"Who is it?"
Klein, who had been lost in thoughts about the original owner's mysterious suicide and the possible dangers lurking, instinctively opened the drawer, took out the revolver, and asked in a wary tone.
There was a brief silence outside the door before a slightly sharp voice with an Ahowa accent replied:
"It's me, Beech Mombaton. Beech Mombaton."
The voice paused for a moment before adding, "Police."
Beech Mombaton… With that name echoing in his ears, Klein immediately recalled who it belonged to.
Beech was one of the officers assigned to patrol the neighborhood. He was known for his rough, brash personality and penchant for getting physical, but perhaps it took someone like him to keep the drunks, petty thieves, and occasional criminals in line.
And his unique voice was one of his trademarks.
"Alright, I'm coming!" Klein called out loudly.
He initially planned to toss the revolver back into the drawer, but considering that the police might have come for some sort of inspection, he decided instead to carefully hide it in the cold, extinguished stove. He then grabbed a small basket of coal, scattered a few pieces over the revolver to conceal it, and finally placed the kettle on top to cover everything.
With that done, he adjusted his clothes, quickly approached the door, and, while opening it, said, "Apologies, I was just taking a nap."
Standing outside were four uniformed officers dressed in black with white checks, each wearing a badge and a soft cap. Beech Mombaton, with his bushy brownish-yellow beard, coughed and said to Klein:
"These three officers have a few questions for you."
Officers? Klein instinctively glanced at the shoulder insignias of the other three men, noticing two bore three silver stars, while the third had two—indicating they were all of higher rank than Beech, who only bore three chevrons.
As a history major, Klein wasn't well-versed in police ranks, but he knew enough to recognize Beech's frequent boast of being a senior constable.
So, does that make these three inspectors? Influenced by his elder brother Benson and his classmates like Welch, Klein had picked up a few bits of common knowledge. He stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter and asked, "Please, come in. May I ask what this is about?"
The leader of the three was a middle-aged man with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through souls, giving a chill of intimidation. His face bore noticeable crow's feet, and beneath the rim of his cap, a hint of brown hair peeked through. While he surveyed the room, he asked in a deep voice:
"Do you know Welch McGovern?"
"What happened to him?" Klein's heart skipped a beat as he blurted out the question.
"I'm the one asking questions here," the stern-eyed man replied with a frosty gaze.
Beside him, the other officer with the three-star insignia offered a more amiable smile, saying, "No need to be nervous; it's just a routine inquiry."
This officer, who appeared to be in his early thirties, had a prominent nose and gray eyes with a profound depth, like a quiet, forgotten lake in an ancient forest.
Taking a deep breath, Klein gathered his thoughts and said, "If you're referring to the recent graduate from Hoy University from Conston, then yes, I know Welch McGovern. We were classmates under the same mentor, Senior Associate Professor Quentin Cohen."
In the kingdom of Ruen, the title of "professor" was not merely an academic rank but a formal position; it was akin to being both a professor and the head of a department, which meant each university department could only have one. For a senior associate professor to become a full professor, their superior would have to retire or be surpassed in merit, creating a high bar for promotion.
After a brief pause, Klein continued, choosing his words carefully as he glanced at the middle-aged officer:
"To be honest, we were on fairly good terms. Recently, Welch, Naya, and I had been meeting frequently to study and discuss some old texts he acquired—a 'Fourth Epoch' document, actually. It's a journal. Officer, what happened to him?"
The middle-aged officer didn't respond right away; instead, he glanced at his gray-eyed colleague.
The officer with the gentle gray eyes replied with a calm tone, "I'm sorry to inform you that Mr. McGovern has passed away."
"What? How?" Klein exclaimed in shock, despite the unease he had felt earlier.
Welch is dead too, just like the original owner of my body?
This is… a bit terrifying.
"What about Naya?" Klein asked hurriedly.
"Ms. Naya has also passed away," the gray-eyed officer said, his tone unperturbed. "Both of them were found dead at Mr. McGovern's residence."
"Murdered?" Klein ventured, the idea already beginning to form in his mind.
Perhaps it was suicide…
The gray-eyed officer shook his head, "No, from the signs at the scene, they both committed suicide. Mr. McGovern bashed his head against the wall—many times, in fact, leaving bloodstains all over. Ms. Naya drowned herself in a basin of water—a simple washbasin."
"This is impossible..." Klein felt a chill run down his spine as he listened, the image of the eerie scene beginning to form in his mind.
