Anonymous Report Letter?
Could it be an attempt at damage control?
Goethe glanced at the corpse of the mole and sneered inwardly.
The "pursuers" had undoubtedly realized that their informant, Soko, had failed to show up with him as planned. In response, they immediately activated a backup plan, testing the police station's reaction with an anonymous report.
And no matter what unexpected event had occurred, as long as the evidence pointed toward him, the outcome would serve their ultimate goal: forcing him out of the police station.
Clearly, someone or something inside the station had the ability to quickly determine whether a person was lying.
Moreover, their plan was based on a strong assumption: that the "serial killer"—him—would inevitably attract the attention of whoever possessed this ability or item.
The plan was perfect.
Unfortunately...
They had miscalculated one thing: he truly had not killed Hader.
And, more importantly, they never expected that he would eliminate their mole, Soko.
"If that's the case… I can be even bolder."
Realizing the situation could work to his advantage, Goethe swiftly formulated a plan in his mind.
Why had he come to the police station?
For protection.
But if he could resolve the issue once and for all?
That would be even better.
However, for this plan to work, he needed someone to "cooperate."
With that thought, he turned to Sheriff Swart and curled his lips into a smile.
"I didn't kill Hader."
Goethe smiled as he spoke, his tone firm and unwavering.
"Everyone denies being a murderer," Swart scoffed, reeking of alcohol. Then, in a seemingly casual tone, he added, "I suggest you just come clean. It's for your own good."
His voice was calm, almost devoid of emotion, even though the words carried an implicit threat.
If it weren't for the interrogation room setting, it would have been easy to mistake this conversation for a casual encounter in a bar, a simple nod of acknowledgment between acquaintances.
But to Goethe, this revealed something unsettling.
Swart was likely the type who preferred to turn a blind eye and let things slide.
And…
He was probably the kind of person who didn't mind using his position for personal gain.
Goethe's gaze swept over Swart's coat and leather shoes. The quality of the fabric and craftsmanship were comparable to his own attire, an outfit custom-made for his eighteenth birthday when the Wayne family had yet to decline. Though lacking a matching cane, it had cost a hefty seven gold kricks.
According to Goethe's memory, an elite lawyer with access to City Hall typically earned around two to three gold crowns per week, a solid upper-middle-class income.
A sheriff's salary, however, was nowhere near that level.
As for how Swart had acquired such wealth?
The answer was self-evident.
Getting someone like him to "cooperate" wouldn't be easy.
In fact, Goethe was certain that if he left things in Swart's hands, this entire matter would likely be brushed aside just like the mysterious disappearances of his so-called "family."
His home wasn't in the heart of Lustre City, but it was still within the city district. A string of missing persons cases in such an area wouldn't go unnoticed by the sheriff. Yet Swart had chosen to pretend otherwise.
That alone spoke volumes.
Fortunately, Swart wasn't the one in charge.
With that in mind, Goethe's smile widened. He repeated himself with unwavering certainty.
"I didn't kill Hader."
Swart raised an eyebrow.
His patience was running thin.
A moment ago, he had been putting on a façade of civility, but now, his voice suddenly rose in volume.
"You didn't?"
"Listen, even when we catch a murderer, we don't hang them immediately. First comes the interrogation, then the crime scene reenactment, followed by further confirmation, then imprisonment… And only after all that do we hang them!"
"It's a long process."
The sheriff stepped closer, trying to intimidate Goethe. But just as he straightened up, a loud belch escaped his lips.
A strong stench of alcohol filled the air.
Goethe remained unfazed, meeting Swart's gaze with an unwavering smile. His voice was as firm as ever.
"I didn't kill Hader."
He really didn't.
It was "Goethe" who had done it, not him.
With that, he closed his eyes and refused to acknowledge the others in the room.
Seeing this, Swart signaled to the middle-aged officer standing nearby. The man immediately raised his baton, ready to teach Goethe a lesson.
But before he could strike, Swart seemed to reconsider something and abruptly gestured for him to stop.
