Desperate Results

“Tom, mix me a Blood of St. Martin.”

Rooney carefully smoothed out the creases in his clothes, walked over, and sat on the other side of Karl. Thus, three suspicious individuals harboring secrets sat in a row by the bar.

No, four. The mole catcher who was actually a mole was just as suspicious.

Lynch sighed. He now realized that while the situation of the wanted criminals in the internal group remained unclear, the external group's mission was on the surface a very normal grave-robbing operation. It had gathered a group of outlaws. Since these people had applied, none of them were strangers to such activities. It was only natural for them to live, drink, and entertain themselves together day and night to build rapport for their future joint operations.

However, among the six applicants, some seemed to have other backgrounds besides being outlaws. He might as well gather all six of them to meet at once, saving himself the trouble of tracking down the remaining three separately.

Lynch's eyes flickered. After a brief hesitation, he curled his lips behind his round fan and said with a light chuckle, “You may call me Ms. Selene. My identity is temporarily confidential. Mr. Rooney is right; I am indeed the one who brought the most critical item. If nothing unexpected happens, I will be taking action alongside you in three days.”

“Hmm?” All three were taken aback and exchanged glances. Karl Jones said in confusion, “Beautiful lady, surely you're joking? We haven't heard the boss mention this.”

“Lord Howard probably wouldn't agree to that. We were only allowed to join the operation after passing Howard's test,” Rooney, the ancient book broker, also grumbled, sizing up this mysterious beauty who always liked to play with her round fan with a questioning look, as if trying to figure out her identity and purpose. “Could it be that you possess some characteristic that we don't?”

“Yes, indeed,” Lynch smiled and said casually. “I have the critical item.”

Probably having never seen such an unabashedly confident response, the three had subtle expressions. However, none of them questioned it further. After all, no matter how foolish someone was, they wouldn't tell a lie that could be easily exposed with a simple inquiry.

Lynch, however, wasn't focusing on their reactions. Instead, his attention shifted to the bartender, Tom, who was mixing the Blood of St. Martin that Rooney had ordered. His movements while shaking the cocktail were as smooth as flowing water, but the moment Lynch mentioned taking action together, Tom's movements stiffened for a fraction of a second. It was so subtle that if he hadn't been actively shaking the drink, it would have been impossible to detect.

“I only settled this with Howard a short while ago, so I wanted to come over and meet everyone first. I didn't expect to run into Mr. Jones the moment I stepped out,” Lynch said leisurely while contemplating. “What about the other three? Why don't we all have a few drinks together and get to know each other?”

Lynch wasn't panicked at all now, because he had roughly figured out the relationship between Howard and these people.

Since Lynch was Howard's investigator, Howard would definitely back up his lie unconditionally, so his lie would never be exposed. At this moment, he was essentially joining the team with his own capital; no one had the right to question him. Instead, the six of them would have to do their best to keep him satisfied—especially the mole, unless the mole wanted to start trouble right now.

In that case, he might as well gather all of them together. Everyone could put on a lively show, and they would see who else had issues, hehe...

“Haha, sounds good. Having such a beautiful lady join our team is a dream come true. Ah, Dr. Jenna, I'm not saying you aren't beautiful, but having more scenery to look at is certainly an encouragement for everyone.”

Sure enough, in any world, looks represented justice. In the blink of an eye, Karl Jones had accepted Lynch's explanation and stood up with a broad smile.

“But there's no need to look for them. We originally agreed to gather here every night to build some rapport for the mission in a few days. They'll be here soon... Ah, speak of the devil, here they are.”

A man and a woman pushed the door open. The man was a middle-aged fellow in his forties, short and stout, with a thick, bushy beard. Although he wore formal attire, he was incredibly slovenly, with wine stains even on his beard and hat. Aside from his beard, the most striking feature on his entire body was his massive bulbous nose, making him look as comical as a cartoon character.

