The Randall Residence

Mick Randall, thirty-eight years old, unmarried.

He resided in the mansion alongside more than a dozen servants.

This was the information brought via fast horse from the Hall of Order—his record was as spotless as a newborn infant's.

Officer Angel ripped the meaningless dossier to shreds, kicked open the courtyard's wrought-iron gate, and led the squad inside.

The closer they drew to the Western-style mansion, the more pronounced the oppression weighing on Lynch's heart became.

Without even needing to ask the Witness, he understood that this was the aura of mystery picked up by his inspiration. It was so intense, far stronger than the sensation he had felt while looking at the photograph.

【Yes, Awakened. You have already sensed the mysterious filth—at least two sources.】

Hm? Two mystery relics? Or at least two?

【The rest also stem from mysterious filth, but are not necessarily mystery relics.】

Understood. Can I know what they are?

Whether it was Lynch's imagination or not, he felt the gentle voice pause for half a second before answering as placidly as ever:

【They can only be discerned if you are close enough.】

As he thought to himself, the group of blue uniforms beside him had already stormed into the building, yet there was no stir inside the mansion.

Not a single servant who should have been present showed their face; only the lights and shadows within the mansion flickered as before.

Beside him, Officer Natalie showed no signs of unease. Dressed in her trench coat and top hat with rapier in hand, her steps were firm, steady, and composed.

“Is it really fine for them to follow us inside?” Lynch asked softly.

“Simply looking directly or brief contact does not constitute establishing a connection, so they won't be affected. I would never send them to their deaths,” Officer Natalie said, shaking her head. “However, the atmosphere here is clearly off. If an accident really happens later, look out for your own safety. And as an ordinary person, definitely do not run around aimlessly.”

Lynch nodded, vaguely guessing that the reason behind the lady's initial unfriendliness earlier tonight was having been burned by someone doing just that. Still, he didn't press the matter, merely keeping close behind the lady officer.

The mansion's front doors were actually wide open, the interior brightly illuminated.

A gaunt man in a black formal suit stood right in the center of the foyer facing the main entrance, arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture.

Mick Randall.

Lynch narrowed his eyes. From several meters away, his gaze was already fixed tightly upon Randall.

It was this man who had almost caused him to die a second time.

Fury surged within his chest; Lynch sorely wanted to charge forward and smash a fist right into that clean-shaven face. For now, however, he could only take continuous deep breaths, reining in his volatile emotions.

“Welcome.”

Randall tipped his hat and bowed, smiling as naturally as ever:

“Mr. Levive, it is a pleasure to see you again. I thought we would have met once more at Lattis Kitchen.”

“It is not too late to meet now, Mr. Randall.” Lynch slowly unclenched his fists, removed his hat, and returned a bow, speaking as calmly as possible. “At least we are standing here before the countdown runs out. Even if we took a detour, it was worth it.”

“A bit late, wouldn't you say? Heheh.” Randall chuckled, making an inviting gesture toward the stairs behind him. “Then please, come in. I have prepared top-grade black tea for the two of you as a farewell gift to see Mr. Levive off. I hope you will grace me with your company.”

“I am not in the mood for tea, especially with you.” Officer Natalie approached the entrance expressionlessly, sword in hand. “Where are the servants of the residence?”

“So late in the evening, they have naturally retired to rest. Their work is already finished.”

The lady officer's face darkened, guessing that the servants had likely met the same fate as Granville. In a low, grim voice, she demanded:

“Hand over the statue, and I can spare you from the death penalty.”

Randall spread his hands. “Mr. Levive can testify—I haven't had the chance to see any statue at all. Hahaha.”

“Then—”

Just as Lynch thought Officer Natalie was about to say something, the lady officer suddenly moved. In an instant, she appeared before Randall and drove a fist hard into his face.

With a dull puff, the fist passed straight through Randall's head, as if striking an illusion.

A holographic projection? Lynch was startled inwardly, swallowing back the low cry that had reached his lips.

Right after the punch came a knee strike, but the result was identical—it passed directly through Randall's body.

“Crude, entirely too crude.”

Randall mimed dusting off his clothes with a smile, shaking his head:

“Officer, treating a law-abiding citizen of the kingdom like this hardly seems appropriate, does it?”

“A mystery relic that turns your body intangible? Fine.” Officer Natalie stared at Randall, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm her temper. Pointing into the mansion, she ordered, “Search! Find the statue.”

More than a dozen blue uniforms behind her swarmed forward at once, bypassing Randall at the doorway and rushing inside.

Randall made no move to stop them. Standing beside Lynch and Officer Natalie like a gentleman, he said softly, “Does the officer not intend to keep trying?”

“Hmph, I have no interest in wasting—”

Before her words finished, her boot swept toward Randall's head, her long leg slicing through the air with a whistling rush, yet it once again passed straight through Randall's smiling face.

