Isaac stared at the door, which remained unmoved and wouldn't budge for 14 points of charm. "----Then what other method should we try?"
"Since persuasion through charm isn't working, how about trying intimidation? Maybe this tactic works better with force than persuasion."
"Threatening from across the street----"
"Oh, that doesn't seem appropriate."
Just as Isaac was wondering if Carlo had finally realized how outrageous things were, he heard Carlo say, "After scaring the door, you'll be seen as a violent man in the door's social circle, which won't help you use your charm to open the door later."
Is this the reason it's unsuitable?
"Since the door is blocked, take a look at the window next door."
Isaac walked a few steps along the wall. A window was embedded in the wall, the glass covered with a thick layer of grease and dust, making it impossible to see inside. Isaac leaned closer to the glass, trying to look inside, and could barely make out some blurry outlines, roughly judging that this was a kitchen or something similar.
He tried pulling on the window, but it wouldn't budge. Just as he was wondering how to open the window, two shadows suddenly moved over from behind the glass.
Isaac immediately crouched down and heard voices. The voices were filtered through the window, but he could still catch the sounds as he got closer.
A voice said, "Let's see if there's anything to eat. We were called here so early in the morning, we're all starving."
Another voice said, "Don't take too much. If the higher-ups find out, you'll have to write a report. You know how temperamental those guys are."
"It's alright, I'll just take a little. This nursing home is so big, it can't be without even a piece of bread, right?"
Then came the sound of the cabinet being pulled open.
"Tsk----This is too shabby, there's not even anything decent about it."
"It's not some kind of nursing home for the rich. That's enough. Those old guys living in places like this are lucky if they can even get a hot meal."
"That's true, it's better to die sooner rather than later, to avoid suffering here."
"But after such a major incident, can the nursing home still stay open?"
"It's definitely not going to stay open. I'm telling you, you came too late to see what's in the basement—"
"What things?"
Do I really have to explain in detail? I'm eating right now, don't make me feel disgusted.
"What does it mean when you start a conversation but then stop? What's going on? Tell me quickly."
"Tsk, alright, alright, I'll just say this: those old fogies here are basically ignored by everyone."
o
"Hmm, so?"
"So even if they're dead, only the people here will know, right?"
"Well?"
"So even if someone does something with their bodies, no one will find out, right?"
Could it be—
"Yes, just like you think, the basement is full of... processed stuff."
"Hiss----Are these guys crazy?"
"I don't know the specifics, but given all this commotion, I reckon the Joint Investigation Bureau has arrived."
"Someone came, but left again. The Joint Investigation Bureau has been really busy lately. They even came to our chief of staff a few days ago asking for more people. I guess they're short-handed."
"Sigh, I hope it doesn't happen to us. I don't want to deal with those weird things."
"Who isn't?"
The conversation ended, and one of the voices returned to normal from the muffled sound of eating, indicating that they had finished their meal.
Isaac crouched below the window for a while. After a moment, when no more sound came out, he poked his head out and saw that he could no longer see anyone from the window.
"Boss, is the Joint Investigation Bureau already aware of what they said?"
"Hmm, there's something in the basement. The Joint Investigation Bureau has already come and checked it out. They determined it's a workshop for making walkers. The equipment is sophisticated and complete: workbenches, tools, pools for soaking corpses, and of course, corpses."
"Setting up a morgue in the basement of a nursing home—this location was chosen—" Isaac paused, "... I thought that even if they were to choose a location, they would have chosen a hospital or something."
After all, hospitals are resource-intensive.
"This place is more suitable than the hospital. At the hospital, the disposal of the bodies will be settled soon. Some will be buried, some will be donated. Every body will be registered, and if it is lost, a police report will be filed, although it is uncertain whether it will be found."
"Here, nobody's watching over things outside every day. Who knows what's being brought in? Things that are about to die or are already dead are just packaged up and sent in. They can stay for ten days or half a month without anyone questioning it."
"Is nobody going to do anything about this?"
"These social welfare facilities are just starting out. It's already a good deed if someone is willing to pay for them. As for how they are operated, where the money is used, and whether the people living there are doing well, the government-run ones will still take care of it. But private organizations are currently not being monitored. It all depends on the investors' supervision and self-discipline."
"According to the information I received, the Elias Nursing Home is privately owned and registered under the name of a wealthy businessman named Ailias. However, Ailias has been dead for several years, and it is now managed by a specially established foundation. As for where the foundation's money comes from..."
Finding out who has the final say will take considerable effort; for now, the only option is to detain high-ranking officials like the dean.
"Anyway, let's talk about criticizing the unregulated nursing homes later. Let's figure out how to get in first. I see the window has latches; let's see if we can lift the latches up directly."
Isaac composed himself and carefully examined the window's construction.
There was a gap between the window frame and the window frame. He took out a letter opener, inserted it into the gap, and after fiddling around for a while, he finally found the latch.
He inserted the tip of the knife, flicked it upwards a few times, and slowly moved it upwards, finally managing to pull the pin out of the slot.
The window sash was slightly opened outwards. Isaac put away his letter opener, opened it a crack, glanced around, and seeing no one in the kitchen, he opened it a little more, stepped onto the windowsill, and climbed over to get inside.
He turned around and closed the window slightly, looking around the kitchen. The stove and table were against the wall, next to several rows of wooden shelves with bottles, jars, and bags of food.
There was no door leading from the kitchen to the hallway. Isaac went to the door and listened for a moment, but there was no sound. He then peeked out.
At the other end of the corridor stood a police officer, his back to him, seemingly writing something down.
Seeing that the officer showed no sign of turning around, Isaac observed the layout of the corridor. Although the officer was standing at the other end, the stairs were in the middle of the corridor. If he walked quietly and moved quickly enough, he should not be noticed.
He turned around. "Boss, let's take a look at the murder scene first. Where is it?"
"Third floor."
Where is the third floor?
"If I had to choose, I'd say the entire third floor."
Isaac took a deep breath, walked briskly forward along the wall, and reached the stairwell in three or four seconds.
Seeing no one on the stairs, he stepped onto the stairs, confirmed that the police officer in the corridor was not moving, went up to the second floor, and seeing no one or any sound in the second-floor corridor, continued upwards.
At the top of the stairs on the third floor, Isaac slowed his pace, peeked halfway out, and glanced down into the corridor.
Dark brown bloodstains stretched from one end of the corridor to the other, splattered and dragged, some already dried, others still damp.
There was hardly a clean place to stand in the entire corridor. Human figures were drawn in white chalk among the bloodstains. There were probably seven or eight of them at a glance, lying haphazardly.