Scotland Yard, Fifth Floor. Chief Inspector's Office.
As the highest-ranking officer of the London Metropolitan Police, Lestrade was currently lowering his head in humility, desperately trying to contort his face into a respectful smile. However, years of maintaining a stern, unsmiling demeanor made his expression look more like a bizarre facial tic.
Facing the small, elderly man sitting on the sofa, he hesitated repeatedly, glancing at the clock on the wall out of the corner of his eye, before finally speaking:
"High Priest, Scotland Yard has been expanded four times. The corridors and staircases are a bit of a labyrinth. Do you think Miss Catherine might have..."
He didn't dare use the word "lost." That might imply she had a poor sense of direction, or worse, a deficiency of the mind.
The elder before him clearly didn't mind such details, merely smiling and waving a hand. "No need to worry. She should be arriving shortly."
Sure enough, a few minutes later, the office door was pushed open. The young woman in the peculiar, modified nun's habit walked in. Her jet-black hair was tied back at the nape of her neck, and her eyebrows were sharp, giving her an air of pride and coldness that seemed beyond her years.
But at this moment, her face was clouded with obvious anger... which made Chief Lestrade extremely uneasy.
"Did something happen?" the elder on the sofa stood up and asked.
"Nothing. I just encountered an ill-bred bastard," Catherine said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to suppress the fire in her heart.
Lestrade's heart skipped a beat. He silently cursed every single person in the station, from the top brass down to the janitors. He had specifically instructed everyone that a VIP was visiting today and to be polite to any unfamiliar faces. How could someone still be so brainless?
"I assure you, anyone who offends the sanctity of the Holy See will face the severest punishment!" he hastily promised.
Catherine shook her head, not wanting to dwell on the matter. She turned sideways to look at the Chief, her expression serious. "Have you found a candidate?"
Lestrade's smile froze, and he looked so pained he nearly cried. "Miss Catherine, although I am the Chief of Scotland Yard, your request... is simply too difficult."
...
Actually, in the beginning, it wasn't a major incident. It was just that a sadistic serial killer had suddenly appeared in the Old District. Within half a month, he had brutally tortured and killed twelve women. Each victim had been violently assaulted, then dismembered, drained of blood, and their internal organs ripped out, minced, and scattered across the ground.
That was all.
In this era where 'Hell' invaded the mortal plane, where demons ran amok and a night walk could end in a gruesome death, a serial killer was honestly hard-pressed to garner enough attention.
The problem was, this guy seemed to get high on the killing...
He was no longer satisfied with committing crimes in the Lower District and had set his sights on the Upper District. Last night, he had tortured and killed a beautiful lady.
If it were just an Upper District resident, it wouldn't be a huge deal—at most, they would raise the bounty. But as luck would have it, this victim... was the wife of a Holy See Executor!
Now, things had blown up.
Everyone knew that after the Gates of Hell opened, the Holy See became the only hope for the survival of the human race. Whether it was the churches built in the city districts, the tens of thousands of fanatical war-madmen in the South using their flesh and blood to resist the demonic invasion, or the omnipresent 'Holy Light'—they were the final pillars supporting humanity as it gasped for breath on the edge of extinction.
"The Holy See is Sacred and Inviolable."
Before children could even read, before their worldviews were formed, this phrase was already burned into their young minds. Like the rising sun and setting moon, it was an established rule of this world.
"I don't care what method you use," the woman said, her face dark. "Someone has murdered the kin of a Holy See official. This is a blasphemy against the Holy Light. You must find the killer within 24 hours."
"But... but you've only given me one slot for an investigator. This is..." Chief Lestrade summoned his courage to explain, but seeing Miss Catherine's slightly furrowed brow, he quickly swallowed the rest of his words.
There was no helping it. The wife of an Executor being tortured to death was far more scandalous than the Mayor of London enjoying buggering dogs. If word got out, it would tarnish the supreme authority of the Holy See.
So this matter had to be resolved with the utmost speed, and the fewer people who knew, the better!
But...
To ask one person to investigate a serial murder case and catch the killer within 24 hours? That was a fantasy!
Unless...
Unless!!!
Chief Lestrade swallowed hard, and with extreme helplessness and unease, a name surfaced in his mind.
The moment the thought sprouted...
"Oh? Has your Excellency thought of someone?"
The small elder in front of him suddenly spoke. Under his drooping eyelids, his grey-white pupils looked lifeless.
Lestrade didn't know what came over him, but he nodded subconsciously. "Yes. If anyone can do it, it would be him."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he woke up with a start, covered in cold sweat. Looking again at the smiling elder, his original respect was now laced with a hidden fear.
What he just said was definitely not spoken of his own free will. It was driven by some power from the Abyss...
So, this High Priest was not just a Contractor, but had already evolved to the Second Stage?!
"Do we finally have a candidate?" Miss Catherine asked.
Chief Lestrade clasped his hands tightly, sweat already seeping through his fingers. He knew there was no point in hiding it now. He could only respond anxiously, "Yes, there is such a candidate. He is... a private detective..."
...
Ten minutes later, in the station's holding cells.
The old gas lamps sizzled, casting a dim light through the damp air.
Several officers were struggling to move a massive, blood-seeping suitcase. If not for the grotesque squirming coming from inside every now and then, no one would dare believe a person was stuffed in there.
The person's pelvis had been kicked to pieces. His thighs were forced against his chest in an inhuman posture and pressed down tight. Several ribs were likely broken, shoulders dislocated, and the tendons at the elbows torn, knotted below the neck like two twisted ropes.
In short, a living, breathing human being had been forcibly compressed into a block of meat. Even more terrifying was that the person was still alive.
In Imperial Law, death row inmates had no right to civil litigation. So no matter how brutally they were treated, there was nowhere to complain. After all, they were already on their way to the execution grounds.
But... but this was a bit too wretched.
Zzzzzzip——
The zipper of the suitcase was pulled open. The chilling sound of bones grinding against each other drifted out, followed by the gasping sound of lungs finally finding room to expand.
There were no screams or cries for help, only the faintest, miserable moans. The person, like a pile of sludge, slowly 'oozed' out.
In front of the box, the small elder in the long robe paused, then looked at the police officers nearby. He noticed they were all averting their gazes, afraid to look at the heap of a person on the floor.
"Does the detective gentleman you mentioned... always do this?"
A young officer nodded timidly.
"Yes, High Priest. In his words... it's more convenient for transporting prisoners this way."
Meanwhile, on the third floor of the station, Chief Lestrade and Miss Catherine stood at the door of the lounge.
The Chief pointed to a sofa. Sitting there was a man in a trench coat, tall and slender, holding a book and reading in a half-asleep state, looking like a destitute noble who had lost all interest in life.
"That is the man..." the Chief said humbly.
Before he could finish, he suddenly noticed the expression of the lady beside him.
"Uh... Miss Catherine, your face... doesn't look too good."