A girl kneeling on a chair, her face submerged in a basin full of water, her brown hair hanging loosely, swaying gently, yet her entire body motionless; Welch lying on the ground, eyes fixed on the ceiling, his forehead utterly shattered, covered in blood, with impact marks on the wall, one after another, stained with fresh blood...
The gray-eyed officer's lips twitched as he spoke, "We think so too, but the autopsy and scene investigation ruled out drugs or external forces. Neither Mr. Welch nor Ms. Naya showed any signs of struggle."
Before Klein could respond, the officer stepped further into the room, asking casually, "When was the last time you saw Mr. Welch or Ms. Naya?"
As he spoke, he gave a meaningful glance to his colleague with the two silver stars.
The younger officer, who appeared around Klein's age, with dark hair and green eyes, carried a poet's romantic air and was quite handsome.
Klein's mind raced as he considered his response, "It should have been June 26. We worked together to interpret a new entry in the journal. After that, I returned home to prepare for my interview on the 30th. The interview for the history department at Tingen University."
Tingen was renowned as a university city, with both Tingen and Hoy Universities, as well as technical schools, the Academy of Barristers, and a business school—second only to the capital, Backlund.
Just as he finished speaking, Klein caught sight of the young officer moving over to the desk, picking up the journal that looked more like a diary.
Damn! I forgot to hide that! Klein quickly shouted, "You!"
The young officer smiled at him but continued leafing through the journal, while the gray-eyed officer explained calmly, "This is standard procedure."
Beech Mombaton and the stern, older officer merely stood by, observing without participating in the search.
Where's your search warrant? Klein considered demanding but thought better of it. He remembered that the legal system in the Ruen Kingdom might not have evolved to include search warrants—at least, he had never heard of such a thing. After all, the police force itself was established only fifteen or sixteen years ago.
In the original owner's childhood, they were still referred to as "constables."
Klein could only watch helplessly as the young officer flipped quickly through "his journal," while the gray-eyed officer held back any further questions.
"What kind of strange things are these?" the young officer asked suddenly as he reached the final page. "And what does this sentence mean? 'Everyone will die, including me'..."
Isn't it common knowledge that everyone dies, except for gods? Klein had been preparing to bluff, but then he remembered his initial plan to get the police involved to protect himself from potential danger. He had just lacked a reason, an excuse.
In less than a second, he made his decision. Covering his forehead with his hand and speaking in a pained tone, he replied, "I don't know, I really don't know… When I woke up this morning, I felt strange, like I'd forgotten something, especially things from the past few days. I don't even know why I wrote that line."
Sometimes, honesty is the best way to handle a problem—of course, only with a bit of finesse. What to say, what to leave unsaid, and the sequence in which to reveal information all play a role.
As a "keyboard" expert, Klein had studied conversational tactics to some extent.
"Ridiculous! Do you think we're fools?" Beech Mombaton interjected angrily, unable to hold back any longer.
This lie was so crude that it was insulting to their intelligence!
Even pretending to be insane would be more believable than feigning amnesia!
"It's true," Klein responded calmly, meeting the gazes of Mombaton and the stern-looking officer.
It really was the truth.
"It's possible," the gray-eyed officer finally spoke, his voice slow and steady.
What? He believes it that easily? Klein was surprised.
The gray-eyed officer gave him a slight smile. "In a few days, an expert will be visiting. Trust me, she should be able to help you recall any lost memories."
An expert? To help me recall? Someone from the field of psychology? Klein furrowed his brow.
If they managed to access my memories of Earth, then what? He suddenly felt a twinge of anxiety.
The young officer put the journal down and conducted a search of the desk and the room. Fortunately, he focused mostly on the books and didn't think to lift the kettle.
"Alright, Mr. Klein, thank you for your cooperation. In the coming days, it would be best if you didn't leave Tingen. If you must, please inform Officer Mombaton. Otherwise, you'll be marked as a fugitive," the gray-eyed officer advised.
That's it? This ends here for today? They're not going to ask more questions, investigate further, or take me to the station for interrogation? Klein felt dazed.
But he was also eager to put an end to the bizarre situation stemming from Welch's actions, so he nodded and replied, "Understood."
The officers began to file out of the room. As the young officer, bringing up the rear, passed Klein, he suddenly patted him on the shoulder.
"You're lucky," he said.
"What?" Klein looked at him in confusion.
The green-eyed officer with the poet's air gave a slight smile. "In most cases, when something like this happens, everyone involved usually ends up dead."
"We're happy, and indeed, lucky, to see that you're still alive."
With that, he left the room, closing the door with courtesy.
Everyone usually ends up dead? They're glad I'm alive? Lucky to see me alive?
On that June afternoon, Klein felt a chill run through his entire body.