Chapter 432

Benjamin stood silently in the center of the parlor, thinking for a long time before finally speaking: "I don't know whether you're aware of the incident during the mayor's election two years ago..."

"The mayor of Metropolis is a very important position; the State Legislature is extremely cautious when selecting candidates—usually no more than four candidates run, and as with all mayoral elections, one or two are merely token contenders, while the rest are genuine competitors."

"But that mayoral election was exceptionally fierce—there were twelve candidates, each representing different parties and factions."

Schiller frowned at Benjamin and asked: "How could there be so many? How did the State Legislature approve it?"

Benjamin looked back at Schiller, locking eyes with him: "The election was called because the previous mayor, White, was assassinated—it was an emergency election."

"The State Legislature feared that too few candidates might allow malicious actors to manipulate the vote, so they relaxed their screening standards,"

"They assumed that at least ten of the twelve candidates were merely seeking to pad their resumes, not genuinely aiming for the position—but none of them expected them to fight so fiercely for it."

Benjamin's voice grew increasingly somber: "Perhaps even then, signs were already present."

"At first, it was normal electoral competition—speeches, vote canvassing, attacking opponents..."

"But things grew worse: vote-buying, rumors, harassment, exposure of secrets—even two candidates mysteriously suffered car accidents and were hospitalized."

"As the situation spiraled out of control, the Governor wanted everyone to sit down and talk, to avoid making the whole affair look even worse."

"And the method, as always, followed tradition: host a banquet, have intermediaries approach the right people at the right time, and quietly defuse the storm."

Benjamin turned back, scanning the parlor, then said: "To calm them down and gain credibility, the State Legislature invited many prominent figures—including Metropolis's famous entrepreneurs, renowned scholars and professors, artists, and media personalities."

"They chose the venue: the Mayor's Residence in Metropolis."

"And then?" Schiller asked.

"After that, everything spiraled out of control."

Benjamin turned toward the window, where the snow was growing heavier—snowflakes whirled in the storm like white birds flying against a tornado, dissolving into swirling mist at the horizon.

As Benjamin spoke, Schiller also turned to the window, his gaze piercing through the blizzard, as if seeing another identical mayor's mansion standing there two years ago today.

Faint warm lights flickered in the blizzard; the mayor's estate buzzed with voices.

Dancers glided, glasses clinked; candlelight trembled on silver candelabras; tassels from lavish tablecloths swayed; guests in formal attire held wineglasses, smiling with polished grace.

The host nodded with a smile at a small group chatting; they stepped aside, and he took center stage in the banquet hall, clearing his throat softly—everyone froze, turning to face him.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for gathering on such a night! The snowstorm outside may rage, but it cannot touch the warmth of our hearts!"

"First, allow me to introduce the host of this banquet—Vice Speaker of the Delaware State Legislature, renowned social activist, philanthropist, and author—Nelson Perez!"

A thunderous crash—a corpse plummeted from above.

Precise. Witty. Dramatic.

Time slipped through the falling snow, through the hazy white mist, halting at the warm glow from a window—through the frosted glass, it met Schiller's gaze.

Schiller paused, then turned back, hearing Benjamin say: "... like a dark joke—just as the host announced the Vice Speaker's name, his corpse fell from the ceiling."

At that moment, Bruce turned to Schiller; Schiller's eyes flickered slightly, and the instant their gazes met, he lowered his head, studying the pattern on his umbrella handle.

"But this was only the beginning..." Benjamin's voice turned as cold as the weather outside.

"After the Vice Speaker's death, police arrived, sealed the scene, and to prevent the killer from escaping, everyone was herded into guest rooms—soon, the second victim, the third victim..."

"One after another, each killed in a different way..."

"In the end, of the twelve candidates, only four remained—eight had been brutally murdered."

"The entire East Coast was shaken; the Federal Investigation Bureau sent agents to investigate—but their final conclusion was that foreign spies had infiltrated the banquet, aiming to destabilize East Coast politics, and had carried out the killings."

Benjamin lifted his head but lowered his eyelids, his eyes shifting downward toward Lionel's corpse: "Because espionage was involved, I was reassigned to Metropolis to investigate. Only when the case landed on my desk did I realize it was far more complicated."

"The eight candidates weren't killed by one person—they had different targets, but without doubt, they were all elite assassins, the most infuriating kind of high-intelligence criminals..."

Benjamin's voice trembled slightly at the end—he was clearly not at peace; even two years later, recalling the events still weighed heavily on him.

"In later investigations, I discovered the mayor's mansion had become a hunting ground for those deranged serial killers."

