"Who is it?"
Klein had been thinking about the original owner's mysterious suicide and the unknown dangers he might face. Upon hearing the sudden knocking, he instinctively pulled open the drawer and took out the revolver, asking warily.
Outside the door, there was two seconds of silence before a slightly shrill voice called out in an Ahwawa accent:
"Me. Montbatten, Beech Montbatten."
The voice paused, then added:
"Police."
Beech Montbatten… As the name drilled into his ears, Klein immediately recalled the man it belonged to.
He was one of the police officers responsible for the neighborhood where the apartment was located — a rude, brutish man who loved to use his fists. But perhaps only someone like that could keep the drunks, thieves, part-time thieves, villains, and hooligans in line.
And that distinctive voice was one of his trademarks.
"Alright, I'll be right there!" Klein called out loudly.
He had intended to toss the revolver back into the drawer, but considering that he had no idea why the police were here and that they might search the place, he carefully darted over to the fireplace where the embers had long since died out and placed the gun inside.
Then he picked up the small coal basket, shook a few pieces into the stove to cover the gun, and finally set the kettle on top, concealing everything.
Once that was done, he tidied his clothes, strode quickly to the door, and opened it while mumbling:
"Sorry, I was just taking a nap."
Standing outside were four police officers wearing black uniforms with white checkered patterns and soft caps bearing badges. Beech Montbatten, who had a bushy brown-yellow beard, cleared his throat and said to Klein:
"These three officers have some questions for you."
Officers? Klein reflexively glanced at the shoulder insignia of the other three and noticed that two of them had three silver hexagonal stars while one had two — all of them appearing to outrank Beech Montbatten, who only had three V-shaped chevrons.
As a history student, Klein had little knowledge of police rank insignia. He only knew that Beech Montbatten liked to boast about being a senior sergeant.
So, those three were inspectors? Influenced by the casual talk of his elder brother Benson and classmates like Welch, Klein at least knew some basics. He stepped aside and pointed into the room:
"Come in. May I ask what this is about?"
Of the three officers, the one in front was a middle-aged man with eyes so sharp they seemed to pierce straight through a person's soul, making one involuntarily afraid. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were prominent, and light brown hair peeked out from beneath the rim of his cap. He surveyed the room on his own while asking in a deep voice:
"You know Welch McGowan, don't you?"
"What happened to him?" Klein's heart skipped a beat, and the question slipped out before he could stop himself.
"I'm the one asking you here." The imposing middle-aged officer's gaze turned cold.
The officer beside him, also sporting a three-star shoulder insignia, looked at Klein and offered a gentle smile:
"No need to be nervous. This is just a routine inquiry."
This officer was about thirty, with a straight nose and grey eyes that gave an indescribably deep impression, like a little-frequented lake in an ancient forest.
Klein took a silent breath, organized his words, and said:
"If you're referring to a graduate of Khoy University, Welch Magwen from Conston, then yes, I'm certain I know him. We're classmates under the same senior associate professor, Quentin Cohen."
In the Loen Kingdom, "professor" was not merely an academic title but a position, like the combined role of a university professor and department head on Earth. This meant that in a single department within a university, there could only be one professor. An associate professor wanting to become "full" could only wait for their superior to retire, or rely on their own ability to outperform them.
To retain talent, after years of exploration, the Kingdom's Higher Education Committee introduced the position of senior associate professor within the three-tier system of lecturer, associate professor, and professor. This was for those with high academic standing or sufficient seniority who nonetheless couldn't become full professors.
At this point, Klein glanced into the middle-aged officer's eyes, considered for a second, and said:
"To be honest, our relationship is quite good. Lately, he, Naya, and I have been meeting frequently to interpret and discuss a 'Fourth Epoch' document he acquired—a notebook. Officer, what's happened to him?"
The middle-aged officer didn't answer, instead turning his head to look at his grey-eyed companion.
The grey-eyed officer, wearing a soft hat with a badge and with ordinary features, replied in a refined manner:
"I'm sorry, Mr. Welch has passed away."
"What?" Though he'd had some premonition, Klein couldn't help blurting out in astonishment.
Welch had died, just like the original owner of this body?
That was somewhat terrifying!
"What about Naya?" Klein hastily pressed.
"Ms. Naya has also passed away." The grey-eyed officer said quite calmly. "They both died inside Mr. Welch's residence."
"Murdered?" Klein had a vague guess.
Perhaps it was suicide...
The grey-eyed officer shook his head:
"No. From the scene, it appears they took their own lives. Mr. Welch struck his head against the wall, repeatedly, until the wall was covered in blood. Ms. Naya drowned herself in a basin—a washbasin, the kind used for washing one's face."
"That's impossible..." Listening to this, Klein felt his hair stand on end, as if he could imagine the bizarre scene.
A girl kneeling on a chair, her face submerged in a basin filled with water, her brown hair falling smoothly and swaying gently in the breeze, while her entire body remained utterly still; Welch collapsed on the floor, his eyes fixed rigidly on the ceiling, his forehead completely shattered and covered in gore, while on the wall, blow after blow marked the point of impact, dripping with fresh blood...
The corner of the grey-eyed officer's mouth twitched slightly as he said: