News from the police station came swiftly, and by the next morning, Malin and Colin were seated together in a carriage bound for the station.
The woe-begone and tragic female spirit's surname was Mischael, Camilla Ivan Mischael, a lady from the Northern District who had gone missing three months prior. The police force, private detectives, and even the noble's private army had searched for her for three months.
In the public's mind, a noble lady was a pawn of considerable value, who, if looked after carefully, could amass a substantial fortune—not to mention a full pot—of course, this was predicated on having a life to earn and a life to spend.
Yet no one had anticipated that this lady would die in an unknown corner and ultimately become an insubstantial ghost, to be purified on the spot by a fresh and fiery Apprentice from The Temple.
Mr. Mischael had been waiting at the police station for the arrival of Malin and Colin's duo. He must have seen the portrait of his wife the day before and, while astonished at the detail of the sketch, had also questioned Malin's identity. However, upon hearing that this person was an Apprentice of an old instructor from The Temple of the Goddess of Harvest, the nobleman's last bit of dignity turned to ashes in a moment, transforming from a proud noble to a wretched widower.
"What a pitiable fellow," Colin shook his head and sighed to Malin, "Lord Mischael is a fellow believer of ours, he has always been searching for his love, and nobody expected her to die so inexplicably."
"I don't feel sorry for him, his wife nearly killed me and my sister," Malin was devoid of much remorse—saying 'I'm sorry for your ordeal' was a kindness, but commonsense dictated to stay as far away from such a scourge as possible.
The old saying, 'Respect them, but keep your distance,' made perfect sense in this context.
"...Indeed, you really don't need to pity him." After Colin had said this, he walked over with a smile, reached out to shake hands with the person in charge of the police station, and then approached the gentleman with a clear understanding, "Good afternoon, my lord, I am sorry to hear of your wife's plight."
"Mr. Colin from The Temple, please do help me find my wife's remains." Lord Mischael evidently wanted to locate his wife, despite the fact that it was no longer possible to find her unscathed.
"I understand your sense of urgency, sir, but according to the situation you have described, we are unable to find your wife's remains, and at this point, we can't even confirm a general direction," Colin said, knowing fully well he couldn't spout nonsense in front of a victim's husband—finding them or not wasn't something one could simply talk their way through.
"Did your lady have any hobbies?" Malin asked offhandedly, although he hadn't perused the dossier, he assumed this question had surely been asked before, and since this gentleman cherished his wife so dearly, he would certainly remember such details.
But the problem was, the gentleman hesitated, "Is this an inquiry?"
Colin turned his head to look at Malin as well.
Such a response left Malin silent for a moment, then internalling giving a rude gesture to the folks at the police station.
"If we want to find your lady, we at least need to understand her usual pastimes, because looking at how things are in Carterburg, it couldn't be more normal than having over a dozen people die every day. Knowing her preferences and usual haunts is the very least we need for such a mission, isn't it?"
Malin spoke with conviction; in the world he lived in, what mattered were all kinds of information and recreating the scene.
Hearing this, Mr. Mischael enumerated everything he knew.
This gave Malin a bit of a headache—after all was said and done, they could only ascertain that she liked dancing.
"We have already investigated Mrs. Mischael's circumstances; she disappeared on the day she was supposed to be resting from the dance Salon. She told her husband she was going to the docks in the Eastern District to meet her sister," the police station's charge d'affaires quickly chimed in.
"Her sister?" Malin frowned slightly, "Have you confirmed what happened to her sister?"
"Yes, her sister is innocent," he said decisively. "The girl is only fifteen years old."
Upon hearing him speak so, Malin began to relax his guard—considering the form of Mrs. Mischael as a Spiritual Body, it seemed indeed unlikely that a child of fifteen could have managed her.
Malin asked a few more questions and found them to be unconnected pieces of intelligence.
"I've finished with my questions," Malin didn't want to continue asking.
Allowing Colin to carry on, Malin changed his sitting position, picked up the report lying on the coffee table that belonged to the person in charge, and began confirming the last phase of the lady's life.
Firstly, just as the person in charge had indicated, about three months earlier on certain days—the exact timing of which they seemed unable to pinpoint—they could only roughly trace her activities.
In the first 48 hours after her disappearance, the police wouldn't bother with it at all since Carterburg was so extensive, it was very likely that the lady had simply spent a night at her girlfriend's place—such incidents were not unprecedented.
When the time had passed, the police started to get involved in the task and only then realized that Carterburg was more than just large.
Then followed the prolonged search.
Although it seemed quite pitiable, Malin felt that this lady truly had a death wish.
First, she had only mentioned going to pick up her sister, but after her sister had already returned home, she left her fortress once again.
Second, she carried an umbrella that day and a beautiful bag, indeed looking like she was going out for fun, but afterwards, some claimed to have seen her both in the Western District and the Southern District at the same time.
Heading to the Southern District to experience the life of commoners might have been a nice choice, but what business did she have in the nowhere land of the Western District?
Malin sensed there was a problem.
Then he saw a new page with fresh intelligence about the Mischael family—this lady's husband liked steam vehicles.
Steam vehicles are powered by steam and have four wheels. Although they can't compete with the latest models, their one notable advantage is that they don't require much fuel.
The downside is that they need too much water.
Malin put down the report and began to ponder why he was wasting his time here with these fools.
They were meticulous about aspects they shouldn't understand and had made no progress on aspects they should.
Not a single suspicion that should have been confirmed was confirmed, and not many people were interviewed, as if all the noble inhabitants of the Noble District were as clean as a white lotus.
Speaking of which, Malin confirmed another issue—there was no confirmation of Mr. Mischael's financial status in the report.
Even though there was no financial industry in this world, there were at least insurance companies.
This made Malin start to doubt his situation—dear Mr. Mischael, could we confirm how many insurance policies you've bought recently.
Or rather Mr. Mischael, when you've been playing cards lately, what size of stakes have you been using?