"Who is it?"
Klein, pondering the mysterious suicide of the original owner and the potential dangers he might face, instinctively pulled open the drawer, took out the revolver, and asked warily upon hearing the sudden knock on the door.
There was a two-second silence outside, then a somewhat sharp voice spoke in the Ahowa accent:
"It's me, Mobeton, Beech Mobeton."
The voice paused for a moment and added:
"Police."
Beech Mobeton... As this name entered his ears, Klein immediately recalled its owner.
He was one of the policemen responsible for the street where the apartment was located, a rough, brutish man who loved to use his fists. Perhaps only such a person could keep the drunks, thieves, part-time thieves, and thugs in check.
And his distinctive voice was one of his trademarks.
"Alright, I'm coming!" Klein responded loudly.
He intended to throw the revolver back into the drawer, but considering that the police outside might conduct a search for unknown reasons, he carefully ran to the stove, whose embers had long since died out, and placed the revolver inside.
Next, he picked up the coal basket, shook a few pieces into the stove to cover the gun, and finally placed the kettle on top to hide everything.
Having done all this, he straightened his clothes, walked quickly to the door, and muttered indistinctly:
"Sorry, I was napping."
Standing outside were four policemen in black uniforms with white checkered patterns and soft hats with badges. Beech Mobeton, who had a brownish-yellow beard, coughed and said to Klein:
"These three officers have some questions for you."
Officers? Klein reflexively looked at the shoulder badges of the other three and saw that two had three silver six-pointed stars and one had two, which seemed to indicate a higher rank than Beech Mobeton, who only had three V-shaped tags.
As a history student, Klein didn't know much about police ranks, only that Beech Mobeton often bragged about being a senior sergeant.
So, are these three inspectors? Influenced by his older brother Benson and classmates like Welch, Klein had some basic knowledge. He stepped aside, pointed to the interior of the room, and said:
"Please come in. What's this about?"
The leader of the three officers was a middle-aged man whose sharp gaze seemed to pierce through one's soul, making it hard not to feel frightened. His eyes were deeply wrinkled, and beneath the brim of his hat, a hint of light brown hair was visible. He looked around the room as he asked in a deep voice:
"Do you know Welch McGovern?"
"What happened to him?" Klein's heart skipped a beat, and he blurted out.
"I'm the one asking the questions." The stern middle-aged officer's gaze grew colder.
The other officer with the three-star badge looked at Klein and smiled gently:
"Don't be nervous. We're just conducting a routine inquiry."
This officer seemed around thirty, with a prominent nose and gray eyes that gave an indescribable depth, like a secluded lake in an ancient forest.
Klein took a deep breath and organized his thoughts before speaking:
"If you're referring to the graduate from Hoy University, Welch McGovern from Conston, then yes, I know him. We are classmates under the same mentor, Associate Professor Quentin Cohen."
In the Kingdom of Ruen, "professor" was not just a title but a position. Similar to the combination of professor and department head on Earth, a university could only have one professor per department. Associate professors had to wait for their superior to retire or outperform them to advance.
To retain talent, the Kingdom's Higher Education Committee had, after years of exploration, added "senior associate professor" to the ranks of lecturer, associate professor, and professor, for those with high academic levels or seniority but unable to become full professors.
Having said this, Klein glanced at the middle-aged officer's eyes and, after a second of thought, added:
"Honestly, we have a pretty good relationship. Recently, Welch, Naya, and I have often met to decipher and discuss a 'Fourth Epoch' document he obtained, a notebook. Officer, what happened to him?"
The middle-aged officer didn't answer but looked sideways at his gray-eyed companion.
The gray-eyed officer, with ordinary features, responded gently:
"I'm sorry to inform you that Mr. Welch has passed away."
"How can this be?" Though Klein had a premonition, he couldn't help but exclaim in shock.
Welch died like the original owner? This was becoming terrifying!
"What about Naya?" Klein asked anxiously.
"Ms. Naya also passed away." The gray-eyed officer said calmly, "They both died at Mr. Welch's residence."
"Were they murdered?" Klein had a vague suspicion.
Perhaps it was suicide...
The gray-eyed officer shook his head:
"No, from the scene, they committed suicide. Mr. Welch repeatedly smashed his head against the wall, leaving blood everywhere. Ms. Naya drowned herself in a basin of water, the kind used for washing faces."
"That's impossible..." Klein felt his hair stand on end, as if he could picture the eerie scene.
