Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 874: Section 576: Discovery (3) Responsibility

Chapter 874: Section 576: Discovery (3) Responsibility

"Casaman, come here for a moment." The call from a colleague prompted Casaman to look up and walk over, putting down his clipboard: "Agent Carterburg, what can I do for you."

"Yes, take a look at this, what kind of mark is this?"

The man known as Agent Carterburg had a very typical Thanan face, which seemed somehow threatening to Casaman due to his good looks, but Casaman had to admit that the noodles Agent Carterburg cooked for lunch today were absolutely fantastic—Casaman hadn’t tasted such delicious noodles in his entire life.

Moreover, he heard that Agent Carterburg was also an excellent Divine Detective, though it was rumored that he had offended someone in the North recently and was driven out of Copenhagen, and had to come to the southernmost part of the Northern Kingdom. Just as he arrived, a sinister case occurred in Haslo, a major town in the north of the Holy Kingdom. Casaman, as an expert on the Chaos Cult, was transferred here, and Agent Carterburg was also sent as a support force.

Come to think of it, the word "driven" seemed more fitting.

In any case, this agent seemed exiled here, although he himself bore no grudges or dissatisfaction, and this Half-blood had identified three suspicious points in a previous investigation that had not been noticed by others.

So, in Casaman’s view, Agent Carterburg was more useful than these commonplace colleagues. Nowadays, those who can get things done are truly commendable.

Here was the morgue. During the morning’s sudden raid, the Union task force had located a Chaos Cult hideout, killing over sixty Chaos members. Agent Carterburg was now conducting a second autopsy, and Casaman, of course, loyally accompanied him.

Casaman glanced at the Chaos Cult member lying on the operating table, noticing Agent Carterburg pointing at a tattoo on the sole of the corpse’s foot, which featured three interlocked circles.

"I don’t recognize it; this doesn’t seem like any Chaos Cult mark I know," Casaman said, turning his gaze to the face of the dead middle-aged man with a bullet hole in his forehead, "He must have been watching the door before the action started."

"Yes, our sniper killed him, allowing us to sneak into the courtyard." Speaking of which, Agent Carterburg frowned looking at the man’s face: "It’s really strange why he would be smiling."

"Hard to say, but you know, Chaos Cult members are often not right in the head. I suspect his brain wasn’t functioning properly when he was shot," Casaman offered, considering this a reasonable analysis, given that a Chaos Cult member’s mind probably wasn’t clear more often than it was.

"Right... But we still need to record this tattoo," Agent Carterburg noted, jotting down the details in his notebook.

A good memory is not as reliable as a poor pen.

"Agent Carterburg, why do you perform a second autopsy on all the bodies?" Casaman had another question.

"Because I want to know precisely where to shoot these guys to kill them most efficiently." Agent Carterburg’s answer stunned Casaman for a moment, then he realized—Agent Carterburg used to handle regular cases, and he probably had never encountered such a situation before today, where firing at a Chaos Cult member’s head might not guarantee a kill.

Wait, since Agent Carterburg is so eager for knowledge, Casaman thought of a helpful offer: "I see, in that case, I have some insights myself; here, take my notes and you can return them after copying."

"Thanks, Casaman, now that I have the answers, let’s go." After speaking, Agent Carterburg neatly secured the straps binding the cadaver, and together with a cheerful Casaman, they pushed the body back into the storage crypt.

The two agents exited the morgue, pausing in the Purification corridor. Casaman noticed the Thanan Half-blood pulling out a pack of Carterburg mint cigarettes, a real luxury—made from herbal-grade mint, said to sharpen the mind and not harm the lungs.

"These cigarettes must be expensive," Casaman asked out of curiosity and caution.

If there was nothing dodgy about the cigarettes, he would certainly tell openly; if there were something shady about them, he surely wouldn’t.

"These? They were a gift from Mr. Malin," Agent Carterburg replied generously, even offering a cigarette to Casaman.

Hearing they were from Malin, Casaman dropped his guard—some things shouldn’t be spoken recklessly, especially concerning the Legendary, so what Agent Carterburg said must be the truth.

Since it’s the truth, then why stand on ceremony?

He, Casaman, also knew Malin well.

With the point of view that missing out on Malin’s generosity was foolish, Casaman lit the cigarette, and the two seasoned smokers stood in the Purification corridor for ten minutes before exiting in a swirl of smoke.

The local female agent in charge of the corridor glared at them: "No smoking in the corridor! Gentlemen!"

"Sorry, ma’am." Both Casaman and Agent Carterburg exhibited similar gentlemanly manners.

A handsome face indeed grants certain privileges—the lady eventually sighed, forgiving them: "No more smoking in the corridor next time, gentlemen. I know your job is stressful, but at least don’t make the cleaning ladies bend down to clean up your ash."

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