Sir Deville's bedroom was larger than the combined living and dining room of the Klein family's house. It consisted of a bed area, a living area, a dressing area, a washroom, and a bookshelf and desk area, and was exquisitely furnished with luxurious details.
In Klein's perception, the room was dimly lit and at least half the temperature of the outside.
At the same time, he seemed to hear cries and dying groans in his ears.
Klein was slightly dazed when he saw that everything had returned to normal: bright sunlight streamed through the window, filling the entire bedroom; the temperature was neither too high nor too low; the police officers, bodyguards, and butler around him remained silent.
This... He turned his head to look at the classic and luxurious bed, and saw what seemed to be pairs of blurry eyes hovering in the shadows, like fearless moths next to a gas lamp.
After taking a few steps and getting closer, Klein's " Spirit Vision " lost the scene he had just seen.
It wasn't a typical Wraith, nor was it Evil Spirit... What could it be? Klein frowned, recalling the occult knowledge he had acquired during this time.
In his view, today's task would be easy for the " Corpse Collector," the " Gravedigger," or the " Spirit Medium," but it was clearly not his area of expertise.
Suppressing the urge to Divination the direction of his investigation, Klein slowly looked around, searching for other clues to confirm his suspicions.
"Inspector," Sir Deville hesitated for a moment, "Did you find anything?"
"If it were that easy to discover, I don't think my colleagues would have waited until now," Klein said, making a polite remark while glancing subconsciously at the philanthropist.
Just as he was about to look away, he suddenly noticed a pale figure reflected in the mirror behind Sir Deville.
No, they were overlapping, Distortion pale figures!
The figure vanished in a flash, and Klein seemed to hear faint weeping again.
He exhaled a breath of stale air, calming the fear that had nearly made him draw his gun.
"My Spirit Intuition has increased, and I've gained Spirit Vision. I'll be scared crazy sooner or later..." Klein relieved his tension by making fun of himself, and then turned his gaze back to Sir Deville.
This time, he saw something different.
Sir Deville, in this bedroom, was surrounded by pale, Distortion shadows that occasionally Blink around him, making the light in that area appear slightly dim.
Each Blink is inevitably accompanied by illusory crying and groans that are difficult for normal people to hear.
It's hard for a normal person to hear under normal circumstances? Is it because it's daytime? Klein nodded thoughtfully.
He has made a preliminary judgment on this case:
What haunts Sir Deville is a series of resentments, the Spirituality remnants caused by the emotions that are hardest for humans to let go of before death!
If this resentment and lingering energy accumulates for a period of time and becomes several times stronger, it will transform into a terrifying malevolent spirit.
But Sir Deville was a renowned philanthropist, and even Benson, a picky man, respected him greatly. How could he be plagued by so much "deathly resentment"? Was he two-faced? Or was it the work of Beyonder with ill intentions? Klein wondered, speculating on the possibilities.
He thought for a moment, looked at Deville, and said:
"Sir, I have a few questions."
"Please speak." Deville sat down, exhausted and weak.
Klein organized his thoughts and said:
"When you leave here and go to new places, like the countryside or Backlund, do you get at least a brief period of peace at night, before the situation slowly returns, gets worse and worse, until you can hear groans and crying even when you sleep during the day?"
Deville's half-closed eyes snapped open, a glint of light appearing in his azure pupils:
"Yes, you've found the root of the problem?"
He then realized that due to chronic insomnia and poor mental health, he had completely forgotten to tell the police such an important clue!
Seeing that Klein's question had been answered affirmatively, Inspector Tolle secretly breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that the Nighthawks had found a clue.
Sheriff Gate was both surprised and curious, and couldn't help but scrutinize the psychology expert Klein several times.
This aligns with the characteristic of resentment gradually entangled and accumulating... Klein, having received feedback, basically confirmed the answer.
He now has two ways to help Sir Deville get rid of his troubles: one is to set up an altar around the other party and use Ritualistic Magic to completely remove the "death resentment," and the other is to use other mystical methods to find the source of the problem and solve it from the root.
Considering the rule of "trying not to let ordinary people know about the existence of extraordinary power," Klein planned to try the second method first, and if it didn't work, he would then pray to the goddess.
"Sir, this is a mental illness, a psychological problem." He looked at Deville and spoke nonsense with a straight face.
Sir Deville frowned and asked in return:
"You mean I'm mentally ill and need to go to a mental hospital?"
"No, it's not that serious. In fact, most people have some psychological or mental health issues to some extent," Klein casually Placate them. "Please allow me to reintroduce myself; I'm a psychology expert from the Awwa County Police Department."
"A psychology expert?" Deville and his butler both looked at their acquaintance, Inspector Tolle.
Tolle nodded solemnly, indicating that this was indeed the case.
"Alright, what do I need to do to cooperate with the treatment? And I don't understand why my butler, my bodyguards, and my servants can all hear crying and groaning..." Deville gripped his cane with both hands, looking puzzled.
Klein answered in a very professional manner:
I'll explain it to you afterwards.
"Please ask your butler, your servants, and your bodyguards to leave. Inspector Tolle, Sheriff Gate, please leave as well. I need a quiet environment for initial treatment."
"Heal with magic..." Inspector Tolle silently added, nodding to Sir Deville.
