I sat in a chair at the police station, watching two men in black and white checkered uniforms across from me, their mouths opening and closing as if they were saying something.
The one on the left has a cold expression, as if he has seen too much misfortune, while the one on the right is still a bit green, with a hint of pity in his eyes.
I didn't feel any pain, nor did I regret stabbing myself. At that moment, I even felt a sense of liberation, as if the warm blood spraying onto me was a form of salvation from the gods.
My only regret is that I was so obsessed with money when I was young, sacrificing my dignity, health, and freedom for it.
During my time at the police station, I gained enough peace to think deeply about this issue, more thoroughly than I had in many years:
My lack of willpower and immaturity were the root causes of my Error, but that doesn't mean they were everything.
From childhood, I was taught that hard work and struggle were for a big house, floor-to-ceiling windows with plenty of natural light, more than three servants, a private garden and lawn, silver or gold-plated tableware, a banquet laden with delicious food, a ball with melodious music playing, and so on.
The newspapers and magazines I've read have repeatedly told me that only by achieving sufficient respectability can one be considered middle class, Pillar of this kingdom, and a refined, excellent, unconventional, virtuous person who possesses both compassion and knowledge.
At the same time, they also taught me what it means to be decent. Being decent is a beautiful dress, clothes that are matched according to different occasions, expensive skin care and cosmetics, exquisite and fashionable women's handbags, a concert, an afternoon tea, or a stylish party.
This switch, when calculated, amounts to gold pounds, gold pounds, and gold pounds.
It must be acknowledged that pursuing a better life is everyone's instinct, but when every aspect of a girl's life tells her this, and when the mainstream societal trend is towards decency, refinement, and elegance, it's hard for her thoughts not to be influenced.
I don't know what this phenomenon is called, but I do know that if things don't change, tragedies like mine will continue to happen, and more and more will occur.
At that time, someone will definitely be angry and curse:
"Look at these gold-digging women, they've sold their souls!"
Instinctively, I turned to look out the window and saw a beautiful and prosperous world, and the bright red blood flowing in this world.
"Miss Trissy, are you listening to us?" A voice pulled me back to reality; it came from the somewhat inexperienced policeman.
I smiled at him, without telling him that I had been pondering some philosophical questions.
It's ridiculous that a gold digger who sold her soul would think about such trivial things while being questioned by a police officer.
The policeman nodded and said to me:
"Ms. Trissy, you will be going to court soon. We will arrange a Lawyer for you."
"I'm sorry, we didn't get the witness, only a statement, which is quite disadvantageous for you."
"It's okay," I said calmly to him.
I will try my best to defend myself and I will also frankly repent for the crimes I have committed. I only hope that I can have a new life in the future.
I thought for a moment, then smiled and said to the two officers:
"While I'm waiting for my court appearance, could you help me borrow a few books from the library?"
"Hmm, 'Social Trends and Educational Phenomena'..."
At that moment, I saw that the two police officers were somewhat bewildered, and also, well, amazed.
I sat at the very bottom of the weathered long table, listening to Miss " Judgement " recount tales of Utopia.
After she finished speaking, I looked around and said in a low, hoarse voice:
"This is a ritual."
As expected, I saw Miss " Judgement's " gaze freeze for a moment, and I sensed that Mr. " The Hanged Man " and Miss " Justice " were both looking over, with a hint of speculation in their eyes.
At that moment, I felt I could guess what they were thinking:
They would certainly suspect this was Sequence 1 ritual by "The World" Gehrman Sparrow, and they already knew through the internal communication of the Tarot Club that Sequence 1 could not exist if there was Sequence 0 true god.
I have prepared an explanation for this matter, which is to make them think about the Ancient The Sun God and His eight Angel King.
Unfortunately, no one raised any questions. Perhaps they had already connected it to the Angel King, or perhaps they thought that the rituals involved in Utopia were mainly to help Mr. The Fool recover further.
Looking at the beautiful woman who was lost in thought, I hesitated for a moment and asked:
Miss Trissy, where do your parents live?
"They've passed away..." the beautiful woman, whose soul no longer belonged here, replied in a somewhat ethereal voice.
I looked down and Record:
Do you have any other relatives?
The young woman turned to look out the window and casually replied:
"No..."
My colleague and I exchanged a glance and raised our voices:
"Miss Trissy, are you listening to us?"
The woman opposite me looked away and smiled at me.
She was lost in thought, as quiet as a flower blooming alone in the night.
This metaphor comes from a book of poems; my brother told me that reading poetry makes me more charming.
Of course, up to now, that collection of poems has brought me more ridicule than anything else; my colleagues at the police station all think it's worthless.
