A saintess? She's just a bad woman.

Page 148

Several more passengers came to the deck for some fresh air, and crew members cleaning the deck loitered nearby. Their upcoming discussion involved a brutal and disturbing murder case, and speaking loudly would only annoy and frighten others.

In suspense novels and movies, the places where cases are discussed are often secluded and quiet, with only the protagonist and another person present. The Avrov's onboard café has elegant, soundproofed luxury private rooms, which guests can use freely for a small additional fee.

Santa Karina offered Virginia a suggestion, to which Virginia nodded in agreement, gripped the brass cane handle, and limped away from the upper deck railing of the passenger ship.

She didn't need anyone's help. In the lobby, she shook off a crew member's hand, making the other person look very embarrassed, as if she were a new employee who had done something wrong and was being scolded by the boss.

Virginia walked slowly, and Santa Karina deliberately kept a safe distance from her, moving back and forth along the long corridor of the luxury cruise ship. This corridor offered unobstructed views, with floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides made of extremely hard glass, and numerous sofas for tourists to enjoy the sea view, each one quite expensive.

Enveloped in sea fog, the Avlov could not see any beautiful seascape for the time being. No matter where you looked out, all you could see was a white expanse. The entire ship looked like it had wandered into a shipyard at sea, the legendary "Great Triangle of Death".

An indescribable emotion surged within Santa Karina. A mist, like the tide, had already risen onto the deck, making the air increasingly humid. A thin layer of condensation clung to the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring and distorting the view outside.

A hard object struck my shoulder, and my wandering thoughts settled back into my body.

"What are you spacing out for? We've arrived at the coffee shop."

"Sorry, I was thinking about something."

The remaining half-sentence stuck in his throat. He shouldn't discuss the potential problems with the Avrov's voyage with his temporary partner, who also seemed uninterested.

There's a huge difference between possible error and certainty of error; hopefully, I'm just overthinking it. A large passenger ship's course won't change because of a passenger's words, unless the passenger has the ability to hijack both the captain and the bridge.

Such a brave thug only received bullets as a reward from the railway police.

Santa Karina and Virginia entered the café, where the rich aroma of cocoa beans wafted towards them. The café, with its industrial-style classic ambiance, was dimly lit, featuring dark gray wallpaper, perfectly balanced black sofas and deep red wooden tables, creating a low-key and sophisticated atmosphere.

A chandelier surrounded by a brass-colored metal casing hangs from the ceiling, its light bulb a warm, pale yellow, creating an incredibly soft atmosphere in the café.

The steam pipes on the wall are scattered like an interwoven metal mesh. The steam grinder next to the bar extends two mechanical arms, picks up the coffee beans placed in the designated area, cuts them open and pours them into the grinding area.

The grinding machine is fully automated, freeing up waiters' hands so they can spend more time serving guests.

The jukebox in the corner was playing tracks from a record in sequence. It looked like a double-doored metal cabinet. There were drawers on top for storing records.

Such an elegant setting makes discussing horrific murder cases all the more interesting.

Santa Karina walked to the bar and glanced at the menu, which was as ornate as a hardcover book. She remembered that the number of free drinks at the café was limited, and she could only get a free cup at the very end.

The last cup must be apple-flavored black tea.

"A cup of apple black tea." x2

They all ordered the same drinks in unison.

If they hadn't all said it at the same time, Santa Karina would have suspected it was a herd mentality.

"Would you two like the classic Victoria apple tea or the low-sugar Kelly apple tea? There are many other drinks to choose from on the menu..."

"A cup of low-sugar Kelly apple black tea."

Virginia interrupted the waiter, her eloquent words cut short by a cold gaze.

She clearly disliked people who talked too much, especially those trying to sell her products. St. Karina deeply understood that truly opinionated people wouldn't be swayed by anyone or anything.

"I want the classic Victorian apple black tea."

