Victoria Central Hospital.
This is one of the oldest hospitals in the entire Ingwig, and its top-notch medical level is proportional to its long history. The hospital has expanded several times over the years, and it is one of the few buildings in Old Dunling that spans across two districts. To ensure the hospital's medical services, the Mechanical Institute even established a separate energy pipeline for it.
The Suyalan Hall, the highest security force in Old Dunling, is not far from Victoria Central Hospital. If needed, mounted police can arrive here within ten minutes with rifles full of bullets upon receiving orders.
Due to its large scale, Victoria Central Hospital has gained many other functions in recent years, such as cooperating with the Suyalan Hall.
The bodies from cases are sent here for autopsies, and the body of Sailor Wol is clearly not worth paying attention to. No one claims it, and it's unimportant. According to procedure, his body would be directly transferred to the Royal Medical College for students to practice on. However, at someone's insistence, this worthless body underwent a rare autopsy.
The officer looked at the young girl standing in the corridor, visibly impatient.
If it weren't for her insistence on the autopsy, he should now be at his workstation enjoying a rare break. In Old Dunling, people from the Lower City District don't even count as citizens of Ingwig in the officer's view. Unless a case involves someone within the Outer City District, they never pay attention.
But this young girl is different. This is her first case, and she insisted on finding something out.
A lot of passion, full of drive.
Once upon a time, the officer was also such a person, but now he's just worn down by life. Perhaps seeing his former self in the girl, he tolerates it. To him, life is tedious, and the girl will give up in a few days. He just needs to wait a little.
"Is the report not out yet?"
The girl finally caught a nurse and asked anxiously.
"Officer, you know the procedure. The report needs the head's signature. Maybe he's quite busy now, please wait a moment."
The nurse wore an awkward smile. Since the body arrived this morning, this young officer had been waiting here, asking every hour, which was very annoying. What did she think an autopsy was? Butchering a pig? Even for that, half a day's bloodletting is required. What can be checked in such a short time!
"Oh, alright."
The excited little face showed a bit of disappointment, but soon a loud explosion reignited her enthusiasm.
The explosion came from the street, the violent impact shattered the outer glass, the crowd screamed in panic, and the gray-white mist filled everywhere.
"Eve!"
The officer shouted her name and then pulled out his baton.
"Is it a terrorist attack, Officer Pres?"
As a newly-appointed detective, Eve excitedly drew her gun.
"It's probably just the aging underground steam pipeline exploding and blowing off manhole covers... put your gun away, we're here to maintain order."
Seeing this energetic rookie, Pres felt a headache. He hated his luck a bit. Why was it him who drew the short straw to guide this newcomer?
The hot steam filled the streets. After a brief panic, the crowd calmed down. Old Dunling is huge, not just in area, but it also has enormous underground facilities. Under people's feet lies the world's most complex piping system, growing wildly underground like a massive cobweb.
Maintaining such a large facility is obviously difficult, and such pipeline aging accidents happen frequently; it's no longer surprising.
The irritable officer and the young detective walked out of the hospital together. The mist filled their view, and it seemed like someone slipped through her line of sight and passed through the mist beside her. Eve looked back blankly at the gray-white mist beside her.
"Eve, hurry up!" Pres shouted.
Eve kept looking at the mist, dazed for a few seconds, looked at Pres on the other side of the mist, then as if making a decision, she followed the faintly strange feelings in her heart.
...
Just a simple explosive can cause chaos in Old Dunling.
This is what Lorenzo learned from living in Old Dunling for these years. In these steam pipelines, any random explosion would bring up layers of mist, and this mist conveniently helps Lorenzo to infiltrate.
This will attract the guards' attention, and as long as he gets the report before they finish handling the pipeline, it'll be alright.
Casually stepping into the hospital's lobby, without a sense of being here to steal anything.
Successfully distracting the guards and infiltrating the hospital... walking in openly.
But the question remains, where is that important report?
A white figure entered his sight, and Lorenzo quickly had an idea.
Lorenzo adjusted his emotions, making his gray-blue eyes squeeze out a few tears, and he waved sadly at a nurse.
"My nephew was killed in the Lower City District today, and the guards said I should come to see the autopsy report in the afternoon. Can you tell me where it is?"
His gaze was sincere and sorrowful, as if Lorenzo really had a nephew.
The nurse first expressed sympathy for Lorenzo's situation, then told him that this should be handed over by officers from the Suyalan Hall. However, perhaps moved by Lorenzo's sincere emotion, the nurse made an exception and told him where the head's office was. Although he couldn't get the report, he could find out the specific cause of his nephew's death.
A few minutes later, the middle-aged bald head sat honestly in his chair, with Lorenzo sitting opposite him.