Deville remained silent for over ten seconds before saying:
" Cullen, take them to the living room upstairs and wait."
"Yes, Sir." Butler Cullen did not object, because the request came from a full-fledged police officer, a probationary inspector, and a psychology expert.
Watching them leave one by one and close the door, Klein looked at Deville, with his dark gold hair and Blue Eyes, and said:
"Sir, please lie down on the bed, relax, and try to fall asleep."
"... Okay." Deville hung his coat and hat on the coat rack, walked slowly to the bed, and lay down.
Klein then drew all the curtains, making the room dark.
He took off the pendant, quickly made a simple fortune-telling using a pendulum, then sat on a rocking chair not far from the foot of the bed, sketched a ball of light, entered Cogitation, and let the Spirituality world unfold before his eyes.
Immediately afterwards, he leaned back in his chair and fell into a deep sleep, allowing his Astral Body to come into contact with the outside world.
He was using the technique of " Dream Divination " to "communicate" with the resentment that haunted Sir Deville in a dream-like Spirituality environment.
Only through communication can we obtain answers and solve problems!
Waaaaah!
A mournful cry echoed in Klein's ears, and he "saw" one pale, transparent figure after another appearing around him.
A series of painful groans followed, and Klein, barely regaining his ability to think, reached out his right hand and touched one of the wounds.
Suddenly, those figures transformed into moths drawn to a flame, one after another rushing towards him.
Klein's vision suddenly blurred, as if his head had been split in two; one half was calmly scrutinizing, while the other half saw the "mirror."
The image in the mirror shows a strong young woman dressed as a worker, walking through a dusty factory, her head throbbing in waves.
Her vision blurred at times, and her body grew thinner day by day.
She thought she heard someone calling her Charlotte, saying she had developed a kind of hysteria.
Hysteria? She looked in the mirror and saw a faint blue line on her gums.
The camera shifts, and Klein seems to see her again, transformed into a girl named Mary.
She walked through the lead factory, young and lively.
Suddenly, half of her cheek began to twitch continuously, followed by her arm and leg on the same side.
"You have epilepsy," she heard someone say as she was convulsing.
She collapsed, convulsing more and more violently, until she finally lost consciousness.
Another girl, she was sullen and wandered aimlessly through the streets, even experiencing a speech impediment.
Her headache was very severe, she had blue lines on her gums, and she experienced spasms from time to time.
She met a Doctor Doctor said:
" Laverty, you're affected by lead."
The Doctor looked at her with pity, watching her convulse again, several times in a row, watching all the light disappear from her eyes.
Images flashed through Klein's mind, which he was half immersed in, and half observing calmly.
Suddenly, he fully understood what these girls had gone through:
They were female workers who were exposed to lead white powder and dust for extended periods; they died from lead poisoning.
Sir Deville happened to own a lead factory and two ceramics factories, all of which employed relatively inexpensive female workers!
Klein silently "watched" all of this, feeling that there was only one thing left to clarify:
Such "resentment towards death" is negligible, and even if it accumulates in number, it is unlikely to have any impact on reality or on Deville.
Unless, unless a stronger, more persistent resentment brought them together as a whole.
Just then, he "saw" another girl.
The girl, no more than eighteen years old, was glazing porcelain in the factory.
" Hayley, how have you been lately? Have you been having a headache? If it's severe, please let me know. Sir Deville has decreed that anyone with a severe headache must leave the factory and no longer be exposed to lead," an older woman asked with concern.
Hayley touched her forehead and replied with a smile:
"A little, but it's alright."
"Then tell me tomorrow if it's serious," the older woman advised.
Hayley agreed and returned home, occasionally pressing her forehead.
She saw her parents and brothers return from outside, and their faces were filled with sorrow.
"Your father and brother have lost their jobs..." her mother said, wiping away tears.
Her father and brothers lowered their heads and whispered:
"We'll go to the docks and find work."
"But we don't even have enough money for bread the day after tomorrow... Maybe we'll have to move to the very back of the Lower Street..." Hayley's mother looked at her with red eyes, "When will you get your salary? It's 10 Soli, right?"
Hayley pinched her forehead again:
"Yes, Saturday, Saturday."
She didn't say anything more, remaining quiet as usual. The next day, she returned to the factory and told her supervisor that her headache was gone and there was no problem.
She smiled, walking 5 kilometers to work every day and then another 5 kilometers home, and the act of massaging her head became more and more frequent.
"Have you not found work yet?" Hayley asked her father and brothers, looking at the black bread simmering in the soup.
Her father said with distress:
"The economy is bad lately, and many places are laying off workers. Even at the docks, it's a one-day-off-day job, and you only get 3 Soli and 7 pence a week."
Hayley sighed, said nothing more, and remained as quiet as ever, only subtly hiding her suddenly convulsing left hand behind her back.
The next day, she walked to work again. The sun gradually shone brightly, and the number of pedestrians on the street gradually increased.
Suddenly, she started convulsing; her whole body was convulsing.
She collapsed by the roadside, foaming at the mouth.
She gazed at the sky, her vision blurring. She saw people coming and going, people approaching, a carriage passing by, and the white dove emblem of the Deville family, poised to take flight.
She tried to open her mouth, but no sound came out.
So she didn't say anything, remaining as quiet as usual.
But unlike usual, she died.