Chapter 125

“Leon, you came to find me… is there something you need?”

“There is something, but it’s not a big deal…”

“Just spit it out, big or small! I’ve been swamped these past few days—sitting in a chair for over ten hours every day. Say it quick!”

“Uh… alright…”

The chatter from the group of women in the stairwell was already loud, and with Leon’s contamination level now “as high as” 2.6, his physical functions far surpassed those of an ordinary person—those jokes didn’t escape his ears.

He’d originally planned to pretend he hadn’t heard anything, but seeing the policewoman’s faintly reddened ear tips and her shy, fidgeting demeanor, Leon himself grew uncomfortably awkward.

Unconsciously glancing at the policewoman’s sleek, long legs, Leon cleared his throat, shoved the women’s vivid descriptions out of his mind, and spoke up to thank her:

“Actually, I came here mainly to thank you. If you hadn’t convinced your father, I’d probably still be locked underground for a few more days. Oh, and the hospital bill—”

“Oh, don’t worry about that money!”

The notoriously defiant “rogue rebel” had, for once, spoken softly to her face—and the policewoman felt an unexpected surge of comfort.

She waved her hand, lips pressed together to suppress a smile, and said with generous ease:

“My father hasn’t drawn a salary in two years, but he’s still a Marquis, so we had some savings from before. Food and lodging cost us nothing extra—your hospital and medicine bills are nothing to us. Don’t even think about repaying them.”

“Uh… I wasn’t trying to pay you back…”

Leon said, slightly embarrassed.

“Our Clearance Bureau’s work is inherently dangerous—we often face life-threatening situations, so all related expenses are fully reimbursable. Could you… change the bill’s name from yours to mine?”

“Fine… I’ll change it when I get home after shift.”

After reluctantly agreeing to Leon’s request, the policewoman wiggled her toes inside her shoes, then turned her head slightly, her gaze drifting as she whispered:

“So… you came here just to thank me and ask me to change the bill? That’s all?”

“Of course there’s more!”

Hearing her words, Leon’s spirits lifted slightly. He reached into his pocket, touched the [Infected Blood Band], and spoke seriously:

“I’d like to see the prisoner you escorted before—alone, without any witnesses. Could you arrange that for me?”

Huh?

Unexpectedly receiving such an answer, the policewoman froze slightly, then her expression dimmed. She pouted slightly and nodded:

“Well, I suppose it’s possible… The top-priority case used to be the Princess’s assassination—I couldn’t have arranged a private meeting with her then. But now the top case has shifted to the Lyon Blood Night.”

The Princess’s assassination case has dropped significantly in priority. You might not even need your director’s approval… Hmm… Come upstairs with me first. I’ll ask the director.”

Phew… At least I’ll get to see her!

Hearing her words, Leon exhaled in relief. Amid the pointed glances of the secret police, he followed her into the stairwell, eyes bright with anticipation.

The [Infected Blood Band] he’d taken from the female prisoner possessed both [Corruption] and [Healing] abilities. When wrapped around a living target, it could drain their vitality and cause rapid decay—but if used correctly, it could also swiftly heal external injuries below the level of limb loss.

During his recovery these past few days, he’d studied the band’s abilities thoroughly and discovered that, paired with the [Sacred Spirit Pendant], which grants power through trading flesh, it was essentially an aberrant perpetual motion machine!

In future encounters with aberrations like the [Heart of Ambition], which controlled thousands to swarm him, he could trade flesh to amplify the [Sacred Spirit Pendant] while using the [Infected Blood Band]

to siphon the enemies’ health and heal himself.

With this “fight to sustain” method, he could maintain the [Sacred Spirit Pendant] at maximum output until exhaustion and unbearable pain forced him to collapse—gaining control of this band would instantly boost his combat power!

The only problem: the band’s true “owner” is still alive.

If it were one of Jerry’s items—aberrations passed through many hands—it could be seized and used immediately. But the [Infected Blood Band] is different.

This aberration was co-created by the female prisoner and her interrogator husband, born from their agonizing lives. As its creators, they hold the highest-level “permission” over it.

So if the prisoner refuses, even if he holds the band in his hands, he cannot use it—he must first earn her approval to truly claim ownership.

Otherwise, he’d have to do as the director of Red Brick Road Hospital did: wait until she’s executed for the Princess’s assassination, then send her corpse and the band back to headquarters for a forger to reforge it.

Given his immense “contribution” to the Lyon Blood Night, it’s clearly better to speak with the prisoner directly and seek her consent.

After all, even without revealing he nearly destroyed the entire Lyon family, just telling her he personally killed Bobby Lyon would likely soften her attitude and grant him use of the aberration… Hmm… or perhaps he could hint a little more…

…

Why hasn’t he spoken a word?

During the climb, hearing no sound from him, the policewoman, lost in thought, glanced back—and saw Leon staring blankly. She stole another glance.

This rogue rebel… seems distracted?

Though she’d long since cleared up the misunderstanding—that Leon hadn’t truly joined the rebels, only been pushed too far by his past—

the label stuck. She’d called him that for so long, and his attitude was even more extreme than most rebels’. So his silence now made her wonder.

Could he… still be thinking about those women’s jokes? About wrapping it around his waist… and such…

At this thought, the policewoman felt the heat of his gaze intensify. Her body tensed slightly; her long legs unconsciously crossed tightly. Walking up these stairs under his stare felt strangely wrong.

“Hm?”

Her suddenly awkward gait pulled Leon back from his thoughts on gaining the prisoner’s consent.

Seeing the policewoman slow her pace, her legs tightly clenched, her stride oddly stiff, Leon pondered briefly—then recalled their earlier conversation. He looked at her back with pity.

Sitting ten-plus hours a day on a chair… Hmm… That’s one of those things you understand, but can’t say aloud.