After I told the woman across from me about the court hearing, I saw her give a faint smile and ask us to help her borrow some books from the library that I found difficult to understand even from their titles.
The smile, combined with the book's title, possessed an indescribable beauty.
After sending Miss Trissy back to her temporary detention cell, I packed up the case materials and prepared to visit my Lawyer, something I had arranged long ago.
I leaned back in my chair and listened as " The Moon " Emlyn described his dream.
According to Father Utravsky's "verification," the dream did not originate from a divine revelation by the " Earth Mother."
This inevitably leads one to cast a suspicious glance at the Moon, at that " Mother Goddess of Depravity," and then encounter corruption... I almost laughed at my own thoughts.
As a seasoned " Seer " and dream Planeswalker, I didn't mince words and frankly shared my insights:
"There are three possibilities. First, this dream is enticing you to explore or pursue something, and is interfering with your Fate to some extent. Second, this dream wants you to delve into its meaning and understand it, and then use it to gradually and imperceptibly erode you. Third, you are too worried about the ' Goddess of Beauty ' and thus dreamed of the scene you fear most."
"The third possibility is self-evident. The approach to the first two possibilities is the same: don't think about it, don't investigate it, and don't leave Backlund unless absolutely necessary."
After I finished speaking, I saw Emlyn nod without hesitation.
I knew this was the way he liked to handle things.
"A murder case?" I glanced at the case files in my hand, expressing my doubt with a change in tone at the end of my sentence. "You should hire a top Lawyer."
I am just a Lawyer, and strictly speaking, I am not qualified to appear in court.
Of course, this is only the most stringent case and does not actually exist. As long as the case is not serious and does not involve criminal court, Lawyer can appear in court to provide assistance.
The policeman in the black and white checkered uniform opposite them smiled and said:
" Utopia is just a small town; it doesn't have any top Lawyer. We'll have to go elsewhere to find one."
"Moreover, this case is being prosecuted as excessive self-defense, which carries a short sentence, and the amount involved is less than £400. It can be tried in the magistrates' court first, and then transferred to the criminal court once the excessive self-defense charge is ruled invalid."
You seem to know a lot. Are you thinking of switching careers to become Lawyer? But normally, even murder cases prosecuted for excessive self-defense should be handled by criminal court. Heh, that's the advantage of a small town—many things aren't so strict... I thought for a moment and then hummed in agreement.
"Then I'll try to plead not guilty."
"Also, please arrange a time as soon as possible so I can meet Miss Trissy."
After reviewing the information, I have a pretty good grasp of this case. The biggest problem now is whether Miss Trissy's image can evoke sympathy.
Well, although my Lawyer's license was forged in another city, that doesn't negate my professional competence; it just so happened that I made a mistake during that exam.
Bansy Verdue wanted to go to Bansy? I sat at the bottom of the mottled long table, watching the " The Hanged Man " reporting to Mr. " The Fool," somewhat puzzled by how things were unfolding.
Verdue, obsessed with the occult and hoping to rescue Mr. "The Door," certainly had some reason to explore the abandoned port of Bansy. Moreover, he had lived in Bayam for almost half a year, so access to Bansy's information was quite normal... The main problem was that the previous surveillance of " The Hanged Man " hadn't provided any corresponding warnings, making Verdue's behavior seem somewhat abrupt... This matter needed to be given more attention... I nodded inwardly, and heard Mr. " The Fool " give an instruction:
"Continue monitoring."
I played the lyre by the fountain in the town square; I used a knife and fork to cut my steak; I preached the teachings of the goddess to the faithful in the church; I extended my right hand and, with the courteous help of a gentleman, stepped out of the carriage; I received my long-awaited new dress and couldn't wait to put it on; I strutted along on all fours, chased by a child; I laughed loudly and stumbled around playing with a dog...
Suddenly, we all shuddered and looked up at the sky, where we saw ethereal, fine lines emerging from our bodies, stretching towards the infinite heights, towards a gray-white mist, towards an ancient palace, and finally landing in the hands of a lofty figure shrouded in mist.
During this time, Klein's state has been very strange, as if he has completely split into thousands of beings, each with its own will, thoughts, cognition, and Fate.
However, above these numerous consciousnesses, there exists a dominant consciousness that is constantly subjected to various impacts and seems to be assimilated by the ocean of consciousness it has formed at any moment, but it ultimately perseveres, allowing Klein to maintain a certain degree of clarity.
His physical body lay beneath the Saint Arianna Church, while his consciousness sometimes rose into the " Sefirah Castle " and sometimes sank back into his body.
The various scenes experienced by the Marionette clones kept Blink through his mind, like a dream composed of many fragments.