"What's down there?"
Swart pressed on, but his two subordinates couldn't give a coherent answer.
*Slap, slap!*
The police chief raised his hand and gave each subordinate a sharp slap across the face.
This time, they snapped out of their stupor.
"What's down there?"
Swart asked again.
"Bodies!"
"Skeletons!"
The two subordinates answered in unison, then shook their heads and corrected themselves.
"Flesh!"
"Organs!"
They exchanged glances, seemingly debating with their eyes which of them was correct.
"Alright, alright."
"Get two more down there."
Swart ordered two more officers into the basement.
This pair was slightly better than the first, but they still couldn't fully describe what was down there. Even after switching out three groups, it was clear the basement wasn't immediately dangerous. Goethe grabbed a lantern and descended the stairs.
After some hesitation, Swart picked up another lantern and followed Goethe down.
And immediately, the police chief regretted it.
What did he see?
Body parts!
Chunks of flesh, still dripping with blood, were neatly arranged on an altar supported by six skeletons.
The skeletons were complete, with skulls, vertebrae, arms, and legs.
The six skeletons were positioned as if kneeling, their thighs parallel to the ground, making them appear from the side as though they were holding up a large circular platter on their backs. The flesh was served up as the dish.
Even though Goethe wasn't familiar with the "supernatural" aspects of this world, the scene before him reeked of ritual.
It felt like a sacrifice.
Or perhaps an offering.
*Bleugh!*
Swart vomited as soon as he fully grasped the scene.
Goethe, however, continued his investigation, holding the lantern steady.
The platter contained flesh from humans, cows, sheep, horses, rabbits, and chickens.
These were easy to distinguish.
The flesh hadn't been processed with any care.
In other words, they hadn't been skinned; it was just roughly cut and placed on the platter. One sheep's head, illuminated by the lamplight, had cloudy, unsettling slit-shaped eyes that seemed almost alive.
Amidst the blood-red surroundings, the sheep's slit eyes appeared ready to spring to life.
Goethe frowned slightly and looked down.
The skeletons were different—they had been meticulously stripped of all flesh, leaving only bones.
And the flesh hadn't been placed on the platter.
Goethe stared at the six skeletons, his expression complicated.
He was certain that his "aunt" was among them.
But which one?
Goethe couldn't tell.
He could determine the gender based on the delicate bone structure but couldn't ascertain the appearance.
However, Goethe was sure of one thing.
The "masterpiece" before him was not the work of the "Foggy Murderer."
To be more precise, the individuals just encountered were likely not associated with the "Foggy Murderer."
It seemed his "aunt" had provoked someone else, someone not to be trifled with.
But…
Why were they targeting him?
Goethe frowned deeply.
Given the "supernatural" implications, and lacking crucial information, he couldn't make an accurate judgment.
"Hopefully, Morey can decipher the information soon."
With this thought, Goethe continued to survey the surroundings.
He noticed meat hooks, each suspending a human skin…
Though incomplete.
Some parts were already shattered.
It was clear that the person responsible wasn't very skilled.
But the human shapes were still recognizable.
"Ugh!"
Swart, who had just finished vomiting, threw up again at the sight of the human skins.
After that, the police chief couldn't take it anymore.
"Goethe, I'll wait for you upstairs."
Without waiting for a response, he quickly ran up the stairs.
Goethe, however, focused on the area directly in front of what appeared to be an 'altar.'
There was a long table.
On either side of the table were candles as thick as an arm, placed on grayish-white skulls.
In the center of the table lay an open book.
The book was small, about the size of a palm, with only around 20 pages. Goethe carefully examined it, ensuring there were no traps, then picked it up.
The book had no hard cover, only a soft leather one.
The pages were yellowed, clearly indicating its age.
As for the writing on it…
He couldn't understand it!
Goethe frowned slightly. He closed the book and placed it in his coat pocket.
"This must be an extraordinary language," Goethe speculated.
Confirming this wouldn't be too difficult. That afternoon, Morey had arranged a lesson for him.
