Mystery: My Encounters with the Celestial God

Chapter 353 Adults, Times Have Changed (4.3K)

Honest Man Street, on the outskirts of the eastern district.

While Ron was attending a noble banquet, causing the girls to "fight for his attention," our "Fool" was standing alone in the cold autumn wind, wandering aimlessly.

Ah Qiu~

He sneezed, tightened his dark woolen trench coat, and couldn't help but marvel at how cool Backlund was at the end of October.

The shade was so cool that the cold wind kept seeping into your bones.

He took out his pocket watch, turned it on under the elegant gas streetlights, and realized it was already nine o'clock at night.

"What are their work schedules like? Why does the steel mill supervisor come every night to check accounts, sign documents, and inspect work?"

With a slight twitch of his lips, the great detective couldn't help but complain aloud. This information was also given to him by Old Kohler, who said he heard it from a former employee while working at the docks.

Morandi Steel Company, Desmond Steel Company, and Honest Steel Company in front of us are three small factories in the East District that are not owned by the Loen royal family.

According to information gathered by Old Kohler, as well as their own investigations and divination from the gray fog, Morandi Steel confirmed that it was indeed connected to the Rogue Party, which had gained prominence in the East District in recent months.

Therefore, even knowing that there was a significant possibility that the other party was up to something, Klein immediately rejected them.

Since Ron had already said there was danger, he naturally couldn't go near it.

As for the remaining two steel companies that were on the verge of bankruptcy, Klein didn't find out any valuable information, so he picked one whose name sounded pleasing to the eye. After divining above the gray fog that there was no danger, he planned to come here openly to take a look.

"Hmph, Honest Steel Company, let's see if you're really honest!"

Putting away his pocket watch and straightening his top hat, Klein watched as a private carriage entered the factory without any obstruction. Without hesitation, he followed it.

In fact, logically speaking, producing bicycles doesn't require going through all the trouble of sourcing raw materials. After all, signing supply agreements with steel factories is a more convenient and cost-effective approach.

Klein had asked Ron about this issue before, but the little brat didn't answer him directly. Instead, he gave him a disdainful look and said, "It's none of your business if I have money."

Klein expressed his understanding, saying, "Isn't it true that you can do whatever you want just because you have money?"

The reason why the great detective is so busy with this matter is because of poverty. He has already digested the "Magician's" potion, and now his main task is to find the main ingredient of the "Faceless Man" in order to get promoted.

The extraordinary materials corresponding to Sequence 6 are generally over 1500 pounds, and two pieces together cost 3000 pounds, often with no market available.

But coincidentally, Klein knew that Ron happened to have it!

Because it was he who dealt with "Hurricane Admiral" Ziringus, and Ziringus's magical item "Crawling Hunger" has the ability to change one's appearance, which is why Klein did not request to purchase the main material at the Tarot meeting.

Ron promised that if he could get the job done, he could choose between money and materials, which amounted to a full three thousand pounds, and all he had to do was a simple investigation.

Hmm, I have a feeling something's fishy going on here.

Klein muttered to himself as he was about to step into the gates of Honest Man Steel Factory when he was suddenly stopped by several security guards patrolling the entrance.

"Unauthorized personnel are prohibited from entering. This is a private factory!"

The security is really tight. Didn't they say they were about to go bankrupt? How can they afford to hire so many security personnel?

The detective stopped in his tracks and glanced inside through the gate. Through the light of the gas lamps inside the factory, he discovered that there were several security personnel patrolling the area. In his professional opinion, these people were all in good physical condition and clearly came from a professional security company.

"Here's the thing, I'm a professional intermediary. I've been asked to find out the specific situation of Honest Man Steel Mill because someone wants to acquire the company."

"To be honest, I waited here for quite a while before I saw a private carriage go in. That must be your boss, right?"

Klein didn't use his identity as a private investigator because he couldn't guarantee that the other party wouldn't think he was sent by a rival company to gather dirt on Honest Steel.

Upon hearing the "agent's" explanation and glancing at his rather presentable attire and not particularly muscular build, the leading security personnel visibly relaxed their guard.

"I see. I didn't expect anyone to be interested in this company that's about to go bankrupt. Please wait a moment, and I'll have someone inform Manager Gavin."

