Bailonz Street 13

Chapter 2: Run, Jane, Run (1)

So, during my free time, I wandered around Bailonz Street and Blemich Street, using Liam Moore’s name to pry into cases. I asked the residents if they had heard anything about the incidents. If they had, I inquired if they could share the information with me.

Most people looked at me like I was crazy and walked away, but occasionally, someone helpful would appear. However, the information I could gather from these individuals was clearly limited.

“If I heard of someone being killed? But why are you so interested in that, miss?”

“So uncooperative,” I sighed as I walked the streets aimlessly, my parasol swinging from my arm.

Now, let’s see…

The current quest to complete is… <Collect Witness Statements>, right?

I should talk to some police officers. Of course, there are limits to the policemen I can meet by myself. It would be helpful if some familiar faces appeared nearby.

Unfortunately, Scotland Yard trusted Liam Moore, not Jane Osmond. Some officers seemed resentful of their reliance on Liam, but the higher-ups’ complete trust allowed us to be closely involved with the cases.

The gaslights dimly illuminated the fog. The grey afternoon of London, with the Thames visible beyond, seemed like a world separate from the hurried pedestrians in thick coats. I never imagined I’d witness such a scene so vividly.

A carriage passed by. What did Liam say again?

“Observing others carefully is the first step to deduction, Miss…”

“Miss Osmond.”

A voice overlapped with my recollection.

I was pondering where to go while looking at the map. For a moment, I thought it was Liam calling me from the second floor. I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but with high freedom in this game, it might be.

When I turned my head, the interaction button activated. A white name appeared before my eyes:

[H. Brixon.]

The man who spoke was wearing a worn-out coat. I habitually scanned him, a habit I picked up from spending time with Liam Moore.

His tie didn’t match his clothes, indicating he had overslept. Typically well-dressed like a proper English gentleman, today he appeared rushed. His tie, usually tied with a double knot, was hastily done with a single knot, and a red line from a shaving cut marred his cheek. Judging by his half-shaved beard, he had likely worked all night and was half-awake.

His right shoe was always more worn out, a sign that his weight leaned to the right, and he had a habit of dragging his feet.

Unlike Liam, I had some sense of social propriety, so I didn’t mention all these observations and embarrass him.

“Inspector Brixon,” I responded, pressing the interaction button. The inspector smiled slightly, creasing his eyes.

This sombre, tired-looking man in his thirties was Inspector Henry Brixon. He was one of the Scotland Yard officers Liam Moore often burdened with cases.

Henry Brixon, being naturally good-natured, never complained to Liam. Sometimes I wondered if he was just too oblivious to notice any rudeness.

Poor Brixon. I hope you aren’t troubled by anyone. But sometimes, things don’t go your way.

This also applied to me. Sometimes things didn’t go my way.

Inspector Brixon asked calmly and politely, then offered his arm.

“Shall we walk for a bit?”

“Only to Hyde Park.”

We walked slowly, and I meticulously questioned him about witnesses and recent incidents. The man escorted me, diligently answering all my questions. He never once asked why I was interested in this, which was somewhat surprising.

The witnesses were a reporter from the London Daily Report on his way to work and a resident living nearby…

The murder scene was boldly in the middle of the street.

The reporter, the first to witness the scene, almost passed by, mistaking the victim for someone resting on a bench due to the thick fog. However, the puddle of blood on the ground stopped him, and just in time, the fog cleared, revealing the gruesome scene.

“It’s a murder!” he shouted, and a nearby resident came running. Both became important witnesses for the police investigation.

After listening carefully, I asked, “What was the state of the body?”

“Well, Miss Osmond, the body was missing its head.”

Got it! A crucial testimony.

My eyes sparkled with interest, and I leaned closer, not wanting to miss a word.

The five recent murder victims were all found decapitated, which had the Scotland Yard in a frenzy.

Predictably, the newspapers had a field day, likely with a significant contribution from the witness reporter, lambasting the incompetence of the London police and the brutality of the serial killings.

“How long had the body been dead? What did the coroner say?”

“Less than an hour. It seems the crime was committed just before people started going to work. The cut was messy, and there were some blood traces a little distance away. It seems the attack happened there, and then the body was moved.”

Ding, a new notification sounded as if a quest was completed.

[Case Investigation:

Visit the crime scene (0/1)]

To visit the crime scene… Let’s postpone that for now. It’s not the time. While we talked, we had walked to Hyde Park.

The late autumn sun was setting. The surrounding fog thickened. Without a pocket watch, I couldn’t check, but it must be time for him to go home. It was fine for me, living in the 21st century, but for a 19th-century woman, keeping a man out this late was not seen favourably.

I spoke apologetically.

“Inspector Brixon, I fear I’ve kept you too long.”

He waved his hand dismissively and looked around.

“It’s alright. I’ve enjoyed our conversation, Miss Osmond. Let me get you a carriage….”

It seemed he wanted to see me off properly. His gentlemanly demeanour was very kind.

However, the carriages that had been passing by earlier were now nowhere to be seen, and Brixon’s expression quickly turned to one of confusion. There were no pedestrians or sounds. He looked around in all directions. A brief silence fell between us.

“This is unusual,” Brixon remarked, breaking the silence, which was unlike him. I agreed, and I tightened my grip on his arm slightly.

Has an event trigger been pulled? I couldn’t tell where it had started. Was it because we decided to walk together? Or was it just a simple game glitch that made everyone disappear?

“This is dangerous.”

My mouth went dry. A strange, ominous music started playing in the background. Brixon didn’t seem to hear it, which meant it was only audible to me!

This was bad. Very bad. Have I ever seen the fog in London this thick before?

Brixon could no longer hide his now pale face. The man, who usually considered it impolite to touch a woman, urgently grabbed my hand and spoke hurriedly. He must have thought now was not the time to worry about such manners.

“Miss Osmond, run straight back the way we came.”

“To the main road?” I understood what he meant.

“Yes. Avoid the alleys and head straight for the main road. Find a carriage and return to Mr. Moore immediately.”

Unfortunately, we couldn’t act on his words. Brixon’s eyes widened, and his body began to lean forward slowly.

I tried to support the man who collapsed into my arms, but when I saw his back soaked in red liquid, I was horrified.

Someone had attacked us in this fog. But there hadn’t been a hint of anyone else!

Instinctively, I realised that this attacker was likely the perpetrator of the previous incidents, but I had no way to respond, and I couldn’t just leave the injured Brixon behind.

Even if I tried to run, how could I survive against this silent assailant? With the event trigger already pulled, there was no way to avoid it. I needed to save, to open the save file.

But…

“It won’t activate…?”

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