Becoming a god by raising witches

"Okay, I hope you won't forget to take out the trash in the bathroom when you're cleaning."

"Damn it! What kind of demon works as a cleaner? I'm going to strangle you!"

"You want to strangle your great master? That's probably inappropriate."

Locke glanced sideways at the white mist, which angrily returned to its pipe and began cursing Locke's ancestors.

Locke traveled by carriage to the Kossork prison in the Pete district of the West End, a prison that held many death row inmates who were guilty of heinous crimes and could not be forgiven.

The snow piled up at the prison gate, half a meter thick. An ordinary person would sink deep into it with every step, but Locke walked freely.

The black cat, Eileen, moved with ease, leaving a trail of shallow cat paw prints in the snow.

"It's been snowing for two weeks straight, this damn weather."

"Yes, it would be great if I didn't have to be on duty. This kind of weather is perfect for staying in the warm embrace of ladies. A new group of girls have arrived at the Rose Theater on Shire Street. I heard there are some impoverished nobles among them. I really want to go and see them."

"Are you kidding me? They always use the aristocracy as a gimmick, but they're actually all girls from the countryside."

"It's said to be true this time, and you can tell just by looking at the skin."

"Royalty or nobility?"

"How could that be? They're definitely not nobles from our country. The person in charge of the Rose Theater wouldn't be foolish enough to accept a noble from our own country if they didn't want to go to the Supreme Court."

The prison guard on duty, wearing a thick cotton-padded coat and exhaling white breath, was complaining to his colleagues.

As Locke approached, the two men cautiously touched the pistols at their waists.

"How can the Rose Theatre on Shire Street compare to the Rose Theatre in Wells? Every woman in the Rose Theatre is carefully selected, with skin whiter than snow."

Locke said with a smile.

Upon hearing this, the two jailers' wary gazes faded, and expressions of anticipation appeared on their faces.

"A high-end place like the Rose Theater isn't a place we can just go whenever we want, brother. What are you doing in prison?"

The tall jailer asked with a smile, his attitude becoming very friendly.

Locke produced the documents and stated his purpose: "I am an investigator from the Sixth Sheriff's Court. I have a special mission that requires me to come to the prison. This is the specially approved document."

"So you're the esteemed investigator. You're far too young."

The two jailers made way, and Locke entered the prison without incident.

Passing through the snow-covered forecourt, and arriving at the prison's second gate, Locke once again presented the special approval document.

An old prison guard with a wrinkled face let Locke in, frowning as he pointed to the cat on Locke's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, she's my partner. I can't leave her alone in the freezing cold. My conscience would be tormented by that. Don't worry, she won't wander off. She'll stay on my shoulder."

Locke said with a smile.

I wanted to ask her how old she was.

The old prison guard lifted his coat, revealing a lazy orange cat lying inside.

Do I need a 5-year-old partner?

"Haha, she's still too young to accept a partner who's 5 years older."

Locke laughed.

The old prison guard chuckled awkwardly. "Well, what a pity, Robinson, you've been rejected."

The old prison guard led Locke to the death row section.

The prison was cold and damp, with heating only in certain areas; the rest of the prison was close to freezing. Most prisoners were wrapped in standard cotton-padded clothes, which was much better than the treatment of homeless people on the street.

Therefore, as winter approaches, many irresponsible people in the Kosorsk region choose to commit crimes and go to prison to escape the cold winter.

After all, they provide food and lodging here, and even distribute cotton-padded clothes.

However, their entry into prison means that their children and wives may freeze to death outside, or be forced into prostitution.

Through the iron bars, you can see the death row inmates sleeping.

"You've come at a really bad time. They finished work at 10 o'clock and came back to rest."

The old prison guard said.

"It's alright, let me see which one is the person I'm looking for."

"Then take your time reading it."

The old prison guard stood next to Locke, casually petting the cat.

The orange cat fawned over the black cat on Locke's shoulder.

Eileen narrowed her eyes and used an invisible thread to plug the orange cat's mouth, preventing it from making any more meows.

Clearly, Eileen didn't like the fat orange cat.

"I need to find a heinous criminal. Can you introduce me to one?"

Locke asked the old prison guard.

"The people imprisoned here are all heinous criminals, but if you must choose, I can tell you about their criminal histories."

"Number 31, this is a serial killer who murdered four teenagers. These teenagers had no grudge against him. He killed them simply because they looked like his son. That's right, his wife cheated on him and made him raise the fake son until he was 14 years old. After he discovered this fact, his wife ran away with the fake son, and he went insane."

"Number 32. This is the killer who murdered a family of seven. The family had taken him in without expecting anything in return, but he was jealous of the male head of the household, so he locked the family in the house and burned them to death."

“Number 34. This is a cannibal. He likes to eat the flesh of young boys, like you. He particularly likes young boys.”

"Number 38, this is a villain who murdered 15 female factory workers and insulted them before they died."

"Number 42, this is a villain whose hands are stained with the blood of five children..."

"So, do you have a suitable candidate in mind?"

The old prison guard rubbed the orange cat's head and asked.

"They all look like heinous criminals."

As Locke spoke, he stroked his pipe and released Rebecca.

"Hehe, these souls are quite delicious, can I eat them all?"

"Rebecca, who is shaped like smoke, asked."

Locke shook his head. "You can only choose one."

The sudden death of a death row inmate in prison won't attract much attention from higher-ups, but the sudden deaths of a group of people at the same time will definitely lead to accountability.

"Huh, how stingy."

Rebecca grumbled and floated away.

She is choosing her food.

Eileen, perched on Locke's shoulders, suddenly spoke.

“Ask him if there are any prisoners who moved in three years ago, and if the crime took place near Old Tom’s apartment in Kosorkssey.”

Locke knew that Eileen wanted to investigate the case of 12 children who went missing 3 years ago.

The crime scene was Old Tom's apartment.

If someone commits a crime in that place, they might have seen the perpetrator or one or two of the children.

Locke asked the old prison guard this question, and the old guard pondered for a moment.

“Investigator, you’ve come to the right person. No one has a better memory than me, Old Rilo. There aren’t many prisoners who can meet your requirements, but this prisoner isn’t on death row. His sentence is 30 years. He assaulted a sheriff patrolling the Pete Street area. He used to live in Old Tom’s apartment. Come with me.”

The old prison guard turned around, with Locke close behind him.

He glanced back at Rebecca, who was still picking out food, and gave her a warning not to eat too much.

Rebecca stuck her tongue out at Locke to indicate that she understood.

In Kosork, assaulting a sheriff is a serious crime for an ordinary person, punishable by 10 to 30 years in prison.

If they were nobles or royalty, they would not be imprisoned.

If it's a big capitalist or a tycoon, they can also be bribed with money.

Living in a cheap apartment like Old Tom's, he clearly couldn't afford to bribe officials, so a 30-year prison sentence is understandable.

An old prison guard named Rilo led Locke to the section for hardened criminals, whose sentences were all over 20 years, hence the term "hardened criminals."

"Then, he was locked in this cell, number 263."

Old Rilo said.

Locke's gaze followed old Rilo's hand and fell upon a thin man with sunken eyes and an ugly appearance.

"263, this distinguished investigator has something to ask you. Please come here."

Old Rilo waved to him.

Prisoner number 263 sat up in bed, walked to the door, and saw the young and handsome investigator through the iron bars.

"Is there something you need from me?"

Locke glanced at the cat on his shoulder.

Eileen asked,