Deducing the Assassin

Standing at the doorway, Karen listened to the laughter of the grandfather and grandson inside, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him. Faced with such a horrific catastrophe out of nowhere, Wolflen, as the head of the household, had undoubtedly suffered the heaviest blow. Yet at this moment, he still chose to set aside all anger and grief, doing everything he could to comfort his only surviving grandson. The dead were already gone; he wanted the living one not to be burdened by guilt. Without such comfort from Wolflen, Leon would have spent the rest of his life trapped in a quagmire of self-reproach and remorse—over the fact that on the night his family was slaughtered, he had been lying in a pastry shop. Not everyone possessed mental fortitude as terrifying as Neo's. In truth, even Neo was constantly searching for a reason to go on living. Putting himself in Wolflen's shoes, would Karen have done the same? Karen felt he wouldn't. He would descend into madness, his reason overwhelmed by hatred. It would be impossible for him to lower his head and use such a soothing tone to smooth over the massive knot forming in his grandson's heart. He simply wouldn't have the presence of mind for it. This was probably the gap between them. He was still a long way from becoming a man like Wolflen. Spells could be learned quickly, formations understood swiftly, and realms advanced in short order, but in life, there were always things that required time to thicken—or rather, to settle. "Captain Karen..." Karen heard Wolflen calling his name from within. "Present, Your Excellency." Karen first bowed at the doorway, then stepped inside. Looking at Leon, who knelt beside the bed clasping Wolflen's hand, he hesitated for a moment before deciding against kneeling for easier conversation. It wasn't that he minded kneeling at a time like this, but because the Head Bishop had addressed him by his official title, signaling that the old man wished to speak to him in an official capacity. "I know... you only took Leon into your squad... out of respect for me." Karen offered tacit acknowledgment. There was no point in exchanging pleasantries at such a time. "This grandson of mine... I see him very clearly... He is fairly capable... His flaw is that his personality is a bit soft... But that isn't his fault... His family background was simply too comfortable... It couldn't be helped. "Still, his character is trustworthy, isn't it?" Karen replied, "Yes, Your Excellency. You are entirely correct." "Help me... look after him a little." "I will." "Thank you..." "It is my duty as his captain." Wolflen lowered his head again, looking at his grandson, and instructed, "Be obedient..." "I will, Grandfather." "Listen to your captain..." "I will. I definitely will." Wolflen nodded. In truth, he didn't need to make special arrangements for Leon's future. Although the Delga family was all but wiped out, their situation differed from the earlier downfall of the Norton family. The Nortons had been trampled to death in political strife. Vic's situation was similar; dragged down by his "conservative" mentor, he had become a target of suppression, a casualty under the shifting winds. Wolflen's Delga family, on the other hand, had suffered immense losses in an unexpected incident targeting the Church of Order. For now, at least, there was no evidence suggesting the assassination stemmed from a personal feud. As such, the Church would certainly compensate Leon and grant him preferential treatment. However, Wolflen knew full well that without the backing of a family, Leon's future development might be smooth, but it would be hard for him to truly shine. No amount of preferential treatment and care could compare to having an intact family standing behind him. To raise the ceiling of his grandson's future prospects, he could only rely on Karen's small circle. The Head Bishop had always held high expectations for the future of this group; otherwise, he wouldn't have let his grandson join in the first place. Of course, this arrangement was not for the sake of family revival. He understood that if his grandson were left with nothing to do, deprived of any chance to climb higher—even if it meant taking great risks—and instead kept in an idle, comfortable position, he would surely be tormented, perhaps even driven mad. At that moment, Department Head Bernie appeared at the doorway once more, evidently summoned from downstairs by the priest who had left earlier. "Department Head Bernie... I am ready." Bernie advised, "A special task force from the Dinge Region will arrive shortly, accompanied by top-tier priests from Dinge. I believe you could wait a little longer. After all, there is still hope of curing you." "Cured... means lying in bed for a few more years... Meaningless... I am willing to burn my life force... in exchange for one month... *cough, cough*... one month's time... Come... Department Head Bernie." "Very well. I shall obey your will." Bernie glanced at Leon and Karen. "You two step outside first." Leon was reluctant to leave, but Karen stepped over and patted his shoulder. Leon stood up and followed Karen out of the room. Standing outside, Leon inhaled deeply and wiped his face with his sleeve, forcing a smile before