Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 62 - 59 Good Night

Lyle slightly cleaned up the clutter in the basement and returned to the office area.

Mr. Gareth sat at his desk as usual, but his work efficiency was very low, more like he was diverting his attention.

The nun named Karen stood at his side, her gaze fixed in the distance, like a patrolling general.

Monk Sari had already left, and Karen, dressed in a nun’s habit, stood out in the office like a firefly.

Noticing Lyle’s arrival, Gareth put the documents in his hands aside. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, and his right curly wiggle slightly as he did so.

"You arrived just in time, Lyle. Meet our newcomer, Miss Karen Pembai. She will officially start working tomorrow, joining Ralph’s investigative team as your future partner," Gareth said.

"Please say hello, ladies and gentlemen."

"It is my honor, Sir Lyle," Karen said, her right hand balled into a fist and thumping against her chest in a salute befitting of a soldier. Fortunately, as a young girl, nothing indecent occurred.

"To have the strength of Miss Karen is indeed a blessing of the Holy Light," Lyle complimented smoothly.

"The Holy Light protect you, sir," Karen visibly smiled for a moment and then quickly adopted a serious demeanor.

An easy girl to see through.

"Excuse me, Sir Lyle. I must leave for the daily mass now. Starting tomorrow, please allow me to discern the Holy Light by your side." After another fist salute, Karen hurriedly left.

"Mr. Gareth, what happened?" Suddenly a nun has become my colleague.

"An experiment by the church, a part of our chess game with them. Thankfully, you acted promptly, or we would be in much more trouble now."

"But I don’t feel like we’ve gained much, and now we have an unwanted follower," Lyle said.

"This little follower’s leg is thicker than the thigh of your bastard uncle. This girl, not even reaching one meter seventy, easily blew open a door over two meters tall. I estimate she could match the strength of five adult men."

"But Karen is still a form of surveillance, is she not? If she follows me, my work will be disrupted," Lyle pointed out.

"Open surveillance is much safer than hidden interference. The church has made their stance clear," Gareth replied.

"What?"

"They will only watch, not control," Gareth narrowed his eyes, the corners of his mouth curling up like a shark smelling blood.

"The security department also needs a change of blood, driving out those garbage who are double-dealing."

"Mr. Wiltshire?"

"Who else? Who do you think would know about your work today?"

"Speaking of work, sir, my task is completed." Lyle produced the finished report and a small bag of white crystals. "The cause of death was asphyxiation due to food blockage in the trachea. However, the contents of the stomach contained a lethal poison, suggesting malicious intent to poison by the suspect."

Gareth took the report and studied it carefully. Turning to Lyle, his pupil seemed exceptionally large behind the monocle, and Lyle saw his own reflection.

"...Little Butler... Bran Sherley is a member of the Merchants’ Alliance—one of the backers behind the Security department."

"I understand, sir. I am merely a forensic expert, not a judge," Lyle said, smiling and spreading his hands broadly.

"I will let Ralph take care of this matter’s follow-up. He has a knack for ’handling’ these sorts of things," Gareth assured.

"..."

"You’ve worked hard, Little Butler. You did an excellent job. You can finish for the day and go rest," Gareth said.

"Goodbye, sir," Lyle said, tipping his hat with a smile before leaving.

Seated at his desk, Gareth tossed the report into the ashes in the fireplace and watched as it ignited.

Murmuring to himself, he said, "Not bad for a nephew and uncle, that same squinting smile as ’Security Evil Wolf’."

...

Bran Sherley, frustrated, cut into the steak on his plate. Rumors of him killing a beggar were spreading wildly in Cassandra, and those damn rats would make him the laughingstock at tomorrow’s gathering. What will they say about me, the exposed Bran?

Hoping that the people from the security department had taken the money and would do their job diligently, Bran walked with his glass of wine to the window. Beyond the curtain was the night of Cassandra, and Baron Borey’s estate lay under the white crescent moon.

Having entered that place through reputation and money, he heard that the old baron’s eldest son was a peculiar brat. Hmph, noble bloodline, one could hope for a highborn lady’s hand in marriage with just a little arrangement. Bran placed the wine glass before his eyes, peering through the crimson liquid at the estate, gently swirling his glass as if the Borey estate was swaying with his hand.

Interesting.

The persistent knocking outside quashed his own interest in the meal.

"These morons, have they forgotten my rule not to disturb me during meals? It seems necessary to straighten out the Shelley Family’s discipline."

Bran set his wine glass down on the table and walked toward the door.

The knocking did not cease.

When Bran opened the door, he said, "Whether servant or butler, your tenure has just ended."

Bran did not see the fright on the newcomer’s face.

Because it was a rotting face, the chin drooping like an ornament, causing the mouth to gape wide, as though it could swallow a person whole.

The withered fingers pressed against Bran’s mahogany door, oozing black mucus from the fingertips, like melting ointment, a foul stench assaulting the nostrils.

Bran covered his mouth, but eventually he vomited.

Because his gaze had drifted to what was below the visitor.

Empty.

Black and purple flesh mixed with ribs, the abdomen like an open gate, intestines haphazardly settled at the bottom, the stomach resembling an overturned bottle.

A dark brown liquid had flowed all the way, soaking the precious carpet.

Bran fell to the ground.

Watching this corpse walk into his dining room, even casually closing the door behind it.

Its disjointed maw muttered something incoherent, until the final shouts became clear.

"Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!"

......

The Shelley Family’s home was as lively as a carnival in the middle of the night, with servants running about, and Bran Sherley, foaming at the mouth and unconscious, was rushed to the church overnight.

A figure crawled in the pointed attic of the Shelley mansion.

He watched the passersby’s torches and oil lamps, as if his eyes were gleaming.

A gelatinous tentacle extended in front of him, topped with a death’s-head belladonna.

The old beggar refused it.

"Save some for Master Lyle, this is the fourth already."

"If I don’t use it, I’ll stop moving, then let it stop, it’s already over."

"Visiting a friend? No need, there’s nothing to see."

"A burial? Ha, as if beggars have burials, born with the world as our home, dead with the earth as our grave."

"This is enough, this is enough..." his eyes started to darken, his knuckles fell to the ground unresponsive, "In death, I’m much more thrilling than I ever was alive, who would’ve thought, I’d scare those high and mighty masters, hehehehehe... huhuhuhuhu, let me be of some use, if my decaying flesh can bring you a bit of comfort, please, eat me."

His body slowly stiffened, his skull resting on the ground, the unfocused eyeballs staring straight at the glowing blue orb.

"Gurgle..."

A semi-transparent veil dotted with stars was draped over the old beggar.

Just like the Milky Way bidding him goodnight.