Chapter 1.3

Azrael examined the various items in the warehouse. He saw a pile of firewood stacked in a corner, a dull axe propped nearby, and a broken wheelbarrow. When he touched one of the large wine barrels in the farthest corner, it felt damp compared to the others. 

“Carlson, what were the victim’s height and build?” 

“He was about 180 centimeters tall, similar to me. His build was slightly larger than mine, with a solid frame and some weight.” 

“That should be sufficient.” 

Azrael applied force and tipped the wine barrel onto its side. It was empty inside. When he opened the lid, a fishy smell wafted out—something that would never come from wine. 

He crouched and climbed inside the barrel. Its spacious interior made it easy to maneuver. As he felt around the ceiling and walls, his hand brushed against something on the floor. It was a small object about the size of a fingernail. 

Emerging from the barrel with the object in hand, Carlson leaned in curiously. 

“Did you find something?” 

Azrael opened his palm to reveal a yellow tooth with a small piece of flesh still attached. 

“This is the transportation method used to move the victim’s body to the warehouse. Carlson, arrange for a carriage. It’s unlikely the culprit rolled this barrel here by hand in the rain.” 

“Wow, that’s clever. I’ll get on it right away.” 

“And, the victim ran a tavern, correct? Search the tavern as well. It wouldn’t be easy to suddenly acquire a barrel this size.” 

“It’s likely the barrel was already at the crime scene from the beginning. Got it.” 

Carlson jotted down the tasks in his notebook. Then, scratching his head with his pen, he asked, 

“By the way, did you see anything during your dawn patrol? The patrol area and the discovery site are in the same village.”

“Do you think someone who was ambushed and knocked unconscious would notice anything?” 

“Just asking! You never know. If you saw the culprit, it would make the investigation easier. You’re the one who said even the smallest clues are important, aren’t you?” 

Come to think of it, the person who ambushed him was also present at the same time and place. If they found the fleeing culprit, they might ask about the ambush later, but they would first inquire about any observations. 

“Instead of me, the young lady might have seen something.” 

“Stop mumbling to yourself! Who is this young lady? Is she a witness or something?” 

“That’s partially correct. She might be a witness. She also saved me when I was ambushed and dying.” 

“Wait a second. Sure, life-saving heroics, fine. But why was this young lady wandering around such a place on a rainy night?” 

“That’s a good question. I’ll ask her next time I see her.” 

“Yeah, you should. While you’re at it, go thank her properly. I bet you dashed out of there without giving her a proper thank-you after you woke up.”

Azrael, struck by Carlson’s sharp remark, turned his gaze away without responding. It was rare for him to lose ground in a conversation. Sensing the rare opportunity, Carlson seemed to enjoy himself, adding more comments with enthusiasm. 

“By the way, a young lady saving the Commander’s life—doesn’t that sound romantic?” 

“Romantic, my foot. Don’t say foolish things like that.” 

“Why not? Did you actually fall for her? The Commander, who treats women like stones, has finally—” 

“Shut your mouth, Carlson.” 

“Oh? This reaction isn’t ordinary. You must have fallen—” 

“She is the Crown Prince’s lover.” 

“My tongue seems to have gotten ahead of me. I’ll shut up immediately.” 

“Be careful, or your long tongue might end up shortened.” 

“…” 

Carlson nodded fervently without saying another word. He was diligently keeping quiet. 

Knock, knock. Someone rapped on the warehouse door. Azrael spoke up to grant permission, as Carlson was now incapable of speech. As soon as permission was given, the youngest member of the team poked his head inside. 

“Sir Liam, what is it?” 

“Commander, good day! I’m here to inform you that you need to head to the temporary investigation headquarters immediately.” 

Azrael once again boarded the carriage. The temporary investigation headquarters for this case was located roughly halfway between the victim’s residence and the discovery site. Considering the need to travel between at least two locations, the spot was chosen for convenience. 