"Each used their signature method to create a chain of murders, interwoven into a puzzle no investigation could solve..."

Schiller's fingers paused on his umbrella handle; he looked at Benjamin: "So—what did you find?"

Benjamin fell silent for a moment, then shook his head: "We could only deduce there were four killers—each killed two targets."

"Did you find out who they were?"

Benjamin shook his head, lowering his gaze to Lionel's corpse: "Luther was present that night. I believe he killed Mayor White and Old Parker to imitate the killer who murdered the Vice Speaker."

"He imitated poorly," Schiller said.

"Indeed," Benjamin agreed. "Even though he denied it in the restroom, I'd already identified him. His method was simple."

Benjamin looked up at the ceiling: "This ancient estate has a very high roof—between the ceiling and the roof, there's a hidden space."

"He bought the building next to the mayor's residence, infiltrated it in advance, set up a trap in the attic, then knocked out his targets and brought them up there."

"The noise and music from the banquet hall masked the sound of silenced pistols; the trap had a delay, so when the shots were fired, Lionel could appear anywhere with witnesses, establishing his alibi."

"I'd call this method classic—but really, it's just outdated," Schiller summarized, looking at Benjamin: "Didn't your agents find his weapons in that space above the ceiling?"

"Actually, earlier than you think."

At this point, Benjamin no longer bothered pretending: "We're not those fools from the Federal Investigation Bureau—we don't wait until everything's over to give long-winded speeches."

"Then why didn't you arrest him immediately?" Selina frowned. In her view, if Benjamin had acted sooner, they wouldn't be trapped in this estate.

Benjamin snorted: "I told you all this to explain why."

"I didn't arrest Lionel right away—I wanted to see what he was really planning."

"I wasn't there during the original event, but in my investigation, I found that all four killers seemed to be searching for something."

"Luther attended that banquet two years ago—he must have picked up some clues. I don't know if he mentioned to any of you that he was hunting for a treasure..."

"That's the clue he obtained during the banquet, between the murders."

"Treasure? What is it?" Schiller asked bluntly.

Benjamin gave him a long look, then answered just as directly: "No definitive answer—but I suspect it's the Philby List."

"You're letting Luther search for this so-called treasure, then arresting him once he finds it—you want to kill two birds with one stone," Schiller said, then turned his gaze to Lionel: "But it seems your plan failed."

Benjamin's eyes settled on Lionel's body: "Because he's a complete idiot."

"I met him in this parlor—he was raving mad, cursing everything, losing his mind, then tried to attack me, so I knocked him out."

"But..." Benjamin shifted tone, turning sharply to stare at Schiller: "During my conversation with Lionel, he told me a truth. Do you know what it was?"

"But…" Benjamin changed tack, turning back to stare fixedly at Shiler, then said: "In his conversation with Lionel, he told me a truth—do you know what it is?"

"You're the one who killed the Vice Speaker. And you killed two people—one of them you dismembered. He saw it with his own eyes."

Instantly, the parlor froze. Every face changed. A storm erupted between Schiller and Benjamin—their auras clashed.

In the howling wind, snowflakes fell like blades.

Time rewound again—to the moment Selina knocked Lionel to the ground.

After doing so, Selina left without looking back, then returned to her room and feigned intimacy with Bruce, driving Benjamin out.

Regardless of how Bruce and Selina later executed their surveillance plan, Benjamin, upon leaving the room, immediately went to find Lionel.

He stopped an agent on patrol, who told him Lionel had gone to the parlor and hadn't come out yet—so Benjamin headed there, intending to speak with him.

When Benjamin arrived, Lionel had barely pulled himself up from the floor.

Selina had smashed a vase into his face—loud, but not lethal. Besides shallow cuts from broken glass and a bruised nasal cartilage, his skull and brain were unharmed. Lionel lay on the ground for a moment, then rose, searching for something to stop the bleeding.

Benjamin entered, saw the scene, paused, then stepped forward: "What happened? Did someone attack you?"

Lionel, wiping blood with tissue, glanced at Benjamin—his eyes radiated endless fury and malice.

"Get lost, you annoying fly!" Lionel had shed all pretense of kindness—he revealed his true nature: violent, greedy.

Before Benjamin could speak, Lionel erupted: "You cops and agents are all the same! I pay so much in taxes every year, and all I get is a bunch of useless waste—can't help me at all, just buzzing like flies!"

"And that bastard White! He forgot who spent a fortune to put him in office after the assassination scandal during the election!"

"I only asked him to help me kill a few people—and he had the nerve to demand I help him get into the State Legislature?!"

I only asked him to assist me in killing a few people, and he dares to demand I help him enter the State Legislature?!