Victoria Central Hospital.
This hospital is one of the oldest in the entire Envigre, and its top-notch medical standards are commensurate with its long history. Over the years, the hospital has undergone several expansions and is now one of the few buildings in Old Dunlin that spans two districts. To ensure its medical services, the Mechanical Institute has even established a dedicated energy supply pipeline for the hospital.
Not far from Victoria Central Hospital lies the Sualan Hall, the highest security force in Old Dunlin. If needed, mounted police can arrive here with rifles loaded to the brim within ten minutes of receiving a command.
Due to its immense size, Victoria Central Hospital has taken on many other responsibilities in recent years, such as collaborating with the Sualan Hall.
Bodies involved in cases are sent here for autopsy, but the corpse of sailor Wal, evidently, was not considered important. No one claimed it, and it wasn't crucial. According to protocol, his body would be transferred directly to the Royal Medical College for students to practice surgery on. However, due to someone's insistence, this worthless corpse underwent a rare autopsy.
The police officer looked at the young girl standing in the corridor with impatience written all over his face.
If it weren't for her insistence on the autopsy, he would be enjoying a rare moment of rest at his desk. In Old Dunlin, the people of the lower districts were hardly considered citizens of Envigre in the eyes of the police, and they never took them seriously unless the case involved someone from the outer districts.
But this young girl was different. It was her first case, and she was determined to find something.
Full of enthusiasm and drive.
Once upon a time, the police officer was like her, but now he was a shell of his former self, worn down by life. Perhaps seeing a glimpse of his former self in the girl, he tolerated her persistence. To him, life was boring, and he believed that the girl would give up in a few days. All he had to do was wait.
"Has the report come out yet?"
The girl finally caught hold of a nurse and anxiously asked, "Officer, you know the report has to be signed by the director. Maybe he's busy right now. Please wait a bit."
The nurse's face was creased with an embarrassed smile. Since early morning, when the body was brought in, this young officer had been waiting here, asking every hour. It was really annoying. She thought, what did he expect from the autopsy? Slaughtering pigs? Even pigs take half a day to bleed out. What could be found in such a short time?
"Oh, okay," the girl said, a hint of disappointment creeping into her excited little face. But soon, a loud explosion rocked the air, rekindling her interest.
The blast came from the street, shattering the outer glass windows. The crowd screamed in panic, and a grayish-white mist filled the air.
"Eve!" shouted the officer, pulling out his baton.
"Is it a terrorist attack, Officer Presley?" Eve, the rookie detective, excitedly drew her sidearm.
"It's probably just an underground steam pipe explosion that blew off a manhole cover... Put your gun away, we're here to maintain order," Presley said, feeling a headache coming on as he looked at the energetic newcomer. He hated his luck; why did he have to be the one assigned to mentor this greenhorn?
Hot steam filled the streets, and after a brief panic, the crowd settled down. Old Dunlin was vast, not just in terms of area but also in its underground facilities. Beneath people's feet lay the most complex network of pipelines in the world, growing wildly like a dense spider web.
Maintaining such a large facility was obviously difficult, and accidents like this pipeline explosion occurred frequently, no longer a rarity.
The irritable officer and the young detective exited the hospital together. The mist filled their vision, and it seemed as if someone had evaded Eve's gaze and passed through the mist beside her. Eve turned back, looking blankly at the grayish-white mist.
"Eve, hurry up!" Presley shouted.
Eve continued to stare at the mist, dazed for a few seconds. She looked at Presley on the other side of the mist and then, as if making a decision, followed the faintest weird sensation in her heart.
...
A simple explosive device could cause a stir in Old Dunlin.
This was a lesson Lloyd had learned from living in Old Dunlin for these years. Among the steam pipes, any explosion would bring up a heavy mist, and this mist could help Lloyd sneak around.
It would draw the attention of the guards, but as long as he could get the report before they finished dealing with the pipeline, he would be fine.
Lloyd casually stepped into the hospital lobby, not feeling any guilt about stealing.
Successfully distracting the guards and sneaking into the hospital... by walking in like he owned the place.
However, the question was, where was that important report?
A white figure came into his view, and Lloyd quickly had an idea.
Adjusting his emotions, Lloyd managed to squeeze a few tears from his gray-blue eyes. He waved at a nurse with a look of genuine sorrow on his face.
"My nephew was killed in the lower district today. The guards said I could come to see the autopsy report in the afternoon. Could you tell me where it is?"
His eyes were sincere and sad, as if he really had a nephew.
The nurse first expressed sympathy for Lloyd's loss and told him that the report should be handed over by the officers from the Sualan Hall. However, perhaps moved by Lloyd's sincere emotions, the nurse broke protocol and told him the location of the director's office. Although he couldn't get the report, he could at least learn about the specific cause of his nephew's death.