Temporary investigation headquarters were typically set up in vacant buildings or warehouses, but since this was a serial murder case, an inn was rented in its entirety. During the investigation, the team members would take care of all their meals and lodging within the inn. 

Upon arriving at the inn, Azrael opened the door marked “Interrogation Room” and stepped inside. A thin woman was seated on a chair. 

“I am Azrael Hyacinth, Second Imperial Investigation Bureau Commander. Are you ‘Nora Dix,’ the victim’s widow?” 

She was the wife of John Dix, the victim. She had filed the missing person report and personally confirmed the victim’s identity. 

Earlier that morning, Nora had come to identify the body. She immediately checked the left thigh and confirmed an old scar, asserting that it was indeed her husband. 

“Yes, please call me Nora. I no longer have any obligation to use my husband’s surname.” 

Nora fiddled with her left ring finger. Instead of a ring, only a faint mark encircling her finger remained. It had been less than half a day since her husband’s death was confirmed. Her behavior suggested that their marital relationship had not been good. 

“Understood, Miss Nora. Let’s get straight to the point. What is the reason you sought me out?” 

“I have a request for you, Investigator.” 

“Go ahead.” 

It wasn’t uncommon for victims’ families to make requests. Most of them asked for the culprit to be caught or suggested someone they suspected might be the culprit. 

However, what Nora said was entirely unexpected. 

“I… don’t want the investigation into my husband to continue. Not anymore.” 

“Unless there is a legitimate reason, we cannot halt the investigation. This is not a simple murder case; it’s a serial murder.” 

“Oh, I understand. What I mean is not the serial murders but…” 

Her words focused not on her husband’s “death” but on her “husband’s” death. This usually indicated there was a truth she wanted to hide. 

“…my husband’s disgrace. Investigations often uncover things about the deceased, don’t they?” 

“That is correct. To understand the connection to the case and the culprit’s intent, we must investigate thoroughly.” 

“Is there no way to completely bury it?” 

“That is impossible. Gaps in the investigation compromise its integrity. Even the smallest clue is crucial to prevent further victims.” 

And also, for the sake of the victims themselves. Azrael swallowed the latter part of his statement, as it was unnecessary in the current situation. 

“If you are uncomfortable with us uncovering things, there is another option.” 

“What—what is that?” 

“Miss Nora, you can tell me everything directly. If you do, there will be no need to dig around and tarnish the deceased’s name.” 

Nora’s skirt crumpled in her grip. She seemed to be deliberating over the unexpected suggestion. But Azrael knew she would eventually agree. 

Her husband’s disgrace would inevitably reflect on her. No matter what kind of person John Dix had been, if his dishonor were revealed, it would not harm the deceased but rather the living Nora. 

“…I have no other choice. I will tell you everything.” 

“Please do. I will listen to it all.”

Thus began Nora Dix’s story. Her husband was a horrible man. Certainly, at some point in the past, he had been a good person. But as time went on, he transformed into a monster. 

When John drank, he became violent. He would lash out indiscriminately and behave coercively toward his wife. Nora realized she needed to escape, but by then, she was already pregnant. She couldn’t leave. 

For years, Nora endured for the sake of her child. But John’s anger didn’t remain directed solely at her. At some point, the child also became a target of his violence. She begged John, pleading with him not to harm the child. But it was a foolish plea. Once he had turned into a monster, John never listened to her. 

“The child… died at that man’s hands.” 

Nora covered her face with both hands. Her fingernails dug into her skin. Through the gaps between her fingers, tears streamed down. She was crying. 

John claimed it was an unavoidable accident. He even disposed of the child’s body, claiming he didn’t want to be a murderer. Nora truly wanted to kill him. She wished for his death but lacked the strength to make it happen. She was utterly powerless. 

After the child’s death, Nora prayed to God every day. She prayed that John wouldn’t return home today, that he would die by sheer coincidence. For ten years, she prayed. Finally, God answered her prayers.