Chapter 64: Checking In

Chapter 64: Checking In

Hearing his attendant’s words, Alfred suddenly felt as though the room’s temperature had plummeted.

An indescribable chill seeped into his body, freezing his blood and bone marrow.

When the passenger ship docked at Utopia Harbor, he had actually imagined what the worst possible situation might be: that Utopia was the headquarters of some cult, and every person there was a potential, dangerous lunatic.

But now, the truth might be even worse.

Perhaps Utopia did not exist at all!

At that moment, Alfred felt extraordinarily fortunate that he was no longer the noble young master who had left Backlund years ago, but someone who had accumulated rich experience and had not truly entered Utopia Harbor.

Under the gazes of his adjutant and attendants, the army major general paced back and forth with a solemn expression, then calmly instructed,

“Draft a telegram for me. Report the matter of Utopia to MI9.

“At the same time, ask the local official Beyonders to take action immediately, contact the captain, request the list of people who entered Utopia Harbor, and, if necessary, visit them one by one to confirm whether there are any problems.”

“Yes.” His adjutant immediately brought his feet together and saluted.

After the adjutant left the study, Alfred said to an attendant,

“Move the typewriter downstairs up here. I need to produce a detailed report.”

His plan was to report the key information by telegram first so that preliminary action would not be delayed, then present more details in the form of a confidential document, providing a basis for high-level military judgment.

…

On a steam train platform, Wendel pressed his silk top hat with one hand and carried a suitcase in the other as he entered the second-class carriage.

He was not yet thirty. His temples were dark, his brown eyes calm, and his appearance held nothing particularly memorable, yet he had a comfortable quality about him.

Several months ago, he had still been an intelligence operative active in the Feynapotter-controlled part of Desi Bay and had established no small number of merits. Now, he was already a Sequence 7 Beyonder under MI9’s Internal Affairs Division.

Today, his purpose was to deliver a confidential document to Backlund and hand it to the director of MI9.

After sitting down, Wendel appeared as usual as he bought a newspaper from a newsboy outside the window and leisurely unfolded it to read.

That was merely the surface phenomenon. In reality, he had already begun using his Beyonder ability to draw personality profiles of the passengers around him, memorizing all aspects of their traits so that he could make detailed and thorough preparations for any accidents that might occur later.

Woo!

The whistle sounded. The steam train clattered into motion, and the scenery outside the window sped past in scene after scene.

Several hours later, Wendel somewhat worriedly cast his gaze outside the window, because dark clouds had piled up in the sky, and a storm was about to descend.

This meant the steam train would stop ahead of schedule at some station, wait until the storm ended, or even until the next morning, before continuing its journey instead of reaching the planned destination.

For Wendel, this meant that matters were deviating somewhat from his expected plan. Without doubt, that would bring more risks.

However, he had no way to stop it. He could not change the weather like the Sea God proclaimed by the new government of the Rorsted Archipelago.

The only thing he could do was pray—to the Lord of Storms.

Reality proved that prayer did not help most of the time. When the sky grew darker and darker, the platform ahead had already signaled with lights, telling the train to slow down and stop there.

Woo!

The whistle sounded again. The train grew slower and slower until it finally stopped at a platform that everyone found somewhat unfamiliar.

The next second, near the steam-spewing locomotive, a mechanical door opened. The conductor stood at the entrance and shouted across the distance to the station worker on the platform:

“What happened up ahead?”

“Storm! Nothing can be seen!” the station worker, whose temples had already turned somewhat gray, shouted back.

As soon as his voice fell, a dull thunderclap exploded high in the sky, making everyone tremble and sense the coming of heavy rain.

“Damn it!” the conductor cursed. “What station is this?”

Because this was an abnormal stop, he did not quite recognize which station they were at. After all, the train he was responsible for did not stop at every station along the route in the past.

“Utopia! A small station! Make your own arrangements after that!” the station worker shouted a few times, then ran toward the other end of the platform with a glass lantern in hand. “I have to signal the train behind you!”

The conductor had no doubts at all about the station worker’s attitude, because this was normal dispatching procedure. Otherwise, a rear-end collision could occur between two steam trains.

He could even determine that the other workers at Utopia Station were already telegraphing other stations to give reminders.

Of course, they certainly had learned from a telegram themselves that the area ahead had already been enveloped by a heavy storm.

“Utopia…” Wendel repeated the place name in a low voice, finding no useful information in his mind.

Of course, he did not pay too much attention to that. There were many unknown steam train stations across the Loen Kingdom. This was a reflection of a nation’s comprehensive strength.

The conductor looked at the dark sky, muttered a few words, then used the newly equipped megaphone to address the passengers.

“A storm is coming. The train will stop at Utopia Station until eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

He expected the storm to last until tonight.

