The other party was shrewd.
But this wasn't the time to be shrewd.
"I wasn't emphasizing my employment issue... I want you to catch him sooner, understand?
He murdered someone in my apartment, affecting the security of the community.
Soon, everyone will know that a newly arrived Asian was involved in a murder case.
People will develop fear and annoyance toward Asians. Even if this incident isn't my fault, the neighbors on Walker Street will still think:
'Look, it's the Asians causing problems again; they are barbaric and unruly, always provoking all sorts of trouble.'
They will think: 'If there were no Asians, the crime rate in the community certainly wouldn't be so high.'
'It's the Asians who made the community unstable.'
If the truth doesn't come to light, they will increasingly reject Asians,
increasingly reject the growing number of new immigrants.
The community might even sprout signs of racial antagonism because of this.
Klein, you know this kind of thing will happen—
In the southernmost community of Yharnam City, an even more extreme phenomenon of discrimination once occurred, didn't it?"
After a moment of silence, a calm voice came from the phone.
"I understand, Mr. Yan. I will follow up on this case."
"By the way, if there is a problem with your employment process, your visa will definitely be affected."
"You'd better sort these things out, because I will not allow undocumented immigrants on the streets under my jurisdiction."
"I will be watching you."
"Good night."
The phone was hung up.
--
--
At this moment, the Walker Street Police Office.
Klein Justus sent off the last operator of the night shift and returned to a peeling yellow alder desk to sit down.
The desk looked very old;
one of its legs seemed faulty and was padded with two folded waste newspapers just to barely keep it steady.
In the upper right corner of the desk sat a low-power, old-fashioned electric lamp. Under the dim yellow light, three notes were neatly arranged in front of Klein.
These three notes were:
[Between 10:00 AM and 10:00 PM, you must not be at home.]
[If you are at home between 10:00 AM and 10:00 PM, please turn on the lights. Write your name on the back of this note, and put it in your pocket.]
[Please turn around.]
He spoke, "These aren't ordinary notes, are they?"
In the shadows behind Klein, a man leaned against another desk, revealing only a pair of legs clad in jeans.
Below the jeans was an oversized pair of brown leather shoes, fully three sizes larger than a normal adult male's shoes.
Many parts of the shoes had been worn shiny, but fortunately, they weren't torn, barely able to ward off the severe cold.
He habitually tapped the floor with the tip of his toe, and the outline of a massive toe emerged from the top of the shoe vamp.
He was a full 3 meters away from Klein's desk, yet he could see the writing on the notes clearly.
"Hmm... These are notes tainted with the power of [Tainted Blood] (污血)."
"This disgusting smell reeks of the cultists from the sewers in northern Yharnam."
He blinked; his left and right eyelids closed towards the middle, and viscous eye fluid moistened pale yellow vertical pupils with zigzag patterns.
"I'm thinking now, these three notes perhaps weren't specially prepared for Geralt Sif."
His voice was somewhat hoarse, sounding like the hissing of some animal.
"It's just because Geralt Sif broke into Chen Yan's home and accidentally discovered these three notes that he became Chen Yan's scapegoat."
Klein tapped the desk with his index finger.
"You mean, the killer originally likely came for Chen Yan."
"Just by chance, he killed Geralt Sif."
Klein seemed somewhat disappointed.
"That is to say, Chen Yan isn't a suspect; the killer is indeed someone else."
The man in the dark licked his lips.
"Chen Yan might not be the killer, but the killer is definitely related to Chen Yan."
He said this ambiguous half-sentence and then surprisingly fell silent.
It was approaching dawn; the blizzard outside the window gradually intensified.
The fine, dense snowflakes were more like thick fog, covering every corner of Yharnam City.
The Walker Street Police Office had heating. The warm air came into contact with the freezing windows, condensing into a beautiful layer of frost flowers on the inside of the glass.
The man in the dark still stared at the three notes on the desk.
"Three notes.
Three requirements.
If they are not completed, one will be killed by the power of the [Tainted Blood]."
"This kind of [Death] is [Absolute Death]—
Once a certain condition is triggered, one will inevitably die in a [Specific Way].
Not even gods can save them."
Klein's eyes stagnated:
"Geralt Sif's 'heart failure' is the so-called [Specific Way].
The power of the [Tainted Blood] on these three notes will cause a person to suffer extreme fright, leading to death by heart failure."
The man in the dark snapped his fingers: "Yes, dear inspector, that's basically it."
He continued: "What's interesting is, such killing conditions are actually very harsh."
The expression on Klein's face froze.
The man didn't seem to notice Klein's stiff face and continued:
"Have you ever thought about it?
If the person who activated these three notes,
only completed one of the requirements,
or only completed two of them,
under such circumstances, would they be killed?"
He asked and answered himself.
"The answer is no."
He explained.
"This level of [Tainted Blood] cannot reach that kind of [Intensity]."
"Of the three requirements, one must fail to complete every single one to be killed."
"With all due respect, Sheriff, this looks more like a prank, or a punishment."
"Rather than a premeditated murder."
The man's tone was very certain.
Klein realized something:
"According to what you just said, the killer originally came for Chen Yan."
"And these three notes were merely a [Prank] or [Punishment], not a [Murder]."
"Meaning, the killer originally didn't intend to kill Chen Yan."
The man let out a soft chuckle.
"Yes, Lord Sheriff, look at them, take a look, what kind of requirements are these?"
"Requiring when to be home, when not to be home,
requiring to turn on the lights, requiring to write one's name,
Ha!
This is almost like a child playing house!
It's the kind of game where 'Do as I say, or I'll spank your bottom'!
Didn't you play this when you were a kid, Sheriff!?"
Klein's face contorted.
The man continued:
"That Chen Yan, he could easily accomplish these things."
"Not to mention that Asians are inherently smarter than us."
"Even a normal-brained Imperial could easily meet these requirements if they just thought about it a little!"
Klein realized a pathetic fact.
"According to your logic, that Geralt Sif, his death..."
The man, however, didn't feel this was a tragedy.
He burst into loud laughter.
"Yes! Lord Sheriff!
Geralt Sif was completely killed by his own stupidity!"