A girl knelt on a chair, her face submerged in a basin of water, brown hair flowing down gently, unmoving; Welch lay on the ground, staring blankly at the ceiling, his forehead shattered, blood everywhere, with numerous bloody marks on the wall from repeated impacts...
The gray-eyed officer's lips twitched slightly as he said:
"We think so too, but autopsy results and the scene ruled out drugs and external forces. They, I mean Mr. Welch and Ms. Naya, showed no signs of struggle."
Before Klein could speak again, the officer stepped into the room and casually asked:
"When was the last time you saw Mr. Welch or Ms. Naya?"
He signaled to his two-star companion with his eyes.
The young officer, who seemed about Klein's age with dark hair and green eyes, looked rather handsome with a poet's romantic air.
Hearing the question, Klein thought quickly and replied:
"It should be June 26th. We deciphered a new part of the notebook together. After that, I came home to prepare for my interview on the 30th with the history department at Tingen University."
Tingen City, known as the City of Universities, had Tingen and Hoy universities, technical schools, a law school, and a business school, second only to the capital, Backlund.
As soon as he finished speaking, Klein saw the young officer pick up the notebook that resembled a diary from his desk.
Damn! I forgot to hide it! Klein shouted briefly, "You!"
The young officer smiled back at him but continued to flip through the notebook. The gray-eyed officer explained:
"This is necessary procedure."
At this point, Beech Mobeton and the stern middle-aged officer merely watched from the side, neither speaking nor assisting in the search.
Where is your search warrant? Klein wanted to question, but after thinking carefully, he realized that the Ruen Kingdom's judicial system might not have evolved to include search warrants. At least, he didn't know if they existed, given that the police force itself had only been established for fifteen or sixteen years.
When the original owner was young, they were still called constables.
Klein couldn't stop the young officer from quickly flipping through "his notes," and the gray-eyed officer did not ask any further questions.
"What strange things?" the young officer suddenly asked as he reached the end. "And what does this sentence mean? 'Everyone will die, including me'..."
Isn't it common knowledge that everyone dies, except for gods? Klein had initially intended to make a flimsy excuse, but he suddenly remembered that he had planned to "connect with" the police to prepare for any potential dangers. He just hadn't found a reason or an excuse yet.
In less than a second, he made a decision. He covered his forehead with his hand and replied in a pained tone:
"I don't know. I really don't know... Since I woke up this morning, I haven't felt quite right, as if I've forgotten some things, especially parts of the last few days. I don't even understand why I wrote that sentence."
Sometimes, being honest is the best way to solve a problem. Of course, being honest requires skill—knowing what to say and what not to say is one thing; knowing the order and manner in which to say things is another.
As a "keyboard warrior," Klein had studied some conversational techniques.
"Ridiculous! Do you take us for fools?" Beach Montbatten interrupted angrily, unable to hold back.
This lie was too clumsy; it was an insult to their intelligence!
Pretending to be mentally ill would be better than pretending to have amnesia!
"It's true," Klein responded calmly, meeting Montbatten's and the middle-aged officer's gazes.
It was genuinely true.
"Perhaps it really is possible," the gray-eyed officer said slowly.
What? He believed it just like that? Even Klein was surprised.
The gray-eyed officer smiled at him and said, "An expert will be coming in a few days. Trust me, she should be able to help you recall your lost memories."
An expert? To help recover memories? From the field of psychology? Klein frowned.
Damn, what if she brings out my memories from Earth? He suddenly felt a toothache.
The young officer set down the notebook and searched the desk and room, focusing mainly on the books. Fortunately, he didn't think to check the kettle.
"Alright, Mr. Klein, thank you for your cooperation. In the next few days, you should stay in Tingen. If you must leave, please inform Officer Montbatten, or you will be considered a fugitive," the gray-eyed officer advised.
It's over? Today's interrogation is over? They won't ask more questions, investigate further, or take me to the station for questioning? Klein felt bewildered.
However, he also wanted to resolve the bizarre incident brought by Welch, so he nodded and said, "No problem."
The officers filed out of the room, and as he was leaving, the young man at the back suddenly patted Klein on the shoulder:
"Really lucky."
"What?" Klein looked puzzled.
The green-eyed officer with a poet's demeanor smiled slightly and said, "Generally speaking, in such incidents, all involved parties usually die."
"We're very happy, and very lucky, to see you alive."
After saying this, he left the room and politely closed the door behind him.
Everyone usually dies? They're happy I'm alive? They're lucky I'm alive?
On that June afternoon, Klein felt a chill run through his entire body.