Although their preferences fall into the same broad category, they are actually two different things when broken down further. Santa Karina genuinely likes this drink, and it has nothing to do with following a trend.

During the ordering process, the waitress was intimidated by Virginia's imposing presence. This absolute pressure stemmed from the aristocratic air and wealth; every staff member on the ship was merely trying to make a living, so naturally they had to adopt a humble attitude.

The waiter's hand trembled repeatedly as he wrote with the pen, making the characters appear somewhat messy and crooked.

Virginia meant her no harm; she just had a naturally unfriendly face. If she didn't smile, people would automatically assume she was malicious or even hostile.

She never explains herself unless it causes real harm. Explaining is a waste of time, and explaining and analyzing oneself to unfamiliar people is an even greater waste of life.

Under the fearful gaze of the waitress, another waiter, wearing a white shirt, black vest, and black bow tie, led them into the private room closest to the corner.

This private room is far from the entrance, and the walls are made of Victoria's highest-grade soundproofing materials. The surface is covered with dark gray industrial-style wallpaper, which fully embodies the cold and hard style of the era.

Above the round table is a mechanical lamp shaped like an airship. Pressing several different switches corresponds to different areas of the mechanical lamp, with subtle differences in brightness and color. It looks quite realistic.

Based on what she had seen and heard today, Santa Karina guessed that she had entered a steampunk-style world. Everywhere she looked, there were machines, gears, pipes and equipment emitting white steam, all predominantly brass in color, and airships—products with a unique era-specific feel.

Once they were seated, the waiter bowed and said, "Ladies, please wait a moment while your drinks are served. If you need anything, please press the service bell on the table and we will be there immediately."

The young man in his early twenties was noticeably more composed than the girl who was greeting the guests. He had an ordinary appearance, with neatly trimmed short brown hair held in place with inexpensive hair oil. He had a bit of a beard, and his bright green eyes made him look energetic and enthusiastic about his work.

His enthusiasm and manners were just right, neither too much nor too little.

The treatment of people in high society is really quite good; I'm already starting to envy them.

While waiting, Santa Karina took out a fountain pen and a portable notebook from her other pocket. The old pen, its black paint worn and peeling with time, had a casing worn smooth by constant handling. The pale gold nib was well-maintained, always shining like new, with not a single ink stain visible.

There was still a little ink left in the ink sac. Saint Karina took off the pen cap, opened the almost falling-off thread-bound notebook, turned to the latest blank page, drew a circle in the center, and wrote "motive for murder" in Victorian.

"The first question is about the killer's motive."

The characters on the white paper were written in a vigorous and powerful style, completely unlike the delicate and gentle strokes of a woman's writing.

"Based on general judgment, I believe it can be divided into the following 10 branches."

The structural diagram now has more slanted lines, and each line has additional characters. Based on her accumulated knowledge, the motives for murder can be categorized as greed, silencing, revenge, political, employment-related, obedience, adultery, righteous indignation, fame and fortune, and suspicion.

These details are also listed in the structure diagram.

Virginia neither refuted nor affirmed, remaining completely unmoved.

"Go on, I'm listening."

"Finally, we must add the most crucial element—conflict of beliefs. This motive for murder may seem absurd, but it is the root cause that makes many people want to kill."

Saint Karina wrote a larger line on the right to emphasize its importance. While the other branches listed certainly warrant further exploration, the more worthy of study now is the motivation for murder related to faith.

“In a world with multiple gods, different beliefs were born. There must be opposition and conflict between beliefs. Those who hate each other will harbor resentment and regard each other as their enemies. Don’t you think the murder scene was staged very deliberately? Like a punishment ritual of some religion.”

"I had that feeling the moment I saw it."

“The solar energy depicted on the tiles is used as an ‘altar,’ the dead are ‘sacrifices’ that need to be judged, the spear that pierced his abdomen is a sacred relic of judgment, and the sword in his hand offers up his head… Only the Primal God Cult would treat sinners in such a way, right?”

