Tamara... Barton chewed on the name, pondering what it meant.
Unlike when he first discovered he could hear voices others couldn't, he no longer frantically looked around in panic, searching for who was speaking from the shadows, ready to grab a stick and rush over to hit them. Instead, he stood calmly in place, observing Pacheco, the deputy head of the " Compliance Department," as he pondered the situation.
Pacheco glanced at him and said:
Do you have any research on Quaternary history?
"I have done some research," Barton replied modestly.
At this moment, he did not pretend that he knew nothing about the history of the Quaternary Period. Firstly, his personality did not allow it, and secondly, his position was based on his academic background in history. If he had a major deficiency in this field, he would likely be dismissed by the Foundation the next day.
Pacheco looked toward the door and said:
Have you ever heard of the surname Tamara?
"I've heard of it." Barton instinctively glanced at Pacheco. "In the scattered and sparse historical records of the Fourth Age, the surname Tamara appears several times, second only to Tudor, Solomon, and Trunsoest. From this, we can preliminarily judge that it represents a high-ranking noble in a certain empire of the Fourth Age."
At this point, Barton paused and said:
" Furnar recently discovered some Quaternary ruins."
Because the hotel staff were right next to him, he didn't directly point out that the surname Tamara might be related to Furnar's current unusual behavior.
Pacheco didn't respond, but turned to the hotel waiter and said:
"I am a police officer in charge of criminal cases. I suspect that the guest in this room has met with misfortune. Please get the key and Door Opening immediately."
As he spoke, Pacheco took out an identification document and showed it to the other person.
The hotel staff were initially startled, then carefully examined the identification:
"Okay, sure. I'll go get the keys!"
As he spoke, he turned and ran towards the stairwell.
"You're a police officer?" Barton, who was watching from the sidelines, blurted out in surprise.
Pacheco glanced down at the documents in his palm and chuckled:
"This certificate is absolutely genuine and was obtained through legal channels."
Why make it so complicated...? Barton replied habitually:
"I don't care if it's true or false, I just want to know if you're actually a police officer."
Pacheco chuckled:
It depends on how you perceive it.
This answer made Barton somewhat irritated, but as a typical Loen gentleman, he politely kept quiet after realizing that the other party was unwilling to give a direct answer.
Of course, the fact that the other party is the deputy head of the " Compliance Department " is also one of the factors to consider.
In silence, the hotel owner and the waiter returned to the third floor together.
After carefully examining Pacheco's documents and comparing the photo with the real person, the hotel owner took out his key to Door Opening while muttering a complaint under his breath:
"How could something have happened? There wasn't a sound at all."
If a high-end hotel is involved in a criminal case involving death, it will definitely damage its image and may even lead to bankruptcy.
"Don't worry too much, it's probably just a minor problem," Pacheco reassured him in a friendly manner.
"I hope so, may the goddess protect us." The innkeeper withdrew his hand, tapped his chest four times clockwise, drawing stars.
Then, he gently pushed the door open, letting it slowly open.
At this moment, the room seemed to finally connect with the outside world, and a faint smell of blood permeated the air.
"Oh..." The hotel owner realized this and could only express his disappointment and horror with a single interjection.
Only such an environment could give the envelope the smell of blood without it being stained with blood... This was the first thought that flashed through Barton's mind.
Then he noticed that the furniture in the room was neatly arranged, and the carpet had no obvious wrinkles, which contradicted the bloody smell in the air.
It didn't look like there had been a fight... A single shot was enough to kill him? Barton's hobbies included pop culture, especially the kind mixed with murder and romance, so he had quite a bit of "experience" with similar situations.
Of all the bestselling authors, his favorite is undoubtedly Fors Wall.
The Original, it was Fors Wall's wife who bought the books, but Barton became engrossed in them after occasionally flipping through them.
Of course, he wouldn't show this in front of his wife, always speaking in an Authority tone:
"This kind of vulgarity and shallowness is worthless and only suitable for passing the time."
As Barton's thoughts raced, Pacheco put on a pair of white gloves and stepped into the room.
The seasoned Lawyer looked around, then walked to the desk, picked up the stack of letter paper with a lavender castle design, and said to the hotel owner and waiter:
Do you know how many there were originally?
"We don't, we don't replenish it every day, every time," the waiter said, glancing at the owner, his voice slightly stammering.
His implication was that, after several changes of customers, he had long since lost track of how many letters were left when Furnar checked in.
Pacheco chuckled, shook his head, and said to Barton, who had walked up to him:
Therefore, this world needs order and rules.
"If they had a strict code of conduct, such as remembering to replenish the stationery to a certain quantity after each customer checks out, we could use that to find some clues."
"I don't quite understand what you mean," Barton replied truthfully.
Pacheco smiled and said:
Simply put, there can be shadows only where there is light.
"Of course, enough chaos also means opportunity."
Upon hearing this, Barton nodded and said:
"Yes, Emperor Roselle said, chaos is a ladder to progress."
"Nobody knows if he actually said that. There are too many people in this world who don't dare to express their own opinions directly and can only borrow other people's names," Pacheco replied casually.
Then, he picked up the blank sheet of paper at the top, held it up to the sunlight streaming through the glass, and examined it carefully for a while.
"I enjoy dealing with careless people the most," Pacheco suddenly chuckled.
After saying this, he put the letter back in its place.
The next second, he took out a sharpened pencil from his pocket and began to scribble lightly on the letter.
Before long, traces of Loen language characters appeared one after another, forming fragmented sentences:
"... I'm being watched..."
"... traces of religious rituals remain in those ruins..."
"... I took the items from the altar..."
"... It... it saw me!"
"No! It's always been with me!"
When writing these sentences, the Archaeologist, Furnar, seemed to be in a rather intense emotional state, so he wrote with particular force, leaving the most obvious pen marks.