“You may remain inside the carriages, or you may leave on your own and head into the city to find an inn. Tomorrow, you need only present your ticket stub to board again. Remember to be on time.” The conductor gave them two choices.

Wendel looked at the passengers inside the second-class carriage. After considering for several seconds, he picked up his suitcase and left the train.

It was not that he could not accept a harsh, abnormal sleeping environment. As an intelligence operative, he had endured no small amount of hardship. He simply relied on professional judgment to decide that a passenger carriage, with its insufficiently closed-off flow of people, was less safe than a single hotel room.

Of course, he could also stay awake all night. But that would inevitably affect his condition tomorrow, and tomorrow would clearly still involve a long journey.

After leaving Utopia Station, Wendel boarded a rental carriage by the roadside and said to the coachman,

“To the municipal square.”

In the Loen Kingdom, there would inevitably be a church and at least one hotel near the municipal square.

“Sir, are you going to a hotel?” the coachman asked familiarly while urging the horses from stillness into motion.

“Mm.” As a Sequence 7 Beyonder, Wendel did not conceal it.

In his view, as long as he was inside a town or city within the kingdom’s borders, he could easily rely on his identity to gather a group of helpers, and his strength was enough to support him in completing that task.

“The best hotel in Utopia is the Red Boots. Shall we go there?” the coachman asked in an ambiguous tone all men understood.

If he were not carrying a mission, Wendel would not have minded enjoying himself a little. But now, he could only shake his head without hesitation.

“I want a quiet hotel.”

“All right…” the coachman replied with some disappointment. “Then I’ll take you to the Iris Inn. No one will bother you there.”

As the carriage moved forward, Wendel cast his gaze outside the window and observed the situation outside.

Perhaps because the storm was about to arrive, the people on the road were all hurrying along. Even the newsboys seemed listless.

“A very small city…” Wendel made an initial judgment from the fact that there were no trackless public carriages.

He had seen only one trackless public carriage as well, which indicated that most places in Utopia could be reached on foot within a suitable amount of time.

As he had expected, less than ten minutes later, the rental carriage stopped in front of the Iris Inn.

After paying the fare, Wendel quickly entered the inn before the storm could fall.

The crashing sound of rain immediately rose behind him.

After completing check-in, storing his luggage, and resting for a while, Wendel carried the confidential document close to him and went to the first-floor restaurant for dinner.

He cautiously did not order an alcoholic drink. He asked for a cup of what was said to be the local specialty—sparkling iced tea—and paired it with fried pork cutlet in apple sauce.

As a former intelligence operative who had entered and left high society, Wendel did not hold much expectation for this dinner, but the result was somewhat beyond what he expected.

The pork cutlet was fried tender and juicy, with a rich aroma. The apple sauce poured over it carried a faint sourness that removed most of the greasiness. The sparkling iced tea had its own refreshing quality and was exceptionally tasty.

When settling the bill, Wendel nodded to the medium-height server.

“Please thank the chef for me. This was a wonderful dinner.”

The ordinary-looking server smiled in response.

“No problem.

“In all of Utopia, our Iris Inn has the best chef.”

Wendel did not make small talk. He quickly returned to his room and set up a few arrangements to prevent others from infiltrating.

Then he lay down and slept without the slightest hesitation.

He was using the relatively safe time period, when potential enemies would not consider it suitable to act, to sleep, leaving the late-night hours empty.

After an unknown length of time, Wendel was suddenly awakened by an intense quarrel.

He opened his pocket watch and glanced at it, discovering that it was not yet midnight.

It’s in the next room… a woman’s voice… a man’s voice… Wendel sat up and listened carefully, distinguishing the sounds.

At first, he suspected the man and woman were flirting. Later, he discovered that it was far too intense. Even fragile objects were being thrown against the wall.

A quarrel turning into a fight? Wendel had just muttered this when he heard the woman’s shouts, curses, and screams.

A man beating a woman? As a Loen gentleman, although Wendel believed in the Lord of Storms and more or less discriminated against women, whether openly or secretly, that did not prevent him from believing that a gentleman should not use violence against women.

After considering for two seconds, he decided to go over and knock on the door, reminding his “neighbors” to pay attention.

Just then, a scream came through.

It clearly came from a man!

Bang! A heavy object fell to the floor.

Wendel’s brows moved slightly as he keenly smelled the aura of a criminal case.

He stood, put on his coat, came before the neighboring room, bent his fingers, and knocked twice.

Several seconds later, the door creaked open, and a beautiful young lady with lake-green eyes and flaxen hair appeared before Wendel.

Her hair was messy, her face pale, and her light-green clothing was covered in specks of bright-red blood. In her hand, she held a dagger from which blood still dripped.

The lady in her early twenties moved her lips for a while, then spoke in a dreamlike voice:

“I killed someone…”