Unlike the noise and crowds on the first and second floors, the third floor dedicated to the editor-in-chief and newspaper president of "Daily Observer" is relatively quiet at this time.
With the new Prime Minister, the younger brother of the famous Duke Negan, Agushed Negan, took office and accepted the new president's office of "Daily Observer". Everywhere is decorated with a large number of Southern Continent-style ornaments, modern
Imitations and treasures are placed half way, almost forming a small museum.
President Magath, who was sitting behind a large mahogany desk, playing with a bone handle-shaped decoration with both hands, proudly showed off his trophy to Dunn, who was sitting in the guest seat.
"Mr. Evans, this is a treasure I obtained from the leader of a highland kingdom city-state when I was still serving in the kingdom's army."
He rubbed the slightly yellowed bone surface, his eyes half-squinted, leaving almost only a slit on his fat face.
"Although it is not decorated with precious stones, and it does not have the gold that the people of the Southern Continent have always admired, hey, this is a ritual item used by the local city-state to worship the God of Death. When we interrogated the servants of the indigenous leader, they told me that this was even
It was a treasure given to the leader at that time by a governor of the Bailang royal family in the middle period of the Bailang Empire and passed down from generation to generation."
Dunn stared expressionlessly at the bone ritual staff in Magath's hand, and said in an indifferent tone:
"Perhaps this is just the self-proclaimed name of the colonial natives. After all, the scholars in the kingdom say that the colonial people only talk about things and make up nihilistic histories for themselves."
"Oh, this is impossible. I later found some professors from Backlund University, and they also told me that this is at least an item from the Quaternary Age, and it is a relatively rare thing." He was looking at the short staff in his hand with a look of fascination.
Magath trembled violently, with an exaggerated expression, and subconsciously refuted Dunn's doubts.
In this regard, Dunn made no excuses. He just looked away, his gaze that had become profound at some point, and shrugged his shoulders like a young man.
From the perspective of spiritual vision, the short bone staff in Magath's hand does not contain substantial power, but there is also an invisible whiteness lingering on the surface of the relief everywhere.
It is the aura of death that accumulates over time through long-term human sacrifices and presiding over rituals related to the realm of the dead. Although it does not directly cause the weakness and death of living beings like the magical items and sealed objects of the real "God of Death" path, if it lasts for a long time,
Contact may still unknowingly eat away at the life of the owner.
Ha... Dunn, who was wearing a maroon coat and had been looking younger recently, smiled and shook his head, looking around casually, his eyes constantly passing over pale or dark blue colors here and there.
This place is no less than an office in some private museums. Most of the items are in a similar state to the short bone staff that Magath especially cherished. They are all carriers of blood and despair.
"If there's nothing else, I don't think I'll bother you." Dunn, who had just been forced to stay by this adventurous president, stood up calmly and said.
Magath, who was bloated and restricted in his movement by the long table and chairs, was startled for a moment. He opened his mouth slightly and wanted to say something, but as his eyes were blank, his eyelids started to twitch without any warning.
Got a fight.
Suddenly, the president fell asleep in his rather comfortable chair.
Dunn, who had already sorted out the folds of his clothes, took a deep look at Magath, who was holding a short staff, then turned around and pushed open the office door.
Outside the double-open office door, the editor-in-chief of the "Daily Observer" was guarding the door. Farther away was the president's secretary who had been sent away by him.
Seeing Louis Evans coming out, the editor-in-chief, who had followed Magath on various "campaigns" in the Southern Continent, immediately joined him.
"Mr. Magath is a little tired, I won't disturb you for now." Dunn took one step ahead, his tone contained an apology, and blocked the editor-in-chief's slightly opened mouth, and walked quickly to the stairs, leaving a confused look on his face.
Land Editor and Secretary.
After being stunned for about a second or two, the editor-in-chief finally understood Dunn's refusal just now. He gently opened the wooden door of the president's office with a suspicious look on his face and peeked through the gap less than a finger's width.
In the gap, the figure was fat, but the former president was sleeping soundly with his head down, his hands still tightly clinging to the center of the short bone staff, close to his chest.
