Chapter 16: Choosing the Lesser of Two Evils

Chapter Sixteen
Choosing the Lesser of Two Evils

Meursault’s corpse lay there, eyes wide open, as though the vicious light in them had not yet faded.

The wound that had cut through half his throat had originally been only a narrow line. But as the Beyonder characteristic had just condensed, it had been stretched much wider and blurred considerably.

At the same time, postmortem incontinence had caused a foul stench to rise from his lower body.

Klein held the lump of deep-red, jelly-like material and felt deeply troubled over what he should do next.

Broadly speaking, he had only three choices. First, clean up the scene, handle the wound, go into the street, and report to the police on grounds of self-defense. Second, wait until night and throw the corpse into some sewer, pretending nothing had happened. Third, immediately abandon his current identity, flee to another district, and change his name again.

The problem with the first option was that Klein was presently still an unregistered person. He had secrets that could not stand the light of day, and reporting to the police might easily cause problems with his own identity to be discovered. As for the second option, besides making him worry constantly that the corpse would be found and the police would come to his door, it hid another danger:

Once the ambassador behind Meursault confirmed that his subordinate had gone missing or died, he would certainly send people to 15 Minsk Street again. At that time, Klein might face a Sequence 7 enemy, or even a Sequence 6 enemy. Behind the power standing across from him might be a nation—a powerful nation.

The third option seemed the wisest and safest, avoiding all risks, but it too had drawbacks. Klein’s portrait would likely end up on a wanted notice—and it would be him as seen by Madam Sammer next door, Solicitor Jurgen, and other neighbors. The undisguised him. Once the relevant newspaper was published, even if limited to the greater Backlund region, Klein would very likely be recognized by Daly and the other Nighthawks. Then the problem would become far bigger and far more troublesome.

Since it involved Ince Zangwill and Sealed Artifact 0-08, it was highly probable that he would be hunted by powerhouses at the level of high-ranking deacons.

Of course, the third option had another branch: hide the corpse, throw the evidence into the sewer, then flee afterward. But that still carried the danger of becoming wanted, because if the ambassador on the other side could not find him, there was a considerable chance that he would instruct members of the Zmanger gang to call the police, using Backlund’s official forces to search for him. If he could lock on to Klein’s trail, the development of the matter would be equivalent to the second option.

After thinking it over, Klein quickly made a decision.

Divination…

Of course, in his heart, he already leaned one way. Between two harms, choose the lesser. The first option carried relatively smaller risk, allowed him to grasp a certain degree of initiative, and through exposure—through drawing the attention of official forces—could restrain the ambassador’s later actions and prevent them from becoming too mad.

He pulled out paper, wrote the divination statement, and unwound the spirit pendulum from the cuff of his left wrist. The citrine pendant hung naturally downward, nearly touching the page.

“I should report this to the police.”

“I should report this to the police.”

…

After silently reciting the statement, he saw the pendulum rotating clockwise with a considerable range and fairly high speed.

That represented a rather certain affirmation.

After divining the other two choices in succession and receiving negative results for both, Klein no longer hesitated. He began handling the scene.

He put on black gloves and searched Meursault’s corpse, finding a sharp dagger, a small stack of cash, a box of cigarettes, a lighter, and some miscellaneous items.

Klein returned everything else to its original place, removed the gloves, directly gripped the dagger, and stabbed it into the wound at Meursault’s throat, destroying the original shape.

After that, he put the gloves back on and made Meursault hold the dagger once.

Once this was done, Klein gathered Meursault’s Beyonder characteristic, his self-made charms, tarot cards, the bloodstained contract, the paper bearing the divination statement, and various mystical materials from his home and person into one place, loading them into a paper bag.

Then, he held the ritual of “summoning” himself, becoming a special Spirit Body.

Carrying Azik’s copper whistle to make himself firmer and more powerful, Klein picked up the paper bag, ended the summoning, and returned above the gray fog.

He placed the real-world objects temporarily behind The Fool’s high-backed chair and left Azik’s copper whistle there as well. Then, with nothing left burdening him, he simulated the feeling of plummeting and reentered his own body.

Klein had chosen not to burn the bloodstained standard contract and the paper bearing the divination statement because he worried that after reporting to the police, the matter might be transferred to a special department, and a powerful Beyonder might come to perform targeted divination.

With the gray fog as a barrier, even if the Eternal Blazing Sun personally descended, He would obtain no effective answer.

That was also why, after advancing to Sequence 8 and greatly increasing his spirituality, Klein had moved his weekly sorting and summaries above the gray fog.

He could not withstand significant suspicion or deep investigation right now.

After removing the wall of spirituality and letting the sudden wind blow away the lingering scent of ritual materials, the only item in his room related to the supernatural and mystical field was the candle quietly burning before him.

This time, however, he had chosen an ordinary candle. Since he was praying to himself and summoning himself, there was no need to be so particular.

And for a household to possess candles was very reasonable, very normal, and very much in keeping with the era—even if the household contained only one bachelor.