"Mance, go, and hurry up!"

The security captain didn't even look at him. He simply waved to the team members behind him. After they left, he didn't chat with Klein. Instead, he kept a very professional eye on Klein while keeping an eye on any suspicious people who might appear in the surrounding area.

This is much more professional than Blackthorn Security Company.

Klein chuckled to himself as he realized something was amiss, as the security measures clearly didn't belong to a steel mill.

"Uh, Manager Gavin? What about the boss here?"

Seizing the opportunity, Klein asked, feigning hesitation.

"Oh, I don't know who the boss is here. We are all employed by this Mr. Gavin to protect his safety here every night from 6 p.m. to 11 p.m."

Perhaps bored of standing there for so long, or perhaps with similar questions in mind, the security captain did not refuse to answer Klein's question.

Did the owner here offend someone and run away, leaving only the poor junior manager to work hard here, and in order to avoid retaliation, hire so many security personnel?

Before Klein could finish his wild guesses, the security guard who had gone to report earlier ran over and waved to him.

"The supervisor wants you to come in!"

"it is good."

With a brief response, Klein selectively trusted the divination above the gray fog, his brown eyes constantly observing the surrounding environment to prevent any danger from quietly approaching without a way to retreat.

Following the light of the gas lamps onto the loose, gravel-strewn path, breathing in the acrid, pungent smell of coke and smelted metal, Klein almost couldn't catch his breath.

He couldn't even imagine how the steelworkers worked under such harsh conditions before even entering the actual work area.

Upon entering the five-story factory and climbing the metal staircase, security personnel led him to an office door, gesturing for Klein to push the door open and enter himself.

"You want to acquire this company!?"

As soon as the door was opened, a man in his fifties with gray hair, of medium build, wearing a white shirt and overalls, stood up in the bright gaslight.

His voice was hoarse, but it sounded unclear due to his slightly anxious speaking speed.

"No, sir, it's not me who wants to acquire it. I'm just a middleman. You can call me Charles."

He took off his hat, bowed, and gave a false name.

"A middleman will do, Mr. Charles. Since you're a professional middleman, I won't waste any more words."

"You should know this company is about to go bankrupt. That son of a bitch of a boss mortgaged the shares to the bank in advance, took out a huge loan in the company's name, and then ran off with the money along with his wife's sister, leaving me and all the workers in the steel mill with this mess!"

"I don't want to hide anything from you, but our cash flow has hit a snag. All the pre-booked orders have been unilaterally cancelled, and we're unable to repay the bank loans. If your backer is interested in buying it, the price, including my small stake, is only £28000!"

Seeing that Mr. Charles across from him had not made a statement, the factory supervisor immediately added:

"Mr. Charles, you should be able to hear my sincerity. £28000 is not expensive for a steel mill, and I still have to use a large portion of it to repay bank loans."

Hmph, the Liar Honest Steel Company doesn't seem as honest as its signboard suggests. Putting aside whether your boss actually absconded with the money, almost half of what you just said was a lie. Your acting was over the top.

Klein, who had activated his spiritual vision as soon as he entered, remained silent, feeling that the "honest man" label didn't mean the company was honest, but rather that they specialized in ripping off honest people like him.

"Ahem, Mr. Supervisor, I am a professional agent. I need to understand the situation here in detail before I can make a conclusion. There is one thing I am very curious about, which is why you always come here to work secretly at night, and why you bring so many security personnel with you."

"I don't believe that Honest Steel owes money to a bank, so the bank would bribe gangsters to threaten your life and force you to pay it back quickly. What are you guarding against? I need to find out for my employer!"

This was a question Klein had when he received the information from old Kohler, but after arriving here and seeing the security guards who seemed to be wary of no one, his suspicions about this matter were amplified.

Why is this middle-class person with some assets acting like they're being chased by someone?

As the great detective had predicted, the moment he uttered those words, he saw the factory manager slump onto the sofa with a grim expression.

The bright gas wall lamps flickered, and silence fell over the office.

"Wow, you're very professional and perceptive. If you hadn't said you were an agent, I would have suspected you were a private investigator."

After a long while, the supervisor sighed, and the emotional color in Klein's spiritual vision gradually changed, showing a frank and honest color.

"Ha, that's not important. Mr. Gale, you'd better tell me the truth. You should know that only honesty can solve the problem!"

