Ugh! Ugh!
Klein was crouching there, vomiting uncontrollably. Because he hadn’t eaten breakfast, he quickly emptied his stomach.
At that moment, a small square tin flask that looked very much like a cigarette case appeared before him.
The mouth of the flask, which had lost its stopper, emitted a smell that was an amalgam of tobacco, disinfectant, mint leaves, and other scents. Klein’s nose was immediately stimulated, and his spirit was reinvigorated.
The pungent stench still permeated the area, but Klein no longer felt nauseous. His vomiting quickly stopped.
He followed the small square tin flask up and saw a pale, deathly-white hand, the sleeve of a black trench coat, and the cold, grim "Creeping Hunger," Frye.
"Thanks." Klein completely recovered. Supporting himself by his knees, he stood up.
Frye nodded expressionlessly. "You'll get used to it."
He corked the small tin flask and placed it into his pocket before turning around to inspect the highly decomposed female corpse. Without wearing gloves, he began his examination.
Meanwhile, Dunn Smith and Leonard Mitchell were strolling around the room, occasionally touching the table and the newspaper.
Old Neil, pinching his nose, stood outside the door and grumbled nasally, "It's too disgusting. I'm applying for my monthly allowance!"
Dunn turned his head to look at Klein while wiping the ash beside the fireplace with his black, gloved right hand. "Does this look familiar?"
Holding his breath, Klein visualized his silver pocket watch to calm his mind and soul.
The clairvoyant state naturally caused him to have a distinct feeling, and a scene from the deepest recesses of his memory flashed before him: a fireplace, a rocking chair, a table, a newspaper, rusty nails on the door, a silver-inlaid tin can…
The scene was dim and murky, resembling a documentary on Earth, yet it was fuzzier and more illusionary.
It quickly overlapped with everything that Klein was seeing. The indescribable feeling of déjà vu was made apparent yet again. The illusionary, ethereal roar pierced through the invisible barrier and came again: "Hornacis… Flegrea… Hornacis… Flegrea… Hornacis… Flegrea…"
"It feels a little familiar." Klein answered truthfully. His head throbbed, so he quickly tapped his glabella twice.
Hornacis? The Hornacis mountain range that appeared in the original owner's diary? That was information interpreted from the Antigonus family's notes. The whisper from before is very similar to a previous incident. Both involve the word Hornacis… Is… is this a lure?
Klein jolted in fright, afraid to think further, worried that he would lose control.
Dunn nodded slightly. He walked to the cupboard and suddenly reached out to open the wooden door on it.
There was moldy bread inside, and seven or eight stiff gray mice with hardened fur lay dead beside it.
"Leonard, go downstairs to look for the patrolling police officer and find out the situation here." Dunn instructed his team member.
"Alright." Leonard turned around and left the house.
Dunn then opened the door to the two bedrooms and searched carefully.
After confirming that there were no clues and no notes from the Antigonus family, "Creeping Hunger" Frye straightened his back and wiped his hands with a white handkerchief he carried with him. "Death occurred more than five days ago. There are no external wounds or any obvious supernatural influence. The specific cause of death can only be determined by further examination."
"Did you find anything?" Dunn turned to look at Old Neil and Klein.
The two of them, who had exited their clairvoyant states, shook their heads simultaneously.
"Apart from a dead person, everything is normal here. No, at the beginning, there was an invisible force sealing the room. As you know, when we perform ritualistic magic, we often do the same." Old Neil thought for a few seconds before adding.
Dunn was about to speak when he looked at the door. A few seconds later, Klein and Old Neil sensed something and turned around to look at the bend in the stairs.
A few seconds passed. The indistinct footsteps grew louder as Leonard and a police officer walked up.
The officer's expression changed slightly when he smelled the stench. He immediately collaborated with his "colleague" from the Special Operations Department to knock on the doors of the second floor to roughly figure out the situation on the third floor.
Moments later, he looked at the corpse on the rocking chair and said, his silver double-chevron epaulettes on his shoulders, "Cattie Stephenina Bieber, between fifty-five and sixty, a widow. She's been renting the house with her son, Riel Bieber, for over ten years."
"Her husband was a jeweler before he passed away. Her son is around thirty years old, unmarried. He inherited his father's business. His weekly wage is around one pound and fifteen soli. According to the neighbors, they haven't appeared for over a week."
By this point, Klein was already aware of what was important next:
The missing—or, more accurately, the man who had vanished—Riel Bieber!
That ancient notebook was very likely on him!
"Is there a photo of Riel Bieber?" Dunn looked at the officer. He was playing the role of a senior inspector.
Of course, this couldn't be considered faking it because on the police department's records, he was indeed a senior inspector. His salary and allowance were according to this. Of course, the Church's portion wasn't included.
The officer shook his head nervously. "I don't know… I'll have to go back to the station and look. Under normal circumstances, we can't possibly keep photos of everyone."