letting out two dry chuckles: "Heh... heh heh..." Beside them, Philomena felt that Leon's laughter sounded even worse than her grandmother's laughter had back then. Once he finished laughing, Leon said, "It's fortunate Richard took me to the pastry shop tonight. Otherwise, I would have become another pinned corpse, and I wouldn't even have the chance to hunt down the killer and avenge my family." Karen patted Leon's shoulder without saying a word. In fact, from Leon's perspective—or rather, from the perspective of normal human nature—deflecting blame and finding an outlet for hatred, such as blaming Richard, would have been completely normal. Yet Leon hadn't done that. His mind remained remarkably clear. Though overwhelmed by emotion from the tragedy, he had not lost himself in it. Just as Bishop Wolflen had said, this grandson of his was indeed trustworthy in character. Back when he learned Karen was the subject of scandals involving his prospective fiancée, he hadn't vented his anger at Karen, and had even continued inviting him to sneak food and drinks during meeting recesses. It was just that Karen couldn't offer him much comfort right now. The assassin had entered the Head Bishop's home, slaughtered nearly everyone inside, and though the Head Bishop had survived, he had sustained irreversible, critical injuries... This was no longer a simple matter of someone being wronged or holding a personal grudge, where you could just rally your squad to settle the score. "Captain, I'd like to get some fresh air outside," Leon said. "I feel suffocated in here." "Philomena." Karen pointed to Philomena, then tapped his lips, gesturing that she was only to accompany him and keep her mouth shut. With that, Philomena supported Leon by the arm and led him down the stairs. It wasn't that Leon couldn't walk, but that he kept his eyes closed the entire way. He had walked up once, and precisely because he had walked up once, he no longer had the courage to walk down with his eyes open. Karen sighed. It seemed that once this ordeal passed, he would need to pay close attention to Leon's mental state. Afterward, Karen began to walk slowly, stopping at every murder scene to make detailed observations. The two servants nailed to the wall outside the study, Leon's uncle sitting dead in the chair inside the study, Leon's grandmother by the French window, and Leon's mother at the staircase landing—Karen lingered in front of each corpse for quite a while. When he finally moved to examine Leon's father in the ground-floor living room, Bishop Bern walked up behind him and asked, "Noticed anything?" Karen hesitated slightly. "If you've noticed something, just speak up. There's no need to hesitate. The special task force from the Dinge Region won't necessarily be that much more professional than us." Karen wavered. "I still don't know the specific details." "The specific details are right in front of your eyes. What we know is no different from what you see." "What about the Head Bishop...?" "The Head Bishop didn't see the assassin. The assassin launched a sudden ambush against him. Yellow sand instantly filled the bedroom, and then the assassin failed. Of course, the Head Bishop was critically injured." "And the assassin?" "The assassin should be injured as well, according to the Head Bishop. When the assassin struck him, he used a life-risking spell. Since the Head Bishop broke through that spell, the assassin must have suffered a severe backlash." "Can we set up a dragnet?" Karen asked. "I mean, sealing off the teleportation formations at key nodes, and..." "Aside from sand, the assassin left nothing behind. An assassin of this caliber cannot be caught through simple blockades and tracking. I didn't order a lockdown on all teleportation formations in the Yorktown area because it would be pointless. "He either fled at maximum speed along a pre-planned route, or he might still be hiding somewhere inside Yorktown right now. In short, he was exceedingly composed." Hearing this, Karen nodded. Bishop Bern asked curiously, "Aren't you going to question why we're just standing here doing nothing?" "Because I understand your choice, and I respect your experience." "Is that so." In truth, looking at it from another angle, Karen and Neo had plenty of experience successfully lying low after "causing trouble." If Karen felt the assassin could do the same, a citywide manhunt would accomplish very little right now. "Tell me what you've observed. I noticed your method of observation is different from the others. They're obsessed with the sand, but you aren't looking at the sand at all." "I have a hypothesis. I believe the assassin was able to slaughter so many people in this house so cleanly not only because of his overwhelming strength, but also due to another factor..." "Go on." "The assassin used an identity." "An identity?" A faint smile touched the corner of Bishop Bern's mouth. Then, seemingly realizing such an expression was inappropriate given the circumstances, he reined it in. Leaning forward beside Karen, he lowered his voice. "You figured it out?" Bishop Bern's action put immense pressure on Karen. Had he not known it was impossible for this to be an internal orchestration by the Church of Order, he might genuinely have thought Bishop Bern looked like someone whose secret had just been exposed. It could only be said that someone accustomed to lurking in the shadows and plotting conspiracies was like someone drenched in ink; you couldn't tell from the outside, but his shadow was far darker than anyone else's. "Tell me, how did you figure it out?" "I deduced it from their death positions and the layout of the rooms." "Be more specific." A faint blue glow appeared beneath Bishop Bern's feet, immediately transforming into countless threads spreading outward. Karen pointed to Leon's father, who had been turned into a hornet's nest and suspended from the chandelier above, and began: "The assassin likely entered through the front door. Leon's father was probably sitting on the sofa in the living room reading a newspaper at first. The paper is currently laid open on the coffee table, and extending downward from his suspended death position, he would have been right in front of that long sofa..." "Like this?" The blue threads beneath Bishop Bern's feet formed a blue figure in front of them, taking the shape of Leon's father. Originally sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper, he looked toward the entryway, put down the paper, and stood up. Bishop Bern continued, "Guess what he would have said." Karen answered, "It would have been someone familiar arriving, entering the house without any surprise. Perhaps 'You're here,' or 'You're back.'" Bishop Bern gave a slight nod. In the next instant, he raised his hand. The figure composed of blue motes of light seemed to speak, and then his body shot upward, filled with sand as he was hoisted and fixed to the ceiling. "Let's continue." Karen suggested, "My Lord, I think it's better if you don't act as the killer. It interferes with my immersion." "Oh, alright." A blue figure appeared beside Bishop Bern. "Can it be turned black?" Karen asked. "A pitch-black silhouette." "Of course." Promptly, the killer turned into a completely black humanoid figure. Karen began walking toward the stairs, Bishop Bern following behind him, with the black figure walking abreast of Karen. "She—Leon's mother—must have seen the assassin from the stairs. Then, she stopped at the landing, deliberately waiting for the killer to come up." A blue female figure materialized at the landing. As the black figure walked up the stairs, it raised a hand; the blue female figure was restrained, overlapping with the actual corpse pinned to the painting above in reality. Karen continued upward, the black figure accompanying him, while Bishop Bern subconsciously rubbed his wrist. Reaching the second floor, the first thing that caught their eyes was the area by the French window. Before Karen could speak, the blue silhouette of an elderly lady appeared on the sofa, sitting quietly. Karen pointed to the half-knit sweater on the coffee table. Recalling the scene, Bishop Bern promptly caused a sweater to appear in the blue lady's hands, going through the motions of knitting. "When the assassin came up the stairs, the Head Bishop's wife saw him and set down the sweater she was knitting." Bishop Bern shook his head, however. "No. When the assassin walked into the courtyard, she must have already seen him, and was waiting for him to come up." "That works as well." Karen nodded, pointing to the placement of the candied fruit dish on the coffee table. It held extremely rare delicacies purchasable only with point coupons, the very kind Karen had seen during Pu'er's afternoon teas at Allen Manor. "This plate is clearly out of the old lady's reach. That means when she saw the assassin emerge from the stairway, she actively pushed the plate outward—toward the assassin's side. She was likely offering him a taste, perhaps even pointing to her mouth to say how delicious it was..." As Karen spoke, the blue figure of the elderly lady performed the corresponding actions. Then, the black silhouette extended a finger forward. A spike of sand pierced the old lady's mouth, throwing her head back and pinning her to the sofa. Karen said, "The assassin killed cleanly, without making any sound, and even suppressed the fluctuations of spell energy. Thus, the reactions of each deceased person in this house were isolated, with no coordination between them." "Correct. This wasn't just because of the assassin's formidable strength; it also means he took advantage of ambushes. Only, instead of striking from the shadows, every kill was an 'ambush' executed right before their eyes, in broad daylight." "Yes, My Lord, you are right. Otherwise, there is no explaining the reactions and actions of the victims before they died." "Continue." "Understood." Karen rounded the corner of the corridor and arrived at the study door. Two blue servant figures, one male and one female, appeared before Karen, standing on either side of the entrance. "The angles at which the sand spikes pierced them and pinned them to the wall look slightly unnatural." "Then what do you think happened? Venture a bold guess." Karen pressed his lips together, took a step back, and pointed at the black figure. Controlled by Bishop Bern, the black figure stepped forward, coming before the two blue servants. Karen raised his hand. "They were bending their waists..." "Bowing." "Yes, exactly. Bowing." The two blue figures began