When Goethe Suspected a Trap

Doctor Hode is dead?!

Goethe frowned.

He had just asked Swart to investigate, and now the man was dead? That was too much of a coincidence.

If he had only suspected something before, now he was certain Doctor Hode was definitely involved.

"It was suicide," Swart added. "He left a note, confessing that he poisoned your grandfather. Overcome with guilt, he chose to end his own life."

Goethe let out a cold chuckle.

Guilt?

Anyone who believed that was a fool.

Most likely, the "Fog Killer" had discovered Swart's investigation and decided to eliminate loose ends.

Or…

Hode was innocent.

The "Fog Killer" might have learned about Swart's inquiry and deliberately killed Hode to set a trap.

Another possibility flashed through Goethe's mind.

Still, he leaned toward the first scenario, Hode was silenced, and his death was staged as a trap.

"Where is the body?" Goethe asked.

"Still at Hode's house. I told my men not to touch anything. I waited for you to investigate the scene together," Swart said, flashing a flattering smile.

Though Goethe was younger, Swart had witnessed his abilities firsthand.

If he wanted to climb higher, forging a good relationship with someone like Goethe was essential.

Besides, his late merchant father had given him a piece of advice before passing: Leave the professional work to professionals. Your job is to support them.

Swart had taken that to heart.

It was also why, despite his own mediocre skills and numerous shortcomings, he had still managed to become sheriff.

Goethe glanced at Swart and could more or less guess what he was thinking.

But he didn't care.

This was just cooperation, both taking what they needed. That was enough.

"Let's go."

Goethe headed for the door but suddenly paused.

"Make sure to contact Morey."

He added one more thing.

"And prepare something powerful."

Linden Upper District, near Pine District

This was considered the heart of Lustre, a favored area for the upper middle class and above.

It was more prosperous and safer than Linden Lower District, yet more affordable than Pine District, an ideal location.

Doctor Hode lived here.

Of course, being the private doctor of Goethe's family alone wouldn't be enough to afford such a lifestyle. Hode served as a private doctor for five families, one of whom was rumored to be nobility.

Whenever he mentioned this, Doctor Hode always looked proud.

The Kingdom of Tessin had stood for over 120 years. The once-new nobles had long since become established aristocrats, while some of the old noble families had either declined or thrived.

Kings might change, but nobility was eternal.

That was what King George I had said.

Many believed it to be an unshakable truth.

Others scoffed at it.

Doctor Hode was undoubtedly among the former.

But now, the once-proud doctor hung from the first-floor ceiling beam like a dried sausage.

"Where's Morey?"

Goethe asked as he jumped down from the carriage.

Swart smirked. "You don't seriously think I can order that man around, do you? I already sent word to him. When he chooses to arrive, though, is beyond my control."

Goethe nodded in understanding and headed toward the house.

"Sheriff!"

A patrolling officer at the door saluted upon seeing Swart.

Swart gave a small nod, but his gaze quickly shifted to Goethe, who stood at the entrance, surveying the surroundings.

The house was a two-story building with a garden.

The morning sun shone brightly on the neatly trimmed lawn and white fence. On one side of the grass, there was a white lounge chair and a round table, with a folded parasol standing nearby.

One could easily imagine sitting here on a hot afternoon, opening the parasol, sipping a chilled drink, and enjoying the peace.

Compared to Guta Street, this was a world of difference.

In Guta Street, you opened your door directly onto the noisy, unsafe street.

Inside, the furnishings reflected the doctor's wealth.

A silver tea set sat in the kitchen. Goethe vaguely remembered that his grandfather had owned a similar one. But unlike this, his grandfather only brought it out for special occasions, keeping it carefully stored away at all other times. No one but him even knew where it was hidden.

That was the difference in wealth.

Goethe sighed inwardly and walked toward the other side of the lawn, peering into the living room through the window.

As for going inside?

Not a chance.

Knowing full well that there was a trap, Goethe would never step in.

Not unless Morey arrived and went in first without incident.

Or unless the danger was neutralized.

Otherwise, he would maintain a safe distance.

Through the window, he spotted a letter on the table.

Doctor Hode's so-called suicide letter.

"Bring me that letter," Goethe said to Swart.

"Bring me that letter."

Swart turned to a nearby patrol officer and spoke.

The officer glanced to the side...

No one was there.

He turned back to Swart, raising a hand to point at himself.