The woman seemed even stranger. She had come wearing a loose, baggy nightgown, with messy hair, dark circles under her eyes, chapped lips, and reddish eyes. She clutched a thick tome to her chest, swaying as she walked, looking as though she hadn't slept for days. Her eyes were vacant and her expression dazed, giving Lynch the impression that if she hadn't been following the man beside her, she wouldn't have even been able to make it here, likely collapsing to sleep halfway.

But as the two drew closer, the hairs on the back of Lynch's neck suddenly stood on end, and his heart contracted violently.

That feeling of being watched by a powerful, mysterious force when he had just teleported flashed and vanished. At the same time, a sensation like standing next to a scorching flame welled up, baking him until his entire body felt hot. It wasn't a physical touch on his skin, but a perception stemming from his inspiration, somewhat similar to the soul-burning sensation he felt when putting on the ring, only much milder.

Lynch's face stiffened. Fortunately, it was hidden behind his round fan, so no one noticed. He quickly recalled the information in his mind. The short, stout man must be the antique hunter Jack Adams, nicknamed the "Relic Hound," a Soul Severer of an unknown fallen god.

The other woman was the linguist Judy Butterfly, said to be a Soul Severer of the Lord of Blazing Flame, a fallen god. Unsurprisingly, the scorching sensation must have come from her. But Lynch was certain he had never experienced such a sensation from any Soul Severer before, not even from the rank eight President Olei of the Archaeological Association. Was this woman really just a Soul Severer? With his inspiration as proof, this woman absolutely had something wrong with her as well; she was nowhere near as simple as the files claimed.

“Hey, Tom, get me a beer.”

The slovenly, stout Jack sat down next to Jenna, his tone rude and his movements crude. This caused Dr. Jenna beside him to pause. With a look of disgust, she stood up and glared contemptuously at Jack.

Their eyes met in the air for a brief moment. Jenna let out a cold snort, muttered "disgusting," and then circled around to sit next to Rooney on the other side. Jack slapped the table, pointing at Jenna and launching into a barrage of vulgar insults, showing absolutely none of the demeanor of a Lande gentleman. He only managed to stop when the bartender pushed a beer in front of him.

“Apologies, beautiful lady,” Karl squeezed back next to Lynch with a smile. “Jack and Dr. Jenna's personalities clash a bit, and they've accumulated a lot of friction over the past few days, so they clash often. But when it comes to official business, there won't be any issues. After all, they're both professionals.”

“Heh, where there are many people, conflicts easily arise. It's understandable.”

Lynch smiled casually, but in reality, he had already drawn a fifth question mark. Karl saying their personalities clashed meant they didn't actually have a deep-seated grudge; they just rubbed each other the wrong way. While this did happen and was normal, if one of them was almost certainly suspicious, then it wasn't normal at all. It was easy to associate this with deliberately creating an illusion of discord to distance themselves from each other, which instead suggested that both of them likely had issues.

“So, what about the other one, Mr. Salin?”

According to the files, Salin claimed to be a folklorist, but what he actually did was adopt various identities to infiltrate rural villages and swindle tribes out of their ancestral totems or holy relics—in short, a folklore fraud.

“We probably won't see him until tomorrow during the day. Salin often disappears at night and rarely joins our gatherings. When we ask him why, he refuses to explain, so we stopped looking for him at night.”

“I see...”

Lynch looked at the busy bartender, Tom, and sighed softly. He probably knew why this swindler didn't show up at night. The man probably found the job of a bartender more interesting than that of a fraud.

But disguising oneself every day in front of one's companions and observing them in secret was not something a normal person would do. If Salin's identity had no other issues, Lynch would have to question his own intelligence.

While Karl Jones was explaining the situation to everyone on Lynch's behalf, Lynch only felt more and more annoyed the more he thought about it. He would have preferred to remain completely in the dark like before.

But just when he was at his most vexed, he suddenly noticed a bizarre gaze. Following it, he saw that Lady Judy, the woman who made him most wary, was staring intently at him with an inscrutable look that sent a shiver down his spine.