Sister, could we please avoid mentioning the pot that isn't boiling... Klein inwardly remarked, feeling his head beginning to throb once again.
The amount of forgotten knowledge by the original owner was not insignificant; however, with the interview looming ahead, there was hardly any time to catch up...
Furthermore, being entangled in mysterious and terrifying events, how could one possibly find the mindset to "review"...
After perfunctorily exchanging a few words with his sister, Klein began to feign studying, while Melissa fetched a chair and sat beside him, doing her homework by the light of the gas lamp.
The atmosphere was tranquil and serene. As the clock neared eleven, the siblings bid each other goodnight and retired to their respective beds.
...
Thud!
Thud thud!
A series of knocks echoed, rousing Klein from his slumber.
Glancing at the dawn outside the window, his head still groggy, he shifted and sat up:
"Who is it?"
What time is it? Why didn't Melissa wake me up?
"It's me, Duncan Smith," came the steady voice from outside the door.
Duncan Smith? I don't recognize... Klein shook his head, getting out of bed and making his way to the door.
Upon opening it, he saw the police officer with gray eyes from yesterday.
"What's happened?" Klein asked cautiously.
The officer with gray eyes responded solemnly, "We found a carriage driver who confirmed that you visited Mr. Welch's residence on the 27th, the day Mr. Welch and Miss Naya died, and Mr. Welch paid for your carriage fare."
Klein paused, showing no signs of shock or guilt at having his lies exposed, for he wasn't lying at all. In fact, the evidence provided by Officer Duncan Smith was within his own expectations.
On June 27th, the original owner indeed visited Welch's residence, and on the night of his return, he committed suicide, just like Welch and Naya!
Klein smiled wryly and said, "That's not conclusive evidence. It doesn't directly prove my involvement in the deaths of Welch and Naya. Honestly, I too want to know what happened, to understand the fate of my two unfortunate friends. However, I truly cannot remember. I have almost completely forgotten what happened on the 27th. To tell you the truth, I only surmised from my own notes that I might have visited Welch's residence on the 27th."
"You have good composure," commented Officer Duncan Smith with a nod, devoid of anger or amusement.
"You should be able to sense my sincerity," Klein replied, meeting the officer's gaze squarely.
Everything I've said is true, of course, but only a part of the truth!
Officer Duncan Smith didn't immediately respond. He scanned the room before speaking slowly, "Mr. Welch lost a revolver. I believe I might find it here, right, Mr. Klein?"
Indeed... Klein finally understood the origin of the revolver. Thoughts raced through his mind like lightning, and he made a decision in an instant.
Raising his hands halfway, he stepped back, clearing the way, then nodded toward the bunk bed:
"It's under the lower bunk."
He didn't specify which bunk, as a normal person wouldn't hide something under the upper bunk where it would be blatantly visible to visitors.
Officer Duncan Smith didn't move forward, his lips twitching slightly as he said, "Is there anything else you'd like to add?"
Klein didn't hesitate to reply, "Yes!"
"The other night, I woke up to find myself lying on the desk, with a revolver beside me and bullets by the wall. It looked like I had attempted suicide, but perhaps I lacked experience with firearms, or maybe I got scared at the last moment. In any case, the bullets didn't have the desired effect, and my head was still intact. I survived."
"And from that moment on, I've forgotten some memories, including what I did at Welch's residence on the 27th, what I saw. I'm not lying; I truly don't remember."
In order to clear his suspicion and resolve the mysterious events entangling him, Klein almost disclosed everything except for the fact of his crossing and the "gathering".
Additionally, he chose his words carefully, ensuring each sentence could withstand scrutiny. For example, he didn't say the bullets missed his head; instead, he said they didn't achieve the desired effect, and his head remained intact afterward.
To the ears of others, these two statements might convey similar meanings, but in reality, they were quite different.
Officer Duncan Smith listened quietly, then spoke slowly, "This aligns with the development I speculated and the hidden logic of similar previous incidents. Of course, I don't know how you survived."
"You can believe me; I don't know how I survived either," Klein said, feeling a slight relief.
