Please Help Me, Mr. Detective!

In a dim room with the curtains drawn, Klein, who had just left the Roundtable Hold, lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a full ten minutes before finally coming to his senses.

The tangled mass of information left him unsure where to even begin analyzing it.

As all sorts of thoughts churned through his mind, Klein suddenly pulled out a brass-colored coin, the halfpenny he often used for divination.

Perhaps he could first divine whether supernatural factors had played a part in Maynard's death. Once he had settled the matter at hand, at least, he could go home in peace and prepare for the Tarot Club at three.

Miss Justice, I really am curious about what you said to Mr. Stars. I wonder if I can take the opportunity to ask...

Klein shook his head and grumbled helplessly. Then, as he silently recited the statement, his eyes darkened:

"John Maynard's death was influenced by supernatural factors."

"John Maynard's death was influenced by supernatural factors."

Clink!

He flicked the halfpenny into the air, watching its brass-colored body tumble and glint in the sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains.

Smack! The coin landed squarely in Klein's palm, which lay flat on the bed, with the numeral one-half facing up.

The reverse side represented a negative answer. In other words, the councilman's death had not been influenced by supernatural factors in the slightest.

"Looks like this guy really did die suddenly while extremely... you know... Honestly... Forget it, the dead are gone. I won't keep talking about him behind his back..."

Klein put the coin away and emptied his mind in the comfortable room that afternoon, preparing to get some proper sleep.

Ah, I hope this ends soon. He didn't want to hold another Tarot Club meeting in this room.

Knock, knock, knock.

Who is it!?

As the slow, rhythmic knocking continued, Klein reluctantly sat up and straightened his clothes. He put on the badge and coat of his police uniform, then walked slowly to the door.

Turning the handle, Klein unhurriedly opened the door a crack.

When he saw Leon, with a coat draped over his arm, and Inspector Tolle, who looked like a brown bear, outside, he opened the door all the way.

"Is it over?" Klein composed himself and asked softly.

"Just about. I'm terribly sorry to have kept you waiting so long."

Tolle tugged at his collar. Sweat had soaked through his shirt, and his expression was plainly troubled and helpless.

He said to Leon and Klein, "We've spoken to Madam Sharon and taken her statement. I'll arrange a car to take you back shortly. Leon said you're staying in the same place."

"I'm truly sorry for taking up so much of your valuable time."

Klein was quite understanding and said it was all right. After all, he wanted the rest that would follow as well. Then he smiled and said:

"That's right, we're staying in the same place. From the way things have developed, has Madam Sharon admitted she was with Councilman Maynard last night?"

"Yes. She actually said that, under the influence of a great deal of alcohol, she and Councilman Maynard were momentarily unable to control themselves."

Tolle grew even more agitated as he spoke.

"She said that after discovering he'd died suddenly, she was terrified. She only did a little to deal with the situation before fleeing the room and hiding in her own guest room. For now, we don't have enough grounds to charge her with a crime, so we can only let her go, with some restrictions on her freedom at most, and wait for the results of a more thorough autopsy."

Inspector Tolle explained in detail.

Klein tilted his head slightly and glanced at Leon before saying to Tolle:

"You don't need to explain this to us, do you?"

"Shall I take a guess?" Leon, who seemed to be in a good mood, volunteered.

"Madam Maynard is back? I'd wager she's not much less troublesome than Madam Sharon. After all, she's a beautiful noblewoman who's just lost her spouse. Though she's no longer young, she's taken good care of herself. In the eyes of all those gentlemen, a woman in her position is quite deserving of pity."

"Yes, I suppose there's no need to explain anything to you two." Tolle paused, then gave Leon a wry smile.

"You really are a Detective skilled at dealing with noble ladies. I was so fed up with Madam Maynard that I instinctively wanted to confide in someone reliable."

Leon went on to ask:

"Shouldn't it take Councilman Maynard's wife longer to get back?"

"Yes, but unfortunately, something unusual happened with today's steam train: it wasn't late." Tolle answered in the affirmative with a joke.

"Backlund's trains are always like that. They're on time when they should be late, and late when they should be on time." A piece of useless knowledge from his predecessor suddenly surfaced, prompting Leon to chime in without thinking.

Klein looked curiously at the two of them, who seemed to be having an encrypted conversation. "What are you talking about?"

"Madam Maynard hasn't been in Tingen for the past few days. At this time of year, noble ladies go to Backlund to attend social balls. You might not know this, but she's the daughter of a New Party leader and member of the House of Commons. She's still on the steam train back to Tingen. She merely made her position known in advance by telegram, and that alone forced us to seek the Nighthawks' help, all so we could solve the case faster."

Tolle sighed as if he didn't much care, but the loathing in his tone was nearly overflowing.

"Maynard was also a New Party member. He'd been a councilman in Tingen City for over ten years, and he intended to aim for the mayor's seat in next year's election."

So you were afraid there was a conspiracy at work. At the very least, you didn't expect reality to be this unreasonable.

Klein silently grumbled to himself. After checking that he had all his belongings, he followed Inspector Tolle toward the stairs and headed back down to the ground floor.

They were only halfway down when screams, each more piercing than the last, came through the floorboards to the three of them.

Klein and Leon exchanged a glance, then hurried to a railing on the second floor and looked down.

In the living room, they saw a plump, fair-skinned middle-aged woman supported by two young men. She glared in a certain direction, her voice growing louder and louder.

"Why aren't you arresting her? Isn't the evidence obvious enough?"

"She's the murderer! I'm going to sue her, and I'm going to sue you for dereliction of duty!"

"I'll go to Backlund and hire the best barrister to sue every one of you!"

These nobles are still the same as ever. Leon propped his elbow on the railing and rested his chin in his palm. His handsome face was full of amusement, and he seemed ready to enjoy the melodramatic spectacle.

He had no good impression of either the noblewoman or that damned Madam Sharon, all because of his predecessor's memories.

The former had forced him to sacrifice his dignity and curry favor with her for money and connections. The latter had been even worse: she had used a Potion formula as a pretext to make his predecessor sell his soul.

If he remembered correctly, his predecessor had gone to that well-known lady to obtain the formula, bringing a considerable sum in gold pounds.

But Madam Sharon had said she didn't want money. Instead, she wanted him to satisfy a series of demands, and the first had actually been for him to lick... her feet. She had also asked whether he was willing to give up being a man!

What the fuck kind of shitty questions were those? The most fucked-up part was that my predecessor was actually almost tempted into agreeing...

At the thought, Leon instinctively gripped the wooden railing beside him, and a creaking crack rang out.

Although his predecessor was the one who had experienced it, whenever those memories surfaced, he still felt as disgusted as if he had swallowed a fly.

Seeing that the woman had gone unpunished, Leon thought it a pity that Klein had already gotten his divination result.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have minded adding a little something to the affair.

Forget it. I'm in a good mood today, so I won't stoop to their level.

Beside him, Klein, who had activated Spirit Vision and was looking around, also seemed to have keenly noticed his mood. Trusting in Leon's ability to stir up trouble,

Klein didn't ask.

And, on the principle that one less problem was better than one more, he nudged Leon with his elbow and was just about to suggest going home.

Then he heard a frail voice suddenly call out to Leon, "Mr. Detective, please help me!"