The Origin God Cult was a small religion that emerged at the beginning of the Victorian era. Its doctrines were very extreme and one-sided, believing that the current direction of the world was completely wrong, that humanity should not have entered the steam industrial age, and that technological development would only bring disaster.

The followers of the Origin God cult refuse to integrate into the industrial age and become part of its conveniences. They maintain a traditional way of life, which, while not as extreme as slash-and-burn agriculture, is not far off.

They use stone stoves for cooking, light charcoal fires to heat iron pots to cook food, and boil water in the same way. Anything related to cutting or machinery is categorized as "technology and grueling work," which they absolutely do not use or touch, and they vehemently resist anyone who holds the opposite opinion.

After recalling the relevant information, Saint Karina continued to share her insights, while Virginia, sitting opposite her, held a silver lighter in her hand and tapped it lightly on the table.

“People who believe in that religion are all crazy, and they certainly have a motive to kill. The deceased was a mounted police officer. The Victorian mounted police department requires new recruits to be followers of Mazteria, the goddess of mechanical industry, and that’s my reason.”

248. To speak eloquently

"What you've mentioned are only one possibility. What about the other 10 motives for murder? We need to analyze and eliminate them one by one."

The tapping on the table stopped, the silver lighter spun between her elegant fingers, and finally returned to her pocket.

Virginia also had her own notebook, which looked brand new and clean compared to Saint Karina's, and was paired with an unknown high-end brand fountain pen with a silver casing and a gold nib.

"We have no way to investigate the victim's social relationships at the moment. He did not know anyone on the ship except his wife, so we have temporarily ruled out the possibility of an acquaintance committing the crime. The murderer was likely motivated by money, but also had a perverse desire for self-expression and creativity. After killing Mr. Fremont, he suddenly had the idea to set up the crime scene as a sacrificial ritual."

"Such an understanding is rather superficial, Miss Williams."

"You're overthinking it."

The two men disagreed, and it looked like a heated argument was about to erupt. Just then, the tactful waiter knocked on the door of the private room, interrupting the discussion.

"Ladies, your drinks are ready. Would you like them brought in immediately?"

"come in."

Virginia turned the two notebooks on the table upside down, obscuring the research data on them. The waiter couldn't see the contents of the notebooks and therefore had no way of knowing what they were discussing.

"A detective game between two people doesn't need a third person to join," Virginia once said with such arrogance.

This game isn't a competition of nature; it relies on the participants' individual abilities and teamwork. Two people working together is generally more likely to solve problems than one person getting stuck on a single issue.

Steaming hot apple black tea, served in a porcelain teaware set with a tray.

Tea sets are mostly produced in Bemerta, the second largest city in Victoria, where tens of thousands of workshops and factories work day and night to produce all kinds of daily necessities for Victoria.

The most common pattern on teacups and tea trays is the rose. The rose is the national flower of Victoria. In addition to being frequently seen on tableware used in the catering industry, it is also indispensable in the fields of architecture, clothing and painting.

The lion, machinery, and rose are collectively known as the three major symbols of Victoria.

The white porcelain tea set used exclusively on the Avrov was surrounded by gold rose petals on the outside, and the handles of the cups were an alluring pure gold. The patterns on the tea tray and the teacups were all decorated with elegant and flamboyant gold rose designs.

If I were to sell the teacup, I could probably make some money to get by.

Of course, Santa Karina wouldn't stoop to such a low level. She had grander goals: to unravel the mysteries left by the psychopathic killer and extract the reward she desired from Virginia, not just money.

The waiter put down the items on the tray, then brought over creamer, sugar cubes and granulated sugar, and arranged light blue napkins folded into squares.

"These are the ingredients; you can add them according to your own taste. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"that's all, thanks."

Virginia responded coldly, adding a lethal amount of sugar cubes and creamer to the black tea. The clear, reddish-brown tea liquor was stained with the color of the sugar cubes and creamer, and a cloying sweetness mingled with the rich aroma of tea.