"Weird, could it be that the president's old habit has returned?" The editor-in-chief, who looked incredulous at his old boss, cautiously closed the door with his hands and feet, frowning.
............
"So this is the disguise you're talking about?" Klein, who put on a dark blue semi-old workman's uniform and still looked like Sherlock Moriarty, but took off the black acetate glasses on the bridge of his nose,
Looking at Mike Joseph in front of him, his tone was complicated.
The reporter, who was wearing a standard gentleman's attire just now, now only put on an unclean coat and a few hasty fake beards on his face, telling Klein that he had already disguised himself.
Seeing the doubtful look on his employer's face, Klein, who thought there was nothing wrong, couldn't help but twitch the corners of his mouth. It took a lot of effort to get rid of the urge to raise his right hand to cover his face.
Is this the "ignorant" middle class?
This outfit is even better than when I just "travelled", and even better than Benson's best clothes at the time... By using magical items, Klein created some pigmentation on his face, making his skin look more vicissitudes of life.
, at this time, they were no different from some workers who lived a better life in the East District.
"Have you always investigated this way before?"
Mike, who was checking the fake press card in his pocket, nodded and said hesitantly:
"Is there anything wrong? This is how some small newspaper reporters and trainee reporters usually dress."
"This way, it will be less likely to attract the attention of the gangsters in the East District. They will not care about these reporters who have no background."
After all, judging from previous experience, every time he went deep into the East District to investigate at the bottom, he could always get more consultations by dressing up like this. Generally speaking, the gangs in the area would not be chased away. Instead, they would sometimes take the initiative to contact and help some small factories.
The owner of the venue picked up the line.
Klein slowly put the "substitute" glove in his pocket on his right hand, breathed a sigh of relief, and said in a low voice:
"But there are some places that reporters cannot access. This kind of dress is still too conspicuous in the East District."
As he spoke, he shook his head, but before Mike could frown in confusion, he changed his subject and continued:
"Of course, this may also be a good way. I can act as the guide you hire. You can contact the general places. I am only responsible for maintaining safety. If you encounter some difficult objects, it will be me."
While explaining, Klein picked up the cane that he had just put aside from his side, and reached out to take the handbag that Mike used to carry groceries.
As a guide, he can reasonably bring the weapons hidden in his cane, so that even if he encounters real danger, he can successfully resolve it.
"This may also be a good method, Sherlock. I think you are becoming more and more professional." Mike, who quickly understood the logic based on his daily experience, nodded and agreed with a smile.
After completing the last inspection, Klein followed Mike and left the temporarily rented hourly room.
Due to the good weather today, the streets in the East District are not as wet and muddy as when Klein came here several times before. However, dry and hard black mud can still be seen everywhere. Originally, it was relatively clean in the Jowood District.
The air, at this moment, returned to Backlund's usual look, full of light yellow and slightly choking.
Mike and Klein walked through the pale white and yellowish, mist-shrouded streets, fighting against the coldness in the air with only their relatively tight clothes.
"I can't believe it's noon now, and the air and weather in Backlund are getting worse and worse." Mike, who was covered in a coat, mumbled and complained, his eyes constantly flicking back and forth on both sides of the street.
, looking for the goal you want.
"Haha, I don't even know how to find a suitable interviewee like this."
It was just revealed this morning, but it was the tenth "devil" murder case that occurred in the early hours of yesterday. It happened at the junction of the East District and Backlund Bridge. The deceased lived in the East District, but was near Backlund Bridge.
Female staff working at the dock.
Mike, who had learned some information about the deceased through the newspaper's internal channels, shared it with Klein beside him enthusiastically and spoke quickly.
"The woman who just died also once worked as a street girl. She even occasionally engaged in these jobs not long ago, and according to our internal channels, she should be among the better-looking ones."
Noticing Klein's increasingly weird gaze, Mike, who had always seemed unserious, hurriedly explained:
"Don't get me wrong, it was the forensic doctors who discovered it when they were cleaning up the body of the deceased. Even among Golden Roses, this woman is considered good-looking."
Golden rose? The good-looking one?
Klein's eyes looked even weirder.
