Chapter 65: Helping Others

Chapter 65: Helping Others

Wendel was not at all unfamiliar with murder. Hearing those words, he felt no panic. Quite calmly, he let his gaze pass over the woman standing in the doorway and look into the room.

Immediately, he saw a man collapsed on the floor. His chest was stained a deep red.

“Are you certain he is already dead?” Wendel asked peacefully.

The young lady in her twenties first looked blank, then answered with some uncertainty,

“He should be… I don’t know…”

“If he can still be saved, he needs to be sent to the hospital immediately.” Wendel spoke as though addressing the family member of a patient, not a murderer.

The lady holding the blood-dripping dagger instinctively turned sideways, making way for him.

Wendel took several steps forward and approached the victim.

He did not need to crouch. With only a sweep of his gaze, he drew a judgment from all kinds of signs:

“He is indeed already dead.”

The young woman in her twenties, her long flaxen hair somewhat disheveled, showed no obvious change in expression. She lowered her head, looked at the tips of her feet, and said,

“Call the police.”

“What should I call you?” Wendel had already heard hurried footsteps coming from the stairs.

Clearly, either a waiter or the owner of the inn had heard the scream and come up to check what had happened.

“Tracy…” the young lady, who carried both wildness and purity, answered in a low voice.

She then sank into her own world and said no more.

Just as Wendel was about to say something, the innkeeper who had handled his check-in earlier had already rushed to the doorway.

“Goddess!” After seeing the situation inside the room, the elderly man could not help crying out.

Wendel pressed his right hand downward, signaling for the man to calm down, then said,

“Go call the police immediately. I will keep watch here.”

His temperament and his words naturally gave people a feeling that he could be trusted and obeyed. The innkeeper did not ramble at all. He immediately turned and ran downstairs.

For Wendel, coming over to check the commotion had initially only been a gentleman’s habit. In truth, he had no intention of involving himself deeply. After all, he still had a mission. Yet Miss Tracy’s blank, detached, and forced-cold attitude stirred a little pity in him. This was a normal male reaction.

He looked around the room and spoke as though addressing the air.

“Not every murder results in a severe sentence. There are many different circumstances.”

Tracy slowly raised her head and cast her gaze toward this gentleman.

Inside her eyes, which seemed so dead, confused, and hollow, there was now a hint of something difficult to describe.

Wendel glanced at her bruised face.

“He beat you?”

“Mm.” Perhaps the other party carried some form of authority, for Tracy, who had wanted to remain silent, ultimately answered.

Wendel lowered his gaze to the dagger that had stopped dripping blood.

“Did you bring that here, or did he?”

Tracy responded a little sluggishly.

“He did.”

Wendel nodded slightly.

“Legitimate self-defense is in accordance with the law. I can testify to the police that you two had been having a fierce quarrel beforehand and that a fight had broken out. Clearly, in this regard, men hold a natural advantage. I am not discriminating against women. Science and experience both tell us this.”

He paused and asked,

“What exactly was your relationship with him? What happened between you?”

Tracy’s eyes moved slightly. She recovered a little from that state of deep self-isolation and detachment from reality.

Like someone answering a policeman’s questions, she said with a hint of hope and sorrow in her gaze,

“I am—heh, I was his mistress.”

At this point, a self-mocking smile appeared on Tracy’s face.

“I was once an ugly woman who pursued money until I lost my reason. Not long after leaving grammar school, I was lured by him and became his mistress.

“He gave me an inn and had me stay there, waiting every week for…