“Heheh, what a pity. If the officer still wishes to try, I am happy to oblige at any time.” Randall acted as courteous as any law-abiding citizen of the kingdom. “If you are tired, let them search at their own pace while I accompany you two to rest in the parlor. Rest assured, I have plenty of patience. Please.”

Officer Natalie took a deep breath, steadying her heaving chest. Her right hand rested on the hilt of her sword, her body leaning slightly forward.

Randall dusted his clothes and, without sparing her another glance, turned and walked toward the stairs.

The lady officer's gaze turned icy. Just before she drew her sword, a hand suddenly caught her wrist.

Her fierce eyes instantly turned to Lynch. The murderous aura in her gaze made Lynch's heart leap violently, but he held Officer Natalie's gaze and gave her wrist a firm squeeze. “Bear with it for now. Let's see how things develop.”

“Hmph.”

The tension in her wrist eased. Tossing her long hair back, Officer Natalie followed Randall up to the second floor with a stony face.

Lynch immediately followed behind, musing silently, At the distance between him and me right now, if he's carrying a mystery relic, you should be able to tell what it is, right?

【It is not I who discerns, Awakened, but you. Your perception range is approximately three meters.】

【Yes. Everything is based on your own abilities.】

The second floor housed the mansion's parlor. Though called a parlor, it was actually a sprawling open hall with an expansive view. A row of massive oil paintings hung along the far wall, all portraits, likely representing successive ancestors of the Randall family.

The parlor was lavishly decorated, with pricey antiques arranged on display cabinets and a brightly colored sofa positioned right in the center.

“Please, take a seat, both of you.” Randall glanced at the mantel clock and said with a smile, “My, it's already 10:10 p.m. How much time do you have left, Mr. Levive?”

Lynch invited Officer Natalie to sit before pulling up his sleeve, revealing his withered arm.

“An hour and fifty minutes... Hiss.”

As soon as he rolled it up, Lynch's heart clenched. Beside him, Officer Natalie tightened her fists, her breathing growing slightly heavy.

Unbeknownst to him, the withering on his arm had already spread to his armpit and was steadily advancing toward his heart.

“Which is why I said earlier that it is a bit late, Mr. Levive,” Randall chuckled softly. “Ah, it pains me just looking at it. Is there anything I can do for you? Heheh, please don't hesitate to ask. I will do my utmost to fulfill your... last wish.”

Watching death's footsteps rapidly approach, Lynch's face darkened. Gripping the armrest of the sofa tightly, he said coldly, “Sure. Bring out the statue.”

“You really shouldn't toss around baseless accusations like that in the future—though you won't have a future anyway, heheh,” Randall said with a smile. “You haven't even completed my commission yet, so how could I possibly have the statue?”

“Phew. I have no desire to trade barbs with you, Mr. Randall, but there's something I don't quite understand. I don't recall offending you in any way, so why target me specifically this time?”

“Hm? You are quite perceptive, Mr. Levive.”

“My name was written in Granville's dying notes, Mr. L,” Lynch said, his face dark. “The statue was meant specifically for me; those few along the way were merely collateral damage. It seems I have an hour or two left at most, and you don't appear particularly bothered by Officer Angel's attitude. In that case, as a gentleman, shouldn't you satisfy the final wish of a dying man?”

“To tell you the truth, if possible, I wouldn't have wanted to drag you into this either.” Randall shook his head. “Unfortunately, I had no choice. It was necessary. As for the reason, I will tell you when I mourn you in the future.”

Lynch gritted his teeth. “You want me to go into my grave with unanswered questions?”

“I am truly sorry, but this outcome is already set in stone. You will never find the statue; of that I am confident. Thus, Mr. Levive, you will inevitably die tonight. And you, Officer, since you cannot find any concrete evidence, you won't be able to press charges against me. On the contrary, I will lodge a complaint in the House of Commons regarding your brutish conduct. You had better consider how to explain yourself when the time comes, hahaha.”

In a low voice, Lynch said, “So I can only wait for death?”

Before his voice faded, a blue uniform hurried over and whispered a few words into Officer Natalie's ear.

The veins on the lady officer's hand bulged as she gripped the sofa; clearly, the search results were discouraging. She cast a sympathetic glance at Lynch and commanded in a heavy voice, “Search again! Turn over every single corner!”

Randall spread his hands and said leisurely, “It seems I needn't say more. As I stated just now, it is impossible for you to find the statue. Please rest assured, I will mourn you before your tombstone.”

“Thanks, but that's something I'd rather do in person.” Lynch stared intently into Randall's beaming face, sneering softly. “Then answer one last question for me.”

“Certainly. I am very generous.”

“Are you so certain we can't find the statue because there are at least two mystery relics in this building?” Lynch stared at Randall without blinking. “Can you explain why, besides the mystery relic you're using to protect yourself, there is another source of filth stemming from a mystery relic?”

Officer Natalie's look toward Lynch turned strange, while Randall's smile froze. He instinctively took a step back, eyeing the grim-faced Lynch with shock and suspicion.

“What a pity, generous Mr. Randall. I've seen right through your trick.”