The Daily Life Of A Cyberpunk Magician
Chapter 106 - 107: Then, Welcome!

Chapter 106: Chapter 107: Then, Welcome!

6:30 p.m., the prison guards left the dining hall punctually. In fact, Jiang Shu had noticed them constantly checking their watches around the time it approached half-past six.

With the departure of the last prison guard, there were no guards stationed inside the dining hall anymore, only those at the guard posts outside.

Consequently, Jiang Shu could clearly feel the noise level suddenly rise; the previously orderly atmosphere had at that moment turned into a bizarre and misshapen one.

Some were engaged in serious conversations, others were seriously painting with mushroom soup; some were arguing loudly, while others danced with their hands and feet.

The mess hall of nearly two hundred people embodied chaos in all its glory.

"If you really want to commit a perfect murder, you’d better not use conventional poison. Anyway, just to put it this way, most of the poisons you know of can be detected," a middle-aged man at the next table was lecturing a young man.

"Ricin is no good... nor is succinylcholine? I remember you saying that this drug dissolves easily in water and metabolizes quickly," the young man frowned. "You used to like using it."

"Of course not, using that poison is old news. It’s so common now that any forensic pathologist can detect it," the middle-aged man said disdainfully. "Using that to kill is just rubbish. The symptoms are too obvious, the muscle relaxation effect too strong, and after injection, it quickly paralyzes the respiratory system."

He continued, "With a death caused by a toxic substance, during the autopsy, you look at the lividity, the toxic substance causes protein denaturation, so the lividity will definitely look different."

The middle-aged man paused and took a sip of his mushroom soup. "Moreover, before death, adrenaline is secreted, so even if the toxic substance can’t be detected, there should always be residual adrenaline, right?"

"Oh," the young man mused.

"Furthermore, although this thing decomposes quickly in the body and is hard to preserve, and it’s hard to detect in blood, liver, and stomach content poison tests... This thing metabolizes quickly, but it kills even faster," the middle-aged man spoke animatedly, his spittle flying. "Inspecting the urine, it’s easily discovered. The most crucial point is, it’s hard to control the dosage, the injection mark from the needle is too obvious, and there might be residues on the body surface."

"Got it," the young man was enlightened.

"But I do know of a plant, its extract can induce myocardial infarction, cause death rapidly, and none of the aforementioned detection methods can find it. My family... no, now it’s someone else’s, my former home used to grow it, it’s not easy to take care of, but I have a lot of information. If there’s a chance to get out, I’ll show you," the middle-aged man said.

"Thanks for that," the young man was satisfied. "So, is perfect crime murder possible?"

"There’s no absolute in anything," the middle-aged man glanced at the empty bowl of mushroom soup in front of him and reached for the other’s bowl. "Equivalent exchange."

"Um, equivalent exchange," the young man nodded.

"Either stage an accident or frame someone else. If you can make the case into a closed loop, then it’s possible," the middle-aged man shook his head and sighed. "Too bad, the chief of police noticed my case from the start."

"Indeed," the young man nodded in agreement as if in admiration.

Jiang Shu withdrew his attention and looked toward another corner, where the conversation turned to the art of painting. Two men dipped plastic knives in soup to collectively recreate a famous painting on the table, and a fierce debate about brushstrokes ensued.

There were also discussions about politics, philosophy, and the like, a plethora of ideologies that all seemed extremely radical and inappropriate at first, but after linguistic embellishment, often appearing greatly sensible, and any of which, if thrown into the outside world, could captivate an audience.

But they weren’t necessarily correct.

"Interesting, isn’t it?" Clo chuckled. "Everyone who makes it here is an elite."

"Indeed impressive," Jiang Shu nodded. In just a few short minutes, he had learned quite a bit.

For example... succinylcholine. Hearing this word here, he didn’t think it was a coincidence. After understanding this poison, he had again confirmed his judgment on the case.