Sherlock Moriarty gave an awkward laugh and uttered a useless piece of nonsense.

"Actually, the factory owner didn't run away, he died. The autopsy report from the police stated that it was a suicide."

"A dagger pierced the back of the neck and through the throat. They say it was suicide, Mr. Charles, do you believe it?"

"That son of a bitch transferred his money to someone else before he died, leaving me with this mess, fuck him!"

Was it suicide by being shot seven times in the back?

Klein was stunned for a moment, and finally understood why the supervisor was unwilling to tell the truth.

The other party is making it so obvious. Isn't that basically telling everyone that this steel mill is being watched, and that anyone who dares to make a move will be killed?

Moreover, the person behind it did it quite skillfully, without any involvement of supernatural powers. Therefore, it was just an ordinary case, and there was no possibility that the Night Watchers, the Mechanical Heart, or the Punisher would use supernatural powers to conduct further investigations.

That's a clever tactic; all it takes is bribing the police. Three thousand pounds is no small sum.

The great detective sighed inwardly, took out paper and pen from his pocket, and wrote down everything that Supervisor Gale had said, without making any further comments.

"Mr. Gale, could you please tell me more about the factory? I'm just an intermediary and can't make decisions on behalf of the employer."

Klein flipped through a few pages of his notebook and looked earnestly at his unfortunate supervisor. To be honest, if Klein wanted to buy the factory, he would definitely turn around and leave, but what could he do when he couldn't make the decision now?

"Okay, okay, if it works out, I will never forget your help, Mr. Charles."

Upon hearing Klein's words, the factory manager's eyes seemed to light up. He hurriedly said "good" several times and tried to put in a good word for him with the big spender.

In about thirty minutes, the supervisor, who was very familiar with the factory, gave a brief overview of the situation, including the raw material suppliers, the number of various smelting furnaces, the annual maintenance costs, and the workers' salary levels, etc.

Having recorded these details to justify the £3000 reward, Klein immediately stood up, shook hands with the gentleman opposite him, and turned to leave the office.

Under the dim light of the wall lamp, Klein descended the creaking steel stairs and returned to the path covered with gravel.

Hmm. It's troublesome. To be honest, I quite like the name "Honest Person," it suits my temperament, but it definitely doesn't suit that little brat.

Klein silently muttered a complaint to himself, then slapped his forehead as if he had just remembered something.

"Oh dear, I forgot to ask their boss's name, the one who supposedly died by 'suicide.' If I knew, I might be able to avoid some problems with his social connections."

With a helpless sigh, Klein returned the way he came, climbing the steel stairs back to the fifth floor, trying to gather more detailed information.

But just then, as Klein was about to push open the wooden door, he smelled an extremely strong stench of blood.

The gushing red water overflowed from the crack in the door and quickly spread to the great detective's feet. Without even pushing open the wooden door to check, the "Clown's" intuition had already conjured up the corresponding image in his mind.

Those were the security guards standing outside the door. His head had been severed, and it was as if endless blood was gushing out from his severed neck, flowing out along the gap.

The factory manager, who had just been all smiles and trying to please, had a dagger pierce his throat from the back of his neck and was now motionless.

suicide!

Hey!

Klein cursed under his breath, and the "Joker" intuition flashed before his eyes again. A throwing knife flew swiftly from behind, piercing straight through his throat.

Without hesitation, he twisted his waist and swung his arm to dodge backward, only to see that the dagger had actually pierced through the wooden door and stuck directly into the office desk.

At the same time, Klein also spotted the enemy. About ten meters away across the corridor, there was a man in a black robe wearing a cloak, holding a dagger in his hand and swinging it around. When he saw that Klein had spotted him, he even stuck out his tongue and licked it twice.

"Heh, you're quite perceptive, aren't you? You've been discovered. Well then, you can die!"

Without hesitation, the man in black robes pushed off the ground with his right foot and charged toward Klein at incredible speed, attempting to quickly sever the little bug who had discovered his assassination attempt with his dagger.

However, just a few meters after he started walking, he suddenly saw the seemingly powerless real estate agent across from him lift up his wool coat and pull out a gleaming metallic object.

That was a loaded revolver!

Hey!

(End of this chapter)