Chapter 140

“Gone?”

“Yes, he vanished.” Martin silently opened his mouth as if to spit the heavy, horned words straight onto the supervisor’s face, shattering that weathered, battle-weary visage—but noticing the crowd around him, he restrained the impulse. “Sealed in a space where two people could block it off? Better to search the entire banquet hall, then find out which bastard hired that servant.”

The other accepted Martin’s suggestion—or rather, his order. Kraft felt the two must know each other; perhaps Martin held even higher status, yet he seemed reluctant to reveal this openly, deliberately maintaining the posture of “someone unimportant.”

The people in the corridor gradually dispersed. Driving away this crowd of assorted dignitaries had been difficult. It wasn’t that they feared death—only some sense of “honor” held them back, forcing them to display courage only in controlled forms, before their peers. Though few dared approach the crime scene, that didn’t stop them from offering “brilliant insights” drawn from nowhere.

The supervisor listened one by one to their “brilliant insights” from their own perspectives: flying thieves who could scale walls and rooftops, potions causing permanent unconsciousness, aid from evil forces, and a brief exorcism prayer from Shenxue Academy.

The medical staff remained until last. Someone who had just been drinking with them had vanished in the adjacent lounge—it was impossible not to feel dread. If that servant with ill intent had merely shifted his finger a fraction, he could have wiped out most or all of Westmin’s top medical talent, leaving them unable to recover for over a decade.

Of course, given the preliminary understanding of the primary treatments administered to those present, one should reserve judgment on the potential impact this incident might have on the expected lifespans of local nobility.

Maynard kept glancing repeatedly at the room where Pitry had vanished. “Professor Kraft, you understand this field deeply—could any potion achieve such an effect?”

“I’d need a full set of equipment, an assistant, and a few minutes to achieve an unstable anesthetic effect.” If such a method existed, it would’ve been used long ago—why wait for ether? Most modern and even contemporary anesthetics would be obsolete. Why not leap a thousand years at once and go straight to the endpoint?

“Master, you should return to rest as well.” Bramer cast a skeptical glance at the enigmatic supervisor and urged, “We can’t help here, and this place is likely still unsafe.”

“You go ahead. I’ll stay a while longer to catch some wind. I can’t be lost in plain sight. Since both vanished where no one could see, it’s probably just some shady trick.” Fernand shook his head, showing no fear.

“But Professor Kraft—I hear he’s from the northern military nobility. He could stay and keep me company, right? Can’t be as timid as your student.”

“If you wish, of course.”

“Then I’ll take everyone else out.” Bramer didn’t mind his master’s teasing and insisted on leading the remaining guests and students away, his tone urgent.

Unnoticed, the once-crowded corridor had emptied. The supervisor had found an excuse to supervise his subordinates and fled Martin’s murderous gaze, leaving only two men discussing academia at the crime scene—and Martin, preparing to examine the room himself.

“Lord Fernand, I won’t disturb you two.” Martin switched seamlessly into polite mode, wisely stepping away from the conversation that no longer concerned him.

But Fernand, who had just seemed indifferent, called him back. “No, Sir Martin, stay a moment.”

“Professor Kraft, about that case just now—could you elaborate further on your views?” After stopping Martin, Fernand didn’t issue orders—he simply resumed the already-ended discussion.

“Which one?”

“The one Bramer mentioned.”

“Hmm, the professors and lecturers have already covered it thoroughly—I can’t add much more.” Kraft used the standard opening of an academic discussion, buying himself time to organize his thoughts. “In diagnosis, I recommend tracing the patient’s surrounding circle of contacts, and if possible, going back months before symptoms appeared. Many patients also show reduced appetite and subcutaneous swellings, often palpable in the neck.”

After a rough estimate of the size of Mycobacterium tuberculosis, he added: “I have a new research project that might allow observation of the agent causing this disease—but I’ll need some craftsmen’s help.”

In truth, the odds were slim—even without considering staining issues, it was at most one-tenth the size of a red blood cell. But these people didn’t look poor. Couldn’t he at least trick them into providing some funding and technical support?

Fernand listened patiently, nodded in approval, and didn’t question the hidden agenda in his words, making Kraft feel slightly uneasy. “Indeed, the patient’s wife suffered from chronic cough before her death, which gave her a pale complexion and slender frame... Oh, Martin, don’t look at me like that—that’s a medical assessment, nothing more.”

“We’re very interested in your research. And regarding treatment—what are your thoughts?”

Kraft sensed his unfamiliar aura—the aura of someone who didn’t care about cost. No wonder River’s University—once you said that, you didn’t let people walk away. “As previously stated, I hold a pessimistic view on treating this disease. No cure currently exists, nor is there any direct diagnostic basis. But from my specialty’s perspective, I can propose some immature approaches.”

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【Shouldn’t River’s University support my research?】

The progress was unexpectedly smooth—perhaps because his performance at the gathering had been excellent, and Professor Fernand was open to interdisciplinary exchange, nodding continuously. This was a delightful surprise: gaining support from a well-established university would greatly enhance his trial-and-error capacity and efficiency.

“Then do you think this patient would respond to these approaches?”

“It depends on the patient’s specific condition. Without a direct evaluation, it’s hard to conclude.” Out of caution, he wouldn’t overstate anything. The discussion circled back to the case, triggering his instinctive suspicion of patients who secretly withheld medical history, played guessing games with doctors, and risked their lives.

Before Fernand could speak, Kraft noticed Martin, a beat late, finally understood—letting out a quiet “Ah.”

“That’s right—you’re exactly the talent we need.” Fernand gave the newly appointed professor an unexpected embrace, revealing a smile Kraft couldn’t see—worry and hope intertwined. “Sir Martin, this place isn’t safe enough. Take our Professor Kraft to a truly secure, confidential location.”

“Now?” The situation felt off. As Martin gripped his hand and pulled him away, Kraft sensed their familiarity was unnatural, their level of importance extending far beyond mere funding. “I have attendants—I can’t even wait one night to assign them tasks?”

“We’ll bring your assistants to you in absolute safety. Since someone managed to infiltrate here... nowhere outside is safe.”