This patrol officer wasn't a fool. The fact that both Goethe and Swart were deliberately avoiding the scene made it clear that something dangerous was inside.

"Hurry up!"

"Stop dawdling!"

Swart urged impatiently.

Rank had its privileges, forced obedience was one of them. Wearing a long face, the patrol officer stepped inside, grabbed the suicide note, and dashed back out.

"Well done!"

Swart praised him, taking the note and preparing to hand it to Goethe.

But Goethe didn't take it. Instead, he simply let Swart hold onto it while he observed.

Goethe was wary, there could be poison on the paper or something else equally insidious.

His reaction made Swart's face go pale.

His hands trembled as he held the note.

"Stop shaking."

Goethe snapped. Once Swart steadied his hands, Goethe was finally able to make out the scrawled handwriting—

I killed Old Wayne.

I injected him with poison using a syringe.

Then, I covered up the truth.

But my conscience still haunts me.

The torment is unbearable.

At last, I choose freedom.

—Hode

Qi.D1888.6.11

…

The note was disjointed, as if the writer had truly been tormented before death.

But Goethe didn't believe it.

He turned and peered through the window, scanning the room for the syringe mentioned in the note.

If his suspicions were correct, the syringe should contain traces of [Bloody Honor].

Sure enough, when Goethe adjusted his angle, he spotted Hode's medical bag near the junction of the hallway and the living room.

It was evident that Dr. Hode highly valued his medical bag, he had even placed it separately on a three-legged round tea table.

However, at this moment, the bag was half-open.

This directly contradicted his usual meticulousness.

Someone who valued their medical bag so much would never leave it half-open. Even if they had opened it, they would have made sure to close it afterward.

Unless…

They were dead.

A scene played out in Goethe's mind—

That morning, before leaving, Dr. Hode had checked his medical bag one last time.

Just as he had it half-open, a rope suddenly looped around his neck from behind.

The assailant was strong.

Hode had no chance to resist.

Within moments, he was strangled to death.

"Go get the syringe."

Goethe instructed Swart.

The sheriff immediately turned to his subordinate.

"Again?!"

The officer groaned but went in nonetheless.

This time, he was even faster than before, grabbing the syringe and sprinting back out.

The syringe was different from the ones Goethe had seen in his homeland. It was made of glass and metal, capable of injecting far less liquid than what he was familiar with, though its size was much larger.

After a brief moment of thought, Goethe tore off a piece of seat cover from the carriage and used it as a barrier to touch the syringe.

The next moment, words appeared before his eyes—

[Slightly Damaged Syringe (Bloody Honor): A syringe that has been used for over three years, capable of injecting approximately 10ml of liquid. Although its owner took great care in maintaining it, an accidental drop has left it in need of replacement despite no visible signs of damage. It was once meant to save lives, but in an act of deliberate murder, it was repurposed for death.]

[Acquired: Bloody Honor!]

…

Goethe smirked.

Not only had he obtained another [Bloody Honor', bringing his total to two, but he had also discovered something crucial, even with a barrier, he could still acquire Bloody Honor.

"Did you find something?"

Swart, who had been closely watching Goethe, couldn't help but ask when he saw his smile.

"A little."

Goethe nodded, then glanced through the window at Dr. Hode's hanging corpse. "I don't know everything yet, but one thing is certain…

Hode did not commit suicide."

"He was silenced?"

Swart lowered his voice and cast a wary glance at the fence gate behind them. His polished leather shoes subtly shifted in that direction.

The sheriff was ready to leave.

He had agreed to help Goethe, but only under the condition that it was 'safe.'

The moment danger arose, he would retreat.

And Goethe?

He ran even faster than Swart.

Before Swart could fully react, Goethe had already sprinted out, leaving Dr. Hode's lawn behind.

By the time Swart turned to flee, Goethe was already on his way back—carrying a box.

The lid was open, revealing neatly arranged rows of explosives.

One of them was already lit.

Goethe charged straight to the front of Hode's house and flung the entire box inside.

Boom!

With a heavy thud, the explosives jostled inside the box.

At the same moment, Dr. Hode's hanging corpse began to twitch.

The dead body... was moving!

With a grotesque, horrifying motion.

Snap!

With a single tug, the reanimated Dr. Hode ripped the rope clean off.

He crashed to the floor, right onto the pile of explosives.

And just as he landed, the fuse reached its end—

BOOM!