So, during my free ti, I wandered around Bailonz Street and Blemich Street, using Liam Moore’s na to pry into cases. I asked the residents if they had heard anything about the incidents. If they had, I inquired if they could share the information with .
Most people looked at like I was crazy and walked away, but occasionally, soone helpful would appear. However, the information I could gather from these individuals was clearly limited.
“If I heard of soone being killed? But why are you so interested in that, miss?”
“So uncooperative,” I sighed as I walked the streets aimlessly, my parasol swinging from my arm.
Now, let’s see…
The current quest to complete is… , right?
I should talk to so police officers. Of course, there are limits to the policen I can et by myself. It would be helpful if so familiar faces appeared nearby.
Unfortunately, Scotland Yard trusted Liam Moore, not Jane Osmond. So officers seed resentful of their reliance on Liam, but the higher-ups’ complete trust allowed us to be closely involved with the cases.
The gaslights dimly illuminated the fog. The grey afternoon of London, with the Thas visible beyond, seed like a world separate from the hurried pedestrians in thick coats. I never imagined I’d witness such a scene so vividly.
A carriage passed by. What did Liam say again?
“Observing others carefully is the first step to deduction, Miss…”
“Miss Osmond.”
A voice overlapped with my recollection.
I was pondering where to go while looking at the map. For a mont, I thought it was Liam calling from the second floor. I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but with high freedom in this ga, it might be.
When I turned my head, the interaction button activated. A white na appeared before my eyes:
[H. Brixon.]
The man who spoke was wearing a worn-out coat. I habitually scanned him, a habit I picked up from spending ti with Liam Moore.
His tie didn’t match his clothes, indicating he had overslept. Typically well-dressed like a proper English gentleman, today he appeared rushed. His tie, usually tied with a double knot, was hastily done with a single knot, and a red line from a shaving cut marred his cheek. Judging by his half-shaved beard, he had likely worked all night and was half-awake.
His right shoe was always more worn out, a sign that his weight leaned to the right, and he had a habit of dragging his feet.
Unlike Liam, I had so sense of social propriety, so I didn’t ntion all these observations and embarrass him.
“Inspector Brixon,” I responded, pressing the interaction button. The inspector smiled slightly, creasing his eyes.
This sombre, tired-looking man in his thirties was Inspector Henry Brixon. He was one of the Scotland Yard officers Liam Moore often burdened with cases.
Henry Brixon, being naturally good-natured, never complained to Liam. Sotis I wondered if he was just too oblivious to notice any rudeness.
Poor Brixon. I hope you aren’t troubled by anyone. But sotis, things don’t go your way.
This also applied to . Sotis things didn’t go my way.
Inspector Brixon asked calmly and politely, then offered his arm.
“Shall we walk for a bit?”
“Only to Hyde Park.”
We walked slowly, and I ticulously questioned him about witnesses and recent incidents. The man escorted , diligently answering all my questions. He never once asked why I was interested in this, which was sowhat surprising.
The witnesses were a reporter from the London Daily Report on his way to work and a resident living nearby…
The murder scene was boldly in the middle of the street.
The reporter, the first to witness the scene, almost passed by, mistaking the victim for soone resting on a bench due to the thick fog. However, the puddle of blood on the ground stopped him, and just in ti, the fog cleared, revealing the grueso scene.
“It’s a murder!” he shouted, and a nearby resident ca running. Both beca important witnesses for the police investigation.
After listening carefully, I asked, “What was the state of the body?”
“Well, Miss Osmond, the body was missing its head.”
Got it! A crucial testimony.
My eyes sparkled with interest, and I leaned closer, not wanting to miss a word.
The five recent murder victims were all found decapitated, which had the Scotland Yard in a frenzy.
Predictably, the newspapers had a field day, likely with a significant contribution from the witness reporter, lambasting the incompetence of the London police and the brutality of the serial killings.
“How long had the body been dead? What did the coroner say?”
“Less than an hour. It seems the cri was committed just before people started going to work. The cut was ssy, and there were so blood traces a little distance away. It seems the attack happened there, and then the body was moved.”
Ding, a new notification sounded as if a quest was completed.
[Case Investigation:
Visit the cri scene (0/1)]
To visit the cri scene… Let’s postpone that for now. It’s not the ti. While we talked, we had walked to Hyde Park.
The late autumn sun was setting. The surrounding fog thickened. Without a pocket watch, I couldn’t check, but it must be ti for him to go ho. It was fine for , living in the 21st century, but for a 19th-century woman, keeping a man out this late was not seen favourably.
I spoke apologetically.
“Inspector Brixon, I fear I’ve kept you too long.”
He waved his hand dismissively and looked around.
“It’s alright. I’ve enjoyed our conversation, Miss Osmond. Let get you a carriage….”
It seed he wanted to see off properly. His gentlemanly deanour was very kind.
However, the carriages that had been passing by earlier were now nowhere to be seen, and Brixon’s expression quickly turned to one of confusion. There were no pedestrians or sounds. He looked around in all directions. A brief silence fell between us.
“This is unusual,” Brixon remarked, breaking the silence, which was unlike him. I agreed, and I tightened my grip on his arm slightly.
Has an event trigger been pulled? I couldn’t tell where it had started. Was it because we decided to walk together? Or was it just a simple ga glitch that made everyone disappear?
“This is dangerous.”
My mouth went dry. A strange, ominous music started playing in the background. Brixon didn’t seem to hear it, which ant it was only audible to !
This was bad. Very bad. Have I ever seen the fog in London this thick before?
Brixon could no longer hide his now pale face. The man, who usually considered it impolite to touch a woman, urgently grabbed my hand and spoke hurriedly. He must have thought now was not the ti to worry about such manners.
“Miss Osmond, run straight back the way we ca.”
“To the main road?” I understood what he ant.
“Yes. Avoid the alleys and head straight for the main road. Find a carriage and return to Mr. Moore imdiately.”
Unfortunately, we couldn’t act on his words. Brixon’s eyes widened, and his body began to lean forward slowly.
I tried to support the man who collapsed into my arms, but when I saw his back soaked in red liquid, I was horrified.
Soone had attacked us in this fog. But there hadn’t been a hint of anyone else!
Instinctively, I realised that this attacker was likely the perpetrator of the previous incidents, but I had no way to respond, and I couldn’t just leave the injured Brixon behind.
Even if I tried to run, how could I survive against this silent assailant? With the event trigger already pulled, there was no way to avoid it. I needed to save, to open the save file.
But…
“It won’t activate…?”
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