"Oh dear, I'm so sorry. Our boss has so many poor relatives and fellow townsmen, he usually insists there's no need to bother him. How about you gentlemen take a seat and have a cup of tea while I go fetch him?"
"No need, is your boss upstairs?" Elyon interrupted her meekly offered diversion.
"Yes, but let me go up and call him for you. How can we let our distinguished guests go up themselves?" the clerk offered.
"We can manage on our own."
Hearing this, the clerk looked troubled, and the nearby security guard, noting their sidearms, didn't dare to interfere. The two men proceeded up the wooden stairs to the second floor. Directly facing the staircase was an office that looked a bit more lavish than the others, with a red-painted wooden door and a couple of money plants flanking it.
Elyon tried the door and found it unlocked. Inside, the room was filled with smoke as a fifty-something-year-old man indulged in the vapors of a yellowish-brown powder.
"Are you the owner of this agency? cough cough What are you smoking? It's choking me."
"Mr. Elyon, he's smoking erythroxylum, smuggled from the Southern Continent. It's supposed to have a calming effect, but it's only supposed to be used with a doctor's prescription, and many people abuse it," Bell supplemented.
"Get out, who let you in?" The man was irate at being disturbed, but Elyon was quick to take action, drawing his gun and pressing it against the man's temple. The chill of the barrel brought the man to a semblance of sobriety as his legs buckled and he slumped in his chair.
"There's money in the safe behind me. Take however much you want, just don't shoot. I didn't see anything, I promise I won't call the police."
"Open the window, Bell. I can't breathe in here. Old man, do you see who we are?" Elyon grabbed the man by the collar, forcing him to pay attention. When the man saw Elyon's uniform, he quickly became more cooperative.
"Ah, a misunderstanding, gentlemen. What brings two fine officers to see me? Anything you need, I'll make it happen."
"We're looking into a dockworker named Eorl Ford who sought a new job here, a position as a seaman."
"Eorl? We get so many people looking for jobs every day. Let me find his file for you."
The man stood up and rummaged through a cabinet before returning with a stack of file folders, each marked with an 'e.' He flipped through one and pulled out a sheet of paper.
"There was an Eorl who came here last month looking for a seaman apprentice position. We charged him a two-pound fee. We overcharged by two shillings but never refunded him, though we did secure him the job. He's due to report for work next month. You guys didn't come all this way over two shillings, did you?" The man was sweating profusely and sounded almost accusatory.
"Eorl was killed yesterday. Now any lead we have points to this place. You've seen today's Aegisburg Daily, right? Consider yourself lucky we're here. If another person dies tonight, the ones who come knocking tomorrow might be the men in black. Then who knows if they'll kill you to cover up their tracks."
"Don't scare me, I pay my taxes on time," the man's voice trembled.
Elyon pointed to the 'e' on the file folder. "What does this 'e' mean?"
"Oh, that? We organize job seeker files by the first letter of their names, makes finding them faster."
"Is the job you introduced to him legit?" Elyon pressed on.
"It's legit. The salary might be a bit low, but it's definitely a regular shipping company. We collaborate with them every year, and for each person we introduce, they even give me a one-pound fee."
"Damn, you profiteers. Double-dealers, huh?" Bell couldn't help but curse.
"Heh, just a little money-making trick," the man chuckled.
"What about the erythroxylum usage? How do we handle that?" Elyon gave Bell a knowing wink.
Bell seemed to catch the hint. "Well, Mr. Elyon, we'd normally fine him twenty pounds and give him two weeks in custody."
"Officers, I can pay double the fine, but please don't lock me up. That would ruin my reputation; no one would do business with me."
"I could pretend I never saw anything today, but that depends on your cooperation. You got it?" Elyon added.
"Understood, just a moment," the man said as he hesitated before preparing to open the safe.
"What are you thinking? I asked if anyone else has seen Eorl's file or the files of others here?"
The man struggled internally for a while before answering.
"Hurry up, or I'll take you in right now. You have one minute to think it over."
The man relented. "You must keep this confidential, gentlemen. Otherwise, I fear they won't spare me. Last month, two men came here offering a handsome sum for some of the records. They looked tough and the price was too good to resist, so I foolishly agreed."
"How many records did you show them?"
"Just the ones starting with 'e'?"
"Really? Because if there's another victim tonight who happens to be one of your past customers, you can bet that two weeks with us will be the least of your worries. If it's the men in black, who knows what they'll do to you."
The man started spilling the beans rapidly. "Not just those, they gave me a hundred pounds for the entire year's job seeker information."
