When Dennisen returned home, it was already 11 p.m. He didn't turn on the light, tried to enter the bedroom quietly, undressed, and lay down on the right side of the bed, pressing half of his face against the pillow. Half a minute later, he felt a gentle push on his waist, so he turned over. His fiancée propped herself up with her right elbow and looked at him.
"I thought I could avoid waking you up," he said.
She lit the oil lamp by the bedside, then turned back. The pale yellow light climbed up her hair.
"I was working..." he continued.
"I know. Do you want me to make you something to eat?"
"No, I ate at the station."
"You seem particularly tired."
"Yeah. It's been a headache."
"Did you come across a big case?"
"Not exactly," he paused for a moment, then continued. "It's better not to talk about it. You go back to sleep."
"Since I'm already awake, I can't fall asleep all of a sudden. Just talk to me."
I'll have a strange wife in the future, who likes me to tell her murder stories to help her sleep.
"Okay," Dennisen sat up. "This morning I received a report that Aretta committed suicide. Do you remember that name?"
"I do. She's the... what was it, Salvaney's..."
"Salvaney's brother's wife. Of course, Salvaney kicked her out of the family ever since her man died three months ago."
"That's outrageous."
"What do you expect from such a person? It's already shocking that he didn't deal with her immediately."
"Why did she commit suicide?"
"Well, after I received the report, I rushed to the scene and found her hanging. But the situation is more than that."
Seeing his fiancée looking at him with a mixture of concern and expectation, Dennisen suddenly regretted it. He had to bring up the matter next.
"She had deep scars on her wrists. It looks like she attempted suicide by cutting her wrists before choosing hanging. On one wall of the room, there was a row of words written in blood. 'I am forever yours.'"
"Wow."
"Wait a minute," Dennisen didn't want his fiancée to dig out any romantic elements from this detail, "we don't know if that blood was hers. If it is..."
"Suicide pact? It's a suicide pact, right?"
"I wish it were. It would make things much simpler, and I wouldn't be coming home so late. But considering Aretta's past identity, it's another story. Besides, it's not surprising what happens in the Queens area."
"No one else was with her?"
"As far as I know, she lived alone in that room."
"A single woman living alone in Queens," she looked up at the ceiling, her right index finger twirling in her left palm. "If it were me..."
After a moment, she seemed to remember something.
"Hey, Dennisen. Something seems off."
"What?"
"You mentioned her name right away. It sounds like you're quite familiar with her."
"Well, she's been a fraudster who ended up in my hands three times."
Dennisen didn't intend to confess that Aretta had been their informant for a long time. But if his fiancée kept probing, he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't slip up. When he noticed her playful yet suspicious gaze, he said, "Hey, regardless of who that phrase left on the wall refers to..."
"I didn't say it was you. I just thought... did your partner go to the scene today too?"
"Of course he did. He got there before me, but he respected me enough not to act until I arrived."
"A while back, wasn't there a girl who committed suicide for him? You told me about it."
Dennisen stared at the red spots on the bedsheet and rubbed his nose. He often regretted revealing too much about his work to his fiancée, but he couldn't shake off the habit.
Two months ago, Panthonia's lover - Dennisen wasn't sure if that term was appropriate - jumped into the river to commit suicide. Initially, it was just an ordinary corpse pulled from the river, but the guards noticed the tattoo extending from her right shoulder to her elbow: Panthonia Shawl's full name intertwined with other decorative patterns - Dennisen vaguely remembered a skull with smoke emanating from its eye sockets. The authorities intervened, Panthonia admitted the woman was his lover, admitted she had mentioned suicide, and the investigation ended. No one doubted the suicide conclusion, because they all knew if Panthonia wanted to kill someone, he wouldn't just push them into the river, especially considering the tattoo on the dead woman's arm. It was said he paid to have the body taken care of, but no one knew if there was a funeral or where the grave was. If it weren't for this incident, many colleagues couldn't imagine Panthonia would let others get close to him in life.
"I don't want to remember that."
"It's really strange... another suicide..." she tapped her chin with her index finger.
"Alright, I know you must have some weird theories in your head right now, but Panthonia and Aretta's deaths couldn't be related. I have a pretty good idea of her whereabouts, and no matter what, she's my..."
"Your what?"
Uh-oh.