And so, a few minutes later, the middle-aged, balding director sat obediently in his chair, facing Lloyd.
Though he was tempted to scream loudly at the uninvited guest, the ornately decorated Winchester shotgun pressed against his shiny forehead made him strive to stay calm, whatever the reason.
"Here is the autopsy report you requested. Is that sufficient?"
As he handed the documents to Lloyd, cold sweat ran down his smooth forehead.
"Do you have a copy?"
Lloyd flipped through a few pages without lifting his head.
"No, no!"
Seeing how important it was to him, the director quickly replied.
"Is that so... Can you make another copy?"
It was an odd request.
"I'm sure it won't be a problem to ask the forensic doctors to write up another report. Then, deliver that report to the Sûreté du Québec. Lastly, do not mention any of this to anyone. Can you do that?"
Although Walter was an unimportant outsider whose life mattered to no one, the loss of the autopsy report or any other reason that drew the attention of the Sûreté du Québec would undoubtedly cause much trouble for Lloyd.
Lloyd's eyes were cold, like a ruthless killer.
"Director Buscallo, you live at 147 Hambling Street in the Outer City..."
Scanning the envelopes on the desk, Lloyd's thoughts churned in his mind. On the other side, Buscallo felt a creeping sense of dread.
"You're not wearing a ring... I guess your wife divorced you, taking your son with her?"
Like a master of deduction, Lloyd's gaze swept back and forth, collecting every clue he could see. In his eyes, Buscallo was nearly transparent.
His heart pounded violently. This invisible threat was far more terrifying than the shotgun pressed against his head.
"She left you with a daughter, and you dote on her. She likes candy, right?"
Lloyd proudly swung the final hammer.
At this point, Buscallo's psychological defense crumbled. He couldn't understand why this man knew so much about him. His hands trembled uncontrollably. He might have had other thoughts before, but when it involved his daughter, he broke down.
...
Lloyd walked out of Buscallo's office with his spoils. He believed the middle-aged man would be a good father.
Seeing a figure on the other side of the corridor, he smiled brightly.
"Thank you so much, Nurse. Director Buscallo promised to carefully examine my nephew's body. The murderer won't escape justice."
It was the nurse who had previously directed Lloyd. Speaking intimately, Lloyd approached her and discreetly handed her a few silver coins from his pocket.
"Even more, thank you for providing the address, dear Nurse. Director Buscallo is eagerly anticipating the gift I'm sending him."
With a smile on her face, the nurse watched as Lloyd strode away.
There was no amazing deduction involved. It was all premeditated.
Lloyd was a second-rate detective, a violent detective without morals. But in a sense, he was a genius, a talented liar who could manipulate everything within his reach.
Perhaps he lacked supernatural deductive powers, but he was a hero in the art of improvised crime.
The line between a genius detective and a genius criminal is thin. That line might be called principle or conscience, but obviously, Lloyd had none of it. He swung back and forth between the two extremes.
Pushing open the iron gate, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.
Here in the morgue, a place that few people would dare to visit due to its chilling atmosphere, Lloyd arrived without much difficulty.
Holding the report close to his chest, the bizarre state of Vol's corpse before his death lingered in Lloyd's mind, like a demon from a nightmare that he remembered vividly.
"Which one is it?"
Following the serial number on the autopsy report, Lloyd examined the nameplates in front of the metal cabinets.
Grasping the handle firmly, he pulled out a frost-covered cabinet and dragged it onto the floor. Crouching beside it, Lloyd gazed at the man he had killed not long ago.
The corpse had several incision marks. Lloyd forcefully pried it open, revealing the internal organs.
On his way here, he had skimmed through the report. According to the forensic doctors' autopsy, there were some issues with Vol's bones and internal organs, but Lloyd hadn't delved into the details.
Inside was a twisted and nauseating sight. He couldn't imagine if the forensic doctors had vomited while dissecting to this point.
The internal organs were completely twisted together, and dark red clots wrapped them like pectin. The intestines were contracted and obviously much shorter than normal, as if a portion had been surgically removed, but there were no signs of surgery.
There was also much less fat than usual, which was used for energy storage and insulation. It was apparent that this Viking had an alarmingly low fat percentage.
It shouldn't be like this.
The Vikings lived in a freezing cold place, and with Vol's physique, he would have frozen to death instead of surviving until now.
There were stones inside his body, mostly distributed on the surface of his skin and joints. These stones were extremely hard, resembling a clump of crystalline matter and fleshy tissue that was as tough as armor. It was this that had protected Vol, which was why Lloyd's first shotgun blast hadn't killed him completely.
Lloyd's eyebrows furrowed as he thought of something unpleasant.
Grabbing a nearby chair, he sat down and once again took out his cigarette case. After careful consideration, he lit one, and as the intoxicating smoke rose, the lights in the morgue gradually went out, leaving only the glow of his cigarette.