A Case Solved in Passing

Jinghua Book Pavilion,

Joseph casually pulled open the curtains, and the moment he saw the scene outside, he frowned.

Ever since arriving in this world, he had been taking examinations in Versailles Palace. This was the first time he had seen what Paris looked like.

It was utterly unlike the most prosperous metropolis on the European Continent he had imagined—its buildings were filthy and decrepit, its streets covered everywhere in rotten mud, sewage, and even excrement. That was where the stench came from. Dead animal carcasses drifted down the Seine River from time to time, while workshops along its banks discharged strangely colored wastewater into the river, dyeing it brown.

Vendors had set up their stalls in a chaotic mess along both sides of the road, turning streets that had once been fairly spacious into a packed crush. Children gleefully chased one another while flinging mud around. Curses of unknown origin rose and fell without end.

Fights and brawls were everywhere as well, yet passersby turned a deaf ear to the agonized screams of those being beaten.

There were even people committing robberies in broad daylight. Only after Joseph had his guards intervene did the robbers dart into an alley and flee. And this was the Louvre District, the safest area in all of Paris...

In short, the entire city lacked even the slightest romantic air born of Enlightenment thought, much less the vigorous vitality of the Industrial Revolution.

Magnificent Versailles Palace and Paris lay close at hand, yet they seemed to belong to different worlds.

The carriage passed the north bank of the Seine River. The coachman gave a soft "whoa," and the carriage slowly came to a halt.

"Your Highness, we have arrived." Eman bowed, then got down and opened the carriage door for the Crown Prince.

Joseph rubbed his backside, which had nearly been shaken to pieces, and descended the steps his attendants had set up. Raising his eyes, he saw a grand building ahead and to the side, nearly a hundred meters wide, its exterior walls covered in carved statues and formed from countless pillars and arched French windows. Like a colossal castle stationed in the heart of Paris, it proclaimed the supreme power of the feudal class.

City Hall had received word long ago that the Crown Prince was coming. At this moment, officials great and small had gathered in formation on the square outside the main entrance to welcome His Highness.

Yet the silver royal carriage they had eagerly awaited never appeared.

It was not until three charcoal-gray carriages stopped before City Hall's main entrance and Eman climbed out that Le Verber, Paris's leading Municipal Commissioner, twitched an eyelid and hurriedly called to those around him.

"Quick! It's the Crown Prince!"

Le Verber pressed one hand against his black tricorne hat, spread his inverted-trapezoid legs, and propelled his body of nearly two hundred pounds forward. He led the others running to Joseph, and they respectfully saluted in turn. "Your Highness, the Crown Prince."

The musicians nearby finally came to their senses and began playing in a fluster.

After introducing himself, Le Verber pointed to the middle-aged man beside him, whose gray-blue eyes and sharp cheekbones looked as though they might burst through his skin. "Your Highness, allow me to introduce Viscount Flesselles, the Paris Chamber of Commerce President."

Joseph gave the man an extra glance. From the information he had just read, he knew that although Le Verber was Paris's Municipal Commissioner, equivalent to its mayor, the true number one in Paris was Flesselles. There was no helping it—government coffers were empty, and to keep operating, the government had to rely on funding from the Chamber of Commerce. Moreover, the Chamber of Commerce's connections could solve many problems, so its president had become extraordinarily powerful.

Flesselles stepped forward again and saluted. "Your Highness, we have prepared an afternoon banquet. We hope you will honor us with your presence."

Joseph greatly disliked the banquets and balls of this era. To him, all those cumbersome ceremonies and rules were simply torture. Still, social obligations could not be avoided, so he nodded in response.

"Then I thank you all."

Within City Hall's spacious and luxurious banquet hall, servants bustled back and forth. The tables were laden with all manner of expensive dishes; whenever a dish went cold, it was immediately removed and replaced with a fresh one.

Amid clinking goblets and endless laughter, Joseph dealt with the officials' unceasing rainbow-colored flattery, though his mind remained fixed on reforming the police force.