After extinguishing the candle and returning it to its place, Klein took out his gold pocket watch, snapped it open, and glanced at it. He estimated how many minutes had passed since Meursault died, then added the minimum time the police department would need to send people to investigate, question, and report layer by layer.

He had to ensure that even if a Beyonder came to investigate later, at least one hour would have passed since Meursault’s death.

In mysticism, in the field of spirit channeling, this was an important cutoff point. Once it was surpassed, the information that could be obtained would be quite limited and very vague. For example, they could channel out that the person who killed Meursault was Sherlock Moriarty, but they would be unable to obtain the specific details of the death.

As for the hidden danger that the other side might divine whether supernatural factors were involved, Klein was not worried at all. The main supernatural factor involved—the bloodstained standard contract—was above the gray fog.

And the roles played by his own premonition and combat abilities would thus be confused. The other party’s divination would certainly point to that mysterious space above the gray fog, and certainly suffer interference.

Good thing I am a professional too… I really do feel like Moriarty now…

Klein reexamined the scene and confirmed that there were no problems. Then he began staring at the ticking hands of the pocket watch.

After the estimated threshold had passed, he put on gold-rimmed glasses and waited a few more minutes before opening the door and going out.

At this time, Backlund’s sky had already darkened. Gas streetlamps lit the rainy environment outside.

Minsk Street, as a middle-class neighborhood, often had police patrols. Klein waited for a while and soon spotted his target, immediately going up to meet them.

They were two low-ranking constables with only one V on their shoulder insignia. They carried guns, short batons, and umbrellas, looking around as they patrolled.

“Officers! A criminal attacked me!” Klein called out skillfully.

His disheveled appearance made the two policemen dare not treat the matter lightly. Each drew a short baton and looked warily to the side.

“Where is the criminal?” asked the brown-eyed policeman with a round face, his voice low.

Klein pointed toward his house.

“He broke into my home and tried to kill me!

“In the fight, I accidentally stabbed him to death!”

Stabbed to death…

The two constables exchanged a glance, then looked at Klein with scrutiny.

“Take us there.”

“Of course!”

Klein put on the appearance of one who had narrowly survived a disaster, led the two constables to 15 Minsk Street, took out his key, and opened the door.

The two constables first saw the scene of complete disorder. Then they noticed the corpse lying on the floor, the savage wound at his throat, and the bloodstained dagger.

“You protect the scene. I will return to the station and report to the superior,” one constable said to his round-faced, brown-eyed companion.

“All right.”

The round-faced constable turned his gaze toward Klein. His expression and body language both revealed guardedness and caution.

After a while, a sergeant in a black-and-white checkered uniform, with three Vs on his shoulder insignia, arrived with the previous constable and two other subordinates.

As the constables examined the scene and collected clues, the sergeant, who had a short yellowish-brown beard under his chin, brought Klein aside for an initial questioning.

“Name.”

“Sherlock Moriarty. Here is my rental bill for half a year.”

Klein took out the item he had prepared long ago.

The sergeant casually glanced at it and continued asking, “Occupation?”

“Private detective,” Klein answered calmly.

The sergeant furrowed his brows slightly.

“Do you know the deceased? Do you know why he attacked you?”

“I know him. His name is Meursault, the Executor of the Zmanger gang,” Klein said before the other could ask further. “I previously accepted a commission from Ian Wright. He asked me to investigate his former employer, Detective Zeriel Victor Lee. This matter happened to be related to the Zmanger gang and to Meursault.

“I followed him and discovered that he secretly met a gentleman of very high status. He addressed the other man as Mr. Ambassador.”

After saying this, Klein, unsurprisingly, saw the sergeant’s expression change several times.

“Ambassador… Do you know his name?” the sergeant muttered before asking solemnly.

“I do not know. But if I see his photograph, I will definitely recognize him,” Klein said truthfully. “This morning, Meursault visited me and asked me to find Ian Wright. Based on the professional ethics of a private detective, I refused him. As a result, at dusk, just after I returned home, I was attacked and nearly killed. Fortunately, my fighting skill is reasonably decent, and my reactions are quick enough.”

The sergeant thought for a moment, then asked about the specific process of the fight. Klein described it almost exactly as it had happened, only changing premonition to reaction, and changing the standard contract he had thrown at the end into a dagger dropped by the other party.

“Mm… For now, come with us to the police station and wait for the autopsy results, the scene investigation conclusion, and inquiries regarding the related individuals.”

The sergeant’s thoughts seemed no longer to be on this matter. His attitude appeared somewhat perfunctory.

At that moment, he had only one thought:

This is an important case involving a foreign ambassador!

It must be reported immediately!

In a daze, he suddenly remembered a question and quickly added, “What is your faith?”

“The God of Steam and Machinery,” Klein answered without hesitation.

The Backlund headquarters of the Church of Storms, Holy Wind Cathedral, was located in Cherwood Borough, so cases here involving the supernatural were often transferred to them. However, there was one exception: when the people involved shared a faith that was not the Lord of Storms.

In order not to meet the Nighthawks, Klein could only say sorry to the Goddess.