Chapter 119: Investigating the Case (1400+ words)

The slums.

A large number of homeless wanderers were crowded into the filthy corners.

There was always a long queue outside the poorhouse.

Investigation Bureau agent Percy Anias tugged uncomfortably at the second-hand clothes he had bought from a flea market, silently observing everything around him.

He saw a scruffy man in his thirties, wearing dirty, cheap formal wear, walk past.

The other party might have once belonged to the middle class, but a sudden illness or unemployment was enough to crush his family, bankrupt him, and turn him into one of the wanderers.

From the numb and desperate look in the man's eyes, Percy felt that he might also be heavily in debt; it was a kind of... silence and pain on the verge of the Abyss.

Percy frowned and looked at the coroner in front of him: "Is this your conclusion, that he died of illness?"

The coroner was a tall, hook-nosed man with a cold temperament. He paused and continued: "However, there is one more piece of news... this young man was an Extraordinary. He should have opened the First Primordial Substance. Because his level was not high enough, his Spirituality naturally dissipated after death, and no condensation occurred! Among low-level substances, the proportion of natural dissipation is very high; it is a rare situation for condensation to appear..."

"Take me to his room." Percy gave the order directly.

"Go notify the patrol officers to come over."

"End of March, Jack came to say goodbye to me. He claimed he was going to do something big. I feel like he might want to rob a bank, or take revenge on his previous employer..."

Percy walked past in silence, when suddenly he heard the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground and an exclamation from behind.

"The 19th, Cleric Chris Tuoya is not as shallow as he appears on the surface; he is a kind gentleman..."

'Pity... I am just an investigator, I cannot do anything else...'

"February, was what I saw real? Could that be the truth of the world?"

He jumped off the building...

"The 16th, met an unlucky fellow in the church poorhouse. He calls himself Jack. If you don't talk about women and gambling, he is still an acceptable friend..."

Percy knew that when some gentlemen and ladies first went bankrupt, they would still try to maintain a facade of decency.

Then, the cold society would crush them step by step.

"We're here."

Having to sell their overcoats and jewelry, only to have no warm clothing when winter arrived.

Percy let the landlord Delion go find more help, and while remaining vigilant, he entered the room.

It must be said that compared to the collective dormitories of boarding schools, it appeared even filthier and more chaotic.

"Extraordinary... died of illness?"

"Holy Spirit!"

Immediately, he was so frightened that he fell to the ground, kicking his legs and retreating continuously.

"November 7th, finally arrived in Green Forest City. I must become a decent person here..."

The subsequent diary entries became increasingly blurry, making them difficult to read, and there were not many left.

"Aierlanqi, an ambitious young man from a small town... fell ill due to heavy work, but didn't have enough money to see a doctor, so he could only hold on by himself... and then, finally unable to hold on, his sudden illness worsened and he died?"

"I am looking for someone, Aierlanqi... is he your tenant?"

Percy took out his definitely authentic credentials and flashed them in front of an elderly man with slightly graying hair: "Are you the landlord here, Delion?"

"How long has it been since you last saw him?" Percy frowned.

Percy asked.

For example, men would leave early and return late, pretending they still had jobs; ladies would tidy up their only set of clothes, lift their chins slightly while walking, and maintain a false sense of pride, unwilling to admit the cruel fact that they had fallen down the social ladder.

Percy felt like laughing, but he couldn't.

He followed Delion into an old building, passing room after room. Sometimes, through doors and windows, he could see bunk beds and floor mats inside, much like a collective dormitory.

But there were no enemies or monsters inside the door, only a corpse lying on the ground.

"Yes, Officer..."

The crowd screamed and scattered, allowing him to see a man lying in a pool of blood—it was exactly the one he had just brushed past.

"The 8th, found a job moving cargo at the docks... so tired, Aierlanqi, you must persevere!"

Several hours later, inside the Investigation Bureau.

"New Year, January, Jack came to find me. He seemed to be hiding something..."

"The 15th, kicked out of the house by the landlord... I must find another place to rent as soon as possible..."

"Two days? Three days... you know, I only pay attention to where my tenants are when it's time to collect rent." Delion answered with some embarrassment.

This was a lead he had found after screening a large number of people who had contact with Jack during his investigation of the Benjamin case.

"Yes!"

"Yes, Aierlanqi!" Delion recalled: "He was a very spirited young man, from the countryside in South Deco County, but very diligent... you know, in a place like ours, there aren't many young men who can rent a room alone and not fall behind on rent..."

"The 24th, thank the Holy Spirit! Cleric Chris Tuoya introduced me to a job as a copyist at the Red Rose Firm, with a weekly wage of 4 Shillings, which is enough for me to rent a room of my own... I finally have a place in this city..."

"Time of death is no more than three days..."

"December 13th, I have forgotten how long it has been since I wrote in my diary, but today is a day worth remembering. Thanks to the grace of the Holy Spirit, I drew the qualification to enter the poorhouse..."

It belonged to a young man with flaxen hair, lying face up with his eyes wide open, one hand stiffened as if he had rolled directly off the bed, trying to grab the water glass on the table.

Delion came to a room on the second floor, took a brass spare key from his pocket, and opened the door.

"The 26th, unfortunately unemployed..."

Before long, patrol officers in black uniforms arrived, took a brief look, and had people carry the body away.

He checked briefly, confirmed there was no danger, retracted his firearm, and scanned the room.

This room, only a dozen square meters in size, was narrow and cramped, visible at a glance; apart from the bed and the table, it could barely hold anything else.

Being kicked out of a rental for unpaid wages, becoming homeless.

Percy silently watched that pool of dark red blood and took off his hat...

"I am Detective Percy from the Glamorgan Police Station!"

The Investigation Bureau's training had taught him that, apart from a few very special professions, low-level Extraordinaries were not much different from ordinary people; they would die if shot, feel hunger and fatigue, and fall ill...

And on the bedside table, Percy discovered a Diary.

Back when Delion opened the door, Percy had already placed his hand on his waist; now, he nimbly dodged to the side, drew his Zoulun, and aimed it into the room.

Delion could not help but take off his hat, asking somewhat nervously, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

In the end, some of them died, and some became members of the street vagrants.

"May, I fell ill, and I am gradually becoming Weakness..."

The crowd continued to move numbly, ignoring the pool of blood by the side of the road.

"This is too absurd; I feel it is more likely he was silenced by someone using an Extraordinary Ability related to disease! For example, that Mysterious mentor?"

Percy said coldly, "Fortunately, I have already found a clue!"

(End of this chapter)