Moreover, there must be something wrong with the forensic pathologist conducting the autopsies.

"Here, knowledge itself is the cheapest. You just need to pay with a bowl of mushroom soup, or a piece of meat pie, and you can learn knowledge from other industries," Clo surveyed the bustling dining hall. "Whether he is T2 or T1, whether you are a street urchin or something else, only here is knowledge never monopolized."

"This is where there is fairness." A mysterious smile appeared on his face as he looked at Jiang Shu with clear, deep blue eyes. "Funny, isn’t it? Only in chaos, in a place without money, without status, there can be fairness."

Jiang Shu watched him, silent.

The logic was almost like that of the DC’s Joker, fairness brought forth from chaos, yet it was also different; Clo seemed more focused on fairness in knowledge.

As he himself said, he excelled in teaching, as well as in learning.

"As for the equivalent exchange of knowledge," Clo chuckled, slowly and meticulously peeling the skin off a meat pie as though performing an intricate surgical operation, "this concept was my creation, and even at its cheapest, it can’t be given away for free. That would be piracy."

Muttering, he viciously stabbed the meat pie skin with a plastic knife, shredding it into pieces, his mouth moving slightly as his voice, barely above a whisper, seemed to come from the depths of Hell, low and suppressive, menacing, "I hate piracy. Hate it. Piracy, piracy, piracy..."

"But," Clo continued, his tone suddenly lighter, as if he had just finished with some serious business, "the folks on level B are so darling, accepting my proposal so readily, unlike those on level A, full of obstinate people."

"Hm?" Jiang Shu caught on to something important, "Level A? What is that?"

"The single-person cells on the third sub-level, an even more dangerous place," Clo shrugged. "All lunatics, none willing to properly communicate with me."

"I spent two years figuring out the logic of the insane. No, scratch that, lunatics have no logic," he quickly corrected himself, then pondered a moment. "Anyhow, that place was dull. Once I’d learned from them, behaved a little better, I got moved up here."

"Learned... from them?" Jiang Shu realized something ominous. He was beginning to understand why Clo was telling him all this.

"Yeah, like... marking attendance, one by one, studying from each," said Clo, head slightly bowed, his eyes lifting to meet Jiang Shu’s under the shadow that fell across his face.

His face was alight with brazen humor, yet his voice was remarkably steady, "I’ve learned it all already, from both level B and level A."

A chill ran down Jiang Shu’s spine. If Clo truly meant what he said, that in five years he had mastered the logic, thinking, and knowledge of these high-IQ criminals, then him now...

How terrifying might he be?

If he had the Joker’s kind of chaotic evil personality...

How terrifying might he be?

No, that wasn’t right.

"If you’ve learned it all... what would your entry be like? Wouldn’t you be twisted?" Jiang Shu questioned, thinking of this.

"Twisted? That’s an issue, indeed," Clo muttered discontentedly, "but what kind of respectable profession could a prisoner have, anyway? I don’t need to explain my profession to the Main Brain... and besides, I’ve been an orphan for a long time."

Jiang Shu said nothing; he keenly understood that Clo might have started researching and devising a plan as early as five years ago, if not earlier.

Those who could struggle over one thing for over five years...

Were not simple fellows.

"Heh heh, everyone quiet!" At that moment, Clo suddenly jumped onto the cafeteria’s platform; he elegantly bowed to all the prisoners present, and then smoothed out the nonexistent creases on his prison uniform—as if it were a suit that might actually have them.

Everyone’s gaze turned toward Clo, falling silent involuntarily, listening attentively when someone else spoke, which too was a mark of good breeding.

"Today, we’ve gained a newcomer, he is..." Clo suddenly bent down, bringing his ear close to Jiang Shu’s mouth, "What’s your occupation again?"

"Magician."

"Right, he is a Magician," Clo continued, his face wearing an exaggerated smile, "the world’s best magician."

"So, welcome!"