But this time Mike did not continue to explain what the golden rose was. He just shook his head slightly and continued:
"But one thing is quite strange. Val, who was at the police station at the time, said that the forensic doctor found that the woman's body seemed to have strange sarcomas and growths, as if they had grown suddenly, and the flesh was very fresh.
.”
After thinking for a while, Mike patted his head and found a suitable adjective.
The flesh grew suddenly and was very fresh? Klein chewed on the strange words that came out of his employer's mouth and shuddered subconsciously.
He knows why!
Although the extraordinary people of the church should have discovered the clues, the forensic doctor at Silveras Field did not know that the deceased was an extraordinary person during his lifetime.
As for Extraordinaries who are good at the field of flesh and blood, can quickly heal wounds, and may develop deformed sarcomas on their bodies, they are most likely to be the "Secret Prayer", an extraordinary sequence mastered by the Aurora Society!
But that lady should be a low-sequence Beyonder. I remember that the low-sequence "Secret Prayer" does not seem to have the ability in the field of flesh and blood magic... Klein suddenly felt conflicted.
No, how on earth did I judge that she was a low-sequence extraordinary person?
Klein suddenly recalled that he had never really come into contact with the extraordinary characteristics emitted by the lady, nor had he even carefully observed the corpse with his spiritual vision.
Maybe I can ask Mr. Aigron sideways. I remember he was the one who took away the Beyonder characteristic in the end... Klein gradually gathered his thoughts and returned his attention to his work.
In the short five minutes he was distracted, Mike had found the target he wanted.
He focused on a bar where there were still many customers gathered even during the day.
Of course, this is not the family where Klein accepted the bounty hunting mission.
But the same thing is that inside this small bar, there are still various notices posted everywhere. There are many middle-aged men who are not tall and also older, squatting in the corner, waiting to accept the task, and
People who happen to not understand words come.
Mike, who wanted to get in touch with the potential connections behind the incident, did not care about these details, but went straight to the bar counter placed in the middle and back of the bar, his mouth already open.
But before he asked rashly, Klein, who had been following him closely, suddenly took a step forward, blocked him in advance, and knocked on the table familiarly.
"A glass of 'half and half'."
The bartender, who was listless and almost asleep, looked at him, curled his lips, put away the pennies on the table, and quickly made a half-and-half that was not enough.
"Tell me, what do you want to ask?"
Klein pursed his lips backwards and pointed his finger at Mike beside him, trying to signal the bartender.
Mike, who had experienced a lot, reacted almost immediately, smiled kindly, handed over a "half and a half" price, and said in a low voice:
"I would like to know who is most familiar with Street Girls in the neighborhood?"
The uninterested bartender suddenly cheered up, but his eyes looked strange.
After all, judging from his attire and the expression on Mike's face at this moment, he doesn't look like a novice who doesn't have his own channels.
"Of course it's Old Verdu, he knows these best. Why are you asking about this?"
The bartender looked at Klein who had retreated behind Mike with some vigilance, and subconsciously stretched his hand under the table.
Recently, because of the damn crazy Ripper, not only a reporter discovered the connection behind the victims, but also some annoying flies started to hinder the gangsters behind him from doing business!
Realizing that the other party was sensitive to this topic, the very experienced Mike continued to smile, the expression on his face became even more indescribable, and he spoke with a hint of a Dickey Bay accent.
"Hey, brother, I just came to Backlund recently, and I'm not very familiar with it yet."
As he spoke, he glanced helplessly at Klein behind him, gritted his teeth, and said with exaggerated hatred:
"This is the guide I hired. I have been busy with business these days. I finally want to relax, but this guy can't tell you a few good places. I just came to ask."
The bartender sitting behind the bar took a look at Klein, who had a relatively strong figure after training, and nodded in realization. There was an indescribable smile on the corner of his mouth, which was a bit lewd.
"I see."
Behind Mike, the expressionless Klein was consuming his spiritual energy at this time. The "Joker" ability was running rapidly. He clenched his five fingers on the cane slightly, squinted at the employer in front of him, and recalled that he had been in the water group.
The emoticons I saw when I was watching.
A certain aspect of knowledge of group friends, a certain aspect of experience of group friends.
Unfortunately, in this era, Klein was neither very tall.