"Let's hope you're telling the truth."
Changing his mind, Swart turned and left the room.
The heavy door slammed shut once more.
Hearing the dull thud of the door closing, Goethe felt a sense of certainty settle in his heart.
"As expected…!"
"There really is someone or something in the police station that can detect lies!"
"And that definitely falls under the realm of the supernatural."
"This further proves my previous theory—that there is official oversight over the supernatural in this world. With that being the case, my plan will work!"
Quickly, he refined his strategy in his mind.
Everything had to appear logical and reasonable.
Or more precisely…
It had to target exactly what the authorities cared about.
The official supernatural forces existed, but they clearly wouldn't concern themselves with "trivial matters."
Since that was the case…
He would make sure this became something they couldn't ignore.
Goethe made up his mind.
…
Meanwhile, in the adjacent interrogation room, a man dressed in a tailcoat over a crisp white shirt stood alone.
The room was about the same size as the interrogation chamber, sparsely furnished, with nothing but the man standing in the center.
His gaze remained fixed on the pocket watch in his hand.
As Swart entered, the man spoke without looking up.
"He wasn't lying."
Even as he spoke, he didn't spare Swart a glance, his eyes glued to the timepiece.
Swart, on the other hand, immediately adopted a servile smile, his tone deferential.
"What should we do with him?"
"Just follow the standard procedure."
With the man's confirmation, Swart bowed slightly before returning to the interrogation room.
"Detain Goethe first."
"Then conduct a thorough investigation into the entire case."
"As for Soko?"
"Throw him in the morgue for now. We'll deal with him once the final results come in."
As soon as Swart reentered the room, he issued his orders to the middle-aged officer.
The officer immediately let out a sigh of relief, a smile of utter relief spreading across his face—he wasn't stupid. Having witnessed everything, he could tell Goethe was entangled in something far bigger than himself. Getting involved in this mess was the last thing he wanted. It could very well cost him his life, and no amount of weekly wages was worth that risk.
"Kid, consider yourself lucky!"
"For now, just sit tight in the cell!"
"The conditions aren't great, but at least it's safer than being outside!"
Saying that, the middle-aged officer moved toward Goethe, while the two younger officers followed suit, as if this was just another routine task.
Everything was unfolding just as Goethe had anticipated.
Faced with the potential trouble he could bring, these men had chosen to brush the matter aside.
As the three officers closed in, ready to escort him away, Goethe refused to cooperate. Instead, he began struggling violently.
The middle-aged officer's face twisted in anger.
This time, he didn't even wait for Swart's signal, he raised his baton on his own.
Goethe watched as the baton came down, and in a booming voice, he roared—
"Go ahead! Hit me!"
"In less than a month, my grandfather suddenly fell ill and died, my parents vanished, then three uncles and their wives disappeared along with them! My three cousins also vanished overnight! After that, my only aunt went missing on her way to report this to the authorities!"
"And me?"
"Before I could even react, I was thrown out of my own house by sudden 'debtors''!"
"And now!"
"After barely escaping that 'ritual' alive, after finally grasping a few clues and coming here to work with you, this is what I get? A prison cell and a beating?"
"If that's how it is… then come on!"
By the time he finished shouting, Goethe's voice was nearly hoarse.
"You little bastard, you think I won't do it?!"
The middle-aged officer bellowed back, his grip on the baton tightening.
As for Goethe's words?
He didn't care in the slightest.
Deaths? Disappearances?
If no one filed a report, they didn't exist.
If someone went missing on their way to report it? That meant no report was ever made, so it still didn't exist.
And even if a report had been filed, as long as it wasn't recorded, it still wouldn't exist.
Having worked in the system for years, the middle-aged officer had long since grown numb to such things. He had no interest in explaining any of this to Goethe, he just wanted to teach him a lesson.
But just as he was about to strike—
Thud!
A muffled knock echoed from the wall beside them.
Swart, who had been standing off to the side watching the spectacle with his arms crossed, immediately stiffened. His expression changed, and he barked out—
"Wait!"