"Your Highness means to take part in police administration?" The fat mayor exchanged astonished looks with the Chamber of Commerce President, then hastily gave Joseph a fawning smile. "Your Highness, you are so exalted. How could you possibly deal with thieves, murderers, and the like?"

The Chamber of Commerce President hurriedly nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Besides, the Police Department has countless trivial matters to deal with. It is exceedingly dull."

Yet inwardly, he was crying bitterly. My little lord, you are only here to gild your resume—

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—so please do not take this so seriously. If the police system were thrown into chaos, would Paris not erupt into complete turmoil?

Joseph felt rather helpless. Just as he was going back and forth with the two men, a woman's shrill voice suddenly rang out from outside City Hall.

"No! Lenotre could never have committed suicide! You must catch the murderer!"

Her voice was sharp one moment, then changed into something like an aria the next. "Lenotre was so cheerful. We were going to marry next month—how could he have committed suicide? The case cannot be closed! The murderer is still at large..."

The fat mayor's face instantly darkened. He snapped, "Why is she here again?"

Flesselles immediately waved forcefully at the guards. "Get her out of here! Don't you see who is here today?!"

Then he turned to Joseph with a fawning smile. "Ah, Your Highness, she is merely a madwoman. Please do not let her ruin your mood."

Joseph looked out the window and asked, "I heard her mention a murderer. What exactly happened?"

Mayor Le Verber hurriedly said, "A month ago, her fiancé, Viscount Lenotre, swallowed a sword and killed himself. Ah, the case is crystal clear, without the slightest problem, but this woman seems to have gone mad and insists it was murder."

"She made such a scene that we had no choice but to forbid her from entering City Hall. Yet every few days, she comes outside to shout nonsense."

Joseph found it rather strange. "Swallowed a sword to commit suicide?"

The thin man seated to Le Verber's right placed a hand over his chest in salute.

"Your Highness, it means thrusting a sword into one's mouth until it emerges from the back of the neck. It is a very common method of suicide."

Joseph remembered the fat mayor introducing him earlier—Viscount Guizot, Paris's Police Commissioner and the highest-ranking official in charge of Parisian policing.

Seeing that the Crown Prince seemed interested, Guizot eagerly explained.

"One afternoon over a month ago, Viscount Lenotre's servant came to report the case, saying his master had died in his own bedroom. I sent men to inspect the scene and discovered that he had swallowed a sword and killed himself."

Joseph frowned. "How did you determine it was suicide? Was there a suicide note, or had he shown signs of being weary of life beforehand?"

"There was neither," Guizot said. "But Lenotre used his own sword, no valuables were missing, there were no signs of a struggle in the room, and there was not a single other wound on his body."

"You must understand, Your Highness, Lenotre fought in the United States, stood a full six French feet tall, and was highly skilled in combat. If someone could force a sword into his mouth in broad daylight without leaving even the slightest injury on him, that person could only have been himself."

Six French feet was over 1.9 meters. He truly had been a towering man.

Joseph narrowed his eyes slightly. He had seen plenty of similar murder methods in detective stories. With no signs of suicide and no suicide note, only eighteenth-century Police who had never attended the Police Academy and lived in an information-starved world would crudely classify it as suicide.

He looked at Guizot. "Wrong. Aside from himself, there is one other kind of person who could do it."

"Your Highness truly knows how to joke." The fat mayor laughed and waved a hand. "Could that person use magic?"

Joseph said unhurriedly, "No. He merely knew how to treat teeth."

"Treat teeth... You mean a dentist?!"

"Yes, a dentist."

The people around them were instantly stunned. An image appeared in their minds—at the dentist's instruction, Lenotre obediently opened his mouth. The dentist then covered his eyes with the white cloth used during surgery, turned around, drew the sword hanging on his wall, and effortlessly thrust it into his mouth. Blood immediately sprayed out...

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