to bow. The black silhouette spread its hands upward, and numerous sand spikes pierced their chests, pinning them to the wall. Then, under Bishop Bern's control, the black figure opened the study door. Karen said, "Leon's uncle didn't stand up. His reaction was different from the others." "He was working," Bishop Bern supplied. "In his view, when the assassin entered, there was no need to stop his work; he could simply remain seated." "Indeed. But he raised his head. When the sand pillar impaled him, he must have been looking up, as if... laughing." "He was laughing with the assassin? And then, impaled to the chair by the sand pillar, he was left in that posture." The black figure began "interacting" with the blue figure of Leon's uncle seated in the study chair. After a brief "exchange," the uncle looked up and began laughing, whereupon the sand pillar struck, his form overlapping with the real corpse still preserved in the room. Karen and Bishop Bern left the study, and the black figure exited as well, walking ahead of them before halting outside Bishop Wolflen's bedroom door. It raised both hands, preparing to unleash the life-risking spell on Bishop Wolflen inside. Then, everything froze. Bishop Bern asked, "There's only one thing I don't understand. Why didn't he enter, as he had with the others? Was he worried the Head Bishop would spot a flaw? Regardless, attempting the same deception and ambushing him after entering the bedroom would have yielded a higher success rate. Even if it failed, wouldn't resorting to the life-risking spell result in the same outcome? "Why would he abandon this common-sense approach and strike directly from outside the door, launching a blind ambush? To me, that choice defies reason." "Actually, it makes sense. The assassin is likely a perfectionist. He walked all the way up in plain sight, killing them one by one. By the time he reached this point, he had already eliminated the rest of the household in that exact manner. "Therefore, he didn't want to take the risk. If he opened the door, the Head Bishop might very well notice something amiss, and he didn't want that feeling to slip away or be ruined." "You mean he weighed his gains and losses." "Yes. I suspect the assassin might be a perfectionist." "By the time he got here, he was already thoroughly enjoying himself. He wanted that enjoyment to continue, which is why he refused to take a risk with the Head Bishop." "That is my impression." "Even if it meant lowering the success rate of assassinating the Head Bishop. This proves his objective wasn't simply to kill the Head Bishop. In other words, this massacre wasn't a vendetta, but a... provocation directed against our Church of Order." "Didn't we think so from the beginning?" "Believing it is one thing; finding evidence is another." "Yes, I understand." "Do we have a lead now?" Bishop Bern asked. "A faint one, though I don't know if it's correct." "When you have no clues at all, even a wrong lead is exceedingly precious." "Yes..." "Think back again and give me an answer: in what guise did the assassin enter to commit these murders?" Karen closed his eyes and began to reconstruct the sequence. The assassin stepped out of the entryway, and Leon's father put down the newspaper to stand up; The assassin reached the staircase, and Leon's mother paused at the landing to wait for him to ascend; The assassin reached the second floor, and Leon's grandmother by the French window pushed the dish of candied fruit toward him; The assassin reached the study door, and the two servants bowed to him; The assassin opened the study door, and Leon's uncle remained seated inside, looking up and laughing; Karen laced his fingers together, delving deeper into his thoughts. Leon's father put down the paper and stood up: *"You're back."* Leon's mother paused: *"Come up quickly and let me see you. Are you tired?"* Leon's grandmother pushed the candied fruit over: *"Come, try this. It tastes wonderful."* The two servants: *"Welcome home, young master."* Leon's uncle in the study: *"Finally realizing how exhausting it is to work in a real department, aren't you? It's completely different from your previous post, isn't it? Hahaha..."* "Is it him?" Bishop Bern spoke. Karen opened his eyes and glanced to his side, only to find that the black silhouette was gradually morphing, eventually turning into... Leon. "A mask!" The assassin possessed a mask of Leon! Bishop Bern said meaningfully, "Indeed. A mask that allows someone to resemble their target completely, in both appearance and demeanor..." Bishop Bern continued rubbing his wrist. "You know, Karen, during the trial regarding Vicolai, I actually entertained a suspicion that I never voiced. Could it be possible that Inquisitor Pavaro died long ago, and the Inquisitor Pavaro who appeared later was someone else wearing a mask?" No panic appeared on Karen's face. Instead, he took the initiative to remind him, "My Lord, I don't think now is the time to review the Vicolai case. We should take immediate action, as this might be the assassin's vulnerability and our best lead." Bishop Bern cracked his neck slightly and replied placidly: "Before you even arrived, I had already ordered the garrison to mobilize and apprehend everyone in Yorktown capable of crafting masks."