With that in mind, Goethe checked the basement once more before heading back upstairs. But after taking just two steps, he stopped.
He returned to the six skeletons, knelt down, and clasped his hands together.
"Sorry."
As he said this, Goethe took out the explosives hidden inside his coat.
After lighting them, he quickly left.
At the scene, Swart couldn't see anything unusual, but Morey might.
Morey might discover something and deduce that Goethe had obtained the book.
And that was a result Goethe did not want to face.
After all, from the beginning, he had never intended to "hand it over."
Life in his hometown had long instilled in Goethe the habit of "keeping something back."
By this time, the reporters had already arrived.
Swart, who had been vomiting just moments ago, now stood proudly before the numerous reporters.
"This was an extremely brutal crime."
"These outlaws have gone far beyond anything we could have imagined."
"Even the bravest detectives were frightened just now."
Swart stood there with a solemn expression.
"Chief Swart, does that include you?" a reporter asked.
"Of course!"
"I was scared too, but I didn't back down because I knew there were so many civilians behind me that needed my protection. So, even though I was afraid, I had to stand up."
Soaked and looking quite disheveled, Swart at this moment, under the morning sunlight, seemed to radiate a certain kind of brilliance.
Clap, clap, clap.
The surrounding reporters and civilians began to applaud.
Just then—
Boom!
An explosion sounded, startling everyone, with many people dropping to the ground.
When the dust settled, people looked at each other in confusion. Looking at the motionless Swart standing there, their faces filled with admiration, some reporters even started walking directly toward him.
But as they approached, they caught a whiff of a foul odor.
Was it urine?
These reporters looked at Swart in confusion.
But immediately, they shook their heads.
How could the brave Chief Swart have wet his pants!
Goethe glanced around and then bypassed the crowd, returning to the police carriage, where he waited quietly for Swart.
This was what Swart deserved.
Their cooperation benefited both parties.
A dozen minutes later, Swart returned to the carriage, looking both excited and embarrassed.
"What happened below?" Swart asked.
"Explosives were hidden below," Goethe answered without blinking.
"Explosives?"
"Geez, these guys are really terrifying!"
Swart muttered to himself, then continued, "Half!"
"I know."
Swart, who also understood their partnership, had nothing to hide.
"Yes, if possible... could you help me identify six skeletons?"
"One of them is my 'aunt.'"
"If they can't be identified, then forget it."
Goethe tried to make his voice sound deep.
Swart was stunned.
He then wanted to pat Goethe on the shoulder, but before he could, Goethe said, "If you dare to pat me with that hand you've been touching your crotch with, I'll make sure you can't use that hand again."
"Haha, how could I?"
"I definitely won't."
Swart forced a laugh and scratched his head.
Immediately, he caught a foul smell.
Instinctively, he brought his hand to his nose, and after smelling it, this chief finally realized what he'd done. He quickly shook his hand in disgust, but accidentally hit the side of the carriage with his fingers.
"Ouch!"
In pain, the chief instinctively put his fingers in his mouth to lessen the pain.
The chief froze.
Goethe quietly distanced himself from him.
After that, on the way back to the police station, the two remained silent for quite a while.
"I'm going to take a bath, brush my teeth, and change my clothes."
When getting out of the carriage, Swart left this sentence and quickly walked away.
Goethe, however, headed to Swart's office.
But soon, Goethe noticed something was off.
On the way to Swart's office, there were too many patrol officers standing around, and they were quietly watching him while pointing and whispering to each other.
This hadn't happened before.
Goethe knew he wasn't popular at the police station.
But those patrol officers previously didn't even dare to meet his gaze.
Now they were pointing and whispering.
This made Goethe frown.
He had a bad feeling.
And soon enough, he found out why.
When he pushed open the office door, Goethe immediately saw a woman in a white dress with a sweet smile and a gentle temperament standing in front of the desk.
Upon hearing the door open, the woman quickly turned around, and when she saw Goethe, her eyes lit up with joy.
"Goethe!"
She called out happily.
Goethe's mind immediately supplied her name—
Sheila!
(End of the chapter)