed, sobbing continuously.

“It was me. It was all my fault. I failed to watch her…

“I should not have taken her through that quiet alley.

“She even said she wanted to learn a few more words at the free school tonight…

“It was me. It was all my fault…”

The laundrywoman Liv abruptly returned to herself. She turned toward her older daughter and, hiding her grief, spoke fiercely.

“What are you crying for? Get up and wash the clothes!

“Do you want to go hungry? Do you want to lose even the chance to attend the free school?”

Only after shouting did she notice Klein and Old Kohler standing by the doorway.

“Old Kohler… Who is this?” she asked in confusion.