London Police Headquarters, Fifth Floor, Superintendent's Office.
Lestrade, as the highest-ranking officer of the London Police, was currently bowed slightly, trying his utmost to show respect in his smile. However, his usual solemnity made his expression look more like an awkward twitch.
Facing the short old man on the sofa, he hesitated, glancing at the clock on the wall one last time before finally speaking:
"Worshipful Priest, Scotland Yard has been expanded four times now. The corridors and staircases are a maze. Will Miss Katherine be…"
He didn't dare to use the word "lost," as it might be construed as a lack of orientation or poor intellect.
The old man before him clearly didn't care about such details, merely waving his hand with a smile: "Don't worry, she should be arriving soon."
Sure enough, a few minutes later, the office door was pushed open, and the young woman in the peculiar nun's attire walked in.
Her dark hair was tied back at the nape of her neck. Her eyes and brows were sharp, naturally conveying a sense of pride and coldness inappropriate for her age.
Currently, her face showed clear anger, which made Superintendent Lestrade apprehensive.
"Did something happen?" the old man on the sofa asked, rising to his feet.
"Nothing, just ran into an ill-mannered bastard," Katherine said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to suppress her inner fire.
The Superintendent's heart sank, and he inwardly cursed everyone in the police station.
He had explicitly instructed everyone to be courteous to strangers today, as they were expecting important guests. How could someone be so brainless?
"I guarantee that anyone who has offended the sanctity of the Church will be punished most severely!" he quickly declared.
Katherine shook her head, not wanting to dwell on the matter. She turned to the Superintendent, her expression serious: "Have you found the candidate?"
The Superintendent's smile froze; he looked so distressed he nearly burst into tears: "Miss Katherine, though I am the Superintendent of the London Police, your request… is simply too difficult."
It wasn't a major affair originally. Simply a deranged serial killer had appeared in the Old District, brutally murdering and mutilating twelve women in two weeks. Each victim was violently assaulted, dismembered, bled out, and had their organs pulled out, chopped up, and scattered on the floor.
That was all. It really wasn't a big deal.
In this era where 'Hell' had invaded the physical plane, demons ran amok, and a late-night stroll could end in a gruesome, body-less death, a serial killer was truly difficult to give adequate attention to.
The problem was that, as the killings went on, the killer seemed to get carried away.
He was no longer satisfied operating in the Lower District and turned his sights on the Upper District, where last night, he brutally murdered a beautiful lady.
If she had only been a resident of the Upper District, it would have been manageable, perhaps by just increasing the reward money. But, terribly, this Upper District victim… was the wife of a Church Executor!
Now, the matter was serious!
It was well known that after the Gate of Hell opened, the Church became the sole hope for the continuation of the human species.
Whether it was the newly established churches in the districts, the tens of thousands of zealous, warmongering fanatics in the South resisting the demonic invasion with flesh and blood, or the omnipresent Holy Light, they were the final support structure for humanity clinging to existence on the brink of extinction.
The Church is Sacred and Inviolable.
This sentence was ingrained in the small minds of children before they could even read and their worldviews were fully formed. It was a fixed rule of this world, like the rising and setting of the sun.
"I don't care what methods you use." The woman's face was grim. "Someone has murdered the kin of a Church official. This is a sacrilege against the Holy Light. The murderer must be found within 24 hours."
"But, but you only gave me one spot, which…" Superintendent Lestrade mustered his courage to explain. But seeing Miss Katherine's slightly furrowed brow, he quickly swallowed the rest of his words.
He had no choice. The brutal murder of an Executor's wife was far more appalling than if the Mayor of London had been caught having relations with a dog. If word got out, it would tarnish the supreme authority of the Church.
Therefore, this matter had to be resolved as quickly as possible, and the fewer people who knew about it, the better!
But to assign only one person to investigate a complex serial murder case and demand the killer be caught within 24 hours—wasn't that utter fantasy?
Unless—
Unless!!!
Superintendent Lestrade swallowed hard, thinking of one name with extreme reluctance and unease.
The instant the idea bloomed—
"Oh? Has the esteemed gentleman perhaps thought of someone?"
The short old man suddenly spoke, his gray pupils lifeless beneath his droopy eyelids.
The Superintendent didn't know what came over him; he nodded instinctively: "Yes, if anyone can do it, it can only be him."
The moment the words left his mouth, he was shocked, breaking out in a cold sweat.
When he looked again at the constantly smiling, short old man, his original respect was subtly replaced by a hint of fear.
That last sentence absolutely did not come out according to his own will.
It was driven by some kind of power from the Abyss!
So, this Worshipful Priest was not just a Contractor, but had already evolved to the Second Stage?!
"Do we finally have a candidate?" Miss Katherine asked.
Superintendent Lestrade clenched his hands, sweat already seeping between his fingers. He knew that concealing the truth now was pointless, so he replied anxiously: "Yes, there is such a person. He is a… private detective."
Ten minutes later, in the jail cells of the police station.
The old gaslight hissed, casting a dim glow in the damp surroundings.
Several police officers were struggling to move a huge, blood-seeping valise. If not for the occasional bizarre squirming sounds coming from within, no one would believe it contained a person.
The person inside had their pelvis crushed, their two legs forcibly bent and pressed against their chest in a ghastly position. Several ribs were likely broken, and both shoulders were dislocated.
Not only that, the tendons at his elbows were torn open, tied in a miserable knot beneath his neck like two pieces of rope.
In short, a living human being had been literally compressed into a lump of flesh. Even more horrifying was the fact that the person was still alive.
In the Empire's law, death row inmates had no right to civil appeal. So, even if they were treated brutally, there was nowhere to complain.
After all, these men were already headed for the execution grounds.
But… even so, this was too gruesome…
ZZZZIP————
The zipper of the suitcase was pulled open. The grating sound of bones rubbing together emerged, followed by the sound of lungs sucking air, finally able to expand.
There were no screams or pleas, only the quietest, most miserable moans. The person slowly 'flowed' out like a puddle of sludge.
In front of the box, the short old man in the robe paused, then looked at the nearby police officers, who were all averting their eyes, afraid to look at the man splayed on the ground.
"Does your detective gentleman do this every time?"
An officer nodded timidly.
"Yes, Worshipful Priest. In his words, it makes transporting the prisoner more convenient."
Meanwhile, on the third floor of the police station, Superintendent Lestrade and Miss Katherine stood by the door of the reception room.
The Superintendent pointed toward a sofa.
A man was sitting there, wearing a trench coat, tall and slender, reading a book in a half-asleep state, looking like a down-and-out noble who had lost all interest in life.
"That's the man," the Superintendent said humbly.
The moment he spoke, he suddenly noticed the expression of the lady beside him:
"Uh… Miss Katherine, you look a little pale."