Bailonz Street 13

Crimes committed by different individuals, but with a single purpose. Instilling blind trust in people, binding them together as one.

What could make such a thing possible…

“We need to investigate religious groups.”

A sense of foreboding washed over me.

As if something we should never understand was watching us, guiding us down into the abyss from within the fog of London.

A sticky, unpleasant sensation crept over my arms. I couldn’t fathom what awaited behind these corpses. Perhaps, the aftermath of this case would affect not just me, but also Liam or Inspector Jefferson.

However, Liam’s pale face was flushed with excitement about the case, and his gray eyes sparkled with passion.

“Let’s head to the crime scene. We must catch these perpetrators.”

* * *

Perhaps the game system had conveniently skipped the part from the morgue to the crime scene. I was thankful and relieved. If we had to travel the entire distance by carriage, the game would undoubtedly feel tedious.

As soon as we opened the door, a brief loading screen appeared, and the three of us found ourselves standing on the street.

Two officers were guarding the cordoned-off crime scene, and upon seeing Jefferson, they greeted him loudly, “Inspector, you’re here!” If I had come alone, they wouldn’t have let me in.

Liam slowly surveyed the area, stroking his chin. I noticed a few onlookers flinch and retreat at his gaze.

The ominous fog had already lifted. The bench where the fifth victim was found was stained with dark spots, and the ground was marked with chalk lines, indicating that the bloodstains had been cleaned up after collecting evidence, probably out of consideration for passersby.

Liam seemed displeased. Circling the crime scene, he muttered curtly.

“They cleaned up the blood!”

“Of course, it’s in the middle of the street!”

“You know that removing evidence is counterproductive. I’ve told you countless times, Raphy.”

The young man, addressed as Raphy, retorted.

“It’s Raphael, not ‘Raphy’! Don’t shorten my name arbitrarily!”

Oh. He should be grateful. It’s rare for Liam to remember someone’s name, even remotely correctly.

Liam moved around, bending low to scrutinize each paving stone. When he finally straightened up, his face was lit with something akin to joy and excitement. He then pulled out a small vial from his pocket.

“What are you planning to do with that?”

“Watch something interesting, ‘Raphy’.”

“What? Ah, what the—! Are you crazy? Inspector! We need to get this man out of here!! Someone stop him!!!”

I stood back, observing the scene with a bemused smile.

Jefferson clutched his head in exasperation at Liam Moore’s sudden antics. Raphael screamed, but Liam ignored him. And for good reason, as Liam Moore had popped the cork of the crystal vial filled with a clear liquid and began splashing it all over the ground.

One of the officers, startled, rushed over to scold him. Despite his position, he insisted that such behavior would damage the crime scene. However, they soon fell silent, their attention captured by the emerging traces as the liquid dried. Blue stains began to glow faintly on the road, almost like phosphorescence.

“What is this?” Jefferson asked. He took the empty vial from Liam, inspecting it from every angle but finding nothing.

“What did you spray?”

“Nothing special, just a reagent I developed. It reveals blood traces even after they’ve been cleaned. If left alone for a moment, bloodstains appear like this. The hemoglobin in the blood reacts with it……”

So, it’s luminol.

I was astonished by his ability to recreate this here. Combining unknown chemicals to produce a similar effect required an immense level of scientific knowledge!

“Camera! Get the camera, quickly!”

Before it was too late, an officer handed me a camera, and I photographed the revealed bloodstains. It was heavy but manageable. The droplets of blood were captured perfectly.

I lacked the specialized knowledge to deduce the trajectory of the blood, so I couldn’t speculate on the significance of these scattered stains.

Liam asked, “Was there any record of bloodstains at this location in the evidence log?”

“There wasn’t,” Jefferson replied. “This area was clean.”

“Then someone must have erased them first. This is quite an intelligent adversary!”

Liam was now bent over, almost touching the ground with his nose. Then he demonstrated a short simulation using his fingers.

His left index finger represented the victim. His right index finger, the perpetrator. The right index finger approached and struck the left index finger. Ah! The left index finger toppled over.

Liam asked triumphantly, “Did you see that?”

He spoke with almost absolute certainty. Jefferson raised his eyebrows in bewilderment.

“See what, exactly?”

So… the perpetrator struck the victim?

I, too, looked at Liam in bewilderment, while he sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Oh! Scotland Yard, indeed! Look, doesn’t this explain why the blood drops are here?”

He explained that such splattering occurs when the back of the head is struck. He added that the perpetrator’s clothes likely had blood on them, suggesting we strip any suspicious suspects we found.

Liam Moore looked down at the fading stains. “The effect doesn’t last long, does it?”

Jefferson bent down to look closer. Liam replied slowly, “No… It’s still a work in progress.”

His expression seemed deeply absorbed in thought, his eyes momentarily unfocused, gazing into the distance. I noticed for the first time how his gray eyes turned almost black when shadowed.

I couldn’t gauge the emotion on his cynical, calm face. Anger? Astonishment?

“Jane! Let’s leave these foolish Scotland Yard officers and go have a wonderful meal!”

Raphael, who had been listening quietly, exploded.

“What did you just say? This man is insulting our workplace!”

“Well, I always tell you, your job choices are terrible, Raphy.”

“It’s Raphael! Raphael!”

“Oh, Lord. Please bless this young angel.”

“Get struck by lightning and die, you damn man!”

Inspector Jefferson and I nodded in agreement as we listened to their exchange.

Sorry about that, Inspector. No, it’s quite alright…

“Jane?”

Liam Moore quickly returned to his lively, humorous self, making me think that the turmoil I saw in his eyes earlier was just my imagination.

‘Can luminol really work in such a bright street? Especially in these poor conditions without proper tools?’

That thought crossed my mind but soon disappeared.

* * *

By the time we finished examining the scene, the sun was setting, painting the dreary London sky with hues of crimson. The November air was cool and damp. The creeping fog once again soaked the hems of our clothes. The early sunset limited our actions.

It was around this time, after dusk, that the attack happened on the way to Hyde Park.

The distant thump, thump of music echoed in my memory like a hallucination. Or perhaps it was just my heart pounding in my ears.

Is someone there? Any carriages?

It couldn’t be another attack, right?

It’ll be fine. It’s not night yet.

I tried to stay calm, and luckily, seeing people walking on the street eased my anxiety a bit.

But Liam Moore, whose gaze had been fixed on me, seemed to notice something was wrong. His sharp intellect detected my uneasiness and reached out to briefly rest on my neck.

A warm sensation touched the back of my hand. At times like this, I felt a slight fear, as if he were a living, breathing person.

“You seem uncomfortable, Jane.”

He grabbed the hand that had been resting on my neck and studied my pale face with a furrowed brow.

“You’ve been strange since this morning. Your neck, your pale face…”

“We’ve seen four corpses. We should consider Jane’s feelings,” Jefferson interjected. Two four-wheeled carriages he had hailed were approaching from afar.

Thank goodness. At least I won’t die walking.

But Liam Moore sharply glared at Jefferson, and his gaze seemed to say, ‘Are you seriously suggesting our girl is scared of a few corpses?’ Of course, this was my personal interpretation and not exactly what his eloquent words would convey. But the sentiment was similar enough.

Liam Moore declared, “Let’s call it a day. Jane and I need to head back to Bailonz Street, Jefferson.”

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