The image began to distort, blur, and disappear.
Klein emerged from that dreamlike experience, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom.
He knew that his brother Benson, with a weekly salary of 1 pound 10 soulés, which was 30 soulés, struggled to support both himself and Melissa on an ordinary commoner's standard of living.
He had thought that most workers' weekly wages could reach 20 soulés.
He had heard Melissa mention that on Lower Street of Iron Cross, some families of five, seven, or even ten people lived in a single room.
He had learned from Benson that in the past months, due to the situation in the Southern Continent, the kingdom had experienced an economic downturn.
He knew that a live-in maid received between 3 soulés 6 pence and 6 soulés per week.
Klein extended his hand, pinched the bridge of his nose, and remained silent for a long time, until Sir Deville, lying on the bed, spoke:
"Officer, aren't you going to say something? My previous psychologists would talk to me in this kind of environment at this time and ask questions."
"However, I do feel a sense of peace. I almost fell asleep just now, and I didn't hear any moans or cries."
"How did you manage that?"
Klein leaned against the back of the rocking chair, and instead of answering, he asked in a calm voice:
"Sir, do you know about lead poisoning? Do you know the dangers of lead?"
"..." Deville, lying on the bed, was silent for a few seconds. "I didn't know before, but I know now. Do you mean that my psychological problems, or mental illness, stem from a feeling of guilt toward those female workers in lead and glazing?"
Without waiting for Klein's answer, he continued as if always taking the initiative in negotiations:
"Yes, I used to feel guilty, but I have already compensated them. In my white lead factory and porcelain factory, each worker earns a much higher salary than in similar places. In Backlund, female workers in lead and glazing earn no more than 8 soulés a week, while I pay them 10 soulés or even more."
"Ha, many people accuse me of making them lose moral ground and making it difficult to hire workers. If it weren't for the repeal of the Corn Laws, which bankrupted many farmers who then moved to the city, they would have had to raise wages like me."
"Furthermore, I told the factory supervisors to let workers who frequently experience headaches and blurred vision leave places where they come into contact with lead. If they become seriously ill, they can apply for assistance from my charity fund."
"I think I've done enough."
Klein spoke without any change in his tone:
"Sir, sometimes you can never imagine how important a salary is to a poor person. Even if they are unemployed for just a week or two, their family will suffer irreversible and devastating damage."
He paused and then asked:
"I'm curious: with such a philanthropic heart, why haven't you installed equipment to protect against dust and lead poisoning in your factories?"
Deville looked at the ceiling and gave a bitter smile:
"That would make my costs unacceptably high, completely unable to compete with other lead and porcelain factories. I don't care much about the profit from this anymore, and I'm even willing to subsidize part of the cost, but what's the point if it's always like this? It can only help a small number of workers and cannot become an industry standard or drive change."
"It would turn into me simply supporting people with my money. I've heard that some factories are secretly using slaves to save costs."
Klein clasped his hands together and was silent for a moment, then said:
"Sir, your psychological problem precisely stems from this guilt accumulated little by little, even though you think it has faded and disappeared. By itself, it wouldn't have had a noticeable impact, but something triggered you, igniting all the problems, all of them."
"Something triggered me? I don't know of such a thing," Deville said with both confusion and certainty.
Klein gently rocked his body in the rocking chair and explained calmly:
"You actually fell asleep a few minutes ago and told me something."
"Hypnosis therapy?" Deville habitually guessed, jumping to a conclusion.
Klein did not answer directly, but said outright:
"You once saw a female worker on a carriage who died on her way to work. She died of lead poisoning, and during her lifetime she was glazing your porcelain."
"..." Deville rubbed his temples and murmured uncertainly, "It seems like something like that... but I don't remember it clearly..."
Long-term insomnia had left him in a poor mental state, and he vaguely felt as if he had actually seen such a scene.
He thought for a moment, stopped straining his poor brain, and asked:
"What was that female worker's name?"
"Um, I mean, what should I do to treat my psychological problems?"
Klein answered in a low, concise voice:
"Two things."
"First, the female worker who died on the roadside was named Hayley Walker. You told me this yourself. She was the most direct trigger, so you need to find her parents and give them more compensation."
"Second, widely publicize the dangers of lead in newspapers and magazines, and let your charity fund help more affected workers. If you can become a member of the upper house, then promote legislation in this area."
Deville slowly sat up, smiled self-deprecatingly, and said:
"I'll do the other things, but legislation... Ha, I think it's impossible, because there are foreign competitors. Legislation will only lead to a systemic crisis in these industries in the kingdom, one after another going bankrupt, a large number of workers losing their jobs. The poverty relief organizations can't save that many people."
He got off the bed unhurriedly, straightened his collar, looked at Klein and said:
"Hayley Walker, right? I'll immediately send Karen to the porcelain factory to get her files and find her parents. Officer, please wait with me and constantly assess my mental state."
"Okay." Klein slowly stood up and patted his black-and-white checked police uniform.