"A hundred pounds, and you sold out? Damn it, too bad there's no information protection law, or I'd definitely have you locked up," Elyon said, frustrated.
"The deal was worth fifty times more than the commission from those poor blokes, heh heh," the man snickered.
"What did the men look like who bought the information?"
"I don't remember much, but they were all wearing crimson outfits. The leader even wore a cloak."
"Crimson? Fine, I'll come back to you if there's any fallout after this case ends. Now, stretch out your neck," Elyon gestured.
"What for? I told you everything you wanted to know, officer," the man said, puzzled but still leaning forward on the desk.
"Bell, come here and give him a punch."
Bell stepped forward without hesitation and landed a solid hit on the man's face.
"Ow, that hurts," the man yelped, clutching his swollen cheek.
"You should be thankful it wasn't me who hit you. Otherwise, you'd be dealing with a concussion, or worse, being carried out. You're too insufferable," Elyon added before delivering a kick.
They left the room and closed the door behind them. Downstairs, the office staff seemed to have heard their boss's cries, but none dared to go up.
"What's next, Mr. Elyon?" Bell inquired.
"Back to the station. That's all we're going to get out of this lead. I feel like going back and giving him another beating," Elyon said, still not satisfied as he rubbed his fists.
Chapter Sixty-Four: The Second Case
Nick Ed was a private carriage driver who, together with a partner, had bought a carriage and took turns driving it day and night. Although the pay wasn't high, it was enough to get by. Recently, Nick's partner felt that driving a carriage wasn't profitable and planned to sell it, forcing Nick to look for work driving a public coach.
"Times are tough," Nick muttered to himself.
The word on the street was that a dockworker was murdered last night, and the body had been dismembered. Death in the Gonia district was common—robberies and brawls often led to fatalities—but dismemberment was a different kind of horror. Today, Nick had seen a sharp decline in his carriage service, with few willing to ride.
There were rumors that the capital, Lumang, was replacing public coaches with something called a subway, which circled the city. There, the only opportunity for carriage drivers was to serve the great nobles, a much fiercer competition.
At 7:30 p.m., Nick decided that if there were no takers, he'd finish his last trip and head home. The old horse pulling the carriage was panting heavily, clearly exhausted.
Two men in crimson robes flagged him down. It was the signal for a ride. Nick pulled over and shouted.
"Where to, gents?"
"Starlight Street, east of the port," rasped the leading man.
"It's nighttime rates now, one and a half times the usual fare."
"Money's no issue," the man said, handing over a one-pound note.
"Alright, hop on," Nick welcomed the generous customers—it had been a while since he'd had such forthright passengers.
After the men boarded, they fell silent. Nick tried to strike up a conversation.
"What do you do for a living, gents? Going so far this late?"
No response came from behind, only the steady clip-clop of the horse's hooves. Nick took the hint and fell silent too. Though a carriage driver was known for being conversational, when customers didn't reciprocate, silence was golden.
The August night was hot and humid. Even after sunset, the residual heat trapped with the seaside humidity felt like a steamer. Nick was usually drenched in sweat, but tonight, he remained oddly dry.
At 7:55 p.m., as Nick neared Starlight Street, the old horse suddenly reared, refusing to take another step despite Nick's urging with the whip. Even as the twin moons hid behind clouds, darkening the road further, only the dim glow from the carriage's lantern penetrated the darkness.
"Apologies, gentlemen," Nick turned to explain. "The beast's sick and won't budge. I'll refund you two shillings if you don't mind walking the rest. We're near the Starlight Street junction now."
But when Nick looked back, the carriage was empty save for a white sheet of paper. Confused, Nick wondered if he had imagined the passengers. But the tangible feel of the pound note in his pocket confirmed they had indeed been there.
While puzzling over the situation, a horseman approached—a man in a crimson cloak and a white mask, riding a robust black horse. The man's right hand bore an ethereal, translucent scythe. As Nick realized the man's garb matched that of his recent passengers, a sense of dread crept in.
"Sir, were you with the two men who just rode in my carriage? Your clothes look similar."
The horseman did not speak but simply waved his scythe. A wave of red light sliced through the night, passing through the carriage and knocking the old horse to its knees. As Nick tried to leap from the cart, the red light pursued him, and after touching him, it soared into the sky. He fell over the carriage's driving seat.
On the morning of August 3rd, Elyon prayed that the day would be uneventful. If those odd-brained individuals refrained from causing trouble, perhaps he could have a peaceful day.
Arriving at the precinct, a young woman with golden short hair, dressed in a black business suit and skirt, was peering from behind the flowerbed at the front of the building. Elyon approached and tapped her shoulder.
"Good morning, Miss Rita. What are you doing hiding there?"
Rita stood up quickly, complaining upon seeing Elyon, "I tried sneaking into that man's office this morning at six to check for new developments, but he changed the lock without telling me. I've been fighting with the old key since five, and he just watched from the corner, enjoying the show. Finally, he chased me out, claiming it wasn't proper for a lady. I won't forgive him until he apologizes."
It seemed Captain Kappa had run out of patience and played a prank on his sister. Elyon chuckled, "You keep fighting with the air then; I'm heading in."
"Wait," Rita stood, puffing her chest in a gesture meant to allure. "We're friends, right?"
Elyon scratched his head, "Five pounds in cash. Though I don't know what you need me for, that's my minimum hiring fee."
"My charm isn't worth five pounds? I just wanted to accompany you to see the coachman who died last night. They brought his body and a dead horse to the back of your precinct."
"Another death? Is this 'k' organization a bunch of psychopathic serial killers?" Elyon decided he would personally pick up his sisters from school after work, no sense in being anxious every day.
"So, what do you say? If you agree to take me in, I might consider setting you up with someone," Rita proposed.
"Miss Rita, I have no interest in ironing boards. If you want to go inside, go ahead. The precinct staff knows you, right?"
"Yeah, but I haven't forgiven him yet. The others haven't wronged me. You really do have a knack for journalism, ha ha ha." Rita laughed, self-justifying her actions. Elyon shook his head and entered the records room, with Rita following and plopping down in Elyon's chair uninvited, leaving Bell bewildered.
"Mr. Elyon, this came this morning—a coachman was victimized last night. Do you need me to go on with the details?" Bell gestured to Rita, who was busily writing.
"Go ahead. You've seen the captain's sister here before. Even if she's unreliable, her editors know what should and shouldn't be published."
Bell sighed and continued, "Residents found the body on Starlight Street, east of the port, this morning. A dead horse was nearby, too. The body's been sent to Dr. Kraisinger for autopsy. The victim's ID indicates his name was Nick Ed. Judging by the scene and his clothes, he must've been a coachman. This time, the right leg is missing."
"Always with these gruesome things. Were there any wounds this time?"
"Besides the amputation at the right thigh, no significant wounds. It seems certain that the same group responsible for the previous dockworker's death is behind this. We'll have to wait for the medical examiner's report."
"No witnesses again?"
"None. But there's a specific time this time—8 p.m. Someone reported hearing a horse's neigh outside."
"Didn't anyone go out to check?"
"The person who called it in said it was too dark to go outside. This is the paper left at the scene, presumably the 'k' organization's clue."
Bell handed over a piece of paper with a capital letter 'N.' Elyon took it and pondered, "The victim's name starts with 'n,' so we have 'en.' Any ideas what this could spell out?"
"Enchanter?" Bell guessed first.
"Enchanters wouldn't bother with such intricate schemes. If there were really an organization of wizards, they'd likely have been recruited or hunted by the Special Actions Division by now. They wouldn't have time to play games with us small-time cops," Elyon dismissed the suggestion.
"Enjoy? Are these people toying with the police for their amusement and enjoying it?" Rita seemed to be onto something.
At that moment, Dr. Kraisinger, looking even more haggard, walked in.
"Sorry to interrupt your discussion, but this case is similar to the last. The victim shows severe signs of organ aging, with no fatal external wounds."
"Isn't an autopsy supposed to be signed off by relatives?"
"A lone widower with no children. His nephew came by at seven this morning, looked for a second, and as soon as he heard the cremation would be free after the autopsy, he signed off immediately, then ran off to work." Dr. Kraisinger seemed resigned.
"No one else?"
"I heard he had a partner. Officer Lum is on it."
Elyon went up to Captain Kappa's office on the second floor. Kappa was hunched over paperwork.
"Captain, this is now the second death related to 'k.' Shouldn't we ask for support?"
"I've already reached out this morning. Rita's still outside, right? Try to convince her to stop fixating on this case."
"What kind of person did the blackcoats send?"
"So far, only a few civilians have died. The killer isn't likely to be a mid-to high-ranking transcendent. They'll probably dispatch a rookie. They won't have as much combat experience as you; at least you've killed a werewolf."
"What good is a fighter if they don't have brains? We have no leads on this case besides the employment agency connection," Elyon complained.
"Once most transcendents acquire specialized powers, they seldom bother to use their brains. A well-educated transcendent like you is rare among them. Unless it's in the military, where officers who become transcendent leave the thinking to their deputies and staff. They'd rather face rifles and machine guns head-on."