"But," Officer Duncan Smith interjected with a transition, "my belief doesn't matter. Currently, you are under high suspicion, and you must undergo confirmation by 'experts' to verify whether you truly forgot the events or whether they directly caused the deaths of Mr. Welch and Miss Naya."
He coughed lightly, his expression turning serious:
"Mr. Klein, please cooperate with the investigation and accompany us back to the police station. It may take two to three days if you have no issues."
"The expert is here?" Klein asked in surprise.
Wasn't it supposed to be in two days?
"She arrived earlier than expected," Duncan Smith said, turning to leave.
"I'll leave a note," Klein requested.
Benson was still on a business trip, and Melissa had gone to school, so he could only leave a message to inform them of his involvement with Welch and to reassure them not to worry.
Duncan Smith nodded indifferently, "That's fine."
Klein returned to the desk, writing a note while contemplating the next steps.
To be honest, he really didn't want to meet the expert, as he harbored an even bigger secret.
In a place with seven major churches, with the assassination of the suspected "predecessor" Russell looming, crossing was likely to lead to a trial in court, before an arbitration panel!
However, without weapons, combat skills, or extraordinary powers, how could he, a mere civilian, contend with a professional police officer? Moreover, there were several of Duncan's subordinates standing outside in the dim light.
If they drew their guns and fired simultaneously, he would be done for!
"Phew, one step at a time," Klein said, leaving a note and grabbing his keys, following Duncan out of the room.
In the dim corridor, four policemen in black and white stood guard on either side, alert.
Clack, clack, clack, Klein followed Duncan down the wooden staircase, hearing the creaking with each step.
Outside the apartment, a four-wheeled carriage was parked, adorned with the emblem of the police system, depicting crossed swords and a crown. The surroundings were as lively and crowded as every other morning.
"Get in," Duncan gestured for Klein to go first.
Just as Klein was about to step in, a vendor selling oysters grabbed a customer, accusing them of being a thief.
A scuffle ensued, startling the horses and causing chaos in the vicinity.
An opportunity! Without further thought, Klein bent down and darted into the crowd.
Pushing and dodging, he ran fr
antically toward the other end of the street.
In the current situation, to avoid meeting the expert, he could only head to the outskirts of the city, take a boat down the Tassock River to the capital, Berkland, where the dense population would facilitate hiding.
Of course, he could also board a steam train to the nearest port of Emmat, sail to Priz, and then proceed to Berkland.
Before long, Klein reached the intersection and turned into Iron Cross Street, where several hireable carriages were parked.
"To the city outskirts," Klein instructed as he climbed into one of them.
He had it all figured out; first, he would deliberately mislead the pursuing police officers. Then, when the carriage had traveled a certain distance, he would jump out directly!
"Understood," the coachman said, pulling the reins.
Clip-clop, clip-clop, the carriage departed from Iron Cross Street.
Just as Klein was about to jump from the carriage, he suddenly realized that the carriage was heading in a different direction, not toward the city outskirts!
"Where are you going?" Klein asked, taken aback.
"To Mr. Welch's residence..." the coachman replied, his tone devoid of emotion.
What? Klein was shocked. As he turned to face the coachman, he saw deep, indifferent gray eyes, unmistakably those of Officer Duncan Smith!
"You!" Klein exclaimed in inexplicable terror, feeling the world spin around him as he suddenly sat up.
Sat up? Klein looked around in confusion, finding a red moon shining outside the window, the room draped in "light gauze".
He reached to touch his forehead, moist and cold with sweat, feeling the same sensation on his back.
"It was just a nightmare..." Klein breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness, thank goodness..."
He felt surprisingly lucid in his dream, able to think calmly. Quite strange indeed.
After calming down a bit, Klein glanced at his pocket watch and realized it was only past two in the morning. So, quietly getting out of bed, he planned to wash his face in the common washroom and relieve his bloated stomach.
Twisting the doorknob, he stepped into the dim hallway, approaching the common washroom in the faint moonlight.
Suddenly, he saw a figure standing at the end of the corridor, in front of the window.
The figure wore a black coat shorter than a robe but longer than formal attire, blending halfway into the darkness, bathed in the cold crimson moonlight.
The figure slowly turned around, with deep, gray, and indifferent eyes.
Duncan Smith!