Although he wanted to scream loudly for this uninvited guest, the ornately decorated Winchester was now pointed at his shiny forehead. Whatever the reason, he could only try to stay calm.
"Is this the autopsy report you requested, is it okay?"
Handing the document to Lorenzo, his glossy forehead was slick with cold sweat.
"Is there a copy?"
Flipping through a few pages, Lorenzo asked without looking up.
"No, no!"
It seemed that this thing was very important to him, and the director quickly replied.
"Is that so... Can you make another copy?"
A strange request.
"It shouldn't be a problem for the forensic team to write another report, then hand that report over to Suyalan Hall. Lastly, do not mention any of this to anyone, can you do that?"
Although Wol was an insignificant foreigner and no one cared about his life or death, if the autopsy report got lost or caught the attention of Suyalan Hall for other reasons, it would undoubtedly cause Lorenzo a lot of trouble.
Lorenzo's gaze was icy, like a cold-blooded killer.
"Director Buscalo, you live at 147 Hammerling Street in the Outer City District..."
Surveying the envelope of documents on the table, thoughts surged in Lorenzo's mind, while on his other side, Buscalo felt an immense terror.
"You're not wearing a ring... I guess your wife divorced you, didn't she, taking your son with her?"
Like a master of deduction, Lorenzo's eyes swept back and forth, gathering all the clues he could see. In his eyes, Buscalo was almost transparent.
His heart pounded violently, and these invisible words terrified him more than the shotgun aimed at his head ever could.
"She left you with a daughter, whom you spoil terribly. She likes sweets... doesn't she?"
Lorenzo proudly delivered the final heavy strike.
Hearing this, Buscalo's psychological defenses completely crumbled. He couldn't understand how this man before him knew everything so clearly, and his hands trembled uncontrollably. Perhaps he had other thoughts before, but when it involved his daughter, he simply broke down.
...
Lorenzo left Buscalo's office laden with his spoils, confident that the middle-aged man would be a good father.
Seeing a figure at the other end of the corridor, his face beamed with a smile.
"I really have to thank you, nurse. Director Buscalo promised to carefully inspect my nephew's body. The killer won't remain at large."
It was the nurse who had earlier directed Lorenzo, speaking so intimately. Lorenzo approached her, and then discreetly handed her a few silver coins from his pocket.
"And thanks especially for providing the address, dear nurse. Director Buscalo is eagerly awaiting the gift I will send him."
Under the watchful, smiling gaze of the nurse, Lorenzo strode away.
There was no amazing deduction; this was merely all premeditated.
Lorenzo is a second-rate detective, a violent one without morals, yet in a sense, he's a genius, a genius con artist able to manipulate everything usable.
Perhaps he lacked superhuman reasoning, but in this impromptu crime, he was indeed a hero of his age.
There's a fine line between a genius detective and a genius criminal, perhaps called principle, or maybe conscience, but clearly, Lorenzo didn't have it, repeatedly crossing over between the two.
Pushing the iron door open, the temperature dropped noticeably.
This was the morgue, not a place many would choose to visit; thus, it was easy for Lorenzo to come here.
With the report tucked in his pocket, he couldn't help but personally look into Wol's bizarre state before his death, like a haunting nightmare that lingered long in his memory.
"Which one is it?"
According to the serial numbers on the autopsy report, Lorenzo inspected the nameplates on the iron cabinets.
Gripping the handle, he pulled out a frost-covered iron cabinet, dragging it to the floor, crouching beside it to examine the person he had recently killed.
The body bore several incisions, which Lorenzo forcefully pried open, revealing the organs beneath.
On his way here, he had skimmed the report. According to the forensic autopsy, Wol's bones and organs had issues, though he hadn't delved deeper into it.
Inside was a twisted, nauseating sight, and Lorenzo wondered if that group of forensic experts hadn't vomited upon reaching this stage of dissection.
The organs were completely twisted together, dark red clots wrapped them like jelly. The intestines were contracting, evidently much shorter than those of a normal person, as if part of them had been surgically removed, yet there were no signs of surgery.
The fat was also much less than that of a normal person, meant for energy storage and insulation, but this Viking's fat percentage was shockingly low.
It shouldn't be like this.
In the cold deathly climate where Vikings lived, someone with Wol's physique would freeze to death, not survive until now.
There were stones inside, mostly distributed on the skin's surface and joints. This high-hardness substance, clearly a clump of crystalline material and flesh, acted like armor, which was why Lorenzo's first shot hadn't completely killed him.
Lorenzo's brow furrowed, bringing to mind some unpleasant notions.
Taking a chair from the side, he sat down and once again took out his cigarette case. After careful thought, he still lit a cigarette. Following the spark, the intoxicating smoke slowly rose.
The lights in the morgue went off one by one, leaving only the solitary glow of the cigarette.