"...my occasional informant. Well, it's not my idea, it was his. I've always been against using criminals, but this concerns taking down Salvaney, which the higher-ups take seriously, so I had to cooperate with Panthonia's plan. You're right to worry that Aretta's death might be related to us. I'd rather it be a simple suicide pact. That's why I spent half the day digging around, searching for people who knew details of Aretta's life, and that's why it's almost midnight and we're still not asleep. Even if you're not tired, I am."
"So, you actually don't know what the woman who jumped into the river has to do with Panthonia, right?"
"No one wants to take the time to figure out where that woman came from."
"Or maybe she had some issues herself. Perhaps your partner was the victim."
"Where did you come up with that? Why are you suddenly defending him?"
"I just thought, maybe your partner is actually a good person."
"A good person? How did you come to that conclusion?"
"I don't know. I'm just saying. Do you want him to be a bad guy?"
"No, I don't want that. But that's what I think. Maybe the woman was mentally unstable, obsessively in love with such a weirdo, and went and got that tattoo without his knowledge. When Panthonia found out - of course he wouldn't like that sort of thing - he decided to dump her. The woman couldn't bear it, so she jumped."
"If that's the case, then he didn't do anything wrong. Getting a tattoo without telling your partner is very disrespectful..."
Dennisen understood that this conversation couldn't continue, so he turned over and remained silent. His fiancée had met Panthonia once, and her comment was "very handsome, and very mysterious." Perhaps these two points were enough to change a woman's perspective. It would be better not to let her encounter him again... or any man capable of driving a woman to suicide.
Later, his fiancée fell asleep, but he still couldn't. He listened to the gentle rain outside, the water falling into the gutter. The muddy soles of shoes stepped into the puddles. Someone seemed to be laughing, while someone else seemed to be crying. Two nights ago, a carriage ran over the neighbor's aunt's dog. She had three more dogs, and they barked incessantly. The whipping couldn't make them stop. From prison to the battlefield, whipping couldn't silence any sound.
When he was a child, Stormwind was different from today. It was just a fortress then, inhabited mainly by nobles and soldiers from the northern human kingdoms. After one war after another, refugees settled here, turning it from a fortress into a city. The Queens district is currently the poorest and most crime-ridden area outside Stormwind, with Salvaney's gang at the helm. At least until the age of sixteen, Dennisen firmly believed that all immigrants were enemies, or at least should be tightly controlled as second-class citizens. But since being assigned to work in the Queens branch of the security bureau at the age of eighteen, he gradually felt that this was not the so-called frontline, but just a place where many people who had lost hope of survival crowded together. Now, his fiancée was a refugee from Lordaeron. She hardly ever talked about what she went through when her family moved south.
Dennisen often wondered if Panthonia Shawl had a similar background, but he never confirmed it. Before the two became partners, Panthonia had been working in the security bureau for five years and had gained fame through a series of prominent achievements; although Dennisen had heard his name before, he had never met him. Efficient and merciless, these were the most common evaluations of Panthonia. However, when Dennisen learned that he was going to be partnered with him, the first thought that came to mind was: no one is qualified, and no one dares to work with Panthonia. This was not because he actively put himself in danger, but because of his reputation for often disregarding the rules of the security bureau. It was rumored that since carrying out missions, he had killed at least a hundred suspects without trial, as long as the other party didn't attack first. Working with him, either produce results, or ruin your career, there seemed to be no third way.
In any case, Dennisen had worked relatively smoothly with him for two years. In his personal life, he naturally had no practical understanding of Panthonia, but he quickly understood why his partner was able to achieve remarkable results. He was adept at controlling criminals, making them provide him with what he needed; during interrogations, he often used torture methods that Dennisen had never seen before, both mentally and physically. These two points were out of line with the work habits of the security bureau, as the earliest members of the organization were royal guards with corresponding etiquette and traditions, even though they had become diluted in the seemingly endless tide of refugees, Dennisen completely disagreed that it was necessary to act like Panthonia. However, he knew he couldn't influence Panthonia, and it seemed impossible to shake the determination of some higher-ups to reuse him. He could only try to avoid his partner's methods as much as possible without affecting the mission.
If there was anything that really made Dennisen uneasy, it was Panthonia's weapon. Security bureau investigators traditionally carried longswords, and some carried guns, like Dennisen himself. But Panthonia only used a dagger. This was something only assassins or thieves liked to use - this made people suspicious of his past.
But tonight, at least in this moment of insomnia, Dennisen's worries were completely overshadowed by things other than the dagger. He thought he should avoid letting his fiancée and Panthonia meet alone in the future. Very handsome, very mysterious... I wish I could see things as simply as that. But I think I'm quite handsome too.