"Please enjoy your meal, gentlemen. I'll go serve the other guests first."

The polite young man disappeared behind the door, and the conversation would continue amidst the hazy white steam rising from the hot tea. The notebook, which had been lying face down, was now facing up again, and Santa Karina resumed the interrupted discussion.

"My idea isn't particularly complicated. Why don't we start with the people around the deceased, like his wife and daughter? Although I don't know your identity, even the captain has to give you some respect. Could you provide me with an opportunity to speak with the deceased's family face-to-face?"

"It's alright, let's get up and go after we finish this cup of tea."

Her pale hand picked up the murky tea and drank it at a pace somewhere between sips and gulps. The container of sugar cubes and creamer was at least half empty; who knows how sweet that stuff actually was. Saint Karina repeated her hesitant manner several times before finally mustering the courage to ask a question.

"I have a question, but I'm not sure if I should ask it."

"Aside from personal privacy, I will consider telling you as appropriate."

Are you also interested in cactus tarts?

"The sweetest cactus tarts are the best. Enough of this small talk, Miss Lina. We need to go see the deceased's wife and daughters. We have six and a half days left. You won't disappoint me, will you?"

His cold, blue eyes exerted an invisible pressure on her. That sentence wasn't a rhetorical question at all, but a statement of fact.

"Relax, buddy. This isn't some case where if you can't solve it, you'll be dragged to Niakal's central square and publicly executed. If you were a cop and needed achievements to bolster your resume, then never mind. Why can't you smile more instead of always glaring at people like that? You're wasting this gift of good looks."

Virginia continued to fiddle with the lighter she never parted with, her gaze unfocused and her expression slightly stiff.

"To me, smiling is a sign of weakness."

After Santa Karina hurriedly finished her tea, she was urged by Virginia to leave the coffee shop immediately and go elsewhere to look for clues.

The discussion was brief; coming to the coffee shop felt more like going through the motions.

Passing by an area displaying newspapers, a female crew member was sorting through recent old newspapers, one of which caught Santa Karina's attention. It was last month's newspaper, printed on August 27th.

Today is September 24th, almost a month since that day.

"May I take this newspaper?"

The clerk who was arranging the newspapers stopped what he was doing and handed the newspapers to Santa Karina with both hands.

"The newspapers here are specially prepared for our guests. This is the one you requested."

Santa Karina took the newspaper, which had been crumpled by the other guests.

"Thank you."

Someone accidentally spilled some coffee on the newspaper. Although the coffee stain had dried, the faint coffee smell had blended with the ink smell of the newspaper, and the aroma was particularly noticeable when the pages were turned.

The content that caught Santa Karina's attention was on the front page, with a very eye-catching headline.

The kidnapping case of the banker's son has finally been solved; the mastermind behind it all turned out to be his friend who owned a clinic.

This was no ordinary kidnapping case; a follow-up report is below. Attached are photos of the doctor who ran the clinic—photos of his body at the time of death and photos of him before his death.

"In the end, the banker's son's body was never found, but the mastermind drowned at sea."

She read the report carefully from beginning to end and found interesting content in a corner that was not easily noticed.

"The mounted police officer who found the doctor's body was named George Fremont, the same name as the victim in the case we're investigating. They also share the same nationality—both are Victorians. It's possible that the murderer who killed George Fremont was the deceased doctor."

Who says the dead can't murder the living?

"The conversation seems to have taken a very serious turn."

The sound of the mahogany cane tapping the ground became soft and slow, and Virginia deliberately slowed her pace, showing a rare hint of interest in the topic.

Saint Karina struggled to piece together the scattered fragments of memory floating in her mind, trying to absorb knowledge about the world.

"The topic we just discussed falls under the realm of the occult. Going any further would be a perilous path of no return, Miss Williams. Are you sure you want to take that first step into the mystical?"