**Anonymous Tip?**
Could it be a cover-up?
Goethe glanced at the body of the secret agent, letting out a cold laugh in his heart.
Those "pursuers" undoubtedly initiated their backup plan the moment they realized the agent known as "Soko" hadn't shown up on time—using an anonymous tip to test whether something had gone wrong at the police station.
No matter what the issue was, as long as it was backed by evidence, it would achieve their ultimate goal: to get him out of the police station!
Clearly, there must be someone or something in the police station capable of quickly determining whether someone is lying.
Moreover, by doing this, the pursuers must have assumed that he, the "serial killer," would surely attract the attention of whoever possessed this ability or item.
The "pursuers'" plan was flawless.
Unfortunately...
Their only miscalculation was: he truly didn't kill Had.
Even more importantly: they didn't expect him to have eliminated the agent "Soko."
"If that's the case, perhaps I can be a bit bolder!"
Realizing he could take advantage of the situation, Goethe quickly devised a plan in his mind.
Why did he come to the police station?
To seek protection.
But what if he could resolve everything once and for all?
That would be even better.
However, this plan required some "cooperation" from others.
With this in mind, he looked at the police chief Swat in front of him and smiled.
"I didn't kill Had," Goethe said confidently with a smile.
"Everyone claims they didn't commit murder."
Facing Goethe's outright denial, the alcohol-scented Swat laughed and spoke calmly, "I hope you'll speak up directly, for your own good."
His tone was flat, without a hint of fluctuation, even though it carried a threat.
If it weren't for being in the interrogation room, one might not have noticed that he was interrogating Goethe; it seemed more like he was greeting a familiar face in a bar.
However, this made Goethe frown inwardly.
The Swat before him likely belonged to the type who just went with the flow.
Moreover...
He was probably the kind of person who wouldn't mind using his authority for personal gain.
Goethe glanced at the man's coat and shoes; the material and craftsmanship were clearly no worse than what he was wearing. It was a suit that Goethe's parents had tailored for his 18th birthday back when the Wayne family hadn't yet fallen. Although it lacked a cane, it still cost 7 gold.
According to Goethe's memory, a senior lawyer who could frequent City Hall earned around 2-3 gold per week.
That's definitely upper-middle class.
And a police chief's salary clearly wouldn't reach that level.
So where did the money come from?
The answer was obvious.
Getting someone like this to "cooperate" would naturally be difficult for Goethe at the moment.
In fact, Goethe was confident that if he let Swat have his way, this matter would probably be swept under the rug, just like his "family members" who disappeared—after all, his home, though not in the heart of Lust City, was still in the urban area. Swat, as the police chief, couldn't have been unaware of such a series of disappearances, yet he still pretended not to know.
This spoke volumes.
But fortunately, Swat wasn't the one in charge.
With this realization, Goethe smiled again and said with certainty, "I didn't kill Had."
This response made Swat raise an eyebrow.
Swat's patience was clearly limited.
A moment ago, he had feigned calm, but now he raised his voice.
"Didn't?"
"Even though we hang murderers, we still interrogate them, identify the scene, confirm everything again, then imprison them, and finally hang them!"
"This process is very long."
Swat moved closer to Goethe, seemingly trying to intimidate him, but as he straightened up, he suddenly belched, the smell of alcohol filling the air.
Goethe didn't flinch; he looked at the police chief, maintained his smile, and insisted, "I didn't kill Had."
He really didn't kill Had.
It was "Goethe" who did it, not him.
After speaking, he closed his eyes and ignored everyone in the interrogation room.
At Swat's signal, the middle-aged officer who had been standing by immediately raised his baton, ready to give Goethe a lesson. But before the baton could fall, Swat seemed to think of something and quickly waved to stop his subordinate.
"I hope you're telling the truth," Swat said, changing his mind, and then turned to leave.
The interrogation room door closed again.
Goethe, with his eyes closed, heard the dull thud as the door shut and felt reassured.
"Just as I thought!"
"There really is someone or something in the police station that can detect lies!"
"This clearly falls within the realm of the supernatural!"
"This indirectly confirms my previous suspicion that the 'officials govern' this world. With that in mind, my plan should succeed!"
Goethe quickly began refining his plan in his mind.
He needed to make everything appear reasonable.
Or more accurately...
Tailor his approach!
Although there were official supernaturals, they clearly wouldn't bother with "trivial matters."
In that case...
He would make sure everything became important to them!
Goethe made up his mind.
...
In the room next to the interrogation room stood a man in a tailcoat and white shirt.
The room was about the same size as the interrogation room, but it was empty, with only the man inside.
The man looked down at the pocket watch in his hand, and when Swat walked in, the man spoke directly.
"He didn't lie."
Without even glancing at Swat, the man kept his eyes fixed on the pocket watch. Swat, however, didn't dare to be negligent; he smiled obsequiously and asked, "So how should we handle him?"
"Just follow the normal procedures."
After receiving the man's affirmative answer, Swat bowed and returned to the interrogation room.
"Lock Goethe up first."
"Then, investigate the entire case thoroughly."
"As for Soko?"
"Throw him in the morgue first; we'll deal with him once we have the final outcome."
As soon as Swat re-entered the interrogation room, he gave orders to the middle-aged officer.
Immediately, the officer breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as if a weight had been lifted—he wasn't a fool. After witnessing everything, he could tell that Goethe was in big trouble. Getting involved would be a nightmare; he might even lose his life. His weekly salary wasn't worth dying for.
"Kid, you got lucky!"
"Go spend some time in the cell!"
"Although the conditions aren't great, at least it's safer than outside!"
The middle-aged officer said, walking toward Goethe, with two younger officers following suit, unsurprised by the situation.
Everything was just as Goethe had predicted.
Faced with the potential trouble he might bring, these guys planned to brush it off.
As the three men approached to take him away, Goethe refused to cooperate, starting to struggle violently.
The middle-aged officer immediately became furious.
This time, without Swat's prompting, the officer raised his baton.
Seeing the baton about to strike, Goethe shouted at the top of his lungs—
"Come on! Hit me!"
"In less than a month, my grandfather died suddenly of illness, my parents went missing, then three uncles and aunts disappeared, along with three cousins, who vanished overnight. After that, my only aunt disappeared on her way to report to you!"
"And me?"
"Before I could react, I was kicked out of my home by creditors!"
"And now!"
"After I barely escaped that 'ritual,' gathered some clues, and sought your cooperation, you're throwing me in jail and beating me?"
"If that's how it is..."
"Go ahead, I'm right here!"
By the end, Goethe was almost hoarse from shouting.
"Bastard, you think I won't?"
The middle-aged officer yelled back.
As for what Goethe said?
He didn't care.
Sickness, disappearances...
As long as there was no report, it didn't exist.
Even if someone disappeared on the way to report it, without a report, it didn't exist.
Of course, even if a report was filed, as long as it wasn't recorded, it still didn't exist.
Too familiar with the process, the middle-aged officer couldn't be bothered to explain to Goethe; he just wanted to teach him a lesson.
But at that moment—
Thud!
A dull thud came from the wall.
Swat, who had been standing with folded arms, watching the scene unfold, immediately changed his expression and shouted, "Wait!"
(End of this chapter)