Social Connections

In other words, investigations in this era were exceedingly crude, with nothing remotely professional about them.

It was said that the City Patrol solved less than three percent of cases. Theft cases relied heavily on private detectives, while robberies, kidnappings, and murders were almost entirely dependent on private rewards.

It was better than a society without laws, but not by much—a crude legal society that was less than pleasant.

The City Patrol hurriedly withdrew from the apartment, ushered Charlotte into a carriage, and raced toward their offices.

Sitting in the carriage, Charlotte thought to himself, I lost a few expensive pieces of jewelry worth one or two écus, but the chances of the killer taking them are relatively low. It's more likely someone took advantage of the chaos to steal them.

As for the murder itself, Miss Menilman must not find out, no matter what.

Charlotte rubbed his brow, deeply troubled.

A man and a woman had come to his door, fought, and even committed murder. Even a private detective without rigorous logic could easily infer that the case was most likely related to the private lives of a man and woman.

Charlotte himself!

And he was probably the less-than-glorious member of a love triangle.

Menilman had once had a fiancé like Zimmerman Axel Robin. She surely despised playboy types to the bone and would never tolerate a scumbag under her command who resembled her former fiancé. Once this matter became public, even if he managed to escape the scandal, he would likely lose his job.

This was not Earth, and Imperial Government employees were not civil servants of later generations who could not be dismissed at will.

Menilman needed only one word to make Charlotte lose his well-paid job, perhaps even ensure that he could never again serve within the government system.

This is a warning too. I need to sell that Multi-Headed Flail as soon as possible, buy a house elsewhere, move out of Alexander District, and cut ties with my old social connections.

Charlotte rubbed his brow and sorted through "his own" social relationships.

Charlotte Mecklen had shallow friendships. He had almost no one who could be called a close friend, and he was merely on passable terms with everyone.

His parents were both merchants, quite wealthy and possessed of ample financial resources. Charlotte had been able to attend Sheffield University largely because of his family's financial support.

Now, as Charlotte's father's health worsened by the day, he had gradually handed the business over to his eldest son—Charlotte's older brother.

This older brother was extremely wary of him and had repeatedly advised their father, "Give Charlotte a sum of money and have him renounce his inheritance."

As long as he endured for a few more years until his parents passed away, Charlotte could rightfully part ways with his brother's family and never have anything to do with them again.

The only remaining tie was Charlotte's elder sister. The siblings were very close, but she had married far away, and they had few chances to see each other.

Other than this brother and sister, Charlotte had no more immediate family. He did, however, still have a fiancée, and even their wedding date had already been put on the agenda, which made things rather difficult.

I hear my fiancée is very dissatisfied with this marriage and has repeatedly demanded to break off the engagement. I could try giving that a push.

The carriage soon reached the City Patrol's offices. It was a standalone three-story building facing the street, brimming with a Sherlock-like style. It was an old building from the previous dynasty, bearing the weathered traces of history.

The routine questioning ended quickly.

Through it, Charlotte also confirmed the identities of the man and woman who had broken into his apartment.

They were a married couple named Yang Mills. He did not know Mr. Yang Mills, but he had shared a rather unspeakable relationship with Mrs. Yang Mills.

As for how Mr. Yang Mills had discovered the intimate relationship between his wife and Charlotte, come knocking at the door, and then killed his own wife amid an argument and struggle—that was another tragic story.

Fortunately, Charlotte had been lingering at the weapons market at the time. Otherwise, the situation would have been difficult to resolve.

The City Patrol recorded Charlotte's account as a supplementary document and filed it away. They issued a warrant for Mr. Yang Mills, and the matter was considered fully settled.

City Patrol warrants generally carried no reward, and few good citizens who loved life were willing to help the City Patrol capture fugitives.

Whether in the Empire of Fars, other countries, or even several fallen dynasties of the past, there had been reports of warrants remaining active for decades, only for people to discover that the wanted criminal had been living leisurely in his own home, working as usual, with everything entirely normal.

The legal climate of this era was simply that absurd.

After leaving the City Patrol office, Charlotte was exhausted in both body and mind. Though he was not a suspect in the case, his mood was still quite low. He had never expected his new life to be so full of twists and turns. He had just received a promotion and pay raise, only to be swept into a murder case in the blink of an eye.

After hurrying back to the Savings Society Apartment, he gave Mary, the maid who had watched the house for him, a tip of two centimes. In this era, a two-centime tip was already a very generous gesture.

With the administrator's help, he hurriedly moved and settled into a suite on the fourth floor.

After moving into the new room, he lay on the sofa, let out a breath of relief, and realized he was hungry.

Charlotte glanced at the sky and determined that even if he went out now, he would not find any open shops. He could only make another pot of the same thing he had eaten a few days ago.

The taste was as indescribable as ever.

After eating, Charlotte lay on the bed. He instinctively reached for the diary, then casually set it aside again. He knew that the original owner's diary would help him understand his new identity, but anything connected to an evil god made him avoid it like the plague. It was a profound contradiction.

Charlotte began to think seriously and decided to properly plan out this life.

Tomorrow, I need to ask Senior Menilman for one more day off.

First, sell the Multi-Headed Flail, move somewhere else, then buy some clothes.

When he moved, Charlotte had handed all the bloodstained clothing, whether his own or the women's clothes, over to Mary and left none behind. As a result, he was now badly in need of everyday clothes, as well as the formalwear every man needed.

Thinking of moving, Charlotte could not help searching through his memories of the Upper Seven Districts.

Housing prices in Val-d'Oise District were far too high, and he certainly could not continue living in Alexander District. Those two districts had to be ruled out first.

The other three districts were not options either. They were relatively far away, making it far too inconvenient to commute to work in Marne District.

After a simple screening, only two choices remained before Charlotte: the two major districts between Val-d'Oise District and Marne District—Alcatraz District and Picardy District.

After weighing them, he decisively gave up the former. Alcatraz District was expensive because it bordered Val-d'Oise District, and it was also somewhat far from Kilmainham Prison Road, where he worked. Housing in Picardy District was cheaper, and the commute was slightly shorter.

Charlotte decided that after selling the Multi-Headed Flail tomorrow, he would go to the real estate office in Picardy District to see whether any suitable houses were for sale.